#she’s holding his eyepatch :3

[namnomm23]

tender kisses

[yanderenightmare]

Nasty alpha wolf-boy Shiggy buying virgin bunny reader at a shady auction, taking her home and breeding her silly in all her tight bunny holes<3

BNHA ! THIRST

Shigaraki Tomura x darling

WC: 2.5k

TW: NSFW, captive darling, light bondage, oral giving/receiving, multiple orgasms and overstimulation, hybrid au

Shigaraki doesn’t get along with most other organizations aside from his own, but he could hold a certain respect for this establishment. He felt appreciated here – a valued customer – one with a hungry appetite the vendor saved only the very best herbivores for.

Herbivores like you.

“She was easy to tame- submissive like she was made for it!” The Master said. “A bit too submissive for my taste- but you know what they say about bunnies- cute like a button and just as dumb!”

Your thighs rubbed themselves where you stood in the dark of your blindfold. Bleating and cowering in the chastity belt they’d fixed tight around your lower body – having you sheathed on two thick cocks stretching out both virgin holes – making you drippy – vibrating inside you with purrs tickling your core in thrums he could hear from ten meters away.

“Stuff her in the trunk and take her home if you want- she’s so soft around the edges and pumped with hormones she won’t mind the bumpy road. You could take her right here on the concrete, and all she’d do is just moan!”

He could smell it in the air – how heated you were. Sopping like a braindead whore – he bet you’d been stuck in that chastity belt for hours, as sweaty and trembling as you were. Unstable were you stood in pink pumps soaked full of the slick running down your thighs – only managing to stand thanks to the big bodyguard behind you. He was a beastly fucker, squeezing one of your tits tight in a big bear paw while fisting your leash like a noose in the other, pulling the thick black collar kept snug on your throat only to feel your plush ass rub against his crotch.

The way your arms were cruelly bent behind your back was of no help to your balance either, making your perky tits strut forward. Stiff nipples begging for a suck or a twist or a slap – sculpted a bit by an additional harness shaped like a bra with no filling – just thin black leather lines extenuating that on display.

“My hunters swear she’s a pure little thing, so normally I would demand you pay extra-”

Two black heart-shaped eyepatches had you blindfolded but were kept lenient enough to allow tears to soak through, layered damp on your cheeks and giving a pretty plump bloat to your lips – sucking on the pink ballgag stuffed in your mouth, fastened tight around your head – making all your noises come out wet and even more feeble.

“But she’s yours free of charge if the league handles some business for me~”

Your lop ears drooped sadly down your cheeks, framing your cute face like a picture where your little nose kept wrinkling in terribly adorable sniffles – squealing on what he could tell was another ride over the edge.

“Deal.” He barked shortly, a growl in his throat.

The Master grinned. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Shigaraki.” Tossing him the keys to the lock on your cunt before snapping his fingers, gesturing for the bodyguard to do the same with the leash – pushing you in a wobbling stumble over to your new owner.

And then he really felt you tremble – soft yet stiff, bracing yourself against him – the smell of utter terror and arousal so thick he found himself drooling just at a single close whiff – all the hair on his tail spiked on strict end as a hunger growled low in his gut.

He felt his pants grow taut and gave a hiss – shoving you on your stomach in a sprawl onto the backseat. Throwing your legs inside before slamming the door shut – putting his fingers to his lips – your slick wet on them, glossy and sweet in his nose like a perfume as he licked them clean while getting in the car.

“Drive.” He muttered in another curt growl, signaling the man to his side to turn the keys as he pawed the straining tent bumping his boxers with yet another hiss.

Huffing, he closed his eyes, listening to you nom on your gag with wet cries and moans – his chest tight and brows furrowed – cursing having said yes to clean up another organization’s mess, and even more frustrated with your scent hanging heavy in the air, making everything spin for him – until finally reaching the base.

“Get out, Binky- welcome to your new home.”

He tugged your collar again soon after the car stopped, and out you shuffled – sweaty and shivering on legs that could barely hold their own weight – supported by the hand he had raked in your hair, pulling and dragging your body out into the cold.

Letting go once you were out of the backseat, he started fisting the leash instead, yanking you forward with heels clicking in no steady rhythm – wonky on the ground where you struggled to keep up with him. Slick between your thighs, rubbing together as you walked.

You were still blindfolded – floppy ears shifty at the sounds of doors opening and slamming shut, along with the threatening cheers of the crowd of villains drinking in the rooms the two of you passed. It’s as though he can hear you praying, hoping that he’s not planning on sharing you with the rest of the fray the way you flinch at the whistles and filthy comments being thrown your way.

You sped up until your tits bumped into his back – walking close with your head bowed to shield yourself.

Splitting a grin, he chuckled out a low snort. He hadn’t thought you’d be so silly to seek his comfort. But dumb as it was, his cock seemed to find it unexpectedly pleasant.

Reaching his room, he fished for his key – hands unsteady, tongue gracing his fangs as he unlocked it before stepping inside. Hauling you behind him into the musty space where he at once pounced on you like a predator who’d finally lost all patience. 

Paws with claws gabbed your tit with a force that made you stumble – almost fall if he hadn’t tugged you back by your leash. His tongue ran wet over the sweet drool dripping down your neck and chin – his canines close to your neck, making you shiver and bleat for him while his hand dropped down to cup your sex. 

Stopping short at the thick feel of latex beneath his fingertips, he growled and shoved you in a toppling wobble until your back hit the soft embrace of the bed behind you. You met it with a bounce and a yelp smothered in your gag – and he followed quickly, crawling on top of you with the key in hand. Carefully caressing the lock on your belt – thinking it would be a shame to destroy it when he could make use of it later. He would need to keep you protected if the way everyone eyed you was any indication. After all, he couldn't expect a base crawling with only carnivores to resist the scent of a herbivore as sweet as you.

He turned the key in the hole and pulled the cruel construction down your thighs, and you gave a whine, hips bucking at the release, quaking at the empty feeling while he eyed the lewd mixture of slick clinging in pretty bridges between the two closing holes and the two glossy rubber cocks still wet and warm with your heat. 

“You make quite a slutty mess for a virgin.” He teased, with two of his coarse fingers dragging up your slick clit – gleeful eyes watching you squirm while releasing a strangled sound caught between a moan and a scream – riddled with overstimulation to the point you were cumming in spasms from only the single little touch.

He only chuckled at the sight. Leaving you to pant and quake beneath him – with shakey breaths anticipating the painful pleasure of his touch once again. 

“Sensitive, scared, horny- tortured by your own fickle hormones and instincts- I know what you want…” He continued, now with the words leaving hot puffs against the slick skin on your thighs. “You want this teensy little rabbit hole destroyed by the big bad wolf….”

Your whimpers were like a symphony – sweet and softly tuned to strum every string in his gut – purring and stirring something sticky and heavy and starving inside of him.

“Look at this pussy….” He groaned with a click of his tongue – his eyes set on the wet puffy little thing between your legs. “So pretty- I could bite it.”

Your back took an arch, jumping from the bed once his hot mouth hit your mound – letting out another uncontrolled moan – heart pounding so loud and savagely in your chest he could feel it pulse on his tongue inside you as he lapped at you like a parched mutt.

His claws dug with greed, plunged deep into the cake of your thighs, locking you around his jaw where he mouthed at your core with eyes rolling back. Every fiber went on a rampage within him, zipping along his limbs and gathering in his gut like one tight-clenched aching fist.

“Mh-fuck-” He took a breath, mouth gaping and dripping with spit and slick before moving upward, sucking kisses into the soft skin of your tummy and soon locking his lips around your nipple – with one hand working your free titty, the other fucked your hole with horny curiosity, delving in the slick with twists and curls and scissoring.

You whined under his touches, quaking on all counts – listening to your hole squelch while your oh-so-sensitive insides clenched down hard from the warm knot coiling in your lower belly, coming so close to that all-over-feeling yet again – shaking your head in fear of it.

“Piss yourself if it helps- I don’t mind-” He growled out low in a whisper, his fangs against your throat now, grazing playfully with rugged breaths hot against your flushed skin. “I won’t stop until I’ve broken in each hole-”

Eyes big and swiveled with tears rippling down your cheeks in rushed rivulets, all the while your pussy made out with his fingers – feeling the fat digits test the flex of your gummy walls – slippery with slick and happily fluttering from his touches. 

You soon caved for the umpteenth time – whole body strangling to suppress the sensation while unsure how much more you could take before going numb.

“Tch- there you go~ good bunny~” He praised in mockery, snickering at your panting – his breath hot on your skin where he moved to hover above your gagged lips – undoing the straps to free your mouth.

“Ah please, m-master- please- no more-” You immediately begged, mouth wet with drool.

“Mh- you’ve got manners…” He moaned, keeping his fingers in your cunt while holding you by the ear in the other hand, gripping it tight and rubbing the thin softness like a lucky charm. Tugging himself out of his pants, messy with pre, he immediately steered the fatness to your mouth. “Open up~”

You took it with a small whine, feeling it push onto your tongue and further in until it hit the back of your throat in a kiss. He gave a groan, feeling your bloated lips wrap around the shaft as you glucked on his length in soft mewls – eyes panning from the view to watch your little titties bounce at the movement, doing small jumps for him as he rammed your sweet face.

He removed your eyepatches – wanting to see your pretty eyes glossy and big for him as you sucked his cock.

The look on your face made his gut rumble – so sweet-looking with your cinched brows and button-nose – eyeing him with cute anxiety, no doubt taking in the scary sight of his red eyes and his pale skin littered with scars.

You coughed cutely when he withdrew, and he bent over to kiss you again, spit stringing between your tongues as his fingers went back to your clitty – rubbing crass circles into it that had you squealing into his mouth.

“Please, master-” You cried, wringing your thighs shut tight around his hand – tears springing from the pity puddles of your eyes as you looked at him with such plead it made his gut roar.

He could only offer a gleeful giggle, spreading your thighs by pulling you snugly around his waist – his cock jumping eagerly above your navel as he bore over you – his breath hot on your face. “Don’t worry, baby bunny, I’ll stuff you up good. Breed you full of a warm creampie in your tight little cunt.” He cooed, fangs sharp and glistening – his paw flat on your belly, rubbing the flesh with want. “Right here~ warm and thick in your little womb~”

You shuddered at the threat, then whined an open-mouthed moan as he sleaved himself inside you. Feeling his every fat vein rub along your walls until his plush head nudged tight against your cervix – making you mewl with an arch in your back, clenching hard around the size of him. Shaking from the toll of it.

He groaned, starting to pound you already – fast and deep, just like a hound rutting. “I’m gonna give you my knot, Bunbun-” He drooled, sucking your cheek with tongue and teeth – red eyes set on your plump and pouty lips – gaping open and begging for more while he continued raving. “Gonna knot you up so tight- make this virgin pussy tremble for me-”

You could only pant, getting run through at such a pace your next orgasm was fucked right out of you. Sweat pilled on your forehead and nose, thighs trembling as you came on his thickness in hot, heaving moans. Throttling his cock for cum – which he soon spilled deep inside you just like he promised – painting your insides with it with balls clenching up, resting snugly against the slick that spilled out.

He was messy when he pulled out again. Glossy and still raging fat as he rolled you over on your stomach – pulling your ass up by your hips while you remained breathless with exhaustion, smudged against the pillowy sheets beneath you.

He laid his meat between your asscheeks, eyes lazily looking over your dewy face and how pretty you looked fucked out on his bed.

“This bunny-hole’s never felt cock either, huh?” He said, voice breathy but eager still – planting his tip at the opening of the taut little entrance before beginning to push.

You moaned out again but could only ball your fists for purchase, still kept in a lock behind your back – tightening them until your knuckles whitened while he crammed himself inside you one stout inch at a time.

“Mmh- fuck, so tight~ it’s gonna feel so fuckin’ good hugging me nice and snug~” He almost whined, getting swallowed down until his pelvis met your ass and the ball of fluff found there – doing a little dance just for him. “Fuck- look at you, little cottontail~” He groaned, leaving himself sunk down to the hilt inside you for a moment of appreciation before beginning to drag out to pound your stomach into a nice mess. “So perfect, I outta take a picture~”

tip-jar: Kofi

[thought--bubble]

To Punish My Darling

Canon Aemond (Dark) X (Maid Reader)

Warnings after the Cut

Canon Aemond Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

Based off THIS request

A/N: This might be the longest one-shot I have posted 3368 words. haha.

Warnings: Child labor, Arranged Marriage, Execution, Dub-con, Smut. (Oral male receiving)

"It is a privilege to work at the red keep" Your mother had said to you as she fixed a bonnet on your head.

At the age of 10 you did not see it this way but alas you were the oldest of your siblings and your parents did not have much money, it was your turn to start helping the family, so you would join your mother in being a chambermaid at the red keep.

"I have been working up there for years and haven't had any trouble. You will simply take your work and keep your head down." This is how you came to work at the red keep. Your first assignment had been collecting the washing.

At the age of ten you were not trusted to do much else other than scuttle about the castle collecting clothes for washing and then once washed bringing them back to their rightful owner. This was an easy job and the first few days you completed the task without so much as a hiccup. But today, your third day, you were to pick up the washing of the Prince Aemond Targaryen.

The problem? He had recently received a grievous injury, which left him recovering in his chambers.

"He will be in there; you will need to knock and await a clear order to enter. is that understood?" The head maid Alandra had warned you. You nodded your head furiously in understanding and skipped through the corridors making your way to his chambers. When you arrived you simply rapped upon the door as you had done with all the others putting your ear to the door to await a response.

"Enter!" You hear a voice muffled, from the door and distance. You open the door and enter the chamber looking for the basket for washing.

" I said do not enter!" The angry voice of a young boy came hurtling at you as you freeze in terror. You avert your eyes "M-m-my Prince my apologies, I thought I- I- I heard-" He cuts you off abruptly "Thought what? that you could just enter my chambers when I advised you not to! Come to see, did you? Come to see the horror?" As he says this, he keeps his head turned from you.

"N-no I am here to pick up the washing! I swear!" Your entire body shakes, you have clearly made a grave mistake and upset a Targaryen Prince and even at this youthful age you understand the repercussions that could result from an incident like this.

"Take it and go" he says quietly, still turned away from you. "Do not come back in here.” You bow your head quickly grabbing the basket of laundry and run from his chambers. You quickly drop the laundry off to the woman doing the washing and run to find your mother.

Your mother, most distressed to hear this news, tells Alandra who simply states that all they can do at this point is wait to see if anything comes of it.

3 more days pass and you continue your work waiting for the hammer to fall but it never comes. After a month or two you had all but forgotten the incident, the only lingering reminder being your refusal to return to the chambers of Prince Aemond.

That is until he is released from his recovery, eyepatch firmly in place. Now it is much more difficult to avoid him, this becomes especially apparent when you accidentally stumble onto his hidden reading spot which happens to also be the place you like to eat your midday meal.

"Oh, my apologies my Prince" You bow your head and back up desperate to get out of there as quickly as possible. "What's that?" He gestures toward the oranges in your hand.

"O-oranges my Prince" You back up one more step itching to remove yourself from his presence. "Give me one" he holds his hand out to you; you timidly step forward until you are just close enough to place the oranges in his outstretched hand.

"I said one" He leaves his hand outstretched waiting for you to remove one of the oranges. With a quivering hand you reach down and lift one of the oranges. Once you have it you grip it tightly and take a step back preparing to drop into a curtsy. "Stay" he doesn't lift his head when he makes this command, he simply starts to peel his orange.

You stand rooted in place.

"Well sit. I Cannot have you standing over me like some sort of ogre" he gestures to the empty space to his left. You quietly and slowly lower yourself to the ground and the two of you quietly eat your oranges not exchanging a word.

This one chance meeting develops into a regular meeting tucked away in the back of the garden. The silent meetings change over time into brief conversations which further change into much longer and much deeper conversations.

Before you even understood how impossible this situation is you had become besotted with the prince. You found yourself rushing to your meeting spot and laughing with him until your sides hurt.

Your feelings only got stronger as you saw him grow from a boy to a man. lithe, assertive face and lone purple eye that you still see every night when you lay down to sleep.

The little fantasy you had built up in your head all comes crashing down when your mother announces the son of the local butcher has expressed interest in you.

"I am not interested in him!" You scream. "My heart belongs to another!"

"Do you think I am a fool?" Your mother seethes. "Do you think I do not see the doe eyes you make toward the prince?" You look up at your mother, eyes welling with tears.

"I ... I love him mother." Your mother runs her hands down her face. "He is a Prince of the realm! You are but a maid!" she pulls you in for a hug "Darling it is impossible. You are so bright, my pride, you have to know this."

You cry into your mother's shoulder. You know it is impossible. You have known this all along, but you were happy being able to pretend that maybe, just maybe you could have what your heart most desired.

You lament the thought of marrying another and putting that fantasy to rest. Ending that dream in its entirety.

"He will be a butcher. That is a comfortable life for you. I cannot imagine we could find a better match" She strokes your cheeks fondly. "All I wish for you, my beauty, is a life easier than mine, and with this match, you will get that" her eyes convey a silent plea as she looks at you.

"I understand mother. This is a smart match." You nod your head as you fight back your tears. As much as this hurts, you know she is right. Life as a butcher's wife would be one of moderate comfort, while the life of a Princess would never be yours to have.

Over the coming weeks you are introduced to the young man your parents have decided to be your husband. Alden is a nice boy. He is decent looking and overly sweet. You were pleased to see that he wasn't quite as plump as his mother or have as little hair as his father.

You move about your daily duties in the castle the way you always have. You have not told Aemond of the match set for you by your parents. You knew he would not care but, you had a lingering feeling of discomfort over breaching the topic with him. You did, however, want to tell him before you were wed. Your husband-to-be had decided that he did not want his wife to be a maid at the castle. You would work in the butcher shop like the rest of his family. So, with a heavy heart just two days before your planned marriage you sit down in the garden next to Aemond, two oranges in hand.

He lifts his head from his book. "You're late. I was thinking I may have to go fetch my own orange today. "

"My apologies, I have a few tasks I have been training some of the new girls on" You squeeze your orange in the palm of your hand digging your nails into the course skin.

He raises an eyebrow. "I don't want a different chamber maid; you do things just as I like."

"As will they, I will make sure of it. My.... My time working here has ended. I am to join my husband’s family at their shop in town"

You avoid his gaze as you speak just watching the orange in your hand as you squeeze it tighter and tighter your fingernails buried in the outer layer.

"I did not know that you had been wed." He closes the book he was reading placing it in his lap.

"Look at me" he nearly barks.

The tone shocks you out of your daze "I-I-I-I am not, not yet. I am to be wed in two days."

The playful look he had worn when you arrived has vanished and been replaced with a steely cold look. "To whom?" his voice is quiet but controlled.

You look at him with a dumfounded expression. You were not expecting a reaction like this from him. You really did not expect a reaction at all, let alone one so passionate.

"I asked you a question, I expect that you answer it." His one eye is locked on you, and he taps his finger against the cover of his book.

"Alden. He is the son of the local butcher" You look down at the ground and lower your voice "It is a smart match."

"Hmmmm.... Seems so"

The rest of your midday meeting passed in silence, Aemond's jaw clenched his orange resting upon his book.

Eventually, you bid him farewell and continued with the training of your replacement maids before heading home for the night.

You wake up the next morning preparing for your last day working in the red keep. You will be married the next day, and your new life will start. Your meetings with Aemond, will be just memories of a young girl. Plenty of fodder for dreams and nothing more.

Leaving your home, which normally was no special affair, led you directly into a scene of chaos. People all around you chattering about the execution of a thief, a thief who dared to steal from the icy cold Prince Aemond.

A general sense of dread fills your body as you follow the large crowd into the courtyard. Aemond and a few of the guards stood around a man on his knees his head down.

"Stealing from the crown is an offence punishable by death" Aemond states loudly his voice quieting the crowd. He twirls a large sapphire between his fingers.

"You have stolen something very precious to me."

"M-m-my Prince, I do not know how that came into my home!" The man you now recognize as Alden pleads.

You gasp covering your mouth. Why would Alden steal from the prince? He is hardly at the keep. Only ever there to help his father deliver meats, when would he have had time to steal from Aemond?

"It was found not only in your home but on your person" Aemond's voice is loud, crisp, clear, and cold as ice.

Your mother walks up beside you and takes your hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. You look over at her bewildered and frightened, but her gaze is set toward the horrifying display before you.

"Let this be a lesson to all" His one cold eye scans the crowd until it lands on your mother.

"For those who wish to steal from me.... this is the fate that awaits you" his eye stays locked on your mother as the executioner behind him raises an axe over a quivering and crying Alden. Your stomach is cold, as if full of ice as you look at the man you thought was your friend. His eye set on your mother making sure she understands his silent threat.

You hear the sound of the axe come down and quickly lower your head, focusing your thoughts instead on your mothers’ shoes. Her feet are so dainty.

The crowd starts to disperse, and your mother tugs your hand bringing you toward the keep.

"No! I am not going in there!" You try to yank your hand away from your mother, but she pulls it back to her quickly.

"There is no choice in this, I think that much is clear" She snaps at you keeping her voice low. "We go back to work and continue on."

You nod your head; words do not come to you, but you continue with a kind of mechanical movement. One foot in front of the other. You complete your tasks in much the same way. The only deviation being that you decided to skip your midday meal.

Only 2 hours after your usual meeting time you were summoned to Aemond's chambers. He never summons you. He always knew when to expect you to turn over his linens, collect his clothing for washing. He never needed to summon you.

You approach his door as if you are the one being led to the axe. It could not be a coincidence that yesterday you told Aemond you were to marry Alden and today Alden is publicly executed.... could it?

You lightly knock on his door and await his usual call for you to enter; instead, the door flies open. You flinch back slightly at the sudden movement looking off to the side.

"Come in" He stands to the side giving you space to enter.

"You requested my presence my Prince?" you try to keep your voice low, and eyes angled so you are looking just behind him, hoping beyond all hope that he cannot see how absolutely terrified you are.

"Look at me" he stands directly before you, so close you can feel the heat springing from his body. You slowly raise your head and look up at him through your lashes.

"You are to stay working here, at the red keep as my personal chamber maid."

"Yes, my Prince" You slightly nod your head.

"You missed midday meal, I waited for an orange that never came" he places his hands behind his back and leans forward ever closer, bridging the already miniscule gap that lay between you.

"I found myself without an appetite."

"That may be so, but I was famished...." he clicks his tongue. "Still am"

He grabs you by your chin tightly. "You couldn't have possibly thought I would have let him have you" He growls up against the side of your face. "There are many things that I deserve that are given to others, but I would not lose my darling to a butcher" his voice is filled with disgust.

"This is not possible, you cannot marry me I am a maid!" you look at him eyes pleading as he starts to chuckle.

"I know that, I do not plan to marry you."

You look at him questioningly "Then what-"

" I plan to keep you as my own." he lightly traces his finger down your cheek.

your face falls.

"Now, it brings me no pleasure to punish my darling, but you have left me no choice" He moves in close dragging his nose along the side of your face inhaling your scent. "You will be an obedient servant for me? Won't you?"

"Yes, my prince" an unfamiliar feeling of fear mixed with anticipation creeps up your spine as he wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer to him.

"Now.... I will give you a set of instructions and you will follow each one with immediacy and accuracy." as you go to respond he interrupts "Do not speak unless I ask you to". You nod just to let him know you understood his instruction.

"Good.... now remove everything" You look at him your face conveying a look of confusion.

"Everything that you are wearing" He tilts his head to the side, again putting his arms behind his back, a small smirk on his face.

You slowly start to unlace your dress, hands nervously shaking.

"Quickly now. I have somewhere to be." You take a deep breath in and just as before your movements become mechanical. Taking your clothes off as you would at home before washing. As you pull each piece of clothing off you fold it and place it in a pile by your feet. Once you are fully undressed you look back to Aemond awaiting his next order.

He walks up close to you. "Now me"

Your trembling fingers slowly start to unclasp the buckles on his doublet. He chuckles and clicks his tongue "Quickly".

Your fingers move along his buckles and laces like a musician playing an instrument, quick and precise. Once he is as bare as you are, nothing left on but his eye patch. He motions you over to the bed, as you move to get on it his voice echoes through the room.

"No" he stops you and pulls you back toward the edge of the bed.

"Kneel here" you get down on your knees facing the edge of the frame as he sits before you.

"As I told you, I have someplace to be" He wraps his hand around your chin, pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb. "My pretty little darling" He starts to pump himself to full hardness, while gripping your chin tighter, the nail of his thumb digging into the sensitive skin of your lip.

He hits your chin with the hardened tip of his cock and chuckles.

"You look even prettier like this." He slides the tip of his cock against your plush lips.

"open", you open your mouth looking up at him through your lashes. "That's good" he slides the tip into your mouth as you settle yourself down between his legs. He grabs the braid tied up on the back of your head and grips it tight slowly lowering your head. As he pushes you further and further down his shaft you start to sputter

"Shhhhh darling" He coos gently as he strokes the side of your face. He holds your head in place as you get used to the sensation, breathing through your nose.

He continues to push your head down until your nose is buried in his groin and you are gagging, tears flowing from your eyes, drool dripping from the sides of your mouth. He sighs and chuckles, before grabbing your braid and holding your head in place as he pulls you slightly back. You struggle to take in a gulp of air before he is back inside your mouth, his hips thrusting feverishly as he uses your mouth as if it were not attached to an actual human.

The sounds of his sighs and pants, along with your gagging and slurping fill the room as the heat and tingling between your thighs grows almost unbearable. He stands from the bed still gripping your hair tightly shoving his cock further into your mouth battering the back of your throat as he increases his pace.

You attempt to look up at him, but your eyes can only see the blurry shape of the man above you.

Just as your head begins to feel light, like you could just float away, he stiffens in your mouth and presses himself all the way to the back of your throat and holds you there. You fight the urge to pull away as you feel him empty himself directly down your throat as he lets out a choked groan.

When he finally pulls himself out of your mouth and walks back toward his clothes you sit back on your feet, wiping the tears from your eyes and gasping for air.

"Turns out I lied" he says coolly.

You look over at him still panting heavily, face red, chin covered in drool.

"I did find pleasure in that."

To be added to taglist click here

[the-kr8tor]

Claimed by the Sea

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 2.6k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), reader has nicknames, TW injury, TW drowning, CW blood.

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Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

Chapter 2 >>> Chapter 3

Your head is lolling off to the side, eyes growing heavy with the soft swaying of the ship in the waves. The only thing that's keeping you awake is the smell of fish lingering in the netting. Sniffing, you feel yourself succumbing to sleep.

You jolt awake when the fishing net jostles then slowly raises up, there's a mechanical whirring from the deck. The sun is peeking from the horizon, bathing you in blue.

“No, no, no!” Holding onto the net, you hold on for dear life. You just hope the sailors are friendly enough to let you on board until they dock to the nearest land.

Your only sanctuary floats above the deck, overlooking every crew moving about. Looking below, you spot their rugged clothing *They don't look like sailors. Maybe they're not wearing their blue uniform? It's casual Friday perhaps?

“Drop the bloody thing!” Someone yells from below, you and the net fall from a height that you're sure broke something in you.

With your eyes shut, you hit the deck with a splattering sound. Thankfully you land on the pile of fish, squishing a sizable chunk on the wood; decorating their ship with fish guts. Your butt hurts from the impact, you're for sure going to be picking out fish bones embedded in your skin.

Someone gasps loudly next to you. Hearing frantic slashing sounds, you shield your face from the shiny knife. Before you know it, you're free from the tangles on the net, baring yourself to the entire crew.

“Fuckin' hell! It's a mermaid!” A man with long blonde hair tied into a bun excitedly yells out.

You look at him with wide eyes, the large black flag hangs above him, the skeleton of a spider painted on the flag dances in the wind.

They're not from the royal navy.

Running footsteps come towards you, then they stop. You watch as twenty or so people circle around your fallen form. You instinctively cover yourself with the net. Their faces morph from surprise to amusement. Some laugh, some roll their eyes in annoyance.

A man with glasses slaps the blonde upside his head. “You idiot! Does she look like a fuckin’ mermaid to you?” he points at your legs that are clearly not fins.

The blonde looks disappointed, “Man, I thought my dream came true”

“Looks like we've got a stowaway!” They sneer and jeer, looking down at you, leaning their scarred faces close to your face. Too close.

“Get off me!” You push one away. Taking a fish from the ground to defend yourself. Throwing it directly at his eyepatch. They laugh louder at your expense.

“She's a fighter too! Cap’n! Look at what the fish dragged in!” A man with a peg leg, calls.

With heaving breaths you watch as a large man comes down from the steps of the quarter deck. His heavy footfalls quieting the roaring laughter immediately, his arms are as big as your head, tattoos decorating every inch of his ivory skin. His big bushy beard moves as he spits on the deck. Your eyes flick to his tree trunk like waist, his gun and cutlass glinting in the barely rising sun.

He huffs, smoke comes out of his nostrils. His eyes stare you down and you visibly shrink.

“C’mon, big man, bloody move it” a slender hand grabs the man's large shoulder, moving him away to reveal a tall, slim figure. He smiles once he takes you in. “What do we have ‘ere?”

“A stowaway, Cap’n” the one with glasses informs him. “Got into the fishing net”

He saunters over to you, heavy boots thudding against the wood. The metals hanging from his clothes are swinging and clashing as he moves. The crowd parts for him. His hands are in his leather vest, he looks at you like he's found buried treasure. His grey eyes are twinkling in the blue light, a smirk playing on his pierced lips.

You grab your necklace for comfort, heart sinking to your stomach, the golden chain is nowhere to be found. You pat around your neck and blouse. Nothing. You're alone.

“Thought ol’ Jamesy ‘ere found us a mermaid” he bends at the waist, giving you a full view of his chiselled face. His eyes are shining with amusement.

You recognize his face from all the wanted posters you've seen around different towns while travelling. If the circumstances were different you'd say the painting didn't capture him right; how his eyes look at you with hidden apprehensiveness, yet there's something dangerous in them, something that could spell your doom.

Your fear increases tenfold when you roam your eyes around the different faces watching you. There's recognition in some of them, some more than others, their bounties you've seen on their respective posters appear above their heads; each in increasing numbers.

“Aye, thought so too” ‘Jamesy’ mumbles dejectedly.

His voice shakes you out of your fear laden stupor, but it's still there, still in your quaking heart and sweaty palms.

“Y’know, we don't take too kindly to stowaways.” Hobie’s threat makes you jump in your skin.

“I heard you're not kind to anybody” you grit your teeth.

You're facing him head on, despite your heart pumping loudly against your ribcage when you get a glimpse of his twin blunderbusses strapped to his waist.

A smile spreads on his face, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Hear that lads? We're proper famous!” he leans away,

They all guffaw, snickering among the crowd. A blonde with chopped hair and pink highlights push through the audience. She clicks her tongue, sleep clinging to her lashes.

“What's all this, Hobie?”

“A stowaway, Gwendy. You remember what we do to stowaways?”

‘Gwendy’ rolls her eyes. “I'm too tired for this,” she sighs. “Let's hear her side before we push her off, yeah?”

Push me off?! Your eyes are widely roaming around the strangers, pleading for an ounce of mercy.

“Be my guest” He slides to the side, gesturing towards you.

The blonde stares at you, waiting for some explanation. You can't help but think you remember her from somewhere but you're drawing a blank. Swallowing a lump in your throat, the fishy smell and the numerous eyes on you turns your stomach inside out.

“I was–” the large man you thought was the captain stares daggers at you. “It was an accident, really. You see, I was incredibly drunk” you try to stop the shaking in your voice to sound more convincing. “And I thought I was going home, truly.”

“You thought a fishing net was your home?” the entire crew laughs rambunctiously.

Hobie observes you from the side, leaning on the bannister so casually.

“Maybe we should just turn around and bring her home. That'll be okay, right?” A teenager with curly hair and golden bangles on his wrists pipes up from the side.

You think of the man waiting for you at the docks. You'd rather be fed to the sharks.

“Yeah, 'm sure she'd like that, won't you, scuttlebutt?” The captain smirks at you, there's a knowing look on his face. “Unless you don't want to go home? I don't see why we can't just drop you off.”

He moves closer to you, squatting down to face you. “Or she doesn't want to go home, judging from the go bag, this isn't some little drunk accident.” you can feel your pulse trying to escape. His eyes never leave yours. “Sure you smell like fish but I don't smell any liquor on those pretty lips of yours.” Hobie tilts his head, smiling mischievously. “You're running from someone, aren't you?”

You glare at him despite the fear crawling up your neck.

He nods, “Yeah, you are. We'd rather not be involved with whatever you've got goin' on.” his face turns serious, not even a ghost of a smile. “Finn”

With one call, the giant man takes you by the shoulders, standing you back to your shaky feet. You squirm, doing your best to push him off, but it's no use, he's too strong.

“Sorry to see you go so soon but I've got my entire crew to worry ‘bout.” he says softly.

You scoff, spitting venom. “The only thing you pirates care about is treasure and your next mark.”

With one last fight, you stomp on the man's boot clad foot, headbutting him in quick succession. They hoot and holler as your vision swirls.

Your act of defiance didn't even make the man flinch, he grunts, narrowing his eyes at you. Hobie's lackey turns you around to face the sea and the entrance to your death. Looking over your shoulder, you see him raise his thick eyebrow at you in mild annoyance.

“She's a feisty one, Hobie, you sure we can't let her stay? I'll take good care of her” A tall ravenette coos at you, staring directly at you with her dark eyes.

“I agree with Hobie, she might bring trouble” Another teenager comments, he crosses his arms, his eyes stare at you with remorse.

The man pushes you towards the open side of the ship where a singular wooden plank hangs precariously. The corner of the railing hits the small of your back. Your bag falls loudly on the deck, but you've got bigger problems right now than the sparse savings you've hidden inside.

“Wait!” You swallow your pride, it's better than drowning in the cold salty waters. “Please I'll do anything to stay or– or you can drop me off to the nearest land! Just–!” Finn pushes you again, your feet shuffle to fit the thin wood. The wind picks up, whipping at you wildly. The waves crash harshly on the side of the ship.

The vertigo makes you dizzy.

“Please! I can't–!”

Finn unsheathes his cutlass, pointing it at your heaving chest. You feel the sharp tip draw blood. He pushes and pushes until you're on the very edge of the plank. You struggle to find your balance while the wind blows rapidly, it stings your eyes, tears forming in them.

They all watch, some are grinning ear to ear like it's the best theatre show they've seen. The others are looking away or staring at their feet. Hobie looks on, posture straight, knuckles tight on his side.

“I can't swim–!” With one last push from the sharp sword, you fall.

Just above you, the pirates run towards the bannister to watch you fall in the water with a large splash.

Your back is stinging from the impact of the water, head pounding against your skull. The cold is unbearable like needles pricking your skin. You try to paddle up despite your thick clothes bringing you further down in the dark abyss. The dim light acts as your guide to the surface but it doesn't seem like your body is moving, you're quickly losing air. Bubbles escape from your lips, the salt blurs your vision.

Desperately with one kick, you feel the air from your lungs empty out, legs numb, hands reaching out towards the surface.

You choke on the salty water.

Her smiling face emerges from the darkness, now you know you've drowned. The only reason she would want you back is in death.

There's a muffled splash, a warm hand reaching for your cold ones. An unfamiliar arm snakes around your waist, bringing you up to the surface. They Frantically kick up, you feel a feather light touch on your freezing cheeks.

“Oi!” A muffled voice says. “Oi! Don't make me do mouth to mouth!” His voice gets clearer, he shakes your head, you feel calloused fingers on your skin then a breath fanning against your lips.

You splutter out, expelling water from your lungs with a choke. Holding to the nearest, steady thing, you grasp onto what feels like strong shoulders. Beneath your shaking fingers you feel raised scars.

“There you go, let it out, scuttlebutt” he pats your back as you continue to cough out. Your nails dig into his bare skin, he doesn't seem to mind. “Good on you for not makin’ me do mouth to mouth, huh?”

You wheeze out. “You fucker”

“What?”

“I said, you fucker!” Pushing him away, you sink back into the water, you panic once again.

Hobie grabs your wrist with one hand to pull you up like freshly caught fish. You glare at him through wet lashes.

“I saved your life and you're callin' me fucker?” You want to smack the smirk off his face.

“I almost drowned because of you!”

“Yeah, but that doesn't matter now because I saved your land loving arse! Who at this age can't swim anyway?!”

“Me, you bitch!” you try to kick him underwater.

“Hey, do you want to catch hyperthermia or what?” Gwendy asks from the lowered dinghy, her foot is resting on the edge casually, hand on her chin and a pierced eyebrow raised questioningly at you and Hobie who splashes water directly at your face.

With some help, you dog paddle to the boat. The smiling teenager helps you up, you feel like a ton of bricks with your thick clothes drenched.

“Here,” he takes his coat to place it around your shivering shoulders. “I'm Pavitr by the way, you okay?”

Pavitr tries to rub your shoulders for extra warmth but you flinch back, hugging the coat tighter around you.

“I'm fine, thank you, Pavitr”

The blonde pipes up, “I'm Gwen”

You nod, good thing you haven't called her ‘Gwendy’ yet.

“You needed the bath anyway, fish girl” Hobie scoffs from the other side of the boat.

You glare at him, huddled to yourself in the corner of the raising boat. The squeaking from the pulley makes you hold onto the side tighter, just in case it fails and drops you back down in the freezing water.

Hobie chuckles, water drips off his bare chest, glittering under the peaking sun. You look away with a roll of your eyes.

“Gwen, give her something warm to eat, yeah? And some clothes.”

“I was about to do that anyway”

The boat reaches back up, the crew secures the rope on the pulley with a grunt.

Hobie drops down on the deck first, he offers his hand that you huff at. Ignoring his help, you step on to the ship with shaky legs.

“Sea legs, you have to get used to it or the next two weeks for you would be hell.”

“What?”

“‘m letting you on board until we reach land. Unfortunately for you that won't be for the next two weeks. After that we're even.”

“Look who's guilty for almost killing me” you stand toe to toe with him. The rest of the crew has either gotten bored or are watching you two squabble with a smile.

“Don't push your luck, fish girl or I'll make you walk the plank again” he challenges you with a sly smile.

“I have a name!”

The captain tilts his head, amused. “Yeah? Tell me then so I have something to write on your gravestone”

You point angrily at his tattooed chest, right on the inky drawing of a long legged spider. “It's Y/N, asshole!”

Gwen sighs, waving you off.

“Well, Y/N Asshole, keep that fire in you but don't let it burn down my ship or–”

“Or what?”

He stares at your eyes, swirling grey whirlpools threatening to pull you under. Hobie sighs, turning around abruptly, leaving you standing alone on the deck.

“Hey!” You call back, “or what huh?!”

He waves you off, “‘s too early for this shit, ‘m goin' back to sleep. Goodnight, fish girl!”

Change of plans: survive the next two weeks with an entire ship full of pirates or die drowning in the middle of the sea. That should be easy enough, right?

A/N: Thank you for reading 😘

[mllemarianne]

Striving

Aemond Targaryen x F!Strong!Reader

Part 1: Deserving Part 2: Indulging Part 3: Striving

Summary: When you are summoned to King’s Landing to discuss the future of the Kingdom, Aemond is confronted by the ghosts of his past. Unfortunately, with grudges like these, it only takes a moment for one’s life to be turned upside down. It is why, on that frightful night, the people of the court gather in the throne room to hear the sad news. After all, any day the stranger comes to claim a life is a sad day… but whose life is it?

Word count: 18k 

Warnings: Angst, fluff and smut (5k words of it!) Emotional hurt/comfort. Mentions of grief, neglect, absent parent. English is my second language.

N/A: Buckle up guys, you are in for a ride. This is the third and last part of their story. This part is a little different. A lot of Aemond POV (including the smut!) Aemond has come a long way, yet he still holds grudges... This time, it really feels like the ending Aemond deserves.

AO3 | Masterlist

AEMOND

Aemond stood on top of the castle walls, trembling in his icy drenched clothes. His wavy silvery hair flew in the faint wind, a sharp contrast with the storm that broke over the whole east coast of Westeros in the past few hours. The sun pierced the clouds and engulfed the region in a warm orange light, another sharp contrast with the dire predicament Aemond found himself in.

For a second time, he had to fly through atrocious weather on Vaghar above the Stormlands. The first time was indisputably unpleasant. It happened a few moons back. Seven to be precise. The pouring rain forced him to take shelter for a night in a grubbly inn. A night where he shared a bed with you. A night that changed everything.

This time, however… it had been truly horrific. For various and obvious reasons.

A few hours had gone by since he came back to the Red Keep. He could not spare a single minute to change, but at that point, he did not care. Too much had happened in such a short period of time and damp clothes were the least of his concerns.

Quietly crying, he glanced down at the people of the court walking through the yard to enter the castle. He observed your brother, followed by other knights, rushing to the entrance, shoving men and women aside. Mayhaps it was time for Aemond to get back inside too. Afterall, the announcement would be made in the throne room any minute.

Walking slowly, Aemond joined his brothers and sister on the dais where stood the Iron Throne. He instinctively wedged himself between the Queen and Helaena, seeking comfort. Dangling somewhere between numbness and sorrow, he dropped his head so no one could see his eye glisten in the dim lighting.

He did not have his eyepatch on and could not bear the stares. Not this time. 

Helaena hooked her arm through his. He appreciated the gesture since he knew of her disinclination towards physical contact. She had tears in her eyes too, her lips pressed in a thin line. He sneaked a peek at the rest of the royal family, gathered on the other side of the Throne. Jacaerys stood with his younger brother Joffrey, Lady Baela, Lady Rhaena and Prince Daemon. While some quietly exchanged words with each other, they all had something in common.

They had their eyes locked on Aemond.

They knew. 

Aemond glanced down at his feet again, his expression tortured, avoiding any and all of their stares. Prince Daemon, especially, appeared on the verge of slaughtering half the people in the room until Aemond’s older sister, Rhaenyra, came to stand before him and took his hand in hers. She did not look at Aemond for one second. 

Lords and ladies as well as knights flooded the throne room, all impatiently waiting to hear the news that had them cutting short their dinner. They knew one thing for sure. Three people were missing from the royal dais.

Maester Mellos asked both sides of the family for permission to proceed, then walked to the front and cleared his throat. “Even though it is almost the hour of the bat, we are gathered here in great sadness, for any day the stranger comes to claim a life is a sad day.”

Aemond was half listening. The old maester’s words almost felt like distant noises. He looked around the room now dark and gloomy since the sun had set. He noted your father and brother’s absence. They probably rushed to your chambers, to see for themselves…

To say that Aemond’s whole life changed in the span of a few hours was certainly… an understatement.

5 days before

AEMOND

"My lady, my lord. A raven from King’s Landing," a voice resounded through your chamber’s door.

You sighed, shoving your face in your pillow. Aemond groaned, his nose still buried in your sweaty neck. His front was pressed to your back, the pad of his fingers softly grazed the silky skin of your thighs, soothing the flesh he held onto so tightly until then.

It was definitely too early for ravens.

“No, stay,” he murmured in your ear when he felt you moved slightly. He wrapped his arms around your bust and belly, one of his hands cupping your tender breast. You mewled when he left a trail of kisses on your neck, setting your nerves ablaze again. You were basking in the afterglow of your joining still. He literally spent the last hour worshiping you thoroughly.

He only wished to breathe in your blissful scent, to savor your heavenly taste and to revel in the singular feeling of your warm velvety walls pulsing around his cock for a few moments more. You had yet to catch your breath, shivering all over whenever he dared move an inch.

Nuzzling the soft skin behind your ear, the corners of his mouth curled in a blissful smile. He liked the scent of you in the morning. Your very skin and hair smelled of honeysuckle and lush gardens— oils and flowers you bathed in every night to soothe the pains of carrying his heir these past seven moons. However, in the morning, usually after you shared your body with him, you smelled of love too. It was the only way Aemond could describe it.

When sweat veiled your skin after he had your heart beating fast. When you soaked his thighs, riding him into oblivion. When your hair stuck to your forehead while he trapped you under him and pounded into you mercilessly. When tears dried on your cheeks after he went on and on, faster and deeper, without relenting.

Aemond could not get enough. You were glowing with love and life. Mayhaps it was because of the little dragon growing in your womb, but it appeared you could not get enough of him as well. So he obliged you. Vigorously. Granted he did not need much convincing, even when the occasion did not call for it.

He smirked as he recalled you dismissing the lords during a council meeting just so he could fuck you senseless on the large wooden table. It was the least he could do since you were the one carrying his child.

That morning was no exception. The sun was high in the sky, which meant you were still sharing a bed when you should have been sharing duties of Lady and Lord of Harrenhal. That being said, leaving your side was not amongst Aemond’s utmost priorities. He grumbled his displeasure loudly as Maester Sylvan knocked once more.

"It is an urgent matter, I’m afraid," he stated, the chains he wore clanking against the wooden door of your chambers.

READER

You chuckled, while Aemond fumed. Since you were lady and lord of Harrenhal, you noticed how every raven was "a matter of most urgency". Although, you could understand why the poor Maester insisted.

You recalled how one day, Aemond had enough of the trivial messages delivered at dawn.

The news came that Lord Luthor Tyrell— your “betrothed for a day”—  got engaged to a daughter of House Baratheon of Storm’s End. Aemond all but crumpled the message and threw it in the fire angrily, asking the Maester why the news was deemed urgent.

You had shared with Aemond the last words you exchanged with Luthor, at your engagement feast of all places. Except you did not mention the “Enjoy being a cripple’s whore” comment, fearing Aemond would have left to go burn the entirety of Highgarden with Vaghar and possibly start a war with The Reach. Fearing for his life as well, the Maester excused himself and ran before you could say anything.

Aemond rubbed his marred cheek, looking desperate.

“Maester Sylvan insists on relaying any message immediately because the last time he didn’t, my mother gave birth to me and died before my father could reach her,” you revealed with a gentle tone.

A pink hue tinted Aemond’s cheeks. His shoulder sagged briefly before he straightened, crossed his arms behind his back and looked at you with contrition. He apologized sincerely.

“It’s alright, you did not know. Maester Sylvan all but raised me alongside my father until I was ten of age and moved to King’s Landing,” you explained, remembering how he used to secretly nick raspberry tarts from the kitchens to goad you into learning more houses of the realm as well as their sigils. “Besides, you don’t see me losing my mind at the mere mention of Lord Boros’ daughters. Weren’t you supposed to marry Ellyn?”

You heard a faint “hm” as an answer. 

After that, Aemond never complained about the early morning ravens again. You were used to his temper anyway. It was improving, at least.

Lost in your thoughts of urgent messages and raspberry tarts, you startled as Aemond kissed your shoulder and detangled himself from you. You winced as he left both your body and your bed, a cold draft hitting your behind as he lifted the sheets. He dressed quickly, opened the door and thanked the Maester for his diligence. He ordered the maids to draw you a bath and came back to you, half sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What does it say?” you asked his face all but drained of its colors.

“To Lady Y/n Strong and her husband Prince Aemond Targaryen, Lady and Lord of Harrenhal. You are hereby summoned to King’s Landing in order to celebrate the union of two great houses. Lady Helaena Targaryen, second daughter of King Viserys I, and Jacaerys Targaryen, crowned Prince and first born son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and the late Lord Lenor Velaryon, are to be wed. The King wishes for both families to meet in three days time to discuss the future of the Kingdom,” read aloud Aemond. “It is signed with your father the Hand’s seal.”

“Well… this is indeed an urgent matter. We have to make plans now,” you noted, already thinking of the burden of flying in your condition. Then you noticed Aemond was silent, reading the message over and over again. “Speak, but I know what you are thinking.”

“My father wants my sister to wed Jacaerys,” he groused, frowning horribly.

You took his hand and traced figures on his calloused palm. “…It was a matter of time. You saw them dance together at our wedding… You have to admit they are well matched… mayhaps it is a first step towards reconciliation.”

“We are past reconciliation,” he snarled, standing again to throw the message in the fire. “Aegon, Jacaerys and Lucerys made my life a living hell. For years. And my father never said a thing. Aegon is the only one who apologized since. Vaghar scares him to death,” he specified, looking at the scroll slowly turning into ashes. “But my nephews never showed a single glimpse of remorse. Not for the laughs, not for the fucking pig with wings and certainly not for ganging up on me and taking my eye. They probably still think it was justice well served for ‘stealing’ Vaghar.”

You did not push him any further. Even though almost ten years had passed, it still pained him. However nice it had been at Harrenhal, you knew resentment lurked under his skin irregardless. You felt it every time the crowned Princes or his father were mentioned. Aemond was all about strength, will and power. On the outside, at least. You knew him as a passionate and caring man too. He was complex, hiding a very vulnerable side still hurting from years of mistreatment and neglect.

In spite of it all, not once have you seen him actually cry. Even when you confessed your love in each other's arms during your adventures in the Stormlands. Even when he realized you had dragged him to a Valyrian wedding. His eye was bright with unshed tears but his determination to look strong always won in the end. When you were younger, whenever he spent time with his nephews, he always came back to you looking pitiful but never tearful. That is when you began going to the library every night with him. You wanted Aemond to know that he had a friend in the Red Keep. The rest was history.

Aemond buttoned his tunic, put on his boots and hung his sword to his leather belt before he left to sort out your departure. The guards had to leave on foot now while you would join them in two days time on dragonback. You got up as well, both hands on your round belly, and went to bathe in floral oils and herbs like Maester Sylvan recommended. It did soothe the pain in your lower back and the nausea that burdened you lately. Sitting in your bath and closing your eyes, you realized how things changed during the last seven moons since you wed and moved to Harrenhal.

These days, you took baths and enjoyed leisurely walks in the meadows— that is, when your lower back allowed you— instead of training in the morning. When Maester Sylvan confirmed you were with child, Aemond all but denied you entry to your training yard. You were outraged.

He was anything but a fool. He waited for you at the entrance the next morning to make sure you turned right back around. He outright refused to even unsheathe his sword in your presence. Unsurprisingly, not a single knight dared offer sparring with their expecting lady either. Especially when your Prince was there to stare them down. You ultimately yielded, agreeing to simply observe— ogle really— Aemond in his training gear.

Your husband started to embrace his appearance too. For so long it hurt to see the frightened look on people’s faces… even if he drew satisfaction from scaring away the knights who got too friendly with you or the lords who wanted a dance during feasts.

Yet after a while, he started showing up to the training yard without his eyepatch. Then at the council meetings. In the end, he even attended dinners and feasts without it. The people grew accustomed to his beautiful glowing sapphire eye. He even seemed to forget about the gem, only to be reminded of it when he spied blue specks of lights dancing on someone’s face when the sun was out.

His appetite also changed. You thought he was insatiable before, but it was nothing compared to the beast he had become since you had your own little kingdom. Once upon a time, you had a little game where he kissed you when no one was looking. The game somehow changed a little since. Harrenhal was full of dark corners and secret passages. Lately, you found yourself, more often than not, pressed up against a stone wall or lying down on a window seat with your Prince driving in and out of you, swallowing your cries with a kiss.

“I enjoy the sight of you walking around with me dripping down your thighs,” he shamelessly confided in you once, letting down the hem of your dress after he ruined you in an alcove before a council meeting. His filthy words got to you every time.

It was no secret that he thrived now that he got out of King’s Landing. At Harrenhal, he took part in the running of the Riverlands as head of the council, by your side. He oversaw the army training and battle strategy. He taught swordplay and hand-to-hand combat to new recruits. He had access to a thousand new books thanks to your ancestors' love for academics. And since you were eager to learn, Aemond taught you High Valyrian too.

It was like after years of aimlessly roaming the halls of the Red Keep, he found a purpose. Seeing him like that, content and untroubled, filled you with so much joy you thought you would burst. 

That is why going back to King’s Landing made you so nervous.

2 days before

READER

Aemond had a special saddle made for Vaghar so you could ride comfortably in front of him without squashing the child. It had so many ropes and chains that you scoffed as he gently tied you to it.

“There may be bad weather. I’m not watching you fall off this dragon,” he justified patiently.

Unfortunately, the flight gave you a crippling nausea. When you landed on the beach of King’s Landing two hours later, you were white as a sheet and wished for nothing but rest. He fussed when you climbed down the net on Vaghar’s side as well.

Aemond took great care of you, and you were grateful by all means, but sometimes you liked to remind him you were not a delicate flower and if not for your belly, you could knock him to the ground in a training yard. Each time he smirked and kissed your cheek as an apology. He knew you had a temper too.

You climbed all the steps to the Red Keep and met Queen Alicent and Princess Halaena at the top. The Queen went to her son immediately, wrapping her arms around him in a warm loving hug. She embraced you as well, overjoyed. “Blessed be The Mother, a child so soon,” she teared up, pressing a hand on the side of your belly. “Come. The King will join us shortly. The rest of the family is in the great hall.” 

Aemond stayed with his mother, but it was not by choice. She held onto him so tight he glanced at you for help at one point. But who were you to deny a Queen the presence of her own beloved son?

You walked alongside Halaena who seemed positively radiant. You knew she was happy about her betrothal. You saw how Jacaerys asked her for a dance at your wedding and how they treasured each other’s company for the rest of the night. 

You kept that information to yourself, but a part of you felt like you should reach out to Aemond’s nephews… well, your nephews too it seemed. You hoped it was finally the beginning of a new era, where both families put their differences aside and started working together toward a better future for the Kingdom. Except you knew without a doubt that the heart of the problem resided in one dreadful night in Driftmark when a child was armed and no justice was served. 

The whole royal family was indeed in the great hall, discussing with the people of the court. You stared back at your Prince immediately.

He tensed before the crowd. He reached into his pocket and fished out his eyepatch. You did not even know he took it with him. It saddened you when he put it on quickly before he joined his brothers, Prince Aegon and Prince Daeron.

You did not see any familiar faces yet. Your father was with the King of course, and your brother would not mingle with the royal family in these circumstances anyway. So you followed Princess Helaena who joined Prince Jacaerys, and his siblings.

“Your graces, ladies.” You bowed to the Princes and greeted Lady Baela and Rhaena. They greeted you back, but it was Prince Lucerys who stepped forward and spoke directly to you.

“We know you know. Sir Harwin told us,” he hushed.

On the day of your wedding, you questioned your brother once and for all and demanded the truth. He confirmed he was indeed the father of the three crowned Princes. He apparently had an arrangement with Prince Daemon who did not resent him nor Princess Rhaenera, but wished to keep Harwin at Dragonstone. For the Princes’ sakes.

That is when Harwin abdicated his title of heir of Harrenhal. It was his wedding present to you and Aemond, in a way. The biggest castle in Westeros— even if some of it melted a bit long ago—, vast green lands with rivers and lakes, a large army… It still felt surreal to have all that to yourself. You were a second born as well, and second born usually get nothing. Also, you were a woman. Your father never treated you any differently for it, but he warned you that it would not be the case with every other lord you would cross paths with.

“Oh, I see. Of course he would,” you answered hesitantly. “As a matter of fact… I wish we could know each other better, your grace.”

“You are part of the family now. In more than one way,” he said in hushed tones, referring to you technically being their aunt. “You can drop the formal titles.”

Aemond and Helaena were the only ones you dared address without a title. Never had you dreamed of doing the same with the crowned Princes. “Old habits die hard” but you would try.

“I’m obviously in no condition to train with you in the morning, but perhaps you would join me for a tea later today? All of you. Baela and Rhaena too.”

“Will he be there?” bluntly inquired Baela before her sister Rhaena subtly elbowed her in the ribs. Knowing who “he” was, you glanced at the other side of the hall to find Aemond already looking at you with fire in his eye. You realized you were still standing quite close to Princ— to Lucerys. You took two steps back hastily and addressed Baela’s question with the truth.

“I don’t believe he would join us, no. I wish we could discuss this as well. It is my desire that we find a way to… ease tensions at the very least.”

“Say that to him. We never had a problem with you. He is the one staring like he is about to murder us,” muttered Baela. You did not need to turn your head around to know exactly what Aemond looked like that very moment. Surprisingly, it was Rhaena who stepped forward and spoke to you.

“I’ve come to peace with my mother’s dragon being claimed by Aemond a long time ago. I have Morning now and I love her so very dearly. We could indeed put all this behind us,” she spoke serenely. “I’m ready… but is he?”

“It’s me he resents, not you,” Lucerys intervened. “I’m not ashamed I defended my brother during the brawl, but I regret hurting Aemond. Truly.”

You knew it would not be that simple. Not when Aemond just came back to this wretched place, as he often called it. Not as he was forced to put his eyepatch back on. And obviously not while he shared that space with the very people who changed his life in one night with one knife.

Aemond’s whole being was tainted by the events occurring on that dreadful night he claimed Vaghar. Even if Lucerys came forward and begged for forgiveness, you were not sure Aemond would ever feel inclined to offer it to him.

You discussed some more, mainly about how life was respectively at Harrenhal, Dragonstone and Driftmark. When it was announced that the King would join you in the Throne room, you went back to Aemond who wasted no time asking what in the seven hells you were doing. He asked calmly but firmly, reaching for your hand.

“I’m establishing a peaceful relationship with the crowned Princes now that I am part of this family and Lady of Harrenhal,” you affirmed, lacing your fingers to his.

“They don’t deserve this kindness,” he stated, glaring at them on the other side of the hall.

“They are my family as well,” you replied, lowering your voice. “I’m not doing this to vex you, Aemond. And for all we know, mayhaps our child will marry one of theirs one day. I’m merely saying that… We want to build a better future. If not for us then for our child. It does not mean I forget.”

Aemond frowned at your answer as his father walked through the doors. King Viserys seemed overwhelmed as he welcomed each member of his family. Clutching at his chest, he gazed upon all the familiar faces reunited in one room for the first time in a long time. When he got to you, he rejoiced as he saw your round belly. “Lady Strong, what a wonderful sight!”

“Your grace,” you bowed slightly, as gracefully as your lower back pain allowed you. Aemond instantly circled an arm around your waist to support you.

“Father.” Aemond respectfully bowed his head as well.

“My son, I’m so very glad to see you,” beamed the King, a sincere smile on his lips. A smile that Aemond, unfortunately, did not return. The King went on to greet his youngest son Daeron.

You felt bad for your Prince. You knew what he thought of his father. Neglectful. Absent. Unjust. Aemond rarely spoke of his childhood for many reasons. The King being one. You met him when you were both ten of age, and for the ten years that had gone by, you barely recalled a handful of times you saw them interacting. They did not have the kind of warm relationship you had with your father, the Hand.

In all sincerity, you felt bad for the King as well. He seemed genuinely happy to see Aemond again. The Queen followed him around closely, holding his arm throughout the very short moment he was actually in the hall. 

Aemond long debated whether to accompany you to tea with his nephews and nieces or not. He did not want to attend but leaving your side bothered him as well. In the end, he joined his mother and siblings instead.

Although, Vaghar flew above your heads at one point during your meal in the gardens. Her roar had your table and teacups shake, spilling tea in the saucers. Servants grabbed plates of pastries so they would not fall on the ground. You were not impressed Aemond wanted to taunt them while you actively fought for peace. 

“I thought he was handsome,” Rhaena admitted, slightly blushing.

“I beg your pardon?” Lucerys half spit his tea all over his lemon cakes, surprised at his bethroted’s words.

“Luthor Tyrell is a pompous arsehole of inordinate proportions,” you asserted unashamedly.

“I like her,” Baela smirked, turning to her sister Rhaena.

Jacaerys then cleared his throat and addressed the most delicate and obvious of all subjects. “How is Prince Aemond? Obviously, he did not want to join us. We understand why, but—”

“I’m surprised he even let you come here alone,” cut Baela under her breath.

“Baela!” admonished Rhaena. “It is unbecoming.”

“Don’t fret,” you reassured, raising a hand in reassurance. “You are right, Jacaerys. Aemond did not want to have tea with us today, especially since he did not know that I was planning on it for a while. Of course I wish for both families to mend their bridges. I will not speak for him however. He can do it in his own time.” You turned to Baela. “Lastly, if you are under the impression that Aemond Targaryen controls my every move, you are sorely mistaken.”

“Hm.”

You froze in place as you recognized the sound all too well. No one looked at you anymore. “He is right behind me, isn’t he?” you asked in a low voice. Jacaerys nodded as you felt Aemond’s hand on your shoulder. His long fingers brushed against your neck as he bent down to whisper in your ear. “I was fetching you for a walk, my love.”

“Oh,” you managed to articulate, your whole being distracted by his hand skimming the nape of your neck and plunging down the back in your dress. “Yes, of course.”

“Nephews. Nieces,” he added, acknowledging their presence at last. They nodded politely in return. You thanked them for their company and asserted your wish to do it again soon.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Aemond inquired politely when you were at a safe distance, extending his arm so you could grab it.

You chose your words carefully since he was visibly grumpy.

“Well, if you wish to remain in my good graces, you will stop flying Vaghar above our heads when we’re having tea in the garden. You almost had our entire tray of apricot tarts fall in the dirt. Wars have been waged for less.”

The corners of his mouth curled into a smirk. He was proud of his little stunt. You were not surprised. Unimpressed, but not surprised.

He stayed silent, so you continued tentatively. “They changed, Aemond. And for what it’s worth, Lucerys regrets what he did and I truly believe he would like to formally apologize. Baela is feisty and protective of her sister, but Rhaena is at peace with what happened.”

“Apologies do not magically absolve you of anything,” he retorted, pulling on your arm so you left the marked path and went through a line of shrubs. “The other person may never forgive you and you have to live with that possibility. I will never forgive them, and they have to accept that.”

Your walk was short since you experienced small contractions. Maester Sylvan told you it was normal to have some from time to time during the three last moons. The womb was preparing itself for the birth. 

You went to your favorite secret spot far away in the gardens to lay down in the tall grass under your favorite willow tree. You reached for his eyepatch and took it off.

“Sȳrkta,” you whispered. Better.

You kissed his marred cheek and he smiled. Your High Valyrian was improving, but you understood it more than you spoke it. You held him tight in your arms and watched the clouds as he mindlessly brushed your long hair with his fingers. When your belly moved on his own, he pressed his hand to it to feel the little dragon inside.

Thoroughly exhausted, you slowly drifted off, listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the nearby coast…

“Nyke jaelagon īlin rȳ lenton,” you heard before you fell asleep in his arms. I wish we were at home.

AEMOND

Came the moment you left Harrenhal for. Aemond wished you could attend the council meeting but you were indisposed. When you woke up from your nap in the gardens, you were a little cranky. The pain in your back was killing you and the nausea was horrible since you got to King’s Landing.

The city stank, you were too hot, your dresses were too tight and just looking at the multiple flights of stairs gave you hives. He knew everything bothered you ten times more because of your condition, so your maid Maeva escorted you back to your chambers to bathe while Aemond went alone to the council chamber.

He dreaded that moment ever since he got the raven two days before. You were not fit to travel for extended periods of time on dragonback. You had much to do at Harrenhal like supervising the rebuild of the east tower for your new chambers and nursery. He had new recruits to train too.

As he sat at the large table, Aemond could not imagine why the entire family had to gather in King’s Landing for. He looked at his father who seemed happy to be in the presence of his entire family, for once. Strangely, there was something he could not decipher in his eyes. Then again, Aemond did not know him enough to guess what it could possibly be.

 “Shouldn’t we be addressing the Baratheons of Storm’s End and the Tyrells of Highgarden forming an alliance through marriage behind our backs?” suggested Daemon who sat nonchalantly at the other end of the table.

“Yes, brother. But for now, I wish to speak of the line of succession,” dismissed the King in one breath.

“What about it?” queried Daemon suspiciously, a warning somewhere in his tone. He exchanged a quick glance with Rheanyra.

It did seem positively pointless. Jacaerys was to marry Helaena and he would sit on the Iron Throne eventually, end of the story. Nothing more could be said on the subject. 

“Rhaenyra, you are heir to the iron throne, with Daemon at your side. Nothing will ever change that. I purely wish to make sure no one is overlooked,” reassured the King, clearing his throat.

Well. That was unexpected.

“Before the moon turns, Jacaerys and Haelena will be man and wife. They will be heir to the iron throne after you, Rhaenyra. Which means Dragonstone will be vacant. Joffrey, and his betrothed Baela, shall be heir to Dragonstone. Lucerys, as the second oldest son of the late Leanor Valaryon, will be heir to Driftmark with his betrothed, Lady Rhaena.”

His nephews and nieces looked ecstatic, understandably. Aemond fought not to roll his eye.

“My firstborn son, Aegon, shall inherit the Hightower family seat in Oldtown with its lands, army and fleet,” the King announced before he turned to Aemond. “My second born son Aemond is settled at Harrenhal already, thanks to his union with Lady Y/n Strong, heir to its castle, lands and army. Then comes young Daeron who is betrothed to Lady Amyra of Winterfell…”

Aemond’s eye narrowed in confusion. The King went on speaking of the lands he gifted to his grandchildren Viserys, Aegon and even the unborn child in Rhaenyra’s womb… until Aemond was not listening anymore.

Nothing?

His father bestowed islands, gold, castles and lands on every child and grandchild… except him? 

Anger simmered under his skin. He tried to keep his temper under control but he snapped when members of the council applauded at the end of his father’s speech.

“What happened to you making sure nobody was overlooked?” he spoke fiercely. “Forgive me father, but I find it hard to sit back and applaud when even unborn children get lands when I get absolutely nothing.”

“You are Lord of Harrenhal, nephew,” drawled Daemon. “Men would kill to get this small kingdom, sit down.”

“Daemon, please.” Viserys lifted a hand to silence his brother. “Now is not the time to bicker.”

Aemond knew he was most fortunate, having Harrenhal and the whole of the Riverlands in his grasp. Ever since he was born, he was destined to be a war commander at most, but got lucky when his wife became heir. Hells, he did not give a single fuck about Dragonstone or the Hightower family seat. He did not wish for a second castle. He just wanted… something. Was he not worthy of anything? His father showered everyone else in gifts and gold while he was ignored. Again.

He was always the overlooked son. The second son. The crippled second son. Suddenly his scar itched awfully. His hands stimmed on the handle of his knife as he fought the urge to rip his eyepatch off.

The King stood up slowly and a heavy silence fell upon the room. Aemond saw his mother’s nervous stare in the corner of his eye as he did not sit back down while his father spoke.

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around this table. The faces most dear to me in all the world. You’ve grown so distant from each other in years past. The crown cannot stand strong while the House of the Dragon remains divided,” condemned the King in a ragged breath. “I merely gave to those who needed receiving… So tonight, I ask for one thing… as your father, your brother, your husband, your grandsire… I asked that you set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man, who loves you all so dearly.”

Still standing, Aemond looked his father in the eyes and said the words he waited all his life to say out loud.

“You never were a father to me.”

The silence was even louder. You could hear the fire crackling in the hearth, but it was nothing on the fire that burned in Aemond’s chest— the fire of a thousand dragons. His father looked down, his hand trembling on the pommel of his sword.

“I taught myself High Valyrian,” Aemond continued, his stare hard and unfaltering. “I learned how to ride a dragon alone. I trained, studied and explored the realm all on my own. I lost an eye and not even then did you carry some sort of justice. Your own son was attacked and you did not care in the least. My wife was more of a family member than you ever were. So forgive me if I don’t stand back and watch when, again, I’m reminded that I’m nothing to you.”

“Aemond!” he heard his mother cry out as he stormed off. “Aemond, come back!”

He briefly glanced back when he turned left in the hallway. He saw his father crashing in his seat, shattered at his son’s words, a hand over his heart, his mother rushing to his side.

Walking fast, Aemond first wanted to get back to you and to lose himself in your embrace until you made him see stars…

But you were probably still bathing. Besides, he could not bear to see the worry in your eyes as you learned that he, once again, lost his temper. In front of the whole family this time.

He grabbed a hood in his old chambers, went straight to the beach and flew on Vaghar in the night sky like he did that first time he claimed the beast. He wanted to leave the castle. He needed to think. He needed clarity.

READER

When you thought Aemond came back to your chambers that evening, you were surprised to see your father slipping through your door instead. He explained what happened at the council meeting and how Aemond just… left. 

He climbed on Vaghar and left.

You knew he would never abandon you. He was probably blowing off some steam and, of course, he did not want to burden you. It saddened you to see Aemond losing all the assurance and serenity he found at Harrenhal these past few months. Now resentment and frustration consumed him again. You felt the heartbreak even down in your belly and pressed your hands on either side.

Your father’s company soothed you for a while. With Aemond’s absence, you came to realize that… you have no one except for him. Even your brother was busy with his duties. You tried to ease tensions with the Princes, but they were never close to you— namely because of how close to Aemond you always were.

Helaena came later to comfort you. She brought with her a large book depicting the many insects of Westeros and one of the castle’s cats. “They both bring me comfort when I’m alone,” she prompted as you petted the little purring creature.

Hours passed. The room was dark and the fire had died long before when the sound of your door jolted you awake. You saw a glimpse of long silvery white hair and immediately tried to stand up.

"No, don’t get up. Don’t move," Aemond whispered hurriedly.

He only had his white shift and leather trousers on. He carried the rest in his arm and threw it all on the ground beside your bed. His hair was damp and wavy. 

"Are you alright?" you asked in a husky voice.

"Yes,” he answered, taking off the rest of his clothing. He flipped his hair and his delicious sandalwood and amber scent hit you at once. He bathed before he came to your chambers. And now he was gloriously naked before you, one of his hands reaching for your hip. “I just need you right now… Is that alright?"

“Always. Come here.” You lifted the sheets behind you. He climbed in your bed and he wrapped his arms around your body, one circling your neck, immediately plunging his hand in your collar to grab your plump breasts. The other rumpled the hem of your nightgown until he bared your bottom half to him. He caressed your swollen belly while he peppered your neck with kisses. His breath was ragged. As if he was desperate.

“You are so good to me, Y/n…” he purred in your ear, making your whole body shiver.

AEMOND

For a second, Aemond forgot everything. He forgot about his father who all but confirmed he could not care less about him. He forgot about the snarks and gossip following him literally anywhere in the Red Keep. He forgot about the damn eyepatch itching his skin again, having him on edge all day. And he forgot about his nephews and nieces who were rewarded and all looked at him like he was the problem.

At least he had you.

He had you and he did not need anybody else. Having you in his arms was worth a thousand castles, gold coins and books combined. After the evening he had, he only wished to be with the only person who treated him right, who looked at him without flinching, who loved him for all that he was.

You arched your back against him when he eagerly caressed every inch of your soft skin. Especially your swollen belly. 

Only three moons after your wedding did he notice a small bump appearing. If Maester Sylvan was right, it was entirely possible that the child was conceived before the wedding. Your father had moon tea delivered nightly to your chambers but you never cared to take it. Aemond never would have pressured you, but you were eager to start a family. 

You moaned softly when his fingers delicately parted your legs and cupped your cunt, looking for that sensitive little bud. He hovered, skimmed and teased without putting any real pressure with the hands you loved so much. He knew exactly how to unravel you, even when you were half awake. He grinded his hard cock against you, the head brushing the wetness between your thighs.

“You can talk to me, my love,” you breathed, but Aemond did not feel like it. 

“For now, I just want to feel you…” he confessed, biting your ear.

You yelped.

“…I want to fuck you until you are clenching down on my cock so hard that I can’t remember my name,” he growled, the tip of his manhood slowly brushing against your center. "Can you do that for me, love?” 

“Ye- yes,” you stuttered. He smirked, liking the power his filthy words had on you. 

Eyes closed, still sleepy, you lazily moved your hips as his fingers dipped in and out of you now. You sighed and he kissed the crook of your neck. He kept the pace until your breaths were short and you writhed against him. You quickly soaked his hand and mewled in your pillow as he kept circling your clit with his thumb.

You filled his hands so deliciously lately. Not only had your belly swollen, your breasts were definitely more full, nearly spilling from your dresses every time you took a breath. He found himself side-eyeing them constantly, trying to be subtle about it. Your behind felt more round too, your thighs soft and squishy. Aemond could barely keep his hands to himself, even now, one of them caressed your full breasts while the other expertly rubbed the most intimate part of you. 

You were glowing, brimming with life, even in that stinking nightmare of a city. He could always count on you to turn on the light even in the darkest of places. You were a beacon calling to him, his port in a storm, his moon in a starless sky. 

He pressed his front to your back even more, pulled one of your legs up and pressed his cock to your core. Your hand reached back for his neck, desperate to touch him.

Usually, he would have you come on his hand at least once before he buried himself into you, but not tonight. He needed you. And he knew you could take it. 

Inch by inch, he entered you and you exhaled loudly. With a few strong thrust, he seated himself fully and grunted in your neck, inhaling your sweet honeysuckle and flowers scent.

Warm. So warm. And tight. 

His strong hand held you in place by your hip while you whined at the stretch, your walls strangling his cock as you struggled to take all of him. His fingers digging in your smooth skin, he gently rolled his hips to bury himself all the way. The exquisite feeling had him lose himself almost instantly. Then he really moved.

He filled you again. And again. And again. Harder. Deeper. Faster.

De drew all sorts of sounds out of you and loved every second of it. Nothing brought him more satisfaction than hearing you panting— or better still, screaming— his name when you fell apart under his ministrations. That at least, he knew he was doing right. Oh how he liked to see you lose your mind. All because of him. All because of how good he was to you. 

He knew you by heart, so when you rewarded him with a few yelps, he picked up the pace until the obscene sound of your joining echoed on the stone walls of your chambers.

He angled your hips and reached deeper even, pleasure building quickly and almost painfully at the base of his spine. You felt so good around his cock, he feared he might find his pleasure before you found yours.

And that, he could not allow.

Not once had you left his bed unsatisfied, and that day was no exception. He needed you to come. Now.

He let down your leg and you both groaned at the tightness. You cursed when his finger teased your clit. The hand holding your belly went to your neck instead and he squeezed gently. You gasped, your legs beginning to shake. 

“You like when I hold you tight, hm?” he asked in a ragged breath. You nodded.

When he had you silent, he knew he was doing good.

“You like it when I do all these things to you? When you have no choice but to take it?”

“Uhum” you nodded.

“Uhum?” he smugly echoed you, and you cried out, trashing against him.

He knew you liked to believe you were a lady in charge. It amused him when he heard you tell his nephews and nieces that you were the one holding the reins.

“I may not control you outside these walls… you may be Lady of Harrenhal… but in our bed, I’m your King,” he sneered in your ear, emphasizing the last word with a sharp thrust. You shuddered and clenched down on his cock so tight he groaned against your ear.

Pleasure wracked through you instantly. Aemond held you while your whole body shivered against his. Your walls strangled him so tight, it felt like a vice. Your head fell back against his shoulder, your jaw hanging open, forming a perfect O shape.

“You look exquisite when you fall apart, my love,” he breathed against your cheek, nearing his peak as well. “You are so good to me.” You whimpered helplessly, your nails digging in his forearms. “Only me.” For a moment, he believed he had you forget about the pain in your back. No discomfort, nothing. Just pleasure. Overwhelming, mind numbing, soul shattering pleasure. “Mine.”

And he fucked you through your orgasm. Your whimpers turned to wails as he went in and out, keeping his torturous pace. You groaned his name, your hands frantically reaching back for him, but he held you tight. You cursed profusely yet praised how good he made you feel. He snapped his hips a few more times, until you reached yet another release. 

“Aemond!” you screamed and just like that, he was gone, hit by a shattering climax. For a moment, he lost his vision. His mind went absolutely blank and air left his lungs. His whole body spasmed, head buried in your long hair, roaring his pleasure and spilling himself deep within you. 

He shivered, feeling your walls rippling around his sensitive cock.

He panted in your neck, nuzzling your sweaty flesh.

He inhaled deeply, close to being drunk on your scent.

He loved the smell of you in the morning. You smelled of love.

He kissed your cheek, your jaw, your neck, your hair.

He felt you trembling in his arms, squirming to detangle yourself from him.

He tightened his embrace.

“I’m not done,” he growled in your ear. 

You cried out as an answer, writhing against him as if you were trying to get away but he held you firmly. He knew you liked it.

He caught his breath for a moment, kissing your temple as you moaned in anticipation. He knew he could carry on. He wanted to carry on. He did not want it to be over yet.

Throbbing against your pulsing walls, he resumed his pounding while you desperately clawed at his arms. It only made him hold you tighter, his fingers circling your swollen clit as well.

He coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of you until you were an absolute mess. Even when he feared he was too intense, you surprised him by begging for more.

You were truly perfect.

The high pitch sounds you made were a symphony to his ears, like a reward for going through such a wretched day.

When your cries turned into sobs, he knew you had enough. He buried himself to the hilt and exploded, filling you again with his seed, sinking his teeth in your neck to muffle his own cry of pleasure.

You both needed a moment to recover. You startled when he wiped away the tears that fell on your cheeks. Even the slightest touch had you flinching. You liked it when he unleashed himself fully but seeing you almost broken afterwards worried him sometimes. You were quick to reassure him as your trembling hands reached for his and you kissed his fingers one by one.

Then his hand found its way back to your belly. He shifted but kept you impaled on his manhood, still not ready to lose the intimacy, unable to let go of you yet.

“Please, you have to let me rest, my love” you begged, shivers going down your spine as he twitched inside you.

"But you are so warm," he pleaded sleepily in your ear. 

"You want to sleep like this!?” you yelped, mildly shocked. He felt your slight panic as you tried to stay still, unequivocally overstimulated.

"I’d spend my life buried in that cunt," he answered truthfully, leaving open mouth kisses on your jaw. His fingers grazed your sensitive skin and you shivered terribly. 

"Sounds exhausting," you jested.

"Sounds like the last seven months,” he quipped. You laughed and he gripped your waist harshly, groaning at the sudden tightness when your muscles clenched on his softening cock. "Shhh sleep. ‘Tis almost morning anyway.”

Neither of you did, in fact, sleep.

Not even ten minutes had gone by that you lost every bit of the sanity left in you. Your walls pulsed at the cruel pressure and you started grinding on him shamelessly. So he resumed his sweet torture until the sun was up.

Until you were soaked with both your cum.

Until the feathered bed was definitely ruined.

Until you almost lost consciousness.

Until he truly lost himself in you.

1 day before

READER

At midday, the Queen fetched you. You did not show up to break fast with the rest of the family, nor did you join her for tea later on. You stayed in late, making up for the hours of sleep and energy Aemond robbed from you when he came back at dusk.

Queen Alicent implored her son to get up at once and go to his father to apologize for his behavior. Aemond downright refused. She acknowledged his struggle, but assured him that his father meant well. It was years late, but the King wanted to make amends now.

“Then why are you here instead of him?” Aemond asked, putting on his tunic carelessly.

“He… he is not as young as he used to be. Please, go to him. He loves you, Aemond. He loves you and he is proud of you. Just apologize for your outburst.”

“No.”

Then he stormed off and ordered the maids to draw you a bath. Even when his patience was tested, he thought of you. You saw sorrow in The Queen’s eyes and you promised you would try to speak to him about it, but that you would not insist if he refused again.

“You are the only person he listens to,” she said with a faint smile before she left.

If only that were true. Aemond was awfully headstrong, and visibly struggled to be back in the capital. You let him fuck you senseless until the sun was up because you wanted to, yes, but also because you felt like he needed it. He needed you. He loved to give you pleasure and get praised in return. That you noticed early on when you got intimate.

Your bodies joined for what felt like hours, leaving you the good kind of sore. However, when pleasure completely ebbed out from your every limb, you were immediately reminded of the downsides of carrying his heir. You should be grateful to the Mother for such a precious gift, but could not fathom doing it for two moons more.

Aemond called from the water chamber. He sat beside the tub and rubbed your neck while the oils and flowers worked their magic. He whispered sweet nothings in High Valyrian, his hands soothing your tensed back as you spoke back in the best of your capabilities.

He wanted to be with you. Alone with you. He wanted comfort and for years, you were the only one who provided him with it.

In the afternoon, Aemond spent time with his siblings as you sat in the gardens with your family. Your father and brother wished to speak of how you ran Harrenhal.

You learned that Master Sylvan sent reports by ravens every week. Turns out you did an outstanding job at training new boys and girls from the court. Well, not you. Aemond did. He reinforced the military strategy as well. As for you, you established great relations with the houses of the Riverlands and the people. You eased decades old tensions between some families and helped build a lasting peace in the land. You both ruled fairly, wisely and you inspired respect. Everything your father knew you would achieve.

Your heart burst with pride… yet something lingered in your mind. As good as you were at resolving conflicts between the people at Harrenhal, you wished you could do something about the strife at the very heart of this castle.

When it was time to attend Jacaerys and Helena’s engagement feast, you did not know how to brush the subject with Aemond. You waited all night, sitting by his side, thinking how you could sneak the subject in your conversations. Aemond never liked feasts to begin with. In King’s Landing, at least. But he had a good day so far… It was worth a try. Yet when you finally found the courage to talk to him, you saw the King leave the hall with your father and some knights in tow. 

Then you swore you saw the King leaned on your father for support as the door closed behind them. “My love… I think you need to speak with your father,” you spoke privately in his ear. “Now.”

He kissed your hand, but calmly replied: “I won’t. I only wished for one peaceful evening before we leave for Harrenhal in the morrow.” You nodded, but worried nonetheless when the Queen left as well.

At least, the feast was a success. Halaena was elated to dance with Jacaerys all night. Aegon was a little tipsy but pleased to have his brother by his side again. Daeron was relatively quiet but invited a dozen young ladies to dance with him. Very daring, you thought.

You dared to dance too. Harwin fetched you and you leaned on him while he unhurriedly swayed you around. Aemond even stayed for a few more cups of wine, strangely enjoying himself for once.

He persuaded Aegon to stop pursuing a married lady of the court when his gaze fell upon you… You were dancing with his nephew. Well, your nephew as well. Lucerys asked for a dance and you agreed.

“The King wants for us to make peace,” you reminded him kindly.

“Yes. It is easier said than done… Is this whole situation salvageable to begin with? Even if I formally apologize to Aemond, he will never recognize he has to apologize as well,” explained Lucerys who danced slowly to accommodate you.

“Lucerys… A dragon cannot be claimed out of legacy. You know that. Rhaena knows. Baela knows. Jacaerys knows. Dragons are not slaves. They choose their rider. Vaghar chose him. He didn’t do anything wrong,” you stressed, hoping he would understand.

“Rhaena never had the time to try!”

“She had ample time, nephew,” rebuked Aemond, appearing behind you and grabbing your hand resting on Lucery’s shoulder. “I won’t apologize for claiming a riderless dragon. Now please, leave my wife alone before you decide to carve one of her eyes out as well.” 

“Uncle Aemond—” began Lucerys, but Aemond stole you away already.

“Please don’t provoke them, nothing good will come of it,” you cautioned. “I’m not asking you to forget. I’m merely wishing for you to live without grudges eating away at you.”

“I know you feel the need to resolve this particular conflict because of your devotion to me, but do you hear yourself?” he spitted back startling you. “You are taking their side!”

“I’m on your side, Aemond. Always. You know that”, you huffed, pained he would ever think otherwise. “Now please excuse me, I’ll retire for the evening, I ache all over.”

AEMOND

Aemond stayed for one more cup of wine, silently seething in a corner. He knew you meant well, but years of resentment will do that to a man. When he cooled down an hour later, he went back to your chambers.

When he did not find you in your bed, he feared he angered you more than he thought. Then he heard noises coming from the adjacent water chamber. If she is still bathing at this hour, her back must be killing her, he thought.

Eye wide, he walked in on you shuddering, head thrown back against the edge of the tub, back arched with a hand between your legs, water threatening to spill everywhere.

It was a sight.

He instantly felt strained in his trousers, looking at you positively flushed and wanton.

Knowing he had nothing to do with your state of dishevelment, he made his displeasure known.

READER

“My love.”

“Seven hells!” you jumped. Water splashed everywhere on the floor and you stopped your movements at once.

"If I’m somehow lacking in this aspect of our marriage— which I know I’m not because you are obviously carrying my heir so soon after our union— I would very much like you to tell me," he teased, removing his tunic and the cotton shift he wore underneath.

"Pleasure eases the pain. You stayed late at dinner. A wife has to make do," you justified, making it sound like a reproach, but with a faint smile on your lips.

"You vowed to the old gods and the new that you are mine. That includes your pleasure," he clarified, kneeling beside the bath and plunging a hand underwater. His hand skimmed your leg, going higher and higher until he reached your cunt and picked up where you left off.

"You mean to tell me—” you gasped mid-sentence when his fingers parted your lips and found your clit. “—that not once you have pleasured yourself with your hand since you claimed me?"

"I have not,” he said, his fingers moving in and out of you, his thumb expertly teasing you. His lips grazed your cheek, his hot breath fanning your face. Your lips parted and you fought to keep your eyes open. 

“...I’m impressed, actually,” you quipped, between pants. “From what I’ve read, men usually d…” you did not finish your sentence. Aemond even stopped his ministrations, leaving you free falling as you were so close to the edge.

“...What on earth have you been reading?” he pressed curiously, resuming his movements in an agonizingly slow pace that had you lose your mind.

“Nothing,” you replied a little too quickly, now panting desperately. He looked at you incredulously. “...Well I may have stumbled upon Maester Merandys’ book on pleasure and martial duty once…”

"Have you, now?” he queried, curling his finger so he rubbed that spot deeper inside you, harder and faster. “I have also read it, as a matter of fact.”

Of course he did. You knew it the moment you read the words on the page. You thanked the gods that Aemond was an exemplary scholar and husband. Every book he read he mastered the subject. So when a Maester wrote a whole chapter on how pleasuring women effectively lead to a happier marriage, he read avidly… and never left your bed without making absolutely sure you reached your peak three times. At the very least.

He bent down until his hair dipped in the water. He swallowed your cries as your release barreled through you with ferocity, hitting you like lightning yet lingering long after, enough to have you shamefully moaning. Your cries echoed on the stone walls. Water splashed on the floor as you writhed horribly, gripping his arm as he fucked you through it with his fingers still. 

Aemond was very thorough and it was a curse as well as a blessing.

After a moment, he delicately pulled his hand, caressed your belly and kissed your forehead. “Come.” He helped you stand, gripping you firmly as you got out of the tub, knowing he had your legs feel like jelly.

He dried your hair with a cloth, your curls already forming. When you reached the bed, he kissed you tenderly. “I apologize for earlier. I know you mean well,” he spoke in a mumble.

“It’s alright, I understand,” you answered while he walked you backwards until the back of your legs bumped on the bed.

“Do you want my fingers again?” he murmured, brushing your inner thigh with his hand. “My mouth, mayhaps?” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Or my cock?” He pressed his body to yours and you felt his manhood, hard and ready in the confines of his trousers.

You were on fire, your body humming with need.

“You know what I want,” you crooned, laying down on the edge of the bed, your legs parted and hanging down the side. As much as you loved the child in your womb, some positions became quite tedious as your belly grew. You wished you could feel all of him on top of you but that would be for another time.

He propped your hips up with a cushion and gave you exactly what you wanted. Your breasts bounced with each thrust and his gaze kept darting from them to your face. His hands held your thighs, your hips, your breasts, your belly, any part of your body he could reach. You stiffen, your toes curling,  your hands fisting the sheets and your head so far back he could only see the column of your neck. 

Aemond fucked like he fought. With fiery passion, taking no prisoners.

He had you come multiple times. Again.

Enough to scramble your brain. Again.

He almost made you forget you were cross with him. Almost.

Your head rested on his arm. He traced figures on your shoulder, the pads of his fingers always lingering on the small scars scattered here and there from years of sword training with him. Oh how you missed your morning routine.

He talked of his mother. He spoke of how she tried to reason with him over tea during the afternoon, saying that even she made peace with the King's decisions. The crowned Princes are Targaryens, their dragon eggs hatched, and this and that.

After a moment, he fell silent. You chose your words carefully.

“People wouldn’t say a word if your sister were a man. Her children have as much Targaryen blood as you, Aemond… I don’t think this is about the line of succession… You are still angry about your eye. Punishing your father or Lucerys will never bring it back… it only brings you anger and frustrations. I love you, but I beseech you… Stop fighting, my love.” 

“Seeing you defend them so vehemently makes me want to burn this castle. You are supposed to be on my side. You are my wife,” he protested again, stopping his caresses. You felt his temper rising, but could not bring yourself to calm him down as you usually did.

“I am your wife. I am on your side. But there cannot be sides for this. Your father wants the family to put their differences aside. You are my husband, but he is my King. I have to do as he commands,” you explained. “Do you see the position you put me in?”

He sighed, rubbing his scarred cheek with desperate hands. “Your King was more of a father to them than he ever was to me. They get away with everything. And now? They have the crown! The Throne, Dragonstone, Driftmark… They are glorified, praised even, everything is handed to them on a silver platter while I have nothing.”

It felt like plunging in an icy lake.

Your breath shallowed as his words sinked in. For a moment a vice squeezed your heart in your chest. You felt the ache all the way to your belly, as if the child felt it too.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Tears pricked your eyes, your stomach turned and you tasted acid in your mouth. You tried to keep your calm but your nerves got the better of you. 

“You have the Riverlands,” you retorted in a surprisingly calm voice as resentment simmered in your veins. “…You have Harrenhal… a court that respects you, vast green lands to roam as you please… You have an army and knights who look up to you… You have a dragon, ‘the largest in the world’ as you remind us all so often…” Your voice started shaking and his expression changed. Color drained from his face as he realized what you meant. “You have me,” you bemoaned, a sob catching in your throat. “So what you are saying is that… all this means nothing to you?”

Choking back tears, you stood up and went to sit in front of your looking glass.

“That is not what I meant—”

 “I would like to sleep alone tonight,” you said in a cold voice. You avoided his stare, brushing carelessly the ends of your tangled curly hair. He stood behind you for a few seconds. You waited for his excuses. You were expecting explanations, reassurance, something, anything.

Nothing could have prepared you for the pain you felt when he kept silent and left. Your heart broke in a million pieces as the wooden door closed behind him with a bang.

For the first time since your adventures in the Stormlands, Aemond did not share your bed.

10 hours before

READER

Your maid woke you up early. You were exhausted and your heart ached as much as your back. You spent the night tossing and turning, no longer used to sleeping alone. You did not have time to bathe either for the whole family was called to the throne room. Now you were cranky, stressed and frustrated as well. 

“An urgent meeting, my lady,” clarified Maeva, emerging from your dressing room holding your favorite blue silk gown with elaborate silver embroideries on the skirt and clasps shaped like flowers. Her eyes darted around the room, surprised to find you alone. You sighed. 

Not long after, you stood beside Helaena as the lords and ladies of the court gathered around the throne. You felt Aemond approaching, his amber and sandalwood scent always giving him away. He was by your side but refrained from holding your hand as he usually did. You were no longer cross, but appreciated he respected your boundaries after the words you spoke.

“We received a raven from Storm’s End,” announced the King. “Lord Boros of House Baratheon heard of Jacaerys and Helaena’s betrothal and feels it is a betrayal, citing past unfruitful negotiations with him. It was once understood that our houses were to join with Prince Aemond marrying one of his daughters.” The whole family turned around to look at your Prince. You grabbed his hand instantly, knowing he hated when that many people stared. “Furthermore, Lord Boros now has an alliance with the Reach since his daughter Maris married Luthor Tyrell of Highgarden.” At the mention of your former betrothed, Aemond laced his fingers to yours, soothingly stroking your skin with his thumb. 

“There is more,” declared your father the Hand, “Lord Boros claims he could stop merchant boats from sailing to King’s Landing if the crown does not offer him some sort of compensation. He seems to believe he could convince the Reach to stop supplying King’s Landing with their grain, meat and fresh food as well.”

“This is preposterous,” thundered Lord Corlys. A brouhaha erupted over your father’s word. People afraid of a siege, knights speaking of doubling the guards at every gates and Prince Daemon snarling he could take down the lord before dinner if he left now with Caraxes and a few gold cloaks.

“Your grace, I propose we send a son from each house to speak to Lord Boros at once. We need to present a united front,” your father suggested wisely.

“I’ll go,” declared Jacaerys in a solemn tone.

“You can’t,” replied Princess Rhaenyra. “You are heir to the Iron Throne after me. We can’t risk it.”

“Prince Lucerys will go,” suggested Prince Daemon. “He is a crowned Prince too, and heir to the Driftwood throne. We need to remind Lord Boros that if he ever plans to rise against the King, he is also rising against Old Town, Harrenhal, Dragonstone, Driftmark and the North as well.” 

They all turned to Aegon who stumbled upon his own feet, eyes wide. He was apparently fetched from an obscure establishment on the street of silk at dawn.

“I drank too much, I can’t go. I’ll fall off Sunfyre.”

“I’ll go,” Aemond volunteered. He looked passive, but you had a bad feeling. He avoided your intense stare as the brouhaha resumed. He kissed your hand and went to his brother before you could say a single word.

AEMOND

Aegon looked at Aemond, both sporting a grave face. “I believe it’s time…” Aemond uttered, resolute but somehow still wishing for his older brother’s approval. “I might…”

“Yes,” Aegon acquiesced, sobering up almost instantly. “Do it. Don’t hesitate.”

Aemond nodded then went back to you. He spent the previous night wallowing in despair, alone, in his old chambers. His father’s carelessness and his nephew's arrogance clouded his judgment. That and the damn eyepatch had him in a tizzy. He used words that were too strong, he expressed himself badly and he hurt you. Again. Sometimes, he wondered if he was better off when he kept silent more.

He reached for your hand once more and apologized sincerely.

“I did not mean you were nothing,” he explained. “You are, in fact, everything.”

Your traits soften as he spoke. A colossal weight lifted from his shoulder when you forgave him and said that you knew he did not mean it. You apologized too and blamed the little dragon growing in you for giving you the temper of one. Even now, your fingers tightened on your belly while the child kept kicking you, testing your limits. 

READER

You lined up on the beach, bidding the Princes a safe journey. They could very well prevent a war today. You tried to smile as you gave your husband a few words of encouragement and requested he be careful since the weather is always unpredictable in the Stormlands.

“Don’t I know it,” he answered, a hand on your cheek. He kissed you passionately and you fought to keep a straight face.

“Just… please, don’t do anything rash,” you implored.

They took flight together and you prayed for an uneventful encounter with Lord Boros. When they were far enough, you finally let your mask fall and clanged to your maid as if she was a crutch.

“Maeva…would you escort me to my room and fetch the maester?” you groaned, the pains getting stronger.

It was two moons too early, but your child was definitely coming.

As you got away, you heard the commotion behind you. You first heard a loud thud. Then Queen Alicent screamed for help. Prince Daemon shoved guards aside to get through. Princess Rhaenyra followed closely behind. You heard the distinct clanking of the gold armor of every guard as they rushed to their King…

6 hours before

AEMOND

Did the weather ever relent in the Stormlands, Aemond wondered as he once again flew in atrocious conditions, rain battering at his face. After a few hours of flight, he found himself in Lord Boros’s gloomy throne room with Lucerys at his side. He put his personal feelings aside as they both tried to reason with the stubborn Lord. 

“You were supposed to marry my Ellyn,” Lord Boros barked at Aemond, pointing at one of his frightened daughters standing beside him. He sat on his throne like he was a King.

Ludicrous.

“I simply found alliances elsewhere,” added Boros.

“Threatening the crown with rebellion is not wise, my lord,” threatened Lucerys.

Aemond looked at his nephew, unreservedly horrified. Threats? Seriously? Menacing Lord Boros was not very wise as well. What was he thinking? Had he not studied basic conversational skills?

Pathetic.

“We solely ask for a temporary truce between…”

And there was the heir to Driftmark. Threatening Boros, then almost begging him to stop his impending siege on King’s Landing.

Ridiculous. 

Aemond was the eloquent one. It was he who studied philosophy, history, warfare and politics. He was Lord of Harrenhal and he was good at it.

“So what do you have to offer? You will marry one of my daughters, boy?” asked Boros, laughing outrageously. “You are so young, you probably still suck at your mother’s tit—”

“If I may, my Lord,” interjected Aemond. Lord Boros' eyes went from Lucerys to Aemond, disdain clear on his face. Even if Aemond did not bear any sentiment toward his sister Rhaenyra, he would not have a lesser lord speak of a Targaryen in that manner. Not to mention that Lucerys’s ineptitude was about to start a damn war. “My brother Aegon, the King’s first born son is looking for a bride. If you were to agree to this union with one of your daughters, they would be heir to the Hightower family seat in Oldtown. They would have vast fertile lands, an army, a fleet, a dragon and dragon eggs for all children that the union may produce. They would also have the King’s ear.”

Lord Boros seemed reluctant, but keened at the mention of dragon eggs and proximity to the King. Aemond spoke and Lord Boros listened. Lucerys stayed silent for the rest of the negotiations. He even looked at Aemond with… was it admiration? Aemond was not sure.

5 hours before

AEMOND

They both exited the castle in silence. Aemond, however, was burning inside. He was outraged that Lucerys almost threw them into a war for his lack of political skills. He suddenly imagined you giving birth while fire rained on the castle during a siege and fury coursed through his veins. Lucerys was the future heir of Driftmark and could not simply hold a conversation with a lord.

Disgraceful. 

“All hail the lord of Driftmark. Trying to have us killed when we were supposed to be negotiating for peace,” drawled Aemond loudly as they reached Vaghar and Arrax on the other side of the castle.

“I’m not as experienced as you, uncle. I feel no shame in admitting it,” answered his nephew who adjusted his hood in the pouring rain. 

“You almost started a war, you inarticulate idiot!” Aemond shouted, fiddling with the pommel of his sword. “I should have known, you are usually the one stupidly starting conflicts.” The eyepatch dug in the ridges of his scar and it put him even more on edge.

“I’m not fighting with you, uncle,” argued Lucerys. “I promised my mother I wouldn’t do anything foolish.” 

“You already took my eye. I would call that foolish enough,” scowled Aemond, giving into his anger. 

Lucerys turned to go to Arrax but stopped when he heard a loud clang of metal on the rocks behind him. Aemond had thrown a knife at his feet. 

“One on one,” Aemond dared him, taking out another knife. “Much more even than four against one, don’t you agree?”

“I’m not fighting with you,” repeated Lucerys, suddenly frightened. He climbed on his dragon and flew away in the blink of an eye.

Aemond scrambled for his knife and mounted Vaghar as fast as he could. “Jikagon tolī zirȳla”. Chase him.

He flew high, knowing Lucerys was close beneath. He hid in the dark clouds and got closer, rain soaking him to the bones. Out of thin air, Vaghar soared and almost devoured Arrax, sending both the small dragon and its rider in a panic. The little dragon plunged down with its rider and flew through cliffs and ravines bordering the coast of the Stormlands in order to hide from the monstrous beast that was Vaghar.

Aemond had to admit it… It felt good. He laughed almost maniacally, closing his eye and letting the rain fall on his face as Vaghar observed the coast. “Jemēla gēlȳni enkā, Taobus!” You owe a dept, boy! 

He could barely see anything in the downpour. He surveyed the beach but there was no sign of them whatsoever. Suddenly, Arrax came from above and spewed fire on Vaghar, missing Aemond by a thread.

“Daor, Arrax! Yne dohaerās!” No, Arrax! Serve me!

But it was too late. Defending her rider, Vaghar roared loud enough to crumble the nearby cliffs and started chasing the smaller dragon. She did not listen to Aemond either when he panicked, pulled on the reins and shouted at her to stop the chase at once.

Vaghar speeded and snapped her mighty jaw so close to Arrax’s tail that the little dragon jerked and threw his rider off his saddle. 

Arrax flew away while Lucerys fell in the raging sea.

Eye wide, Aemond frantically scoured the waters of Shipbreaker Bay. The rain was heavy and made it almost impossible to locate the Prince… if there was something left to locate. Now that Vaghar had calmed down, he circled the area. Utterly mortified.

He realized he was presented with a choice. Revenge was technically in his grasp. Help the crowned Prince or… let him drown. He could even blame it on the weather.

Years of anger coursing through his veins.

Years of living in the shadow of his older sister with no justice served for his eye.

Years of enduring the snarks, the laughter and the wary looks.

Years of pining for the woman he loved when he could have had her all along.

Years of telling everyone his scar just felt numb when sometimes he woke in the middle of the night with lancing pain so strong it made him want to die…

The pain made him say things… do things… It was better now that he rarely wore his eyepatch. They all thought he naturally had a nasty temper, and he played along. It was better than having everyone’s pity on top of their disgust when they looked at him.

Then he thought of you and how terribly empathetic you were. If you knew about the pain… it would kill you. He decided a long time ago that he would spare you that.

Then Aemond spotted Lucerys.

His nephew was alive, not far from the coast, desperately trying to swim through the crashing waves.

It felt like an eternity when in truth, Aemond’s pondering lasted a few seconds. Deep down, Aemond was not the scary monster the court made him out to be. He was not a cold blooded killer. He remembered who he was with you. He remembered his life at Harrenhal. He remembered how happy he was these past moons… He was a scholar. He was a soldier. He was a lover. He was a lemon cake stealer, even. He was going to be a father…

But he was not a murderer.

If the Prince died in these waters today, there would be war. No doubt that Rhaenyra and Daemon would swoop down Harrenhal and melt what was left of the castle with their dragons.

Aemond ordered Vaghar to land in the water. He instructed her to extend a wing so Lucerys could cling onto it until they reached the coast.

The crowned Prince kneeled in the sand, retching and catching his breath. Aemond climbed down the net on the side of Vaghar and slowly walked to him. Lucerys looked up, unsure of his faith but he spoke anyway.

“You had no… no reason to save me… but I’m grateful that you did,” he managed to say.

“Hm…” simply replied Aemond, looking at the horizon. The sun started to pierce the heavy clouds. Lucerys sought to stand but was exhausted. Aemond observed him as he abdicated and sat in the sand.

“…I’m sorry for your eye, Aemond,” Lucerys admitted sincerely. “If I could give it back to you, I would. With time, it became more and more difficult to mend our differences. I cannot imagine what life has been like for you, but know that I think about what I did everyday and how I caused our two families to split. You are right, we are strong boys. But we are Rhaenyra Targaryen’s boys as well. We are your wife’s nephews too.”

Aemond remembered your words. How women were held by questionable standards when men could sire tens of bastards without anyone batting an eyelash. How the knights always underestimated you when you came to train with the sword. How Luthor Tyrell all but treated you like a prized broodmare  when you were destined to be one of the grandest ladies of the realm.

Aemond did not even hate his sister Rhaenyra… but he hated how his father only seemed to care about her and excused all her mistakes. The crowned Princes were indeed Targaryens. That, Aemond accepted by now. But no justice after he was unfairly attacked? No consequences whatsoever for his assailant? That was what hurt Aemond the most.

“I defended my brother, that I will never grieve over. I thought you would kill him. But we were children. Stupid children, might I even say. I wished we could leave the past in the past and work on the future instead. You at Harrenhal. Aeg—”

“Y/n at Harrenhal,” immediately corrected Aemond. “I’m her lord consort.”

“You rule as equal, though,” Lucerys pointed out. “Y/n and you at Harrenhal. Aegon at Oldtown. Me at Driftmark. Joffrey at Dragonstone. Daeron at Winterfell, and Jacaerys and Halaena in King’s Landing. …Think of what we could achieve together.”

True to himself, Aemond was silent.

“Do you forgive me?” Lucerys ultimately asked.

The raging storm started to clear and the noise from the rain eased. Arrax appeared and landed at the other end of the beach, as far as possible from Vaghar. Aemond exhaled… and extended his hand to help Lucerys get up on his feet.

“…I’m tired of being angry all the time,” Aemond answered, taking off his damn itching eyepatch and throwing it as far as he could in Shipbreaker Bay.

Surprisingly, Lucerys looked at his eye instead of the sapphire when he spoke once more.

“…but do you forgive me?”

“I’m not ready to say the words, but I’m done fighting,” Aemond sighed.

2 hours before

AEMOND

Aemond got back to King’s landing first, Lucerys not far behind. Arrax was a small dragon, and not as fast and powerful as Vaghar afterall. His own guards from Harrenhal waited for him at the gates. One of the knights he trained with daily stepped forward.

“My lord, please go to Lady Strong at once. The child is coming.”

Aemond cursed every single step and hallway that separated him from you. Your chambers were so far from the mud gate, it gave him enough time to start panicking again.

It was too soon.

You had two moons left before the child was supposed to be born. He had read everything he could get his hands on about birth. You thought he was overly fussing with you, but he read absolute horrors in those books. Women disregarded and butchered to save the child’s life; labor lasting days with them wailing in agony; mothers appearing absolutely fine then having convulsions and excruciating headaches before they stopped breathing altogether. You even confided in him how your own mother died giving birth alone.

He tried to calm himself down but the day took its toll on him. He nearly killed Lucerys in his wrath. He accused his nephew of almost starting a war then went on to do the same by chasing him with Vaghar. He went close to proving to the realm that he was indeed the monster they thought he was. And now you were giving birth alone while he acted like a complete fool.

Never again.

Aemond nearly broke down the door to your chambers. When his eye fell on your bed, what he found truly horrified him. Blood. Blood everywhere. On your bed. On your nightgown. On your legs. Smothered on your arms as well. Your arms that… held onto a small bundle of cloth, rocking slightly from side to side as you hummed tenderly.

“ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” he bellowed, eye shining with unshed tears.

“Shhh Aemond, seven hells. She just fell asleep!” you chided him in a low voice.

Aemond let out a gasp of relief. He looked down for a moment, fighting the tears that threatened to fall on his cheeks, then rushed to your side. Usually, when you swore like a bravosi sealord, you were all right. “She?”

“She, yes. She is small but healthy,” you murmured, looking at him with loving eyes.

“How long ago?” he asked, as if it mattered now that everything was over.

“Two hours maybe. It went very fast. She just stopped screaming,” you turned to the little bundle of joy in your arms. “You have your father’s temper, don’t you?”

Aemond winced at your playful jab at his temper. He looked at his beautiful baby girl, chasing away any thoughts of what happened in the Stormlands.

Lucerys was unarmed. No war was on the way. You were alive and so was his little girl.

He could not possibly be raising her like this, with fire burning inside. He wanted to teach her High Valyrian. He wanted to fly around the realm on dragonback with her. He wanted her to learn swordplay and combat strategy. 

He stripped from his knife, sword and boots. He climbed in the bed beside you and sat against the headboard, knees propped up to cradle the baby on his legs. He took one small hand in his, looking for missing fingernails or something. But the child was perfect. He brushed the hair on her head. A head of silvery white locks. “She has your curls.”

You chuckled. “Yours as well,” you quipped, your hand pulling on a strand of his hair wavy from the rain. You loved his wavy hair.

He turned his face to you. “Were you alone? Where is everyone?”

“I don’t know. I had the maids and Maester Orwyle with me. I was okay,” you swore.

Where was Maester Mellos? Orwyle was only an Archmaester. He was only in the capital if something happened to old Mellos. Where was your father? You brother? Hells, even Helaena would have come to your bedside too.

“Do you need anything?” he wondered. “I’m fairly good at nicking lemon cakes from the kitchens.”

“I want to bathe and sleep, to be honest,” you confessed with half-lidded eyes. Your maid Maeva approached you, but Aemond insisted on doing it himself. She changed the sheets instead. 

Aemond handed your sleeping daughter to your wet nurse and walked you to the bath. He washed your hair, massaged your back and kissed the top of your head. You enjoyed his loving touch as he helped you to your nightgown, brushed your hair and tucked you into bed. He did it all in silence, but he knew you felt the love and devotion emanating from his every pore.

“How did it go with Lord Boros?” you promptly asked, reminding him of his eventful day.

“It went… Well there will be no war,” he confirmed, but he saw the curiosity in your eyes. “I’ll tell you in the morning. Now rest. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Ēdrugon isse īlva bed bisa bantis,” you said sleepily, grabbing his hand. Sleep in our bed tonight.

“Yes, my love. Emā ñuha bantior, daor nārhēdegon.” You claimed my nights, remember.

1 hour before

AEMOND

Now that he knew you were well, Aemond had only one thing in mind: getting rid of his wet clothes. He had to be presentable before he spoke to his father, the hand and Aegon at the very least… and to brave whatever may come to him when Lucerys would tell Rhaenyra and Daemon what transpired in the Stormlands. He should be back by now.

Although, when he got out of your chambers, Aegon waited for him in the corridor. Strangely sober. Before Aemond could ask what he was doing there, Aegon waved a hand, an invitation to follow him.

“Come. It’s father.”

When they entered the royal chambers, Aemond found his mother praying in front of the giant seven pointed star she had installed near the bed. As soon as she saw him, she hugged him with a strength he did not know her. “It’s his heart,” she cried. “It beats too faintly. It’s been like that for a week now, we had to move fast to discuss the line of succession and… oh please go to him, Aemond. Speak with him before it’s too late, I beg you.”

Unsure, Aemond joined the others. His siblings were all sitting around the bed, including Rhaenyra. Daemon was there, Aemond’s nephews and nieces as well. Lucerys stood beside his brothers, completely drenched too. Aemond stared at him briefly, assessing the situation. Lucerys shook his head. 

They don’t know yet.

When he met Aegon’s stare again, Aemond nodded slightly. Aegon nodded back, confirming he understood his fate was sealed in Storm’s End.

Aemond came to his father’s side, still shook at the news that he was dying and kept it a secret. He was conscious, but his ragged breath was alarming.

“Aemond, my son,” he wheezed. Aemond spoke as an emissary would.

“Father, we negotiated an allianc—” 

“He,” corrected Lucerys. “He negotiated an alliance.”

Aemond looked at him attentively. Lucerys nodded, urging him to continue. “…I negotiated an alliance with Lord Boros to make the kingdom stronger. Aegon’s future is secured in Old Town with Ellyn Baratheon at his side. There will be no war, no siege on King’s Landing and no blockade in the Narrow Sea.”

There was a collective sigh of relief. “That is… w…wonderful news, Aemond,” the King whispered. “I knew you were… the best man for the job. You’ve become… a … fine young lord.”

Aemond was silent, eye wide, unsure if he heard correctly.

“Out of all my children… you were the diligent one. Always studying… always learning… eager to prove himself a true Targaryen… And now, you saved us from a war… I’m so proud of what you have become.”

Aemond looked at his mother in disbelief, shocked at the words he heard. She had a faint smile.

“You were right… I have been a poor father to you… I only wished I had more time to… make things right… To apologize properly… meanwhile, I… I have something for you.”

The King gestured to his bedside table. Aemond gazed around but did not see what he could possibly be looking for. Daemon approached and grabbed the long sword leaning on the wall.

He unsheathed it and the Valyrian steel glimmered in the faint light from the sunset. Aemond took the precious sword in his hand and admired the handiwork.

“I give you Blackfyre, Aemond… a fine sword for a fine lord and warrior… you are definitely worthy of this sword… know that I never wanted you… to feel like you did not matter…”

Aemond’s vision started to blur. He blinked quickly, trying to gain some composure while listening to his father’s harsh breath. 

He was a father too now. He read countless books on the subject. He was bound to make mistakes as well. He will probably lose his mind when little lords will try to woo his daughter with lemon cakes, mainly because that was what he did. He knew he could not go forth if he still clung on grudges like these. Then and there, Aemond made the silent promise of being everything his little girl needed him to be.

And it began with forgiveness.

“I accept your apology, father,” Aemond breathed faintly. He heard his mother sob somewhere behind him. “I forgive you… and you are the first to know that my wife just gave birth to a healthy baby girl.”

“Oh… a granddaughter… I am… delighted…”

And with these few words, a faint smile curling his lips, the King drew his last breath. On the third day of the third moon of 129 AC, King Viserys, first of his name, died in his bed. His heart stopped beating, leaving his entire family, and the realm, in grief.

And here he was...

Standing between his mother and sister beside an empty Throne as Grand Maester Mellos announced the death of his father to the people of the court. For a second, he envied you. He instructed the guards to let you sleep. You needed rest, not to climb up so many stairs.

Lucerys joined his brothers amidst the announcement. He hurried to his chambers to change from his wet clothes. Wise.

Aemond’s mother went to the other side of the throne, to Rhaenyra. They both embraced and cried in each other’s arms. Jacaerys also changed sides to go to Helaena. He offered her his hand. She took it and let him kiss her cheek. 

Suddenly, both sides of the family blurred into one. Aegon and Jacaerys shook hands. Daeron went to Joffrey and Baela. Rhaena came to Aemond, bowed her head and extended her hand to him. He took it and they silently ended their quarrel.

In a way, it was sad that it took the death of the King to unite both sides of the family at last. They all comforted each other until Daemon approached Rhaenyra, holding in his hand his brother’s golden crown.

Aemond’s sister went to sit on the Iron Throne and Daemon crowned her Queen Rhaenyra, 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 kneeled first, and the people of the court bent the knee subsequently, pledging fealty and allegiance to their new Queen.

While the people celebrated, the tall doors opened once more.

READER

Holding your baby girl in your arms, your brother helped you walk up to the royal family.

“Aemond,” you breathed as you reached him and hugged him with one arm, your daughter peacefully cooing in the other. “Seriously, my love? ‘Let her sleep’?” 

“You need rest,” he explained, eye glistening.

“Your father and my King died. I’ll rest after. I’m a strong lady, you know that.”

“All too well, I’m afraid,” he abdicated, stroking the white locks on his little girl’s head.

“Well, we are strong as well, but not as strong as you y/n. You should indeed rest,” jested Jacaerys, impressed that you would climb all those steps to join them.

Aemond’s mother found the energy to come and congratulate you. She wanted to hold her first grandchild and you let her. She went to Prin— Queen Rhaenyra and they both admired the deep purple of her eyes. With your arms free, you hugged Aemond properly. He inhaled the scent of your hair and tightened his embrace around your tender waist. You were uncomfortable, but holding him was more important to you. Especially when you felt his tears dampening your silk shift.

He only let you go only when Lucerys approached to have a word. For a minute, you thought you were dreaming when Aemond thanked him for not telling Rhaenyra and Daemon about the chase in the stormlands. 

A chase? What chase?

“I told them you went ahead while Arrax struggled in the weather. They are angry because you came back without me and they imagined all sorts of things… I told them that you would never harm me.”

“When it came to it… I couldn’t.”

What?!, you thought, eyebrows raised to your hairline.

“At the risk of repeating myself, I apologize. For everything,” reiterated the crowned Prince.

“...I accept your apology, nephew,” absolved Aemond.

You had never been so confused in your entire life.

AEMOND

Aemond was unsure how he felt about losing his father, especially after the kind words he spoke in the end, but he knew that the time came to leave the past behind. He needed to make the future a better place. For everyone.

Lucerys bowed his head and took his leave.

“What happened in the Stormlands?” you inquired, worrying.

“I’ll tell you later, let’s get back to your chambers,” replied Aemond, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“No, I want to know now,” you insisted.

“There was a storm, you see. We had to take shelter at an inn, with only one bed—”

“Aemond!” you chastised, refusing to move until he answered.

“What a temper, you have, my lady Strong. I’m afraid I’m a terrible influence,” he teased, kissing you before you could curse at him.

When you went to fetch your daughter, the rest of the royal family offered their congratulations. You went to bend the knee to your Queen but she immediately grabbed you, saying you did not need to in your condition. You always liked Queen Rhaenyra, even if you never spent much time with her when you were younger.

As you looked at the entire family, you smiled knowing the bridges had been mended.

12 moons later

READER

You stood on top of the castle walls, shivering… but not because of the cold. In fact, a warm wind blew in your curly hair as you glanced down at the people of the court walking in the inner yard and entering Harrenhal. While they could only see their Lady surveying the castle grounds from that angle, no one could in fact imagine that your Prince was on his knees, wedged between the wall and you.

“Aemond, please,” you pleaded, closing your eyes as if it would give you strength, one of your hands messing his not-so-perfect hair now.

“Hm?” you heard, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine, making you gasp out loud.

Of course he chose this moment to keep silent. You could only pray you were perched high enough so the lord and ladies could not see the faces you made as Aemond thoroughly ravaged you with his tongue and fingers.

“We have to join the p—people,” you shuddered, the pace of his fingers quickening. “...they are wa— wa—waitin—oh gods!” you stammered, out of breath as immense pleasure hit you all at once. You collapsed on the low wall, muffling your cries in the sleeve of your dress as your orgasm ripped through you, destroying in its wake every last ounce of control you futilely clinged onto.

Aemond could not care less that you crushed him against the stone wall. He held you tight and kept stroking you with his fingers at an excruciating pace, making sure you lost every bit of your sanity as well. Your whole body shivering, your first orgasm quickly blended into a second one.

A bigger one, looming in like a tidal wave. One you could feel coming, long and slow, thoroughly engulfing you until you had no choice but to weigh it out. It crashed into you hard. It was devastating. Your jaw hanging, you could no longer produce any sound. You felt it in your whole body this time… and it kept going, and going, and going. It was like you were stuck in an unending cycle of pleasure.

If it were not for his strong embrace, you would have collapsed on the rampart. You felt light headed and started to lose consciousness. Only then did Aemond slowed down his assault on your cunt and peppered your thighs with kisses and small bites. 

“If you ever do this again… no, when, when you do this again… please do it in our bed. I can’t be fainting in front of our people,” you whimpered.

He did not answer but he pulled on your hands to have you sit on his lap instead, your dress pooling around the both of you.

“Please, my love, we have to go inside, they will look for us!”

“One more. Give me one more,” he insisted, sitting against the wall, rummaging through the many layers of your skirt to free his manhood from his trousers. “I want to see your face.” He notched his cock between your legs and pushed your thighs down until you swallowed him whole, hard and fast.

He groaned as you cried out. He wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you arched and flush against his chest. He pumped up into your core and you luxuriated in every second of it.

“Aemond!”, a strangled cry.

“Take it,” he growled.

Fully impaled on him, you felt your orgasm build deep and fast. Your fingers dug into his shoulders and your head tipped back on a low moan. His lips brushed your shoulder and kissed the little scars you had here and there. In return, you kissed his scarred cheek like your life depended on it. Your arms went around his shoulder as you sinked into each other, both chasing your releases. 

You tightened around his cock and he whimpered.

“Come.” His thrusting got faster and you wailed in his ear.

“Come, my love.” Your vision blurred, tears springing to your eyes.

“Come now.” He forced you to look at him as you screamed.

The coil in your stomach snapped abruptly, your orgasm having you practically convulsing. You collapsed against him. He let go of your head and you shoved your face in his long silvery hair, sobbing against his shoulder. He slammed up with his hips, fucking you mercilessly through it, your face twisted in pleasurable agony gave him the final push he needed. He buried himself to the hilt and cried out his own release. His warm cum filled you, dripping out and down on his thighs.

Your knees were ruined. You felt the pain more and more as pleasure left your trembling core. You whined in his arms when he slipped out of you. He cupped your face with both hands to keep you on his lap a little longer. “Look at me again.”

So you did. The midday sun hit his sapphire and hundreds of little blue lights danced around you. He had so much love in his eye it made you smile.

He pressed his lips to yours one last time. Afterall, Aemond and you had to get back inside the castle. The festivities would begin shortly. 

Aemond helped you stand up and you walked to the great hall. You avoided certain hallways for you feared he would drag you into one of his favorite dark alcoves to make an even bigger mess out of you. After nearly two years of marriage, he was as insatiable as the first day he had you.

A few hours had gone by since you summoned the lords and ladies to the great hall. Your brother and other knights arrived, followed by the entirety of the royal family. Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon lead the way. 

Aemond joined his brothers and sister. Aegon smirked at the state of Aemond’s hair but did not comment on it. The Queen Mother, however, came quickly to brush it with her fingers, scolding her son for his impropriety.

Now that was your fault. You have been a terrible influence for years now.

Dangling somewhere between pride and elation, Aemond held his head high. Without his eyepatch on, he did not hear laughs and jeers for once. Even if he did, nothing could put a damper on this day. 

In the end, he did confide in you that his scar hurt sometimes. You were pained at the revelation but urged him to try the same oils and flowers you used when you carried your first child.

So he did. And it worked.

He was a changed man. What you thought was a bad temper was him being on edge every time his scar hurt. Now that he discarded his eyepatch once and for all, he found himself nearly free of pain and able to enjoy life as he should.

You hooked an arm through his and sneaked a peek at the rest of the royal family, gathered on the other side of the room. Queen Rhaenyra stood beside Prince Daemon who held in his arms their latest daughter Princess Visenya. The Dowager Queen Alicent had your daughter perched on her hip, wishing to introduce her to her baby cousin. 

To your surprise, Prince Aegon and Ellyn Baratheon fell in love. Just like Aemond, Aegon’s life changed for the better when he left King’s Landing to live in Old Town with his wife. He sobered up and Ellyn gave birth not three moons before to twin sons. 

Prince Jacaerys laughed with his wife, Princess Helaena, who was expecting their first child in less than a moon. His younger brothers, Prince Lucerys and Joffrey, stood beside their betrothed Lady Baela and Rhaena. They will marry in the upcoming year. While some quietly exchanged some words with each other, they all had something in common…

…they had their eyes set on Aemond and you.

Though, it was no surprise why. Lords and ladies as well as knights flooded the throne room. You invited them all to celebrate your daughter’s first name day. But that was not all…

Maester Sylvan walked to the front of the dais and cleared his throat. “Even though it is Lady Alaena Targaryen’s first name day, we are gathered here today in great delight, for any day the Mother is blessing us with a life is a joyful day.” Aemond’s mother rushed to your side, firmly holding your laughing daughter in her arms. She stared at you both with anticipation. “Lady Y/n Strong and Prince Aemond are expecting their second child and heir in six moons from this day!” the Maester announced and the hall erupted in cheers.

Still, you were half listening. Maester Sylvan’s words almost felt like distant noises. You had one of those moments where you realized how far you had come and how wonderfully happy you were.

After the birth of your daughter— and as a sign of good will— Princess Rhaenyra gifted you a dragon egg. It hatched three months after it was placed in the cradle. Since then, Vaghar presented you with a fresh clutch of eggs too. Enough for your second child and Aegon’s twins.

Aemond had another special saddle made for Vaghar so he could securely take you and your daughter on adventures in the neighboring lands. He took Lady Rhaena for a flight too, wishing for her to fly one last time on her late mother’s dragon. 

He trained with his nephews again when they visited Harrenhal or when they invited you to Dragonstone and Driftmark. They were eager to spend time with you as well.

The Dowager Queen Alicent stayed in King’s Landing and found comfort in scriptures, her children, grandchildren and her friendship with Queen Rhaenyra. 

Lastly, when Luthor Tyrell held a tournament in the honor of his firstborn son, Aemond insisted you go. This time, he took part in the tournament. You cheered when he won both the sword fight— cutting poor Luthor’s sword in half with Blackfyre— and the joust— knocking him off his horse, his armor getting caught in the horse’s reins, dragging his insufferable arse back to the stables where it belonged. That night, you made love to Aemond not once, not twice, but thrice, knowing you made the right choice when you fought for him.

Needless to say, when you approached this sad little dragon-less boy who read alone in the library 11 years before… you did not imagine he would be the one bringing you so much joy today. And knowing you were the one brightening his days always had you emotional. Because he was everything to you.

Your friend. Your Prince. Your husband. Your love.

To say that Aemond’s whole life changed in the span of a few moons was certainly an understatement. He now had everything he had ever wished for and more. 

At long last, Aemond Targaryen found peace. All thanks to you.

Thank you for reading!

I wanted to give Aemond a happy ending. I also realized I could in fact give a happy ending to everybody and a relatively nice death to Viserys. I don’t know about you, but I read the book and it felt really good to write this fix-it. Sorry if I toyed with your emotions throughout the story. I couldn't possibly unalive the reader during childbirth, come on. I promised you a HEA.

I was in a 12 year writing slump before I wrote Deserving, Indulging and Striving. I will write more about Aemond. Probably some smutty drabbles, imagines and one shots. This fictional man has me in a chokehold.

[humanpurposes]

I Have Always Been A Storm, Part 1

Read the full chapter on AO3 // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Floris Baratheon

In the year 128AC, Floris Baratheon weds Aemond Taragryen, a daughter and a son both driven to duty, now bound to each other when the realm is on the brink of war. Floris is enamoured by the Prince, but love is something she can only hope will bloom once her vows have been said before the eyes of the Seven- AU where Aemond and Floris marry before the Dance of the Dragons.

Warnings: 18+, smut, pregnancy, arranged marriage, canon divergence, angst, possibly quite a lot of angst, hurt/comfort

A/n: Surprise!! It's the Florismond fic no one asked for :) Planning on this being a 3 part mini series.

“A terrible coincidence,” my husband says.

Head bowed, he kneels before me where I sit on the end of our bed. Thunder and lightning rage beyond the windows but he has brought the storm inside with him. The rainwater that has drenched his hair and his riding leathers soak through my nightgown. I keep my jaw tight and my teeth pressed together to stop myself from shivering.

He has discarded his gloves to hold my hands in his, leaving a trail of kisses and tears on my skin. He circles the pad of his thumb over my fingertips, over the callouses left by my years of devotion to the harp. His hands are calloused too, from his sword, from the reins on Vhagar’s saddle.

He lifts his chin to look at me. I scarcely recognise him. My husband is a proud young man, always poised, never loud, often cold and stoic, gentle around the right people, his mother, his sister, me.

His single eye is glistening and glassy, the blue of his iris vibrant despite his distress. His breaths are laboured, his lips parted. I see nothing but hopelessness in him, but even like this, I wonder if the gods will ever manage to create a person quite so beautiful as Aemond Targaryen.

I slip a hand out of his grasp and, as gently as I can, pull on the eyepatch that covers the left side of his face. He lets me do it, as he has done many times before. A burst of lighting catches in the uneven edges of his sapphire eye. The twisted flesh that frames it is red, I wonder if it is hurting him.

I asked him once, why he was so reluctant to display this part of himself, why he wanted to hide it from me when we were first married.

His reply was always that he did not wish to frighten me.

What reason would I have to fear a scar? I’ve seen plenty of blood in my life, hunts, tourneys, accidents in the training yard. I see my own blood every moon. How could I fear my own husband?

He’s stuttering, sobbing, choking on his words. “I didn’t– I– I tried to stop her– but I was so– I just wanted him to…”

Heat rises behind my eyes. My skin is cold, my limbs frozen, but the shock is starting to wear off. I cannot listen to any more or I will surely break. 

I hush him, curling my whole body over his head. If he sees my face he will think I fear him, he will think I am horrified by him. I run a hand over his damp hair and he rests his face against the swell of my stomach.

Before he left, only a matter of days ago, after he had kissed my lips sore and stolen all the air from my lungs, he had come down to his knees to kiss my belly. By Maester Orwlye’s estimation, I only have a month left of my term. By tradition, I should be in confinement, but Aemond had ordered against it. He could not bear the thought of being apart from me, and I him. He has his own books and correspondences with Maesters across the continent. In Dorne, expectant mothers are encouraged to exercise as much as they can, to breathe fresh air and feel the sun on their skin. This would be best for our child, Aemond decided, rather than keeping me a dark bedchamber with only midwives and septas for company. 

Queen Alicent had said from the start that Aemond would make for a devoted husband, that he has always been a man of duty.

An awful sense of dread runs through my blood.

I should be glad that he has returned to me, and I am, I am .

“I wanted the boy to fear me. I did not imagine that I might…”

What can I say to him? What can I do to ease his suffering when I cannot stand the feeling of his body so close to mine? 

I am bound to him, through vows, through witnesses. I have given him my body and he has given me his. I carry his blood in my womb, my child as much as it is his. Most irreversibly of all, my heart is twined with his. I love him, and yet...

When he places a palm against my stomach, over the space where our babe grows, all I can think is that this is the hand of a kinslayer. Whatever fate the gods have for him now is my fate also. If he has cursed himself, then I too am cursed.

Full chapter on AO3

Tags (commented to be added)

Series taglist:

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @theoneeyedprince @targaryenrealnessdarling @jamespotterismydaddy @tsujifreya @blackswxnn

[aglaias-blog]

"Kindred Spirits" Chapt. 4

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Author's note: in this chapter we see Aemond prepare for the dinner with his family, and more details on what happened during dinner and what he thinks of children. We get some more details on his inner workings and maybe Aemond slightly warming up to the reader? Feedback is welcome and appreciated! <3

The reader's perspective can be found in Chapter One

TW: afab!reader, soulmate AU, talk about religion/piety, arranged marriage, Aemond being an arrogant and insecure dick

Summary: Being a highborn lady, a love match is out of the question for you, much less a match with your soulmate. You're not even told about the intricacies of what meeting your soulmate entails. When you are tricked into a betrothal to Aemond Targaryen by your parents, you don't know how to handle things. The Prince's cold demeanor is off-putting, but he is also the only one who is willing to help you, the only one you can depend on. Just how is all this going to play out?

Kindred Spirits Masterlist

-

„Get out!“, were the words Prince Aemond’s body servant was met with, the moment he stepped foot in his master’s bed chamber. In three quick strides, the Prince was at the door, ripping the garments his servant was carrying from his hands, and then closing the door in his face – before flinging it wide open again.

„Wait! Tell me!“, he demanded, letting the servant enter now, closing the door behind him. Jorran seemed positively forlorn in the big room under the strict gaze of his master, like a rabbit caught by the serpent. „About her“, the Prince elaborated impatiently.

The report followed, brought forth in a slightly jittery voice - she had been in her chambers after their talk, never leaving them once. She had been kind to the servants, and when they had come in to light the candles in her room she had been asleep, The Seven-Pointed Star next to her on the bed. Prince Aemond smirked – maybe she really was as pious as she had been described to him. Though he found it hard to believe that an unrestrained lady such as herself would be able find sense in the calm the Gods provided.

Finding the sight of Jorran fidgeting with his hands rather pitiful, the Prince finally released him. „You may leave now!“

He didn’t have the capacity to deal with any distractions now. Gathering his thoughts was his primary concern.

The plan was rather simple. Lady Barryn would be left no choice but to accompany him to dinner. If he waited for her outside her chambers, he would also have the opportunity to talk to her once more, before supper with his whole family. Well, thankfully not with his entire family. Just the thought of his half-sister and her bastard children incensed him enough that he pushed it to the back of his mind again.

He quickly changed into the finer garments he was expected to wear for an event like this.

„Seven Hells, how many damned clasps are on this godsforsaken jacket?“, he cursed under his breath, frantically fidgeting with the impractical decorative closures. Brushing his hair also turned out to be an almost impossible feat today, he was sure that he had never had that many knots before in his life. This was what servants were for! Smoothing down the fine black leather of his jacket and adjusting his eyepatch, he took a deep breath.

Then, without another look in the mirror he left his chambers in a hurry.

-

It was common knowledge that ladies took longer to get ready, with their hair and complicated dresses, and whatnot. Though Aemond couldn’t fathom the eternity it seemed to take Lady Barryn. At this rate they would both be late. Surely, she wasn’t doing this on purpose?

Just when he went up to her door to knock, it opened suddenly, and the lady he was waiting for crashed right into him.

Stunned, she stumbled back, holding the side of her face, though he caught her by her shoulders quickly.

„My apologies, Lady Barryn!“

Right, almost blinding his betrothed was just what he had been missing today. He bent forward, trying to see where she was hurt - and most importantly, if it was serious. It was only when she abashedly turned her head that he noticed how close he had gotten to her. Quickly, he lowered his gaze, praying ardently that she wouldn’t notice the blush that was creeping up his neck and onto his face. But this only made his gaze fall on the deep red dress she was wearing. Targaryen colours. Hm. Clever. It suited her well. Very well, dangerously so -

„My Lord, what are you doing here?“, she asked then. As much as he tried to fight the dumbfounded look on his face, he couldn’t help it.

What, like he couldn’t go wherever he damn well pleased? He was a Prince of this house, surely the hit she had taken to her face hadn’t been strong enough to make her forget that.

„I was waiting for you, dinner is to begin soon“, he said coolly, hoping to cover up his previous embarrassment.

„I thought it to be a good idea to go in together…“, he explained further, when no reaction came from her. Certainly she hadn’t thought of going in there alone?

She still hadn’t reacted. She wasn’t slow-witted, was she? Surely his mother wouldn’t commit an injustice such as betrothing him to somebody like that.

„Seeing as we are – well, this is the first time we will be seen together.“ This should make her understand. It should also be in her best interest to make a strong first impression. The wolves at court would eat her alive, should they notice any weakness about her.

„Alright, we shall go then“, she said finally.

Lady Barryn seemed intent on not making it easy for him. He had told himself that he wouldn’t cause her anymore unnecessary discomfort after what happened at their introduction, but she was making it a very difficult task, indeed.

„Lady Barryn“, he called out after her, „the hall is in the other direction!“

Yet, he couldn’t fight the amused grin on his lips when he saw her flushed face as she turned around and stormed off, in the right direction this time.

Always a few steps ahead of him, she had found her way to the imposing entrance to the lion’s den.

He stopped next to her, staring forward, trying to prepare himself for this theatrical performance that they were about to put on.

„You might want to take my hand.“ He couldn’t believe that he had managed to bring himself to say that.

„I shall do no such thing“, he heard her say. Of course not, what did he expect? For her to be „pliable“, like his brother had said?

His patience was wearing thin at this point.

„Look“, he said, more cuttingly than he intended. Aware of the guards’ gazes on them, he gave them an appraising glance, before continuing in a quieter voice.

„I know that you are not simple-minded, I saw how quickly you caught yourself in front of my mother, and I know that you know that this first impression is crucial.“ Why did she have to be so vexing? They both just needed to put on a display of – well, not love, but at least not hostility. It was simple, really.

„The people at court will wait for any opportunity to take advantage of this situation the moment they sense any sort of disagreement between us“, he tried to get through to her.

„So you would do well to play along, and -“, he couldn’t believe that he was actually saying this, „for the love of the Seven don’t tell my brother about what happened this afternoon.“

Aegon would never let him hear the end of it.

„The King will be in there, as well as his Hand, Ser Otto Hightower, my grandsire. My whole family is in there, which in itself is a recipe for desaster, but the Lords from court aren’t really helping the situation either. If at any moment you feel that someone is asking you questions that go beyond common pleasantries, remember their name, and tell me afterwards.“

Was she even listening to him? Her enraptured expression told him otherwise. She looked like she was dreaming with her eyes wide open. If this wasn’t so important, he wouldn’t have minded looking at her a little longer. Usually, young ladies avoided looking him in the face, and when they did, they certainly didn’t look at him like Lady Barryn did right now.

No, he had to focus on his plan now. There was no time, this was urgent.

„And you might also like to call me by my given name, as will I, this will give an impression of us being much closer than we actually are“, he finished his lecture.

She still hadn’t shaken her daze – if he hadn’t borne witness to what she was actually like that afternoon, he would have said that she almost looked peaceful like this.

„Of course“, she answered finally. Thank the Seven, apparently he had actually managed to get throught to her!

„Alright then“, he said amicably, now better tempered than before. Maybe she had changed her mind now, he thought as he offered her his hand.

„Absolutely not.“ Well, apparently she hadn’t.

-

Never would he have thought to see his thorny bride get along with his family. Of course his mother had a hand in this, he was sure that she had had a word with the younger members of the family, telling them to be on their best behaviour. Hopefully she had said the same thing to Aegon, too.

Aemond had accepted that Aegon talked to Lady Barryn by the fireside before they had sat down at the table. But the moment they had been called to the table, he absolutely refused to let him sit beside her. So, Aemond had been the one who had to suffer his brother’s drunken company, wedged between him and his bride - his betrothed, who seemed to have changed character entirely. Her interest in his sister, Helaena, who was seated at her other side, looked truly genuine, and when he heard her laugh, he realized that it was the first time he had heard that sound come from her. What was it about him, that she couldn’t be like that in his company?

Maybe it was because he wasn’t a child, he thought humourlessly after dinner when he saw her with his brother’s children. Lady Barryn seemed to have a natural gift with them. She had knelt down on their level, making conversation with them as though they were grown - making them giggle, their little voices trying to tell her all kinds of stories, desperate for her attention - wanting to show her their little world. Though their laughter had died the moment he had come near. His stature was too imposing for his niece and nephews to be as open with him as they were with her.

He was close to leaving them to themselves, and finding another partner for conversation, when she picked up the youngest boy, Maelor, and went the few steps to where he was standing. The two year old child shyly hid his face in her neck, playing with the neckline of her dress - peeking up at his uncle with innocent blue eyes. Aemond didn’t know what to do – he didn’t often deal with children, even if they were related to him. He sceptically mustered the small child, who had put his thumb in his mouth in the meantime.

„Maelor“, Lady Barryn cooed gently, „say „Hello“ to your uncle.“ The boy only smiled at him playfully, not daring to say anything yet. She simply waved at Aemond then, encouraging the child to do the same, and looking at Aemond to gauge his reaction. The Prince simply stood there, bewildered at the scene in front of him, unsure of what to do. When he caught her threatening glare though, he brought himself to smile and wave at the boy, amazed at the immediate giggles that came from the child, as his nephew waved back instantly.

However, it was her laughter that made him freeze. The warm light of the fire playing on her face, the child tucked into her side, giggling to himself, her joyful smile at his response - it made him catch himself thinking about a family scene - it was much too early to think about these things. He couldn’t allow himself to forget that this was all a farce – meant to fool everybody around them, but not the Prince himself.

-

Lady Barryn’s introduction to his father had been acceptable, though Aemond was unsure if the King was concious enough to realise what was happening around him – or if he himself even cared that his father wasn’t aware.

The Prince was much more interested in what his grandsire thought of Lady Barryn. The conversation between her and him seemed to have gone nicely though, judging by the approving look Otto Hightower had given him. The Queen and Lord Barryn also seemed content, mostly with themselves and their matchmaking skills, of course, but still they seemed convinced.

That left the Lords who were invited to witness this farce of familial harmony. They had tried to get to her the moment that dinner was over, trying to engage her in conversation. To Aemond they seemed much too interested for their own good, as they tried to draw out their conversations with Lady Barryn – they immediately cut them short though, when they caught his cold stare that he gave them behind her back.

It was the conversations that they would have to face together that the Prince had been most worried about. But it had to be done – the couple wouldn’t fool anybody, if they wouldn’t talk to others – together. They had to let those dogs close – close enough to let them think that they could sniff out the sincerity of their union. Aemond had thought that they wouldn’t be able to convince anybody with their plan – well, his plan, really. However, his betrothed had chosen to truly play up her charming side. This was how he had imagined her to be, back when he was staring at her portraits, reading her parents’ missives – candid, gentle, feeling, eager to connect with others. And he didn’t care then if it was contrived, if she had just put on a mask that she would take off at the end of that evening. She had a warmth about her that drew people to her – completely unlike him.

Ever since he had his eye taken by that detestable Strong bastard, there was a darkness about him that he couldn’t shake, a coldness that pushed people away. He wasn’t doing it consciously at first, it just happened naturally. Of course, it had also served him well, over the years. Nobody had dared to come close to him, to seriously challenge him, to make a mockery of him – at least not publically. This coldness had allowed him to forge his own path, keeping those lowlifes who were trying to exploit his position as Prince at a distance. It had allowed him to stay focused, to go his own way without any distractions. In the end he had made his peace with it, recognising it as a strength. Yet, in his heart he knew - it was a double-edged sword.

Chapter Five

Taglist: @fan-goddess

[raphaellathedragon]

«✿❀-Summers by the Sea-❀✿»

Modern!Aegon xfem! Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: You knew him all your life; your families would come together every summer and stay by the sea, but he grew different. The Aegon you once knew distanced himself, and it felt like you were meeting him for the first time again.

Word Count: 2897

Warnings: Explicit smut, 18+

A/N: My first short fic! And I am proud of this one (: Hope you enjoy it!

+ dedicating this to my new beautiful moots (: @syzrina @f4ll-for-you @aemondsdaemons

based on “The Summer I Turned Pretty”!

It was a tradition; every summer, your mother’s best friend, Alicent and her family, the Targaryens, would join yours for a summer at a province amidst the sea. You always enjoyed the company; it was something to look forward to, a respite from the clamoring hallways at school and irrepressible drama with your girlfriends. Plus, having an extra family in the house made for more laughter and affection, as you only saw them once a year for about two months. 

However, you noticed Aemond and Aegon becoming more comely yet antisocial the last two summers. They contrasted to their brother Daeron, who with every year shouted louder while racing around the house, never a word leaving his lips that wasn’t filled with comedy. 

Aemond spent most of his time diving into books he would find in the library, avoiding eye contact whenever you perched yourself down on the sofa beside him and asked if you could read too. You assumed he started to dislike the appearance of the affliction he suffered as a child, losing an eye in a brawl and being judged more heavily as a result. While on the other hand, Aegon was always on the phone with a new girl, telling each one how he was going to be “so sweet,” with them when he got back home, whatever that meant. You also found him sneaking out in the middle of the night to the nearby town, only coming back in the morning restless and filled with the pungent smell of rum or vodka. 

Losing Aegon’s company hurt the most, primarily because he used to take you out to get ice cream and laugh, wiping the residue of the milky substance off your lips when it started to melt. Not to mention, he would take you to shops and watch you dance around in circles with the dress he picked out—telling you that you looked beautiful over and over again. 

You wondered if he still thought you looked beautiful…

When you arrived at the house, you dashed through the door, looking for Helaena, sweet Helaena. She was always such a blissful addition to your days, and her company never got tiring. After all, how could you not love a walking re-incarnation of an angel? 

Your mother walked closely behind you, you had no siblings and your dad was out of the picture, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Alicent and her friendship was made better for it, for both of them had husbands that didn’t deserve their time, and leaving them was the most terrific choice. 

Helaena hugged you, then leaned back, holding out a caterpillar in her hand, “Look, Y/N!” She squealed, knowing that you shared a liking for bugs too. You could have sworn the caterpillar was rare as you have never seen one with strips that prominent, a prospect!

“Have you named them yet?” You asked, squeezing your cheeks with a smile so tightly you could have burst. 

“Not yet, but I am thinking Y/N!” 

You giggled and then saw the boys come out from the corner of the staircase. They looked so different although you knew it hadn’t been that long. Even Daeron got a little taller.

Aemond let his hair grow long below his shoulders, but it fit him nonetheless, and he didn’t bother to give a smile, only a tiny grunt of acknowledgment that you were present. A black eyepatch covered his eye; you always wondered what was underneath and why he neglected to show it. After all, he was still just as handsome with or without it.

Then, you turned your eyes to Aegon, who already had a light smirk painted across his lips. He also let his hair grow out, but only down to behind his ears, and his features were sadder, almost worn down, but he was beautiful, still. 

“Y/N,” Aegon said, having opened his arms for you to come to fall into his hug. As you walked forwards, you saw Alicent look away from the two of you in distaste. 

Why would she do that? 

As you fell into his grasp, you noticed how much more muscular his arms had become and the way he grew a little taller so that you could fit ideally below his chin. His touch was soothing, almost soft enough to where you could fall into a deep slumber right then and there and not realize any time had passed.

Aegon leaned his head down and ran a hand through the back of your hair, “You missed me, didn’t you?”

“Shut up,” you muttered quickly, pulling out of his hug to give him exactly what he didn’t want, a loss of womanly affection. 

He groaned jokingly, but kept his eyes pressed against you for the remainder of the meet and greet. You were his prize, something he had seen and been with for so long but never tamed. 

And although he deemed every girl he slept with special, you were extraordinary, someone he wanted to treat with care, or at least try to. After all, your giggles rang in his ear like the sound of wine being poured in his cup. It was a necessity, and though wine was easily accessible, you on the contrary, were not. 

He made you slightly nervous though, although you had an extensive history with one another. You couldn’t explain it. It was as if something grew in your stomach with his touch. An inexplainable feeling that you wanted to explore further but, at the same time, were too shy to at the moment. 

As time passed and you moved all your things in, you waited for Helaena to come to get you as she always did, taking you outside, and walking around together, inspecting the ground and the creatures that lie amongst the dirt, but she didn’t. So you decided to go and find her instead. 

You slipped on a swim cover-up and dug your feet into a pair of sandals, excited for the first day in the sun—how you couldn’t wait to feel the rays of light pressed up against your skin.

When you walked out of your room, you found Aegon standing outside the door, and his eyes fluttered to yours, refusing to break the eye contact he had created.

His eyes were of lilacs, and his gaze impenetrable, “I was just going to come to look for you,” he smiled crossing one foot over the other and leaning leisurely into the wall. 

“Me?” You asked crossing your arms over your chest in disbelief; he had practically ignored you the past two summers, and now he was looking for you? It seemed stupid. 

“Yes, you! Swim with me tonight. I know how much you always liked night swims,” 

You then leaned back into the wall and raised your hands, annoyed, but his position changed and his arms caught you between them, pinning you so you couldn’t move. He bit his lip, and you felt your eyes grow wide in confusion.

But it angered you; why would he want to see you now? 

“No, Aegon!” You shouted, uncaring about who heard the conversation.

“Why not?”

Your mouth dropped open, you couldn’t believe he was asking why, “You practically ignored me the past two summers, and now you want to hang out with me? Not happening!” 

But you had to admit that being so close to him, with your noses about to graze the other, it made your heart beat faster than usual. Too fast. 

Aegon then moved his lips closer to your ear, touching your skin ever so delicately. “That was then, though. I want to see you now. I will be waiting for you tonight. You know where to find me.” 

With that, he tore himself backward and winked as he walked away into the distance. 

What just happened?

As the day drew into the night, you felt yourself thinking about Aegon’s offer. He was so condescending with you, but you did really miss being around him—too much.

It wasn’t as if he would do anything bad, right? After all, your families were practically connected at the hip. So, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to go.  

You laid in bed trying to forget about everything, not even wanting to check your phone to see if anyone had called or texted. But thoughts of his lips connecting with your ear made you restless. It was imperative that you made it happen again, and explore the feeling he gave you. 

He was right, night swims were your favorite, for the glistening of the stars in the dark water strangely brought peace. And maybe things with Aegon could be amended…if there was anything to amend. 

You slipped on a swimsuit and peered into the mirror to see if it was too revealing; after all, in the past year, your body became fuller. But it was fine. 

After all, he was a friend, right?

The walk to the sea was about ten minutes, as it had a secluded pathway to get there. And as you peeked around the miles of sand, you didn’t see him. 

But then, a boy emerged out of the water in the distance, and as he got closer, you saw his signature smirk…and the way his body had changed.

His swim trunks laid low on his hips, too low, and the way his muscles were outlined was hard not to notice. It was clear he matured, and it started to fluster you.

As he ran up to you, he grabbed your hand and jolted you towards the water he had just come from, “I knew you’d come. You look great,” he laughed. 

You look great. 

You offered a smile that called for a peace offering and focused on flying yourself head first into the water, letting sea engulf you whole. 

The first taste of summer water! You had waited all year for this. In the light waves you bobbled your head above the surface and grinned from ear to ear, before leaning back into the water to look up at the clear sky, full of stars. The Big Dipper even made itself visible tonight.

Suddenly, you felt arms grapple around your waist, pulling you playfully backwards into the salty sea and then in circles. 

You screamed and let out a couple of giggles at the continual touch, and Aegon only offered you a crack of a smile as he took you in all for himself, forcing you to look at him after he stopped the spinning. 

His hands decided not to leave your abdomen, and you grew stiff, unknowing how to respond.

His face was sculpted by the moonlight, and his silver hair was accented. You felt yourself looking down at the curve of his lips, but you realized you had been looking for too long, and you blushed, hoping it wasn’t noticeable in the dim light. 

“Aegon-“ you started, nervously pulling your face away from his and to the rippling of the waves, but he took a hand off of your waist to turn your face back to his, so he could stare at the lustrous glint of your eyes once more. 

He bit down on his lip, “I like when you get nervous around me,” 

“I am not!” 

Quickly, you tried to look away again, but his hand caught your face same as before, proving his point. Nerves were imprinted on your skin and body language, and an escape seemed unlikely.

You needed to think of a comeback, anything to stop the intensity of his stare, but his eyes traveled to your lips as yours once did to him, and you lost your train of thought. 

Any and all words you wanted to say died, and any and all movements you wished to take gone as well. 

But you heard him on the phone in the past, the way he would whisper to girls, the desires he would state. It wasn’t your wish to be another one of his playthings. 

“You do this with every girl you meet,” you said in a whispered laugh, hoping that he would just let you go and choose to stop making your insides twirl. 

He dipped his head low so as to touch your noses together. It was too intimate; you could feel as his breath traveled into your mouth, “So, now I am seducing you?” He cooed.

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t know-“

Before you could finish, he pushed his head even closer to yours, tightening his grip on your waist. His hands drilled holes in your sides, like he never dreamed of letting you go as long as you’d let him keep you.

Your lips were centimeters apart, and your breathing became heavy; he opened his mouth slightly, “Would you like me to Y/N? Seduce you?” 

Your mind wished to find a rational answer, to go back inside and hide under your covers, but you couldn’t ignore the desire that grew so heavily inside, a craving that needed to be satisfied. 

A wave came heavier, and you couldn’t help but fall into him, but he caught you and pulled you tightly into him, “Is that a yes?” 

“Yes,” you said hesitantly. 

Then with haste, Aegon crashed his lips into yours. The softness and sweetness poured themselves into your mouth. It was like electricity, a sensation unlike no other, shaking your body to its core. And he refused to stop, not allowing for much breath between kisses. 

He wanted this just as badly as you did.

Eventually, he slid his tongue into your mouth, connecting you to him. 

You felt as his hands crossed your waist to your breasts, cupping them in his hands.

Without warning, a slight moan escaped from your lips, and he smiled into his kisses and squeezed tighter, “This is what I have wanted,” he whispered as he moved to your neck to kiss it up and down, watching as your mouth moved in appreciation. 

Slowly, you mustered the words, “You’ve wanted me?”

“For so long. I have always wanted to know how you would react with my touch.”

Then, without caution, he bit down on your collarbone, and you let out a cry as it only aroused you further. It was animalistic, yet captured your wishes fully.

Aegon then removed his lips with a slick pop and looked up, taking in the sight of you and your wet hair. He loved nothing more than you in your natural state, ravaged and needy for him. Wet and tampered with by the earth. 

“What is it-“ you began, but he cut you off.

“Come,”

He grabbed your hand as he did when he pulled you first into the sea with him and swam with you to the shore, pushing you deep into the sand on your back. 

The tide pooled around you, sinking you further under him as he lifted himself over you. 

Slowly, he wrapped your legs around his waist and began kissing your neck once more, but this time more aggressively, biting deeply after each kiss. 

You then moved your hands around, only finding solace when they became entangled in his pearly damp hair. Then, his pants slowly became stiffer and stiffer. The length of him pressing so firmly against your sweet spot. Hardening as he fulfilled his desires of not only kissing you but feeling that you wanted him.

“Kiss me again,” you breathed, trying to catch your breath, but you didn’t need it anyway. And obediently, Aegon urged his mouth and tongue into yours once more, but instead of reaching for your waist to dig his hands into, he clawed at your bikini bottoms, slipping his hands in and looking for the spot that cried for him as he pressed himself against you.

The touch forced your head back, and he enjoyed the prospect, lying his free hand on your throat as he continued brushing his lips with yours. 

It felt so good, the sensitivity kept growing, and you couldn’t stop it. He created circles right where you needed them and then stuck one of his fingers into your slit.

You blushed and moaned loudly into his ear. You hadn’t realized how wet you were until now when his finger slid seamlessly into you, so much so that he added another, “This is all for me, isn’t it?”

When you didn’t respond, he commanded, “Tell me it is, Y/N. Tell me it is for me.”

“It’s for you,” you forced out as his fingers crooked themselves the same way you crooked them when you were all alone at night. 

He chuckled, “Good because it should only be for me,” 

Aegon fucked you with haste, his fingers not stopping, and you felt the climax coming, “Aegon,” you moaned as your legs began to shake, and a tightness held his fingers until you could release them, falling back into the wet sand. 

When you went to reach for him, to please him, he pushed your hand away and smiled, “I don’t want you to,”

“What?”

And then, Aegon stood up, leaving you alone as you laid with the tide slowly consuming you. You turned and looked for him, wondering if he was serious. But he was gone.

You groaned and rolled your eyes.

That was Aegon, leaving when things seemed good; you should have expected it. 

[daenysx]

Hi friend ! 😘 I love your works so much and if you have requests open I have an idea:

Fem reader is out doing errands or something and some stranger is really creepy towards her and she is very scared and when she gets home tells aemond and he makes her feel safe and secure and lots of fluff and reassurance and soft aemond

If it’s triggering or you’re not into I totally understand- I just love the way you write and portray characters 🥰 Much love to you always ! Looking forward to your new works 😍

thank you for your sweet words and this request, i hope you like this!! i tried to write the fluffy part as the main plot because i'm in love with soft!aemond.

this is probably the fluffiest fluff i've ever written. <3 please read the request first, it can include triggering content.

requests are open!!

my masterlist

the one you call

modern!aemond is there for you when you feel uncomfortable because of a stranger.

you feel your hands shaking with anger and discomfort as you walk through the door to the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, aemond targaryen. maybe it would be better to call him and ask him to pick you up, but you cannot bring yourself to care right now.

you have always been the kind of person who takes care of herself. calling or asking for help are never your first options, it's who you are. sometimes you get angry at yourself for being so stubborn though, just like today.

you will not cry. you don't want to cry.

you unlock the door with your key, only to find aemond sleeping on the couch. he doesn't wake up to the sound of opening door and the moment you see him sleeping, you decide to not wake him up. your boyfriend needs to rest after a busy day at his family's company.

you silently change your clothes, wash your face with cold water, and prepare yourself a cup of coffee. you try to calm down when you do these most natural things but still the feeling of discomfort is there.

you take your cup and sit next to the couch your boyfriend's sleeping. he has to be tired if he still doesn't wake up. you watch his face like you don't have the image of him memorized in your mind.

his hair falls to the pillow like a platinum blonde perfection. his eyepatch is thrown away, his breathing is steady. he softly mumbles a few unconcious words, his lips look kissable and exquisite as he whispers to his dreams.

you drink your coffee slowly, try to relax and be calm. it's okay now. nothing can hurt you when aemond is with you. besides the confidence of being able to take care of yourself, having your strong man with you feels more secure and safe, always.

he slowly blinks and the first thing he sees is you. the image of you sitting there, wearing one of his shirts and drinking coffee from his favorite cup makes him smile.

you smile too, when you see him awake. it feels like a broken smile though, not like your usual ones which makes the room shiny in his eye. sleep leaves him as he sits on the couch and opens his arms for you.

"why didn't you wake me up, pretty girl?"

you settle in his arms comfortably, searching peace in his hold. you bury your nose to his neck to find the smell of his hair which always make you aware of his presence.

"you needed to rest, love."

he smiles and leans into your face. he gives you messy kisses filled with love and adoration. being in his arms feels safe like the world out there cannot touch you when he is here. you wish you can feel the same things when you are alone.

he feels your hands on his neck shaking and your breath becomes unsteady.

"what is it, baby? why are you sad?"

your tears fall and you can't help it. keeping them from falling has hurt you and you can't resist when you are in his arms.

"it-it's not a big deal but- a man-"

aemond loosens his hold and his hands cup your cheeks.

"shh, don't panic baby. we have time okay? take a moment and tell me afterwards, come on."

this is the last step for your tears. you wrap your arms around his neck and let them fall. he holds you like a baby, his fingers are on your hair. this is a safe space for you. you can cry, you can smile, anything you'd want and he would accept it.

he would give you anything you want.

it takes a few minutes for you to talk again. you look at his eyes, they are covered in worry and adoration.

"there was a guy in the street and i was just walking and i don't even know what happened, you know? he was weird and it made me nervous."

it's hard to tell how he feels.

"nothing happened but i hate when people like him just coming closer and saying shitty things just because they think it's somehow their right, it's-it's so-"

he understands what you mean and for a second he cannot stop himself from being angry. he is angry at the guy, he could punch him without taking a breath for feeling a girl -his girl- like this.

he is angry that he wasn't there to comfort you, to let you think you should take care of everything by yourself. he should make you know that no matter what happens, no matter who is hurting you, he will be there for you. he will always make you feel safe just like you make him feel that way.

he knows that you know he understands you, that you will not continue talking about the guy.

"you know i love you, right? i love you too goddamn much, i should try and think the right words to express it. you are perfect and no one can do that to you. no one can do that to anyone."

you listen to him, your perfect man. his eye focuses on your expressions as he speaks, determined to make you believe how much you are loved by him.

"i know you can take care of everything. you are my strong girl, of course you can do anything but when you feel like you can't do it anymore, i'd like to be the one you call. you know that, right? my sweet girl."

you nod, leaning into him and kissing his cheek. it will take time for you to stop feeling the discomfort but still you feel much better now that he knows. he knows and he understands, he will be here.

"now, i want coffee and i think you'd like a second cup. choose one of that sitcoms you love and wait for me under the blanket. please, sweetheart."

you smile, handing him your empty cup. he goes to the kitchen, you go under the blanket. you wait for him eagerly for minutes.

he joins you and holds you closer when you smile at the show. he kisses your hair, lets you play with his rings, and hands you your coffee cup whenever you want.

you spend the entire evening wrapped around him until you fall asleep, your face buried to his neck. it feels safe, secure, and lovely.

[scorpionrising]

there's an ache in you, put there by the ache in me (pt. 4: i would fall from grace just to touch your face)

pairing: aemond targaryen x oc word count: 3996 content warning: see part 1

read part 1, part 2, and part 3 here

The thunder overhead was louder than it had been that night in Storm’s End; the rains more powerful, the winds more violent. Each strike of lightning illuminated Daena’s bedchamber just as bright as it was in the light of day. Unable to sleep, she threw her blankets off and dressed herself with all the modesty that a walk in the hour of the wolf called for. Restless, Daena roamed the high ceilinged corridors of Dragonstone until she ended up standing outside of Aemond’s apartments. Before she could stop herself, she curled her hand into a fist and hammered it against the wood. If she waited too long, she would lose her nerve. 

She stood at the door for what felt like ages, waiting for him to open it. When he did, her heart leapt into her throat. The fire blazing in the hearth within his chambers backlit him in an orange glow, seeming to set his silver hair ablaze. The eyepatch he had taken to wearing once more was gone and he was dressed for bed. She felt half guilty for drawing him out of the comforts of the furs, but quickly suppressed it as he opened his mouth.   

“I allowed you to speak without interruption, and now you must grant me the same courtesy,” Daena said, storming into Aemond’s chambers. 

Once in the warmth of his apartments, she allowed herself to be momentarily distracted by the loose trousers hanging off his hips and the bare plains of his chest. She cleared her throat to shake the thoughts from her mind and watched him close the door. 

“I…” She took a deep breath and clasped her hands together to keep from scratching, or— worse— touching her stomach. “Aemond—” She closed her eyes and steadied herself, unable to look at him as she spoke. “I love you. With every piece of my soul, I love you. I wish every single day that you had asked for my hand after the tourney and that all things were different a–and that— Gods, I— I do not have the words to tell you how my heart breaks as I mourn the future we never will have.” 

She opened her eyes then and saw that he was still frozen at the door. The space between them felt gargantuan, but she was stuck where she stood as well. 

“It was one of my mother’s final wishes for me to marry Jace, for me to be Queen in recompense for what was taken from her. I shall honor that wish, even if it takes me away from what I wish. Rhaenyra is Queen now, and I will marry Jace before the moon turns.” 

Aemond’s face betrayed nothing, but the tightness in his jaw told Daena everything. 

“I have a proposal for you,” Daena said quietly, stepping closer to him. “Join the Queensguard, become my protector in Ser Erryk’s stead, be at my side forever. I could be yours in all but name, and you could be mine.” Silence greeted her in response. She sniffled. “You may speak now.” 

He closed the space between them in two swooping steps, curling his hand around the back of her neck and pressing a bruising kiss to her lips. She kissed back for a moment, blindly— teeth gnashing against his, fingers roaming over the bare planes of his chest. Then, she caught hold of herself and broke the kiss. 

“Wait,” she said, panting. He kissed at her jaw and down her neck. “Aemond, wait— There is more you must hear before—” She licked her lips and pulled herself from his grasp. “I am pregnant.” 

He blinked, and then scoffed as his face went through the entire range of possible emotion. Daena chewed on her lip, bracing for whatever was to come. 

“Pregnant?”

“Yes,” she whispered. 

“And— And it’s— The child is… mine?” 

She rubbed angrily at the underside of her jaw, where his teeth had just recently been. It was madness to pursue this, but she nodded to confirm nonetheless. He appeared incredulous for a moment, scoffed quietly once more, and then ran a hand over his face. 

“You are certain?”

Daena nodded again. “Gerardys has confirmed it.” 

He swore, and she could not help but smile. How she loved seeing the raw, uncurated pieces of him. 

“And I am to stand aside and allow Jacaerys to raise my child?” 

Daena grit her teeth. “Yes, and then your child will sit the Iron Throne one day.” She licked her bottom lip and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Jace and I have discussed it. Now, the lineage is secure and the succession is settled.”

“How can you be sure he will not turn on you? Father his own bastards?” Aemond hissed.

“Because this child is Velaryon and Targaryen, regardless of which Targaryen prince fathered it. And this child will marry the eldest of Luke’s of the opposite sex,” Daena said. “We are family and we will protect each other, and you are included, Aemond.” 

“You cannot think they will accept me—”

“They will have to, because Jace and I have. And it is he and I who will soon make the rules.” 

Aemond’s face was a storm of conflicting emotions. Exhaling softly, she raised her palm to the injured side of his face. He leaned into her as she ran her thumb along the scar beneath his eye. 

“I know how much I am asking of you, Aemond… how unfair it is,” she whispered. “I wish it were easier, that we could merely… be. I wish you could call your child your own, but this is all I can offer you.” 

The familiar stinging of unshed tears pricked at her eyes and she sniffled loudly. 

“Will you take it?” 

There was a terrible moment of silence as Aemond stared at her, his mouth parted as his face for the first time showed nothing short of vulnerability. His stoic facade was discarded and she recognized suddenly how young he was, and how young she was herself. What madness they were thrust into with so much of their lives left to live. How much of his lifetime was she asking him to throw away, to spend in secrecy and lies? If he decided now to turn away from her, she would not blame him. 

She stepped away from him, and it seemed that was all he needed to act. He chased after her and circled his fingers around her wrist. His grip was tight but gentle all the same, insistent perhaps being a better word for it with how he pulled her back into him. 

“You love me?” he asked her.

She tucked her bottom lip beneath her upper teeth and nodded ever so slightly as she answered, “More than you know.” 

“Then, I will have you any way I can,” he said, and it sounded like a most solemn oath. 

She wanted his oath in marriage, she realized with a deep, sharp pang. A tear slipped down her cheek and she licked it away once it rolled onto her upper lip. Aemond traced its trail gently down her cheek and curled his hand around the side and back of her neck. With the hand he was not holding, she grabbed the waistband of his trousers and yanked him closer. He was grinning as he kissed her. 

Afterwards, she slipped out into the corridor feeling both great relief and a sadness she had never known before. They would never share a bed for more than a few passing moments at a time. They would never be truly alone with one another, able to settle into a moment without fear of being caught. Not for the first time, she thought about flying far away to a place her responsibilities could never reach her— a place she could raise her child beyond the schemes of King’s Landing. But it would be a coward’s thing to do. 

Two days later, Rhaenyra called Jace and Daena into her solar for a private midday meal. By the time Daena and Jace arrived from their training session, the table had already been set and goblets filled with Dornish red with all the servants dismissed. Daena and Jace exchanged a nervous glance, but walked forward together even as Rhaenyra looked at them both sharply. 

“Sit,” Rhaenyra instructed. “Daena, I went ahead and had raspberry tea brewed for you.”

Daena’s face burned and tried not to react, even as Jace’s eyes grew impossibly wide and he snapped his head up to look at her from across the table. She fought the urge to kick him. 

“Thank you,” Daena said quietly. 

From the corner of her eye, she watched Rhaenyra smile. The air in the room was tense, but as Daena could recognize a genuine smile from a fake one, she wondered if perhaps the tension was entirely of her own making. She forced herself to settle, relaxing into the chair while Jace was as rigid as she had ever seen him. He was poised to sprint off to evade the wrath of his mother Daena suspected would never befall him. Rhaenyra was no Jaehaerys, and Daena was no Saera. She lifted her chin and poured herself a cup of tea while returning Rhaenyra’s smile. 

“It is my understanding that you two wish to be wed within the next moon, yes?” Rhaenyra asked. 

Daena winced beneath the lie but surprised herself with how firm her voice was when she answered, “Yes.”   

Jace, across from her, nodded along. “The sooner the better!” 

Perhaps he was overselling it, because Rhaenyra pursed her lips. Though, Daena wagered the Queen had no illusions regarding her and Jace’s true feelings. If anything, she seemed to be trying to determine if they would crack under her weighty gaze more than anything else. It only made Daena more resolute. 

“Very well,” Rhaenyra said. “I will speak with Septon Horys on the morrow and we shall have you wed before the northern armies arrive.” 

Daena sipped on her tea, very pointedly not looking at Jace. If projections were correct, that would be in a mere few days. Evidently, her wedding would not be a great affair. She did not mind, no need to waste wartime resources on the greatest farce Westeros would ever come to know. 

“Wonderful,” Jace said after a lingering silence, bringing his goblet to his lips and taking a deep sip. 

Seasmoke landed in Dragonstone’s courtyard that night, and Daena ran weeping into her brother’s arms. Together, in her apartments, they mourned their mother over a flagon of sweetwine, each shedding their own fair share of tears. Laenor’s presence was a salve in her father’s absence, a stalwart fixture for her to lean against as she confessed her greatest sin of all: the anger she felt towards her mother when she left for Storm’s End over the betrothal decision. 

“You will not be a mere consort,” Laenor said after some time. “You will be Queen in your own right… Perhaps even better than our grandmother.” 

“That might be blasphemy, brother,” Daena said. 

The Good Queen’s shadow was one that loomed large, but Laenor was unrepentant. “Mother should have been Queen. We all know it, including Rhaenyra. Our grandmother went to her deathbed resolute in that fact. This is history mending itself, Daena. Be proud.”

The long list of sins and betrayals she had committed in the last few months tumbled past her lips, then. When she finished, Laenor was slack jawed and bug eyed. He closed his mouth and composed himself, going to speak several times and then stopping himself right away. 

Then, “I always assumed you had no interest in boys, you know.” 

In spite of everything, Daena snorted. She downed the rest of her sweetwine and poured another gobletful. Laenor snickered himself and then reached across the table to grab her wrist, suddenly serious. 

“Your soul is not so black as you think it is,” he told her gently. 

She sniffed. “Mayhaps, but I’ve still done grievous things.” 

“You mean you’ve fallen in love?” he asked, cracking a smile. “There could never be anything wrong with that, sweet sister.” 

Though she had craved Laenor’s comfort desperately, it did not ease all her worries as it might have several years ago. 

“Father will be pleased. A direct line to the Iron Throne— finally.” 

Daena shifted uncomfortably. While loved by both her parents, it was her father especially who doted on her as a child. It was he who put a sword in her hands, taught her to rig a sail and climb a mast, and encouraged fits of defiance and adventure in her all while promising to one day build her a Sea Snake of her own to sail around the world. She had been his little girl, his precious princess in all but title. But now she was just a pawn, sold off to further her parents’ ambitions. Had that been all she ever was for? 

“Yes,” she said idly, hand drifting to her stomach. “Now, history will be made of his name and blood.” 

Laenor knocked his cup against hers and downed whatever was left in it with a single gup. As he wiped the back of his thumb over his lips, he cocked his head to the side. 

“I should like to get to know Aemond,” he mused. “Seems only proper, considering he is the father of not just my nephew but my grandson as well.” 

Daena groaned, beginning to hate the rest of her life even more than she thought she would.     

The brief respite and peace they had come to know on Dragonstone shattered as quickly as a dropped glass. Jace and Daena were married in a rushed and private ceremony in Dragonstone’s sept at dusk two days after Laenor’s arrival, and after a small feast with the Lords who were already on Dragonstone to begin with, the newlyweds were sent off to bed. They had done away with the bedding ceremony for obvious reasons, but Daena still felt nauseous as she closed the door to her bedchamber behind Jace. 

They made a big show of rustling the sheets and shaking the bed to give off the impression of consummation, but grew tired of the charade after a while and just laid themselves down on opposite ends to stare up at the ceiling. 

“How do you feel?” Jace asked. 

“Well enough,” Daena said with a shrug. 

He huffed and punched his pillow. “I always thought I would feel different after marrying… perhaps like a true man grown.” 

“If we’d been allowed to follow our hearts, perhaps you would have,” Daena said quietly, fingers interlocked atop her stomach. “In another life… an easier, happier life.” 

He said nothing, only hummed. Then, after a moment, turned onto his side so that his back was facing her. Sighing, Daena kept her eyes on the bed canopy’s embroidered stars. 

Though invited, Aemond had not attended the wedding, and Daena was not sure whether or not she was relieved. Having to look at him while marrying another would have surely stung, but so did his absence. She wanted him— not whatever this half-life was bound to be. A very small, terrible part of her was furious with her mother for dying. An even larger and more terrible part wanted nothing more than to rip Aegon limb from limb for forcing her to have to honor her mother’s final wish. She counted the days until the assault on King’s Landing. She would burn the stones of the Red Keep to dust if that was what it took. 

Suddenly, she realized she understood Aemond’s horrible desire to go after Luke in a very real way. She would have her fire and blood. 

With a loud groan— that made Jace mumble in his sleep— Daena heaved herself upward and grabbed her robe. Wrapped in the northern-made article, she was instantly warmed from the chill in the air. She walked out into the solar and collapsed into a chair, burying her face in her hands. 

My fate is sealed, she thought resignedly. Concealed by the darkness, she began to well and truly weep. She continued to do so until the bells atop the citadel rang out and a dragon— Syrax— screeched out in pain. The doors to the bedchamber flung open, revealing a barefoot and wild eyed Jace. 

“Four rings. We’re under attack.” Jace quickly ran about the room, dressing himself. He did not waste any time fastening his sword to his waist, electing to brandish it wildly instead as he geared himself for going outside. “You should stay here.”

Daena scoffed. “I’ve fought more battles than you.”

His dark eyes flitted down to her stomach which had slowly started to reveal itself and then back up to her face. “Not in your current condition, you haven’t. That is our heir inside of you— my mother’s heir. I will not have you endanger either of your lives.” 

Daena grit her teeth, prepared to argue, but the wide eyed pleading of Jace was enough to halt her fury. This was her life now, and she had agreed to it. No longer a mother, but a future queen consort. It left a bad taste in her mouth, but she relented. 

The 

“Fine,” she said, “but only because I am with child.”  

She barred the door behind him and waited, sitting on the floor with her back to the wood. She would not rest, she would not sleep until the night was over. She stayed there with a white knuckle grip on the Valyrian steel dagger she had never given back to Aemond, straining her ears for any indication of danger. 

The only sounds she could hear were outside her window— dragons screeching, clashing. She dared not pull back the curtains to watch, unable to bear the thought of watching Jace fall from Vermax at worst. 

In her fear for Jace, she had not heard the approach of footsteps. When a fist slammed on the door, she scrambled upwards, prepared to lunge. 

“Daena!”

The knife clattered from her hand in relief. 

“Let me in,” Aemond said, voice tense. “Jace told me to stay at your side.”

Of course, he did — that honorable idiot. Relieved to no longer be alone, Daena unbarred the door so Aemond could slip inside. He had a sword in his left hand, dark blood dripping from the blade. His hands and night clothes were stained from the fight as well, but that mattered little to Daena. She took hold of his arms and pulled him towards her.

“Are you hurt?” she asked. 

He shook his head and pulled himself from her grip to lock and bar the door once more. 

“Ser Erryk is likely dead,” Aemond said. “Arryk certainly is.”

Cold dread settled in the pit of Daena’s stomach. The Greens had launched an assault on the island. A successful assault, at that. 

“Assassins,” Aemond said. “Arryk was the only Kingsguard that I saw. The rest seem to be hired swords.” He finally let go of his sword, letting it clatter loudly to the ground. There was a restless energy about him that she did not recognize as he walked over to the window. “It is Vermax against Tessarion out there.” 

Daena eyed Aemond carefully. “They’re here for you.” 

His own gaze shifted into something guarded. “And yet I am here. With you.” 

It was hard not to mistrust when it was his brother setting the port ablaze. He had been missing for the better part of the day, invisible when she needed him most. 

“I have no part in this,” he said quietly. 

“You were not at the wedding,” was her only response. 

He scoffed. “You hold that against me? Why would I wish to watch the woman I love marry another?” 

“I needed you by my side! To have your support and know that in spite of every reason you shouldn't, you still love me!” 

It was not in her nature to beg. She never had, but she would beg him to stay at her side. 

“I know this charade is painful, but we both must give it our all.”

“What I should do is kill Jacaerys and—”

“Do not finish that statement!” Daena yelled, storming over to him and pushing her face up into his. “Never think for a moment that because I love you that I will allow violence and harm done unto my family!” 

Her nostrils flared wide, the fear of the ambush long forgotten and replaced with the wild fire of her rage. She wanted her hands around his throat; his mouth on hers; her fist against his jaw; his fingers in her hair. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to devour him whole. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. 

Once her words hit him, he seemed to deflate a bit. He sighed loudly and stepped back to give her a breadth of space.

“Forgive me,” he said, holding his hands up in sign of surrender. “I have allowed my temper to get the better of me.”

“Yes.” She sniffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “And it is very unbecoming.” 

“You are right. I am meant to be keeping you safe and all I am doing is upsetting you,” he said. “I am being selfish.” 

“Enough self flagellating,” she said, waving her hands. “Just hold me.” 

She slipped easily into his embrace. He was at least half a head taller than her, so it was easy to rest her head against his chest, turning her face into the crook of his neck. His skin was warm as his pulse beat wildly against her lips. He held her close to him, molding her frame into his. Soon, her stomach would be far too large to allow for this. 

“I’m frightened,” she admitted. 

The clashing of dragons outside the window had stopped. One prince was victorious, and the other dead at the bottom of the bay. Daena could feel it in her bones. Jace had to be alive; she could not bear it if he were not. She could not offer up her child as Rhaenyra’s heir without him at her side.

“I never wanted any of this—” 

She stopped herself. Originally, she had not even wanted him. Now, he was the only thing she wanted. How interesting, the way priorities shift and turn. He cradled the back of her head, fingers slipping into the curls. 

“The babe,” he said softly after a long period of silence. “You should rest.”

She leaned her head back and glared up at him. “You truly think I can rest in a time like this? We are under attack, Aemond, and I am confined to this room!” 

“You are not confined. You are being kept safe,” he reminded her in a tone that was far more gentle than she ever gave him credit for being. “It is not just about you now, and you know that.”

She was not fit for this role, to live under the oppressive shadow of her great-grandmother’s legacy. There was a reason she never wanted Driftmark, why she fought so hard for Luke to inherit. The blood of Valyria boiled beneath the skin, threatening to burn her alive faster than dragonfire. If she could escape the madness of the throne, the venom of King’s Landing, she could be free. She could evade the curse of Targaryen women. 

Who among them lived to see true old age? Who among them died free, unbound from the shackles of husbands who fucked them into an early grave? 

When Jace came hammering on the door hours later, shouting out her name in a panicked frenzy, Daena knew. The hollow look in his eyes, the tortured wrench of his mouth, the trembling hands dark with blood. He met her gaze and it would have been less heartbreaking if he cried. 

“My mother is dead.”  

[made-this-cause-why-not]

Gen V Drabble, Word Count: 588

When Marie heard the news, she was inconsolable. The headlines were everywhere: Vice President Victoria Nueman and daughter Zoe found dead. The story was terrible- the two had been killed at the dinner table, lasers slicing their bodies. The headline came a week after Victoria agreed to help. Three days after the virus went missing from her bunker. Sixteen days before Zoe’s fourteenth birthday. Marie and Jordan had already bought her a gift- two tickets to ‘The Seven on Ice’.

Jordan hadn’t tried to understand, they were just there. Together they and Emma held her as she cried. Sad at the lost her second family. Angry that it had happened. Frustrated in the fact that she could do nothing. 

Butcher hadn’t been as hurt. When he saw the news he had just sighed and said that they needed a change of plans. Everyone had stared at the man, shocked by his lack of empathy for their newfound ally. Hughie offered condolences on the man’s behalf, stating Butcher was always an ass and that she shouldn’t take it too hard. Everyone else was sympathetic, with Kimiko even offering her a sad smile and a strong hug.

A change of plans had apparently meant raising the dead. Two weeks after Victoria’s death, a mere 3 days after her funeral, Queen Maeve had come to headquarters. Not the Maeve that Marie had read about in books or seen in interviews, a supe that was strong, confident and took no prisoners. No, this Maeve was different. Still strong but in a way that seemed less from being untouchable and more from being touched living through it. This Maeve carried a gun everywhere, always sat facing windows, and wore an eyepatch.

When Marie first saw her she was shocked by the woman’s existence. She was wearing a sweater and jeans and holding two duffle bags, one for her and one for Elena- a woman whom Marie would meet later. Maeve had looked over to where she was sitting with Jordan, Cate, Emma and Sam and whispered something to Butcher. The conversation was short and ended with Butcher saying something that sounded a lot like a genuine ‘thank you’, something that Marie had never heard the man say in her two months of knowing him. 

“I’m Maggie,” she introduces. Her voice was deep, something Marie wasn’t expecting after years of watching high pitched press junkets. “I’m here as a favor to Annie, and Annie only.” Eyes flickered to the blonde women typing away on a computer. Though she pretended not to listen, Marie could see faint blush coat her cheeks. “I’m going to try and train you guys on how to kill Homelander.”

Marie's heart leapt at the words, looking to M.M for confirmation. The man avoided her eye and Marie focused back on Maggie. “You’re not a supe anymore,” Marie comments, staring into her bloodstream.

“Yeah, no shit. I had a chance to kill Homelander, to really get rid of him for good.” Maggie lets out a deep sigh, shutting her eyes tight. “But I didn’t. I took down Soldier Boy, and risked my life for that piece of shit, and hundreds of others.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “All because fucking Kansas over there.”

Annie turned in her chair, her face apologetic. “Maggie, I wouldn’t have asked if-”

“It’s fine, just…it’s fucking fine.” From beside her, Elena places a soothing hand on her arm. Maggie took a deep breath, before looking back at the group. “No going back now kids.”

(If you like this concept, check out "Maggie Shaw's School for Disgraced Superheroes" by WithFireAndIce on AO3. I wrote this before they posted their work, and would rather read their writings than write anymore on this)

[evilphrog]

Watching Wheel of Time without reading the books: Season 2 Episode 3

Rand gets Pretty Womaned. Perrin has to once again make a choice between the hammer and the axe, and once again lets someone else make that choice for him. Nynaeve is missing, presumed dead, until she literally breaks the laws of physics to get back home because nobody tells her what she can and cannot do, not even reality. Egwene never stops believing in her. Mat escapes with the psychic bartender, but it was actually all orchestrated by the biggest bitch on the wheel.

Rand is the personal attendant to the False Dragon, who is now more of a lizard. He desperately begs to be taught how to control his powers before he suffers the same fate, but Lizard was never all that empathetic to begin with, and now he is actively suicidal. He agrees to teach Rand everything he knows, at the price of some fancy wine. Rand knows exactly how to earn that, and turns on the charm for his landlady. Selene really skeeves me out, for more reasons than just the predatory relationship with a barely legal guy who is clearly very mentally ill. I think it is the way she keeps trying to pretend this is more than a transactional relationship? The way she plays at romance, while still reminding Rand at every turn that she holds all the power? The way she pouts at him when he refuses to play along? I don't know, maybe she just has a sinister personality.

She gets him the wine, and an invitation to a dinner. He makes friends with some older lady who looks like Moiraine in disguise, who snarks at him about how much rich people suck. Okay, Not!Moiraine, way to hypocrite all over the place. Anyways, Rand is incredibly upset to realize the lady that has been preying on him is also preying on other desperate souls, so he runs off to Lizard. Lizard approves of the wine, and delivers the entirety of his advice: accept the madness and eventual death, because there is no way to avoid it. He then returns home where his landlady assaults him, and then they bang. Or maybe he just fell asleep and had a sex dream/hallucination. Either way, he accidentally Mannels, and burns down her inn. She rushes from the flames to find him, and I still get the feeling she's just Off.

Perrin and his friends have all been captured, except his Wolf Buddy who looks like Discount Heimdal. These are apparently the Seachan I have heard so much about. I now realize it is pronounced Shaun John, not See Chan. If there are no special effects from here on out, at least the rest of the budget was well spent on the Shaun John costumes. They are creepy as hell. Nancy Reagan is with them for reasons yet to be explained, and he keeps checking out Perrin. They take the Eyepatch guy up to force him to swear fealty to their throne, and immediately kill him when he refuses. Everyone else submits without question, though Perrin is still angry about it.

At some point he must have been knocked unconscious, because he wakes up alone, chained up in a carriage with Nancy Reagan. This dude is playing jumprope with the line between sweet grandfather and sexual predator. He wolf-baits Perrin, and comes out as the Dark One, which is still a lie. Perrin asks what he wants with him, and Nancy leans in like he is about to kiss him, and says he wants Perrin to be his. GAAAAAAYYYYYY. Heimdal and the wolves break Perrin out, and Perrin wants to rescue the others. Heimdal has another plan. Run away. Perrin follows along, but I sense some complaining in his future. He hates the choices other people make for him, but goes along with them because he still can't handle the thought of being responsible for another major mistake after his last one. Someone should tell him that choosing to follow orders is still a choice, and he is still responsible for the consequences of his choice. I fear he is going to find that out the hard way.

So onto Nynaeve, the heavy hitter of the episode. She is presented with an opportunity to walk through the swamp three arches, where she will face her greatest fears without even the force one power to protect her. If she succeeds, she will become a true Jedi master Accepted Aes Sedai. Her three greatest fears are really all the same fear. Watching people she loves suffer and die and choosing to leave them to their fate rather than fighting to save them. First up is her parents, then the Two Rivers folk, and finally, a brief flash of visions that end with her covered in blood. That last one haunts her so badly that she chooses to leave the tower, run away with Lan, and PSYCH! She was in the arches the entire time. She didn't even notice the archway return for her.

When the arch lit up and faded, the head Aes Sedai all realize she has been lost forever. The Principal of Novice School wallows in guilt, but has enough left over to remind JK Rowling that her self-righteousness won't actually wash away the blood on her hands. JK actually seems to feel shame, which I wasn't sure she was capable of before. She is suddenly more complex than the cardboard cutout lunch room bully she has been up until now. No more likeable, but painfully realistic with her ability to justify any and all actions as a defense against the deep self-loathing she can't afford to face. We all know someone like this. Someone so dedicated to their cause that they can't see the fact that they have become the exact thing they claim to fight against. In this case, She Woman Man Hater, Protector of Girls Everywhere has manipulated and murdered a young woman by treating her as a tool to power, rather than a person. But she doesn't have a penis, so she must still be Good. Right? Right? Her shields are failing. I wonder if she thought she loved Nynaeve, in whatever way her shriveled husk of a soul could comprehend love.

Egwene has recovered from her self-pity sleepover with Elayne, and is committed to appreciating Nynaeve a lot more. She goes to wake her up for school, but finds the Principal there instead. Principal stiffly and woodenly informs Egwene of Nynaeve's death and then walks out, in a way that seems cold to Egwene, but like she is inches from breaking down sobbing to the audience who saw her earlier performance. Elayne tries to comfort Egwene in her sincere, awkward way, but Egwene has just lost her final tie to home, and is not ready to pour her heart out to someone she met yesterday. Read the room, Elayne. Not that you have ever had this skill. Aren't princesses supposed to get etiquette training? She must have failed that class.

JK Rowling does find a way to blame a man after all. She WOULD have prepared Nynaeve properly, if only she hadn't been stuck tormenting Mat for no real reason except that she likes manipulating people. It is really all his fault, for being so manipulable. She releases him, after delivering a scathing rant about her own insecurities projected onto him. Someone in that room is certainly an insidious coward who mistakes their own moral failings for cunning and wallows in self pity. He and Min make a run for it, but Min goes back for a quick chat that serves no purpose except to let us the viewer know she's been working with JK all along.

Egwene goes to the arches, and pours everything she has into opening the archway for Nynaeve, but it just isn't enough. Elayne comes by for a second attempt at comfort. She is able to convince Egwene to stop trying to kill herself by overchanneling at the arches, but promises to sit with her until she's ready to leave. Maybe she CAN learn how humans work after all.

Nynaeve, meanwhile, has been living peacefully in a fantasy similar to Rand's. She and Lan are happily married, with a rambunctious daughter. They live in the Two Rivers with Mat and Perrin, and get letters from the Powerful and Amazing Egwene Sedai. After many happy years, however, her home is invaded by trollocs. She has to hide her daughter in a cellar, while she tries to fight, in a clear parallel to her own memories of losing her parents. The adults do their best, but Mat, Perrin, and Lan all die brutally within seconds of each other. Nynaeve rages so hard that she channels inside the arches. Okay, I understand. Her biggest fear is that being an Aes Sedai will keep her from protecting her loved ones because her duty will come first. She has overcome it by realizing that her power is the one thing that could have saved them all. But now for the final test. Her daughter comes upstairs for a hug, just as the archway appears. Nynaeve knows she must walk through, but she can't abandon her child to her fate. So she gathers up the girl and rushes through, only to emerge empty-handed and covered in blood to a shocked Egwene, who hugs her as she cries. Was that life ever actually real? Is there a world out there where a little girl closed her eyes and trusted her mother to carry her to safety, only to end up helpless and alone against a horde of monsters and the corpses of her family? Nynaeve will never know. Congratulations on becoming an Accepted, and on never knowing peace again.

Other episode reviews

[abbyslev]

ANGST!! You and Hange are exes and haven’t seen each other since the day you guys broke up. It could turn into smut idk

𝑫𝑰𝑺𝑺𝑶𝑳𝑽𝑬- 𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬 𝑿 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

A/N: THANK YOU for this ask. I’ve been writing it all day i literally love it sm:) tusm <3 i love writing angst🙁 enjoy, i hope it’s what you wanted!! i also added a small TLOU reference at the end hehehe>:) anyway thank you so much for reading and thank you for this lovely ask!!

WARNINGS: angst, break up, workaholic! hange, alcohol (not much), lightly proofread, anddddddddd loads of fluff heheheh

WC: 2k

Three months. That’s how long it had been since you had seen Hange.

     “I work a lot and I don't get to see you…it’s not fair for you.” They mumble. “I don’t care! I know what you do is hard, but I just want to be with you.” You grab their suit,  looking into their eye. “Hange, please.” You beg. “I love you too much to keep hurting you like this. You think I like leaving for days on end? It's just not fair to you.” They repeat. 

       You stood in the rain, hand over Hange's mouth, begging her to say no more. She placed a hand on your wrist, moving your hand down to her heart. “You live here.” She pulled you in for one last kiss, before leaving you at your door, covered in rain and in a puddle of your own tears. 

    You pull the strap of your black dress, sipping from your sparkling water. You seriously needed to not drink, you had enough the past three months. Loud footsteps approached your table. You look up, faced with your best friend. “Want one?” Erwin held up a shot. “Can’t. Trying to stay sober, remember?” You smile, pulling out a chair. Erwin took a seat, eyes trailing behind you. 

      “I knew this would look good on you.” Erwin tugged at the skirt of your dress. “You picked this-” You motion towards the cleavage part of the dress. “on purpose.” You roll your eyes. “Well, I had to pull you out of your comfort zone somehow.” He chuckled a bit. “Whatever.” You gulped down the rest of your sparking water. 

      “How’s it feel being a married man?” You cross your legs, rubbing your lips together. “Wonderful. I haven’t told Levi we are going to Paris, so I hope he likes it.” Erwin messed with his hands nervously. “Oh, I'm sure he’ll love it. All the different teas and stuff.” You smirked. “I sure hope so.” He took your hands into his. 

       “I know it’s hard for you tonight, but I just want to thank you for being so supportive of me.” Was all he said before walking away. Your eyebrows furrowed, confused by the sudden topic change. A body plopped in front of you, eyes wide and a very shy demeanor. 

Oh. 

           You look down at your hands, eyes staring at your red nails. You grab your purse, fixing to stand up. “Hi.” They said. You froze in place, not knowing what to do. “Hello.” You whisper. “You look so pretty.” They smile at you, not that you could see it. “Oh, thank you.” You nod, without looking up. “Levi seems to be having fun.” They chuckle a bit, You peek up to your right, seeing Levi trying to hold back Eren and Jean from having a whole dance battle in the middle of the floor.

     “Yeah.” You nod. You finally look up, meeting their face. You freeze in place again, mouth slightly open. They looked the same, but it felt different. Their hair was up in its updo, eyepatch still there. They changed their glasses frame, from a gray to a now raven black. They seemed a bit tired. 

         “I like your makeup,” They smile. “Thanks. Sasha did it.” You nod. “So, how have you been?” They lean back. You notice a small sun on the back of their middle finger. You don’t mention it. You tried to think about the question and how you were to answer it. 

       Were you going to tell them that you have been staying at Erwin’s for the past couple of months so you don’t drive yourself into a wall? Or that you’ve had to lock yourself in a room so you don’t drown yourself in your own tears and alcohol? Or that you have been running off an hour of sleep? That you can’t do anything without thinking of them?

      “Good. I’ve been pretty good. And you?” You smile softly. “I’ve been pretty shitty actually. Coming home to none of your food has made me pretty miserable.” Hange laughed. It's like you almost forgot how honest they were. “Oh, yeah. You’d always get too much and regret it later.” You giggle. It was genuine. 

       “Yup. I’ve also had a hard time sleeping. I’ve tried those things you used to listen to on the tv…but it’s just so boring. I need some earthy nerd shit to fall asleep.” They sip their water, shaking their head. “Oh yeah, the ones with the people who travel and find all those weird animals, right?” You set your purse back on the table, leaning back into the soft material of the chair. 

     “Yeah, that one. Oh, and cleaning sucks. I know the basics but you always did the fancy stuff so when Levi came over he almost choked me.” Hange rubbed their neck, shivering. “You didn’t use bleach on the wooden table again, did you?” You slap your hands on the table, a smile growing on your face. “Oh god, no. I think.” You shake your head. 

      “How’s Tuna?” Hange leaned their head on their hand, admiring your soft features. Tuna was your shared cat, which you ended up taking because you worked less. “She’s pretty good actually. She didn’t want to get her nails clipped, she only likes when you do it.” You crossed your arms. “What can i say? Everyone likes me.” They laugh. You scrunch your face,  shaking your head. 

      “Not that one kid at the park.” You roll your eyes. “Oh my god! The one who threw a pebble at my head to get rid of my other eye?” Hange laughed loudly. “Yes!” You throw your head back, laughing. “That was so funny.” You place your hand on Hange’s knee. Both of you didn’t notice, considering how normal it felt.

       The two of you stayed there for hours, catching up on every detail of your life. You learned that Hange had taken up a different job, and now worked from home like you did. Your chairs now sat right up against each other, your knees in between Hange’s legs. Your hands rested on their knees and you leaned forward , talking to them. 

       Hange just sat there, admiring your beauty. They had slowly become so engulfed into their work, you had only become a memory to them. The months you spent apart, you were suddenly all they thought of. Levi pushed them to talk to you, but they just couldn’t. They couldn’t handle seeing your face again, after how they left you, 

       But yet, here you two were, laughing and catching up, forgetting the rest of the world. Levi and Erwin stood in the corner, hands interlocked and quietly betting on what was going to happen next. Erwin thought you were going to come home and sob, and Levi bet that you two were going to fuck. 

      But none of that was on either of your minds. You two completely were engulfed into your current conversation, branching off to another and another. Your eyes met theirs, touching was no longer a problem and it was like none of the past three months ever happened.

        “Ah, shit.” You look around. People were starting to clean up. You check your phone, seeing it was past twelve. “I gotta get home.” You pick up your purse. “I’m pretty sure Sasha left, fuck.” You groan. “Wanna come home with me? I don't mind.” Hange flashed you a smile. “Oh. Are you sure?” You tilt your head. “C’mon.” They grab your elbow, rolling your eyes.

         The drive back was peaceful. Hange played the playlist you two made a while back. You smiled, surprised Hange still had it. You noticed they had everything you had given them. The pins on the roof, stickers from camping places on the dashboard, the cat air freshener on their rearview mirror. It made you feel better knowing you also kept their stuff. 

        You kicked off your shoes, shivering at the cold floor. “Welcome home.” Hange held their arms open. Their apartment stayed the same. The pictures of you two still stayed up, almost like you two never separated. Your shoes sat in the shoe rack, ones you thought you had lost. “Hey, I left these here?” You laugh, pointing at them. “Oh yeah, I just got too lazy to give them back.” They lie easily. The truth was, they never wanted to get rid of them. Or anything that was yours. 

        You follow Hange to their room, standing by the doorway. Their room was a mess, as always. When you used to be over almost all the time, it was cleaner. You noticed the right side of the bed was mostly untouched, and the pillows seemed to be fluffy and nice. Even after months, Hange never slept in your spot. 

         The nightstand was empty, except for the coaster and the book that you had left. “Hey, did you ever finish this one?” You ran up to it, flipping it to the page you left off.” “Haven’t touched it since…yeah.” Hange opened their closet, laying out some clothes. You used to sit in between Hange’s legs and read to them. 

         “Bleh, she ended up dying anyway.” You tossed the book back. “I knew it! God, she was stupid.” Hange shook her head. “Also, do you know where Erwin’s taking Levi? He’s been bugging me about that all day.” Hange opened up a drawer, taking out some socks. 

     “Paris.” You smile. “No fucking way.” Hange laughs. You just nod. Hange comes up to you, handing you some sweatpants and one of their shirts. They plopped the socks on top, laughing. “Since i know you like your feet warm.” You shake your head, smiling. 

       You two were in the bathroom. You changed while Hange brushed their teeth. “Can you unzip this?” You move your hair, tilting your head. Hange pressed a hand against your back, the other zipping the dress down. Your breath hitched, blood rushing to your face. “Thanks.” You whisper. 

       “Here’s your bag.” Hange handed you a toothbrush. “You still have this?” You put toothpaste on your toothbrush, running it under water. “Yeah, in case you slept over for something.” They open your toiletries bag. “Oh,  this will come in handy,” You pull out advil. “Did you drink?” They rinse their toothbrush. “No, but it’s late and I plan to wake up early.” You rinse yours out. “Ah.” Was all they said before rushing to the bed, 

        You crawl in beside them, forgetting everything else. It's like the past was gone, and it was like any normal night. You roll over, facing Hange. Their face was dangerously close to yours,  eye trailing down your face again. “I missed you so much, you don’t even know.” Hange whispered. “Don’t get all sappy on me now.” You look down at their lips.

      “It feels so normal, being like this.” Hange placed a hand on your cheek, pushing your hair back. “Yeah.” You nod, pushing their loose hairs out of their face. “I never stopped thinking of you. You stayed right here, like I said.” They took your hand, placing it on their heart. “I thought when i saw you again you were going to slap me and tell me you hated me,” 

         You didn’t say anything as they loudly swallowed, pupil growing. “but you talked to me as if nothing happened. I don’t deserve you.” Hange squeezed your hand. “I didn’t slap you because it wasn’t your fault. I wasn't mad, I just wanted to love you. I always did and I still do.” You take your other hand, placing it on the side of their neck. 

        “As soon as I walked back in here I regretted it all. If i had spoken to you it could’ve solved everything.” They sighed. “But we are here now, aren’t we?” “We are.” They smile. “I never wanted to leave you, ever. You are my sun. My everything. Leaving you is something I never want to do again.” They lean in a bit more. 

       “Then don’t. We can try again.” You gave them a soft smile. Their lips met yours. You felt numb, like you couldn’t move, yet you pressed a hand against their cheek, body pushing closer against theirs. Their hand snaked around your waist, pulling you toward them. 

      “I’m sorry,” Hange placed their forehead on yours. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to be, for anything.” You push your nose against theirs. “I love you.” “To the edge of the universe and back.” You smile before kissing them again.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Also to rephrase what i meant is wednesday x male reader who is like kiryu chan

I live for your energy my friend, I love being reminded of my love for the yakuza series (even the less favoured ones which I think was yakuza 3 I think…my man kiryu didn’t have much to do in that one other then fix peoples shit. Which shouldn’t be his job in the first place.) ichiban is my dumb baby boi, I love him so. He’s the epitome of ‘heart of gold, dumb of ass.’

You don’t have a sense of fashion, no need to worry cuz Wednesday doesn’t have much of one either but she could hold together an outfit for herself but for someone else, not so much. Which made you an eyesore for poor Enid who has to take away that faux gold suit away from you muttering, “no, just-no.”

Other then that, you were what some would consider the strong silent type who no one should fuck with unless they wanna be punched with a bin or even a vending machine. Your freakishly strong for a guy which was an advantage for Wednesday as it meant no one would bother her if her massive guard dog was nearby, staring them down with his resting bitch face. Spoiler: it’s just your face.

Your dream was to run an orphanage, so when parents weekend comes about, you go out of your way to take the younger students who’s parents were unfortunately not alive anymore out to Jericho for the day and buy them whatever they want until the weekend was over. You were the acting older brother figure for a majority of them that even after parents weekend they’d go out of their way to ask you for advice or go with them to Jericho.

Especially when Rave’n comes and they want your opinion but you direct their inquiries to Enid instead from the last time you were left with the responsibility of telling someone how they looked. Wednesday wouldn’t admit it but your tender side for children born from less fortunate beginnings did always warm her coal heart. While you may look like a man with no care, you held the biggest heart in your chest and would bare the weight of the sky if it meant seeing those kids smile.

You also have this random male student in a Leopard print blazer, an eyepatch and a metal baseball bat that is seemingly obsessed with you and would always be raring to fight you whilst hiding in the most estranged places ever…you once found him in your dorm, wearing Wednesday’s clothes and a really shitty wig put into pigtails…what a weird guy…he’s strong and quick you had to hand him that but you felt that you fight better alone.

You’re also quite protective over the people you hold dear; Wednesday, Enid, Thing, Ajax, Bianca,Kent, Divina, Xavier, Eugene, you swore you’d protect them all when the Hyde attacks started picking up. So whenever you found yourself in a situation where the hyped seems himself to be; the sleeves are up to your elbows and your blazer was already on the floor as you prepare to give the son of a bitch an ass beating he wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon.

You also wondered why it was that Tyler conveniently got bad bruising on the exact places you punched the Hyde or how he’d often flinch whenever you brushed past him in the street. Wednesday knew and she found it funny to see Tyler scared to death of your inhuman strength. It was entertaining and she would often drag you to weathervane just to see Tyler hold his breath and bite his tongue in your presence.

Many also considered you a leader with your cool headedness and straightforward thinking but you never wanted to be one in the first place, it just didn’t feel right for you to take that position, no matter how many times you were offered it. It wasn’t apart of your plan to become a leader and it never will be.

You made yourself a legacy at Nevermore that many would remember even well after you’ve grown old but still able to pack a fucking punch.

Overall Wednesday was glad to have you as you respected her wishes and desires more so then others because you too wish to have days to yourself and you both knew that you’d always go back to each other when company is highly appreciated.

Also nobody tears up karaoke night like you do. It’s just me stating a well known fact.

[baek-at-it-again95]

Walk The Plank (KHJ x fem reader)

Chapter 12: Promise

You had grown up hearing tales about the infamous pirate crew ATEEZ—the fearless, power-hungry men that roamed the seas in search of the most valuable treasure they could lay their hands on. You almost didn’t believe the stories your mother had told you as a child...not until you wound up on their ship  

Warnings for this chapter: very brief mentions of loss, small-ish space, reader is able to be lifted by mg and yh

A/N: Extra warning...this chapter starts very romantic akjbjsdg <3 Also, I am considering starting a tag list! It is not something I have ever done before but would be open to doing :) As always, thank you for reading you beautiful atinys!!

Previous: Chapter 11, Masterlist

Chapter 12: Promise

You sit atop the captain's desk, mindlessly swinging your feet as you await him. You hope that he believes your harmless little lie about investigating a noise. It isn't too far-fetched, is it?

Hongjoong enters a few minutes later, setting down a lantern on the desk next to you. You pray that it's not the one you had left in the brig. 

"Did you find anything?" you ask innocently, looking up at him. 

"No, darling. There is nothing to worry about." You feign a sigh of relief. "But why don't you tell me what you were doing down in the brig?" You freeze up at his accusation, swallowing thickly.

"I already told you, Joong. I was investigating a noise. What if the man down there was trying to escape?"

Hongjoong uses his hook to tilt your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. "And you fail to see the danger in that?"

"No...I understand that it was foolish of me. I am sorry." This is the second time you have apologized to Hongjoong—no, a Hongjoong tonight. If you have to apologize to one more man, you'd surely throw yourself overboard. 

"Listen to me, Y/N. I know you are strong. I know you are capable of investigating something independently. I do not doubt you. However, in the situation we are in, I feel it is best that you give up some of your independence...before someone comes along and takes all of it."

It's hard to listen to what he tells you, but you bite your lip and nod in understanding. Hongjoong sighs, lowering his hook and bringing his other hand to caress your cheek. You look up at him, taking in his beautiful features as if you would forget them in the moments passing. He places a kiss to your forehead, your nose, and finally, your lips. 

You bask in the feelings of love and comfort that he offers, wishing you could feel them forever and just forget about all the chaos of the past few days.

"Why would the universe do such a thing?" you whisper, resting your forehead against his.

"Hm?" He pecks your lips.

"We were brought together, and the universe seems to want to tear us apart." 

"It cannot, and it will not." As he holds you, your worries seem to dull. Your hands delicately run across his back and around to his chest before coming to a stop at his face.

Your fingertips trace the fabric of his eyepatch, and as they do, you feel his body tense. You wish to see all of him, perfect and imperfect...but perhaps not yet. Moving your arms around his neck, he relaxes once again.

You stay by his side until the dark sky bleeds orange and pink.

***

That's right...you think to yourself. The alternate Hongjoong is not missing a hand like your captain. Nor is he missing an eye. They are quite different. The thought plagues your mind as Mingi and Yunho drag you along the streets of the town.

"What are you thinking about?" Yunho asks. 

"She's thinking about the captain again. Surprised she's not smiling," Mingi teases, nudging your arm. 

"Actually-"

"No, her eyebrows are all scrunched," Yunho whines. "Y/N, are you mad at us?" he asks. Despite his intimidating size, he reminds you of a helpless little puppy. It is very contradictive of the reason he was here with you, which is to protect you. And of course, that means Mingi, who is of equal stature, would also be here. He has warmed up to you but will still take any chance he gets to tease you. 

"No, Yunho. I just spaced out," you reply, giving him an assuring smile. 

"I don't believe you," Mingi says. You and Yunho exchange glances, rolling your eyes. As you walk down the calm street of the village, you get an idea.

"Can we please get a new book?" you ask Yunho, excited.

"Sure. What book? Like, research about magic artifacts? Books of ancient spells?" His eyes sparkle, growing with curiosity.

"Mm, I was thinking perhaps I would like to read something that is not so...serious."

"What do you mean?" Mingi asks, eyebrow raised.

"Well...I think I would like to read about a romance for a change," you say quietly. Mingi laughs obnoxiously loud, and you attempt to ignore him.

"I have never read one before," Yunho tells you. 

"I think Wooyoung would quite enjoy it, too. Do you think so?"

"Aye," Mingi interrupts. "It would keep 'em quiet for a while." You smile, walking up and down the paths of the town in search of anyone selling books. You pass a few of your crew members exploring on their own, two of them being San and Yeosang. They tell you that they remember seeing a man on the East side of town selling different things, and supposedly there were some books among them.

***

"Is this it?" Yunho wonders aloud, eyes scanning over a stand where a short old man awaits business. 

"It must be," you reply softly, spotting a small stack of scrolls, maps, and books at the corner of his table.

"Hello." The older man beams, his eyes creasing.

"Hello, sir." You give him a slight bow as you address him.

"Are you travelers?"

"Yes. I am not from very far. These two are, though." You gesture to Mingi and Yunho. 

"Very nice. Are you interested in a new map? Perhaps a detailed one of this land?" 

"She is looking for a romance to read," Mingi explains, pointing to you. A sudden wave of embarrassment washes over you, but no one seems to notice.

"Ah, I have just the thing." The old man picks up a leatherbound notebook from the bottom of a stack, handing it to you. "Enjoy."

"How much is it?" you ask, pointing to Yunho's pocket for a small sum of the money the captain allowed you.

"Oh, do not worry about it. It would be payment enough for someone to enjoy it," the man says, giving you a soft smile. "I had a daughter that would have been around your age. She was very sick..." He shakes his head. "Stories were something she always loved, and it brings me joy to know that there are people like her." You're at a loss for words. Actually, there are just so many things you want to say, you can barely formulate a single response. But eventually, you just return his soft smile, hugging the book to your chest.

"Thank you. I promise to enjoy it."

You bid him farewell, and he wishes you all safe travels. 

***

As you walk back in the direction of the ship, you pass a group of children playing together. "How cute." You smile at them as you go. They don't even notice you, so engrossed in their little game. Two at a time, they play games with their hands, clapping them together rhythmically as they sing an unfamiliar song. The other kids gather around, watching and awaiting their turn. Your smile quickly fades as you listen to their words.

"Once, twice, thrice!

Have you not been nice? 

Here comes the man in white!

He's come to set things right!

He will get you! Watch out! Watch out!" 

One of the little girls playing the game stops chanting, running after the little boy in front of her. He screams, giggling as other kids join in and chase each other around. Their laughter is not comforting to you as it usually would be.

"Did you hear them?" you whisper to Mingi, your stomach twisting.

"What, their singin'?" 

"What they were singing about..."

"No." He shrugs.

"The Guardians..." you whisper, pulling Mingi and Yunho closer to you. "You don't think...."

"That they are here already?" Yunho groans. "I did not think so before, but I certainly do now. Curse them! How did they get here so fast?"

Mingi gets a grasp of the situation, despite not witnessing anything. "We must make it back to the ship without being noticed."

Yunho huffs. "Easier said than done. How do you suppose we get passed them if we have no idea where they are?"

Mingi looks around, his eyes stopping as they fall on something behind you. You look back to where his gaze is directed and immediately frown.

"No, absolutely not." He eyes a couple of large wooden barrels at the front of a building. "I think I will be sick," you state.

"You've been at sea for weeks. I think you can handle it, sweetheart." Before you can even answer, Mingi has you over his shoulder and you cling onto him, worried about being dropped. "Your dress makes you heavy," he grumbles, grunting as he hoists you into an empty barrel. 

"Mingi, I can just walk behind you. I do not like th—" You bring your hands to cover your mouth as Mingi and Yunho lift the barrel from the ground. 

"Be. Quiet." Mingi demands. You sigh and shut your eyes, trying to focus on your breathing and not the wobbling of the barrel.

***

Things were going just fine until you near the docks. When the men carrying you stop moving forward, your head bumps into the side of the barrel. 

"Ow," you hiss. 

"Quiet." Mingi snaps, his voice much lower than yours. "Do. Not. Move." Your eyes are now wide open as you search for any kind of gap between the planks of the barrel. You wonder what's going on around you, desperately wanting to see outside without popping your head out and exposing yourself.

Mingi and Yunho suddenly move forward again, managing a faster pace than before. You think you're moving up the gangplank as you start to hear the ocean and some familiar voices of your crew. Are you safe?

You slowly peek your head out from the top of the barrel, taking in your surroundings and seeing that you had, in fact, crossed the gangplank and onto your ship. However, as your eyes lift from the wooden boards, you see something in the distance that stands out.

A large, masked figure in white.

Looking straight at you.

>>chapter 13

[kanekiobsessed]

Superstar Baby

Parings: Superstar!Reader x Black Hair Kaneki

Warnings: Mild Cursing, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 709

*Ring Ring*

You stare at your phone blankly before getting up to check who it is. “Kaneki <3” the contact reads. You smile slightly before answering. Before this you were getting ready for another show for the 4th night in a row. Being on tour wasn’t an easy task especially for someone like you. You preferred being as close to Kaneki at all times and being in a different country isn’t ideal for you personally. These concerts wore you out but getting a call from Kaneki always made you feel a bit better.

You finally answer his call, putting the phone up to your ear and letting out a happy “Hello!” Before hearing his voice respond with another hello. “I just wanted to check in and make sure you were doing okay!” He says in a caring tone. He always talked in this tone with you, always making you feel loved. “I’m doing fine but I would be a lot better if you were here with me.” You responded attempting to be flirty but saying the corniest shit ever. He chuckles on the phone before realizing the time. “Oh wait.. doesn’t your show start in 5 minutes?” Checking the time you realize he was right. “OH SHIT IT DOES I LOVE YOU BYEE.” You spit out quickly before hanging up and shoving your phone into your pocket and heading outside to the stage.

You let out a sigh before walking to the drum set and opening a new pack of drum sticks. “Three more shows..” Was all you could think of. Three more shows until you could be happily back in his arms. How kind how sweet and how absolutely stunning he was and he was all yours. You tiredly looked around at your band members and the crowd hoping for this to be over soon. The more you stared into the crowd you saw one individual stick out. Maybe it was eyepatch or maybe it was the bright glow sticks he was waving and he staring directly at you. Kaneki..? Immediately, your eyes widened with excitement and joy. How was he here? Didn’t he have to work at the cafe? Questions crowded your mind until you heard your leader signal it was time to start.

The concert was a breeze. Just knowing he was there watching you made the time go by so much faster. As soon as you and your band finished you walked off stage to find Kaneki. After signing some autographs and taking pictures with fans you finally found him outside of the venue sitting on a bench alone. Upon eye contact you jumped into his arms hugging him tightly laying your head on his shoulder. “I missed you so much…” You muffle, holding him tighter than ever. He holds the back of your head and hugs you tightly back. Feeling his warmth is enough to make you melt with pure bliss. It’s only been four days but god how you missed him.

“I’ve missed you too..” He says kissing your forehead. Loosening your grip on him you raise your head and kiss him. “I think we should go back to my hotel hm?” He nods in agreement which leads to you two in your hotel room. After you two both take a shower you hop into bed together and you immediately cling onto him cuddling him. “How did you even get here??” You ask him muffled due to the fact that your head is in his chest. “And what about your job? Don’t they need you?” Bombarding him with questions. He takes a deep breath before responding, “I just took a couple days off.. Touka said she had me covered.” Letting out a light hearted chuckle. “She actually wanted me to go. Said something about you missing me a lot.” He says looking at you suspiciously with a cheeky smirk on his face.

You get flustered knowing Touka snitched on you. “THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE CONFIDENTIAL!” You reply back in a slightly loud tone. Hugging him tighter you close your eyes. “I’m just glad you’re here..” Kissing his neck you begin to drift off to sleep in his warm embrace. Kaneki can’t help but smile and kiss your scalp before whispering into your ear.

“You’re my superstar, baby..”