#she looks like the Alice in the mirror! that’s all she needs

[ollietreetime]

Knock ‘em dead, Doozy Alice!

#batim #batim oc #batim fusion #alice Angel #dot batim #bendy and the ink machine #dorothy 'doozy' chrystel #ollietree art #ollietreeocs #I love doozy so much y’all….. despite ink hell sucking she makes it work with some friends #people who are familiar #the mirror is broken but she doesn’t need it to know she looks ✨fabulous✨ #she looks like the Alice in the mirror! that’s all she needs #just had to stick it on #yeah. no other alterations made to that Alice #none at all haha #;)c

[henrysglock]

S4 Victims: Story by Proxy?

Okay so. In spitballing with Em...something stuck in my head.

So we all know how serial killers leave crumbs because deep down they want to be caught/want the truth to be revealed? Well what if the Duffers, or even current Henry, are doing the same thing. That is, leaving breadcrumbs.

This mainly has to do with the S4 victims, their stories, and the order in which they're chosen.

So, it goes like this:

Chrissy: Abusive mother who resembles Virginia

Fred: Eaten alive by the guilt of being responsible for the accidental death of an innocent.

Max: Suicidal over guilt about Billy's death and her response to it. Billy, who died saving her/while she was saving herself from the Fleshflayer, a regenerated form of the Mindflayer.

Patrick: Abusive father, not much else told.

Max (again): Suicidal Ideation, dies, soul taken, but was revived by El. She's now in some limbo-state, where her body lives but her identity/mind is elsewhere. She will likely be brought back entirely by El in S5.

It almost feels like a story by proxy if we piece it together.

So, let's piece it together:

Person with an abusive mother...feels responsible for the death of an innocent...a sibling who was killed while this person was trying to save themselves from a monster which came from Hawkins lab, which leaves them suicidal...and this person lives in a situation with an abusive father figure. This person becomes suicidal, and their suicide attempt was not entirely successful. They were revived by El, and end up in a limbo state. They may or may not be brought back by El later.

Now, let's collect details about our serial killer:

Abusive mother? Check. (No matter how we frame it, Virginia was not a good mother.)

Innocent died? Check. (Henry has nothing bad to say about Alice, which we know he would if she were not innocent, since he does this with every other victim.)

Sibling died as a result of saving oneself? Check. (The Creel massacre was a situation where Henry was, with whatever intentions we may assign for the other family members' deaths, trying to save himself from Virginia and by extension the lab.)

Ended up with an abusive father figure? Check. (Well...an abusive Papa, one might say.)

Brought back by El multiple times? Check. (El was the one who took Soteria out and brought Henry back from being powerless. El was the one who put Henry in the UD/limbo state. El was the one who opened the gate for his return to the RSU.)

IT ALL ALIGNS. So let's put it together with all the feelings involved:

Citations (I guess? Explanations?) are in the tags listed by number!

Henry had an abusive mother who was at least trying to have him shipped off to the lab, if not actually trying to kill him outright. This situation builds and builds, him wanting to be left alone (1), putting out subconscious and conscious cries for help (2), and her targeting him about it, until March 25th, 1959.

Virginia starts it, attacks, and this time she's out for blood (3). Henry defends himself (4). Virginia, being the parent with powers (5), doesn't actually die (6). Victor, Alice, and Henry go for the door (7). Virginia's on the stairs (8). She's got to finish what she started, since her original plan was botched (9). Henry puts his energy into trancing Victor (10), protecting him from Virginia, since logically two people can't occupy one person's mind.

This leaves good, innocent Alice to fend for herself, standing directly in front of the staircase. She's a loose end (11). Virginia kills her, but can't kill Henry or Victor while the trance is occurring. She figures Henry's going to run himself into the ground (12). She figures she can call Brenner in to collect Henry, like they planned (13). If she disappears, she figures it'll go into the news something like this:

"World War II veteran kills entire family in deranged fit of insanity. Wife missing, presumed dead. Son dies in hospital."

And on both counts, she's essentially right. It does basically go into the papers that way. Victor is taken in for murder, and Henry is taken by Brenner, but not before he sees that Alice was caught in the crossfire (14).

Henry ends up with Brenner, the abusive Papa. He's got the guilt about Alice's death, something that makes him sad and angry. Brenner, maybe, decides to push this in order to increase Henry's powers, but it backfires. Henry's powers increase, but he does...something. He lashes out, he snaps, maybe he even tries to kill himself. He's Brenner's prized pet, though, so Brenner can't let that happen. He seals Henry's powers away with Soteria. It's a death for Henry's entire identity, so far as to have him under the name Peter Ballard. Then comes along 011. She removes Soteria from Peter Ballard...and revives Henry Creel. She then exiles him to the Upside Down in 1979, only to eventually bring him back in 1983 when she opens the Mothergate.

All this to say: It could be his own story, told through the stories of his victims.

Breadcrumbs, or maybe...obvious things, which nobody by any chance ever observes.

Below the cut is where I speculate into motivations for his actions after Soteria's removal, so...not required reading for this particular analysis.

Years of MKUltra torture warp Henry's guilt about the situation into a bastardized, violent, brutal, unethical savior complex based in the notion that he's a predator by nature, but a predator for good. He "saves" the lab kids from a future like his own, filled with nothing but torture. He "saves" El from her ignorance about the lab and intended to have her join him, thereby attempting to "save" her, technically his little sister, from the lab entirely.

He "saves" his s4 victims from their guilt and suffering, which so closely mirror his own, which no one saved him from. I could even go so far as to say he was "saving" Will, who is set up to be so much like him, from a world of horrible people who (from Henry's viewpoint based on his lived experiences) would only serve to abuse and betray him.

This of course isn't to say any of it is right. None of it is right or good...but it makes sense. It follows a pattern. It coheres. The math...maths.

#Citations! #1: Henry often hides alone in the attic. #2: Victor's burning cradle vison (a child in need of help). The drawing of the Shadow Monster. Possibly Alice's nightmares. #2 (cont.): Can all be interpreted as calls for help. Children in distress act out and make disturbing art in hope of conveying that need. #3: Virginia may or may not have been trying to kill Henry but based on the Fleshflayer parallel re: sibling death...it's probable. #4: Henry himself describes that night as self defense/being forced to act. #5: Virginia likely had powers given that Henry has powers #6: Her powers are likely similar to Henry's and Henry has regenerative powers. There are also fishy scenes of her death which imply #6 (cont.): that she may have still been alive. These include: shots from her POV. The fact that her eyes are bloody-- #6 (cont.): but still intact in some shots. The unexplained POV from the top of the stairs. #7: Henry looks very nervous and fidgety at the door like he's antsy to leave with Alice and Victor #8: Again the unexplained POV on the stairs...stairs she earlier runs down after Henry gives her her mirror moment in the bathroom. #9: Henry was successful in disabling her initially which exposed her culpability. #10: Henry puts *so* much time into Victor in canon with basically no explanation why. #11: Alice seems to be a smart and upstanding girl. She might not be controllable re: Virginia being alive/the whole scheme with Brenner. #11 (cont.): The only way to eliminate that risk is to kill her...and we've already seen that Virginia is not good to at least one child. #12: If Virginia has powers like Henry's she likely has a sense of how long someone can be tranced before the trancer runs out of energy. #13: Who called Brenner to come get Henry during his coma? How did Henry end up in Brenner's hands specifically? #14: amerion-main's recent post re: Henry's position change in the foyer shots #End Citations! #This is all very much speculation when it comes to the actual path of events re: the Creel Massacre #but we can all agree that we don't have the full story about the Creels yet...so who knows. #henry/vecna/001 #henry creel analysis #henry creel #virginia creel #creel family #stranger things #stranger things analysis

[moonstruckme]

Remus is the type to keep a rubberband or a scrunchie on his wrist for his s/o

I believe that he started keeping it when sirius's hair got long in 4th year and he used to forget a hair tie everywhere.

When remus started dating reader he began keeping one particularly in their favorite colour but never let anyone know.

I can just imagine reader at a house party going around asking each girl for a rubberband cuz she forgot hers and he just pulls one out of nowhere and hands it to them wordlessly (or just holds his wrist in front of them and their eyes light up)

Would be awesome if you write smth abt this <3

Thanks for requesting :)

cw: alcohol, reader has hair long enough to tie back

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 560 words

Remus’ eyes track you as you ping-pong around the party, stopping to talk to people for only a handful of seconds before finding another target. He’s not trying to be a creep, but you’ve reached a stage of the night where a bit of supervision is necessary. Your eyes are alight and your smile comes easy, and when you pivot and a bit of punch sloshes onto your hand you don’t even notice. 

You go from Lily, to Sirius, to Marlene, to Alice, back to Lily, and then aim for the kitchen. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” Remus intercepts you, setting a hand on your shoulder and steering you discretely away from any potential refills. “Having a good time?” 

“Mhm.” You grin up at him, distracted by the movement of his hand up your shoulder to cup the side of your neck. You shrug and tilt your head, squishing his hand between them, and Remus indulges you by poking your dimple with his thumb. You giggle, delighted. “I’m looking for Mary. Have you seen her?” 

He thinks for a moment. “Not lately, no. Want help looking?” 

“Sure.” You catch at his other hand with both of yours, intertwining your fingers messily. “I just need to ask her something.”

“What’s that?” he asks as you start to tug him towards the kitchen. 

“I’m sick of my hair.” You blow a piece of it away from your face, vexation twinging in your features. “I wanna know if she has a hair tie I can borrow.” 

“Oh, wait.” He stops, pulling you closer before taking his hand from between yours. “Hold on a second.” 

You look up at Remus curiously, not protesting when he turns you around by your shoulders and begins gathering your hair in his hands. He takes care to comb the errant strands around your face and the nape of your neck up with the rest, confining it all to a loose ponytail. 

“S’that alright?” 

“I didn’t know you carry a hair tie,” you murmur, almost to yourself, as you go towards a small mirror mounted on the wall. “Remus!” Your voice goes up an octave, elated. “It’s my favorite color!” 

“I know,” he says, a bit smug. It only worsens when you spin around and throw your arms around his waist. Remus hums contentedly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and you tilt your head back, chin digging into his sternum as you beam up at him. 

“You’re so good to me,” you gloat. “How long’ve you been carrying that around for?” 

“A while,” he says vaguely, because Since you told me your favorite color makes him sound like a loser and in your current state he’s not entirely sure you wouldn't start crying. “I’m used to having one for Sirius anyway, so it was really just a color adjustment.” 

Your eyes go all soft and smitten, your bottom lip jutting out a bit even through your smile. “You’re the sweetest boy I ever met,” you tell him, sincerity coating your words like honey. 

Remus rolls his eyes to dodge the compliment, opting instead to take your face between his hands and squishing your cheeks together. You let him without complaint, your smile going mushy. “You make me do sweet things,” he says. 

You hum like you know the truth but you’ll let him get away with it anyway.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x self insert #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin scenario #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin one shot #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #marauders era #the marauders #marauders x reader #hp marauders

[queers-gambit]

And Let Me Love You Anyway

[ part two of two ]

prompt: you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader only description given: red hair and Daemon's able to lift you

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.3k+

note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!

warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader-episode-insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).

part one: "Tell Me Every Terrible Thing you ever did, And let me love you anyway," - Edgar Allan Poe

"Alicent, we're late," you sighed with a frown, wiping your sweaty palms nervously as your necklace was latched in place and perfume spritzed on your pulse points. YES - that included your ankles.

"That's the point, sister, we're supposed to be late. It sends a message."

Your eyes rolled, snipping, "The King will not be pleased. I am not his wife, he can get angry at me, you know!"

"He'll manage," she snapped, glancing at Talya. She continued, "He dismissed Father for telling him a truth he would rather ignore. So much so, after years of service, he'd - "

"Yes, yes, the King removed Father as Hand, sent him back home," you nodded with understanding. "But we both know how he feels about his daughter, The Princess! The rumors circulating would cost him his life in the end, we are lucky he was only sent home!"

"Rumors! Rumors, sister, truly!? Tell me, do you think Father lied?"

"I know he didn't."

"Exactly why we're late to tonight's affair," she huffed, fixing her hair in the mirror again. "It's a statement, it's deliberate. We will stand out, prove we are not happy with the turn of events. Why offer Rhaenyra blind respect when she continues to do as she pleases - regardless of consequences."

You paused, sensing her anger brewing and trying to distract, "You know, Ser Lyonel Strong is not a bad replacement for Father."

"This is not about Ser Strong."

"Isn't it? Father's served long and faithfully, but perhaps it is time for a new guidance. Lyonel Strong is a smart man - qualified, even!"

"Yes," she agreed, turning to face you in a shimmering emerald gown. "But this is still an injustice to our family that I fear I cannot overlook any longer. It's been weeks..."

"Yes," you allotted, nodding with a sigh. "All right, yes, you are right, sweet sister. This is all just - it's a lot to take in, to try and digest. And we talk of playing a game with the Throne - I do not think we've the strength to endure alone."

"This is not about Lyonel Strong, sister! It's about Father and the disrespect the Crown continues to offer. Remember that," she advised softly.

You nodded, "I know, sister."

She frowned, "And remember... They aren't our kin. Despite previous displays of kindness, the Targaryens have made it clear that we are not family to them. They are not blood to us, sister; they will protect their own, not us. If we wish to survive, we will need to ally ourselves."

"I understand," you told your younger sister. "I am not arguing, I know what our reality is now - I merely implore to explore the routes that won't label us as traitors."

"I know, we have much to discuss going forward. But none of that for now," she took a long breath, smiling as she looked you up and down, complimenting, "you look stunning. Truly, you might outshine the bride tonight."

"Let's hope it doesn't come down to that, and that The Princess has a mature bone in her body - though I do not hold out hope." You smiled at her, "But enough about me, you look - you look like a Queen, sister-dearest. Gods, you're gorgeous, you look just like Mummy." The two of you shared an emotional, watery smile; embracing tightly as reality settled in your guts: it was you two Hightower Ladies against the whole of the Targaryen clan. "Come," you decided, taking a deep breath, "are we ready to go? Any later and I fear we might not get any cake."

"Oh, you and cake," she smirked, looking you over in a matching emerald, lighter-weight gown that had layers of thin fabrics clinging and dripping from your form. Golden jewelry was clasped around both your necks, wrists, tight around your fingers, and plugged into your ear piercings.

The Queen took your arm and left the dressing chambers you took refuge in, coming to a gasping halt when you were greeted by a well-groomed man in green velvet. "Father," Alicent exclaimed in shock.

"My daughters," he smiled, offering both arms, "I do believe we are now fashionably late. Hmm?"

"Exactly as we intended," you mused, taking his arm. "How is this possible? How are you here?"

"I was invited, if you believe that," Otto answered, the three of you walking slowly. "Though, I suspect your sister had something to do with that?"

"I only told Viserys I'd be deeply offended if you were ignored for this event," Alicent quipped.

"None the less, I am happy to escort my daughters to such a historic event," he spoke diplomatically, aware of the guards and servants milling around. Otto lead the way to the Throne Room - where you could hear King Viserys' echoing speech from the foyer.

None of you spoke, approaching the open doors and pausing to let everyone see the united Hightowers. Alicent wore her dark auburn locks pulled back from her face to cascade in thick ringlets down her back, your own Hightower-red hair left down around your face with the longer locks pinned off your neck. The entire room - the entire court - all wedding attendees and royal procession stared at you three in shock for entering during the King's speech. Your statement was clearly made.

Even from this distance, you could see how startled Rhaenyra was by your arrival, needing to fight off a smirk of amusement in order to keep your neutral façade.

You and Alicent walked arm-in-arm with your father, the once-Hand, down the stairs and up the aisle of banquet tables full of people, staring forward and giving no emotion away. The people buzzed in quiet gossip. The attending Hightowers of Oldtown, sitting closest to the royal banquet table because of their relation to the current Queen, stood first; everyone else following in a show of respect.

You and Alicent paused to let Otto sit with his relatives at the lower banquet table before joining arm-and-arm together. Over the muttering of the entire room, you whispered almost mutely, "Be kind, remain composed, we'll kill 'em with kindness."

Alicent gave a subtle flex to give indication she understood.

When you looked up at the table you approached under the King's heavy glare, you noticed there was an empty chair between Ser Strong and... Prince Daemon? Was that really him? When did he get here? Why was he back? It's only been a few weeks!

Your shock did not slow you, and as you approached the table reserved for the Royal Family, you saw Daemon smirking at your theatrics. Alicent did not let you part from her side as she greeted Princess Rhaenyra with a sickly-sweet voice, "Congratulations, stepdaughter. What a blessing this is for you."

She ignored any other reaction to let go of your arm, kiss her husband's cheek in greeting, stand beside him, in front of her chair, and stare forward with zero other emotion.

"Congratulations, Princess," you whispered, bowing your head. "Your Grace," you acknowledged, doing the same and taking the empty chair between Lord Hand and Rogue Prince only to stoically stare forward in silence. You did as Alicent did, not looking at any other, and just waiting for a pregnant moment that seemingly never ended.

"Please be seated," Viserys finally permitted, everyone sitting at his behest. He cleared his throat, whispering to Lyonel Strong, "Where was I?"

"The joining of the two Houses, Your Grace."

You swallowed when a warm hand laid on your right thigh, Viserys continuing his speech. You glanced at Daemon, seeing his smirk, and instead of throwing his hand off you, you laid your own over his to give a long squeeze. You had wrestled with the idea of his favorite whore, Mysaria, and the idea of whatever he did with Princess Rhaenyra for weeks. Then when you heard word that his wife, Lady Rhea Royce, had met her untimely end, you knew he was involved, yet said nothing. You could only think deeply about what it all meant - and how you fit into the equation that was Prince Daemon Targaryen.

Tell me every terrible thing you ever did...

All you could understand was the overwhelming affection you held for him. His shocked-wide-eyes found yours for a long moment, seeming communicating telepathically - you telling him you wanted him. His hand tightened to keep hold of yours, hidden from the public for the time being.

And let me love you anyway...

You tuned back into the King's speech in time to clap with the others, showing your support of the union you technically helped influence between Targaryen and Velaryon.

However, you caught the way Alicent glared at Rhaenyra, sighing to yourself; having heard through long private dinners what Alicent came to know and why this upset her so much. How strange to learn Ser Criston Cole admitted to Ali that he was coerced into soiling the Princess' purity - not her Uncle Daemon, like rumored. Yet none the less, the girl had sworn on her beloved, dearly departed mother to Alicent that she was still a maiden... A huge, glaring lie - that both you and Ali took personally.

You found all of this terribly interesting, yet did not let the distain show so boldly. After Daemon came to you in confession, you had yet to speak a word outside of public politeness to the Princess; feeling betrayed by what your lover had told you. He had been right: you were Rhaenyra's friend, she wasn't yours. So, you demoted yourself to create distance.

When the drums rumbled and the Princess took to the dance floor with her intended, you spared Daemon a look and muttered, "You do not have to look so annoyed."

"I'm not, sweet one."

"Nor so amused," you tacked on.

Daemon smirked at you, leaning in and pondering, "I am only wondering if you would care for a dance later, my Lady?"

You lied, speaking in a teasing tone, "I'm not one for dancing, my Prince."

"A single dance with me, then. Just one, pretty lady."

"You're pushy," you whispered, nudging him to keep quiet; but the grin on your lips assured him you were completely enraptured by his antics.

He sat back with a smirk, watching his niece and her fiancé dance. The entire courtroom clapped at the end, others flooding to the spaces around them. You glanced over as your sister stood from her seat, meeting your eyes and offering only a soft smile before descending from the table to approach your aunt and uncle from Oldtown - standing with your father on the side of the room. You sighed under your breath, your lover tightening his grip on your thigh.

Daemon made for a great distraction. "Did you hear the news?" He asked softly, reaching for his goblet of wine with his free hand.

"Which news would that be, my Prince?" You asked casually, pretending your heart wasn't hammering in your chest.

"Of my dear wife's passing."

"I did, actually," you fought off your smirk. "I am truly sorry to hear of it, I understand Lady Rhea was truly one of a kind. You shouldn't speak ill of the dead, love," you reminded in a whisper.

"Hmm. Don't be sorry, I'm not," he eased.

"You're not? Your wife died, Daemon..."

"I know," he met your gaze, "I'm not sorry because now it gives me vocation to follow my own desires."

You smirked, "Which desire will you follow first?"

His hand tightened to a bruising grip. He was not able to answer yet because your gaze was caught by movement, Rhea Royce's cousin approaching slowly, evidently a cup or two deep in the wine; making you remove Daemon's hand so you both could sit casually - without touching.

The man gruffly leered at Daemon, "In the Vale, men are made to answer for their crimes." Your lover spared you an exasperated look as he tacked on, "Even Targaryens."

"Who are you?" Daemon asked dully.

"This is Ser Gerold Royce, my Prince," you told him softly, "of Runestone."

Daemon perked his brow, asking sarcastically, "An excellent show of your knowledge, my sweet lady, but what does that matter to me?"

You didn't answer, Ser Lyoel Strong (who was listening in) didn't answer, because Ser Gerold was approaching the table by climbing the stairs. He growled at Daemon, "I am cousin to your late Lady wife."

"Ah, yes... Terrible thing," Daemon offered. "I'm positively bereft. Such a tragic accident."

"You know better than anyone, it was no accident."

Through a smirk, Daemon quipped, "Are you confessing some guilt, Ger Gerold?"

"I am making an accusation."

You shared a look with Lyonel to your left, catching sight of the King's turned head - showing he was listening, too. Daemon easily deflected, "Here, in King's Landing, men are made to answer for their slanders. Even old bronze cunts like you." This angered Ser Gerold visibly, the man stepping closer, but obviously restrained himself. Your lover continued, "The truth is I'm glad you've come. I wish to speak to you about my inheritance."

"What inheritance?" Ser Gerold demanded.

"Lady Rhea and I had no heirs. As her husband, whatever she was due now passes to me. She stood to inherit all of Runestone. Did she not?" Daemon had Ser Gerold pinned by legality, the man looking disturbed by his own realization. So, naturally, Daemon taunted, "After my niece's wedding, I plan to fly to the Eyrie and petition Lady Jeyne myself. Perhaps I'll see you there, Ser Gerold."

The man sheepishly walked away, his inebriated mind whirling with possibilities. You glared, pinching Daemon's arm so you could scold him when he turned to face you, "That wasn't very kind."

"And?"

"You don't truly care for Runestone," you snapped. "Now that man will fear for his home, fret over the laws, and that's not very nice."

He sighed, "What would you have me do, sweet one?"

"Leave House Royce to grieve and rearrange their succession without your pettiness."

Daemon smirked, "Whatever my Lady wants."

"You're dreadfully annoying tonight, do you know that?" You whined. "I'm going for a dance, and no, this is not an invitation to follow," you warned him - albeit playfully - before standing to excuse yourself.

"Sister," Alicent paused you before you could pass her by. "Are you well?"

"Yes, yes, just felt like dancing, too much energy to just sit. Come join - "

"No, no, I should sit. Eat," she smiled. "Perhaps tonight will be when you meet your match and we can plan another wedding."

"Perhaps," you mused, squeezing her hand. "You all right? What did Father and Uncle say?"

"Later," she whispered. "Go on, go."

You joined the stream of people dancing, instantly grinning when you were welcomed joyfully by different suitors. The band played a lively beat, the crowd cheering in rhythm; you being twirled around men and women with matching grins.

You heard your name being cheered through a small giggle.

"Hi, Princess," you greeted Rhaenyra as you both marched along to the beat. You reminded yourself this was all a game and if you wanted to survive, you'd have to play your part strategically. So, you quipped as you danced with Ser Arryn Blackwell, "Nice party you've got, huh?"

"Oh, you know how we Targaryens do," she teased. "Where've you been lately? I feel as if I've hardly seen you."

"Just busy with chores since Father was replaced as Hand," you answered, spinning under someone's arm.

Nyra didn't comment on that, instead, waiting a few moments before complimenting, "That's a beautiful dress, really goes with your hair!"

"That's what I hoped for," you gasped girlishly, deciding to play nice when she reached for your hands. You felt weak for a moment, but the truth was, you missed your friend... So, you might've giggled a bit when you joined hands, dancing together instead of with anyone else. With kindness, you offered, "You look gorgeous, as well, Princess, I love this dress - "

"Yes, yes, we all look fantastic," Daemon interrupted abruptly, crowding over you, asking quickly, "can I speak to you a moment, my Lady? The Princess won't mind, right, Rhaenyra?"

"Uh, no, I guess..." She eyed the two of you with suspicion as she stayed in-beat with the music.

"Daemon, not now - "

"We need to talk," he pulled you from where you danced, glancing back at the head banquet table as he took your hand, and lead you deeper into the crowd. He turned you to face him, pacing a small circle around you, demanding, "Do you still want to marry me?"

"What? Why are you asking now?"

"Because I just asked your father for permission," he seethed, pausing in front of you, "and he outright refused, saying he's negotiating with the fucking Lannisters. I need to know what you want."

"I was not aware what I wanted mattered to you, the man who views marriage as a political arrangement," you eyed him with a curled lip of annoyance.

"What arrangement could I want? Your sister is Queen, my family is bound to the Hightowers already. My political marriage is recently dissolved, I am free to do as I please, regardless of what others want or say - "

"Then tell me what you want. Tell me plainly what you want from me, Daemon, no more pretty words and veiled truths. Be plain."

"You said I had a year, and look - it's been weeks. Weeks, my love, how much more plain can I be? I'm here, now, free to marry, and I need to know if you still want to marry me. I'll marry you tomorrow - "

"Oh, please! Would you steal me away?" You mocked with a chuckle. "Take me to Dragonstone? Make me your little wife that you'll come to resent, too? Just as you did Rhea?"

He reached out to aggressively hold your cheek and jaw. "I had no choice in my first marriage, I could never come to resent you - you're all I've ever wanted. I'd do anything for you," Daemon snarled over your lips, "including risking your father's wrath. I'd do anything to make sure we end up together, you are my heart - do not forget that."

"Then pull out your sword, cut them all down," you purred, feeling his hand tighten, "and claim me as your own - do not let anyone stop us."

His lips hovered over yours, breathing the same air, and before he could respond or kiss you, a woman screamed shrilly from behind you. Daemon instantly latched onto your body as a crowd formed to your left and right, and when you both looked, you were shocked to see the commotion happening at your feet.

"Love - "

"Daemon," you paused him, shocked as Ser Criston Cole was engaged in a fist fight with some Velaryon knight before Ser Laenor Velaryon, the groom, was tackling him to the side. What an interesting display of protectiveness from Ser Laenor over his knight.

Daemon rushed in your ear, "Do not look - come away with me."

"Wait," you held his hands to your waist, letting him crowd into your back as Cole had punched Laenor to the side and straddled the blonde on the floor once more.

He landed one blow before the knight was brandishing a dagger; but the White Cloak caught his arm and easily snapped it broken, startling the crowd. Beyond your ring of spectators, other men were trading blows and engaged in their own fights; total chaos taking over the whole of the Throne Room. You flinched back into Daemon's embrace when Cole screamed like a wild man in the mountains, repeatedly pounding his fist into the knight's face; literally caving it in, creating a human minced meat pie.

Someone better contact Mrs. Lovett!

"No more," Daemon decided, Cole rearing himself back as Daemon stooped to heave you over his shoulder. He was able to find safe (enough) passage through the people, approaching the royal banquet table. "Hey, hey," he whispered, setting you down and taking your face in his hands, the wailing of Laenor Velaryon seeing his murdered knight echoing in the Throne Room. "You all right? You hurt? Look at me, love, are you hurt?"

"No, no, I'm okay," you whispered, swallowing unsurely; reaching up to hold his wrists. "I'm okay."

"Sure? You shouldn't have seen that - "

"It's all right," you assured, stroking his wrists. "I'm okay, Daemon, truly. Just... A little startled, maybe?"

"What's this then?" Harwin Strong smirked, panting lightly from his rescue mission as the Princess was attending her father, the King. "You two hit it off then, yeah? Is it me or are sparks flying?"

"Something like that," you whispered, trying to regulate your breathing after the adrenaline-inducing scrimmage.

"Easy does it, love," Daemon whispered, keeping you close as you didn't let go of his hands; wanting to stay connected. He told Harwin, giving a half-shrug, "They aren't sparks. She's everything to me."

"Perhaps your second wedding will go better than this one," Harwin sighed, hands on his hips.

"In some cultures, deaths at a wedding are considered good luck," you muttered, Daemon snorting lightly in amusement before running his thumbs over your cheekbones in soothing gestures.

"Didn't your wife just pass, Prince Daemon?" Your father demanded publicly with a heavy glare. "You'd offer insult to her memory by remarrying so quickly?"

"I've grieved Lady Rhea plenty, Ser Hightower, it's time to look to the future," Daemon declared, eyes daring your father to challenge him. "The Lady Hightower and I will wed. The sooner, the better, in truth."

And history would never be the same.

"What?" Rhaenyra demanded, whirling around at the news, making all others pause in confusion. "What did you say?"

"That I intend to marry the Lady Hightower."

"Her? Her? Fucking her - who is more prude than woman?!"

Well, that was mildly offensive...

"Rhaenyra - "

"What makes you think you're worthy?" She demanded of you, turning from her father to stalk across the platform. "Worthy of a man like Daemon, of a husband like Daemon? You've done nothing to - to deserve such a title! The title of Princess, of wife!"

You were honestly confused to your core.

"I deserve a man like he - not someone like you!" She continued, shocking the group as the Kingsguard cleared the Room of any lingering stragglers to keep this as private as possible. "You think I didn't see you on my tour? You were fawned over, all wanted to talk with you, but were forced to line up for me! You rejected them all on your own, and now I see why! You wanted to wait until the Lady Rhea passed, which makes me wonder - what part did you play in that?"

"Rhaenyra!" You gasped.

"What? Honestly, it would make sense - the day Daemon's banished, you weren't seen! I wouldn't be shocked if you were seen somewhere lurking in the Vale! You cannot have it all - you've always wanted my life, and now look! You have to have what I have, and now you've taken a liking to my uncle after our scandal! What? He wasn't interesting before? You heard rumors about us and decided you wanted him for yourself? Just because he was mine first? You just want to be me, you always have - you've always reeked of jealousy! This is all you wanted, to steal my family, and - "

"That's enough," Daemon tried. "You are out of turn here, Rhaenyra, do not make this worse."

"Why? Because little Lady Hightower's façade of being a respectable, pure woman is now tarnished?"

"We share one dance, albeit intimate, sit next to each other at a single dinner, shared some conversation, and you now think it's appropriate to call my virtue into question? What of your own, Princess? You just admitted to scandal with Daemon - but I wonder why the service of Moon Tea if your virtue was unimpeachable?" You demanded, feeling defensive on a new level. Even Alicent straightened up at your words.

However, Daemon rushed to add, "With all due respect, Princess, I don't want you, and you can't claim me as your own when you never had me. You might be angry, but it is no use to take it out on my intended, she is of rare stock and breed - she will not be questioned. Nor will my intentions with her."

Rhaenyra snarled, "Yeah? You don't want me? Well, you wanted me enough to try and fuck me at that whorehouse!"

There were gasps and murmurs all around, but Rhaenyra was glaring at you and Daemon, still standing together. His arms actually dropped to hold your waist, keeping you close as he snarled at his niece, "But I didn't. If memory serves right, I walked away!"

"You wanted me!" Rhaenyra raged. "You always were and always will be mine - regardless of the whores you bed in the meantime! And I want you, I am not yet married - "

"Yet I will not be who marries you, I am betrothed to another," Daemon reminded with a venomous tone. "There's nothing you offer that I want, Rhaenyra."

"I am not some inexperienced little girl anymore, I'm a woman grown, and I could do more for you than she ever could!"

"Rhaenyra!" Viserys roared.

Everyone knew she had gone too far and there was no coming back from any this. After a beat, Alicent stepped in as if questioning for the first time, "And yet, sister, you said the Princess was served Moon Tea? If Prince Daemon did not touch the Princess, does this mean she still," she scoffed as if the idea were absurd, "sullied her maidenhood? Before marriage?"

It should be noted that Ser Criston Cole was already gone from the hall at this time. In fact, he lingered just outside a side door, listening, in case his name came up. When Alicent spoke, he straightened up and started the slow trek to the Godswood.

"Ser Lyonel? Do I misunderstand?" Alicent pulled the Hand into the fray.

"Well, that's what that would sound like, Your Grace," he agreed begrudgingly. "Moon Tea is beneficial to prevent unwanted consequences outside of marriage."

"From what I understand, she was served by Grand Maester Mellos himself," you told Ali, minds strung together by a common thread. "The castle likes to gossip, you can learn a lot if you just listen."

"This is..." Viserys seethed, "Unacceptable."

"I'm sorry, Your Grace," you instantly apologized.

"No, no," he deflected, hand held up, "you have a duty to the Realm to flesh out any deception. And this," he directed his glare at his daughter, "is a grand deception that cannot be undone, unknown, covered-up, anymore, Rhaenyra!"

There was a meltdown. Everyone began yelling.

Viserys was enraged. Rhaenyra was desperately trying to plead with her father. Lord Corlys was demanding to know what the hell was about to happen with the impending marriage to "the future Queen". Ser Strong was trying to keep the people from each other's throats.

His sons stood to the side and just let them all fight.

Daemon kept you out of the line of fire, away from the action; sighing as you deflated into his chest. Over it all, Viserys' voice was angriest, and you heard, "You are no daughter of mine! The position you have put me in tonight - I cannot undo this, Rhaenyra! I should have never disinherited Daemon for you, breaking centuries of tradition because I wanted to see your mother in you! You have spat in my face around every bend, but this? This is unforgivable, we will not recover from this and I will no longer endure your insolence!"

"Father, please, let me - "

"No," he snarled, "I have had it with your disresepct the past several years, this is beyond any scale." You blinked up at Daemon, his lips curving down as his hands tightened around your form. And then, Viserys said the words, "I made a mistake naming you my heir. You may marry Ser Laenor, if you so choose to, but after that, you will reside on Driftmark with your husband - you will no longer inherit the Iron Throne after me."

"Father!"

"No," he snapped, "you've exhausted my patience, Rhaenyra!" Viserys roared. "And while Daemon might be unpredictable, the woman he wants to marry is not - and from where I am standing, she will make a far better Queen than you!"

It was quiet as everyone forgot their own selfish woes as father disinherited daughter.

"Your Grace," your father tried to step in, "with respect, why not place your son, Aegon, in line after you?"

"Oh, for the love of the Gods, Otto," Rhaenyra raged, rounding on your father, "give up this campaign, you get all you want and more! Your daughter is Queen now and your other daughter will be Queen after that, aren't you listening? Your grandchildren will still inherit the Throne!"

"That's it," Viserys breathed, needing to hold onto the banquet table for balance as all eyes turned to him again. "It's time to do what I should've done all along. Rhaenyra," he shook his head, "I can no longer have you as my heir, this type of behavior cannot stand. I will give you permission to marry Ser Laenor, and if he chooses not to, I will allow you to reside on Dragonstone until a match is made. Until then," his eyes shifted to where you and Daemon stood, "I name my brother, Prince Daemon Targaryen, as my Heir to the Iron Throne."

"You would not name your son?" Alicent asked in mild disbelief.

"No," Viserys told her, "no, I would see my brother as my heir. Should Aegon prove to live up to his namesake, we can talk about succession again, but I know my brother is capable... And though he might be overly wanting, he will learn patience, because I know the love of a good woman can change a man for the better."

You smiled, feeling emotional for a moment, but Daemon asked for you both, "Brother, do you mean to give your blessing?"

"Of course," he nodded once, "why waste a good wedding tourney? We shall announce on the morrow our new intentions - to crown Daemon as heir and marry him to the Lady Hightower. This matter," he panted, glaring at everyone, "is resolved, I will not hear more. Make the preparations!"

It happened in slow motion. Rhaenyra's rage flared to a temperamental height previously unknown; lunging to seize her father's Valyrian Steel, prophesy-engraved dagger, turn, and charge straight for you as the remaining audience shouted in panic. You felt Daemon try to push you behind him, but instead, your own temper flared and you stepped up to meet Rhaenyra; catching both her arms to hold her at bay.

Daemon was at your flank if you needed him, otherwise, he kept the Kingsguard away from you two - knowing this needed to happen now. Or else something worse would happen later...

"For fuck's sake, Princess! What is this? Jealousy? Huh?" You asked through your tears, struggling to hold your old friend's weight away from you. "What is this jealousy, Nyrie, hmm?"

"Don't call me that," she grit. You just sighed, pushing her back a little but not enough to overpower her; the girl's anger making her stronger than you would've previously guessed. "You've gone too far," she seethed through tears.

“I? What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the Kingdom, the family, the law. While you flout all to do as you please! Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot again!"

"You think you finally get my life, huh?" She snarled. "You won't ever be accepted - not as Queen - not as part of this family! You've wanted this all along! Haven't you!?" She struggled against you, hands sweating. "You've always wanted my life, that's why you stuck around! Your mother died - so you tried to take a place in my family, make them yours - and now, look! You're nearly there! Pouncing on my uncle the moment he's widowed!" She snarled, bearing her teeth.

“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are, Nyrie," you whispered with a broad smirk.

"You aren't fit to play this part! To have my life! You'll never be accepted as their Princess!"

"I wager I'll do a better job than you ever could," you hissed. "There's not much to live up to, you don't leave a lot of room to fill."

She screamed when Ser Harwin's arms seized around her waist, but the momentum of him pulling her back and Rhaenyra's thrashing cause the Valyrian Steel dagger to slice your forearm. You yelped and reared back amongst the startled gasps and panicked murmurs from the crowd, Daemon catching you. The dagger clattered to the floor as Harwin backed up several paces to keep the belligerent girl at bay. You whimpered quietly at the sting, a pool of blood forming to the side you held your arm at.

"Fuck's sake," Daemon growled, "lemme see, lemme see, my love, c'mere," he winced, looking around before using his own belt to yank free and tourniquet around your lower elbow. "You're bleeding a good bit," he whispered, "you'll need stitches, sweet one."

You pouted at him, wincing again in pain when he tightened the belt.

Around you, the Kingsguard was ordered to escort Rhaenyra to her chambers, and the moment she was marched out of sight, Daemon was warning his brother that she knew about her secret passage door and parts of the tunnels.

Go stand watch," a personal guard was ordered by the King. "Someone go - go find Ser Cole - I want him posted in the Princess' passage, he's trusted to us."

Alicent slunk off to do exactly that, and she'd tell you later that Cole was found only moments from taking his own life. He was overjoyed to hear the King had requested him personally to stand guard for such a sensitive situation.

In the meantime, Lord Corlys Velaryon and his wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, thought it best their son not marry Rhaenyra; now that she had been disowned, she was less appealing. Viserys was free to offer her again later if Laenor was not married in that time and if she showed true change, but after tonight, nobody thought that possible.

Daemon tried helping your wound, your father approaching as he laid a clean cloth over the cut. Your lover tisked, "It's deeper than I thought. We should get this looked at."

"A moment," Otto prevented.

"If it would please you, this is not an injury I'd like to wait to attend to," Daemon sighed, nodding at your bloodied forearm that he held.

"I only meant to say, you have my blessing to marry, my Prince," Otto nodded at him. "Seeing the kindness you show my daughter, I feel... Content knowing she will be loved and cared for."

"Thank you," Daemon nodded.

"Yes, thank you, Father, but we really must be going, this doesn't feel very nice," you rushed to explain, watching him nod and eye your injury with worry.

"This way," He even instructed, a few handmaids rushing forward to help herd you away.

"Doing all right, love?" Daemon muttered as you walked.

"Bit shocked," you admitted.

"I'd say," he mused.

"It burns," you pouted at him.

"We'll get everything tended to, you'll feel better soon," he soothed.

You peaked up at his worried brow, pouted lips, darting eyes; whispering, "You're heir, again, Daemon."

"So it would seem," he deadpanned. "Can we not talk about it now?" He requested quietly, "I only wish to see to this wound of yours."

You nodded, and once in Mellos' chamber, you were left alone with your father - since Daemon was not yet your husband. Otto was silent as your forearm was stitched carefully; the bleeding staunched, herbs stuffed in the wound to prevent pain and promote healing. As you let Mellos wrap you in gauze, you glanced at your father.

"So... Your blessing, is it?"

"He's different with you already," he nodded stiffly. "And after his nieces' display tonight, I can think of no better future Queen."

"I do not wish to talk about future station, Father, but instead, that... That Daemon makes me happy and I am relieved you have given us your blessing. It would've felt very wrong to marry without my father in attendance."

Otto wasn't affectionate in the least bit, but he showed his love by doing his best to understand situations before passing judgement. It created a sense of trust and security between father and daughter. So, he asked earnestly, "And you will overlook what he did with Princess Rhaenyra?"

"He told me of it all the morning after it happened, I've had time to think, and I've had time away from him. I know what I want, Father, and while Viserys has changed history - again - tonight by naming Daemon heir, I know he is the man I want for the rest of my life."

"I see," he nodded. "Then... By all means, I will see this union happen."

"Thank you," you whispered, the Maester tying the gauze. "Thank you, Grand Maester," you spoke calmly.

"Of course, uh, um, Princess."

"I don't think I'll get used to hearing that," you whined, standing off his table. "Will you talk to Daemon for me, Father? I think you need to clear the air... I will not say the King will instill you as Hand again, but if I am to marry the Prince, I will need there to be peace between our families."

He nodded, opening the door for you, "It will be arranged, my daughter..."

As Otto took his leave, Daemon, pacing the hall, approached you. He took hold of your waist, asking, "Are you all right?" You let him hold your injured wrist in a soft grip, viewing the wrappings.

"Yes, Your Grace," you teased, watching his pale face flush.

"Don't start with that."

"Mellos just called me Princess."

"You are," he grinned. "And we will be married in less than a week's time."

"I can hardly wait," you whispered, letting his lips find yours in a searing show of rare public affection.

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[arabellasleopardcoat]

To Conquer (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Incest is common amongst Targaryens, Daemon assures you. Unfortunately, Alicent got to you first.

Warnings: Mentions of sex. Cursing. Arranged marriage. Periods. Daddy issues. Religious guilt. One death aside from canon ones (Daemon murders a man)

A/N: In which I rewrite the scene of my first encounter with incest in a book. If you get it, you get it.

YOU NEVER dared call Alicent mother out loud. But in your mind, she was.

The woman who had birthed you had passed away the same day you had been born. Out of her womb you had been pulled, alongside your twin. He had not survived the day.

Queen Aemma Arryn was a mere name to you, a woman who existed in paintings and shadows, a ghost that lurked on the Red Keep. Your father never once spoke of her too you, too consumed by guilt and grief. In fact, he did his best to never speak to you at all.

You were an uncomfortable reminder of the crime he had committed. Robbing a woman of life so a man may live. It hadn’t even worked in the end. Your brother had faded from this world, nothing of him remaining.

Against all odds, you had. You had clung to life, the Maesters would later say. Fought tooth and nail to stay in this world. And somehow, it hadn’t been enough. Your father avoided you like the plague, but Alicent, guilty, scared, lonely Alicent, did not. She was all you had.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror. Despite your dramatic entrance to the world, and your eventful first few months of life, your life had turned out to be quite lackluster. There were no exciting adventures or claiming of dragons, much less a moniker attached to your name like there was to Rhaenyra or Daemon. You wondered why this, out of all things, had to be different.

The robes looked graceful enough on you, you supposed. Your father had called you a true Valyrian beauty, the very image of your mother. You knew it wasn’t true. King Viserys didn’t remember her. How could he, if he had done his best attempts to erase her? He had replaced her at once, and he never once spoke of her again. At least, not with you.

His presence in your life could be defined with one word: Absence. But he had thought it fair to reappear when he needs you to do something for him. The least he could have done would have been asking for your input about the wedding.

If you had been asked, you would have chosen a traditional wedding ceremony, with a Septon and a hand fasting. You would have worn a Targaryen cloak… To be exchanged for another Targaryen cloak. No. Perhaps it had been for the best, not to desecrate such a beautiful ritual with this nonsense.

Still, you couldn't shake the feeling of not being really married. You didn’t like it. And you liked the man who was waiting for you on the other side of the door much less.

“Are you done, niece?” The knock on the door forced you into action, once again. You reached into the basin, watching the cool water shift under your fingers. There was something about the cold that cleared your head, helped you think. You took a deep breath, and tried to focus.

Alicent had told you that you should obey him in all things. That you had to do your duty, just as she had done hers. But you had seen the fear in her eyes when you were getting ready for the ceremony, and how her hands had grasped at you desperately during the feast. It had taken Ser Otto’s intervention to make her let go of you.

Your bedtime stories had not prepared either of you for this. When you were a young girl, plagued by night terrors, she would sit at the foot of your bed and pretend to read your destiny.

“One day, you will fly to the moon wearing spiderwebs as wings.” She would squint at your hand, making a show of reading the lines there.

“Tell me more!” You would squeal, fears forgotten. Despite not being the motherly type, she would always indulge you. Perhaps, because she saw herself in you. Another little girl, her mother dead, her father defined by his lack of presence.

“It says here…” Alicent would tickle your palm. “That you will grow up into a beautiful, beautiful princess who will marry a handsome lord. He will love you very much.”

Out of all the lies you had been told, it was your favorite. Each night, you would ask to hear it again and again, and think, tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow I will be all grown, and the lady of a great castle. My father will love me then.

It had been a consolation you had clung on through all your childhood. You were a princess, worthy of being appreciated by your future husband. He would love you, you knew. You would build something together, something only yours. You would raise your children to be better than you, following Alicent’s example. You would be happy.

You had never realized how much she had clung to that thought too. Her frustrated dreams for herself had been turned into hope for your future. Alicent had spoken them into the night like an enchantment, as if she could bring them to life by repeating the words over and over. So you could have what she hadn’t had. Like all parents wished.

What both of you had imagined wasn't this. You wanted to scream from rage.

“Just a bit more.” You said, your resolve hardening. The faith of the Seven dictated that laying with a relative was a sin, the same for laying with a man who was not your husband. They barely recognized Valyrian wedding ceremonies.

Had you really married him? Your High Valyrian was sloppy. Your mother had not taught you much, and your lessons had often been interrupted because of Aegon. Out of all your siblings, Aemond had been the most proficient one. He had not been present at the ceremony, being judged too young to attend.

It had been your parents, Daemon, Aegon. An intimate ceremony, just as they liked. Could your father betray you so? Give you away as a whore to appease his brother?

You opened the table’s drawers. Daemon’s bathing room was unfamiliar to you, but he must have used something to shave and you would find it. You riffled through various oils and soaps before finding the blade you were seeking.

With your non-dominant hand, you bunched the robes up. Bracing yourself, you used your other hand to slit your upper thigh. At first, you didn’t draw blood, despite feeling the sting of the blade. Your grip was too shaky. But your determination didn’t waver. Your father had asked too much of you already, there was no power in the world that could force you to share your Uncle’s bed.

Your second attempt was much more successful. Despite having tensed the muscles of your thigh anticipating pain, it didn’t hurt as much as you expected. Blood rushed out. You grabbed a rag and rubbed it on it. You examined it, coldly. No matter how Valyrian, you bled red, like any Andal.

You schooled yourself into faux embarrassment before you spoke.

“Could you… Husband…. Could you fetch my mother?”

Despite your calculations, you make the mistake regardless. The noun slips from your tongue, unprompted. A slip. The first of many to come. The temperature dropped in the room, Daemon’s anger a near palpable thing.

“Your mother is dead, niece.” He stressed the last word in a way you didn’t like. Despite the door separating the two of you, you could tell his mood had shifted from bad to something much worse. You feared what he might do to you, were you to backtrack in your plan. “Whatever Alicent has been teaching you, you should know you are not hers.”

“Queen Alicent.” You corrected, annoyed. How did he dare criticize the way she had raised you, when there had been literally no one else around up to the task. How did he dare speak down to you, as if you were a simpleton? You fought to keep your tone steady and stomped on the anger bubbling up. “I have… lady troubles.”

“Lady troubles?” Daemon asked, sounding puzzled.

You pondered the merits of skirting around the issue. You weren’t in the mood to enter a euphemism’s discussion, and so, decided to be more graphic.

The bloody rag was held gently between your fingers when you opened the door. No more words were needed. Daemon cursed and went to get your mother.

HE DOESN’T dare ask at first. Daemon understands that women’s bodies work different from his own. He has never bedded one in her moonblood, and doesn’t intend to start with you.

Despite your beauty, Daemon felt oddly disappointed. He had hoped, with you being fully Rhaenyra’s sister and not half, like his younger nephews, that you would be similar to her.

You weren’t. You lacked her fierceness and the respect for your heritage. The only thing Valyrian about you was your looks. You didn’t even have a dragon of your own, and were so damn timid, he might confuse you with a mouse rather than a Princess.

Because of that same reason, he let you be during your moonblood. While Daemon didn’t object to some blood, he doubted you would be the same. Bedding unwilling maidens wasn’t his thing. He preferred his girls willing, be it from the promise of coin or delirious from their own lust.

Somehow, he was getting the feeling you weren’t going to be the second type anytime soon. Every time he attempted to kiss you, you squirmed away, as if he were initiating something sinful and not simply trying to kiss his wife.

“Seven Hells, would it kill you to remain still?” He asked as you nervously avoided his grip on your waist. “I am not trying to initiate anything. I know you are still on your courses. Stand still. I command it.”

“I… I…” You had looked at him, all hesitant eyes. Alicent had done scarcely any things right when raising you, but at least she had instilled you obedience. But blood couldn’t be denied, and every so often your Valyrian nature reared its head. Mostly, playing against Daemon rather than in his favor. Little dragon that you were, you weren’t keen on following orders.

Ah, but bring you a Septa. Then you were jumping out of your seat to offer the damn woman your chair and observing her earnestly for non-verbal cues, tending to her every need like a commoner. Ridiculous.

“The Mother obeys the Father, from what I understand.” Daemon kept his tone matter of fact. He wasn’t certain that the Seven Pointed Star said that, but it sounded right, and it suited him, so he spoke the words with as much conviction as he could muster. In truth, Daemon had never opened the damn book in his life. A waste of time. The Septons he knew were a bunch of cunts and their followers weren’t any better.

“Maidens are supposed to be demure.” You protested. “Not indulge on indecent displays.”

“You are not meant to be a maiden any longer.” He grabbed you by the waist regardless, coaxing you to stroll next to him. “And wives obey their husbands.”

While you remained unconvinced, you allowed him to lead you around the Red Keep’s gardens. He kept a constant stream of chatter, using all his best lines, but you answered in monosyllables. Not only did Daemon wish to cultivate a better relationship with you, but he also wanted to flaunt his new bride. It was only fair that the other cunts here got a look at Targaryen superiority. Kept them from being too uppity.

Like everything else in this marriage, though, that too proved elusive. Soon, whispers began to circulate about his virility. One of your maids had a loose tongue, it seemed. The whole castle was snickering about it not even a week later. You, like usual, were oblivious.

In a fit of anger Daemon would later not be proud of, he got all the little chits whipped. But their attitudes about your moonblood made him begin to suspect something was amiss. A fortnight of bleeding seemed… Strange. While he was never particularly interested in women’s bodies beyond fucking them, something had to be wrong. An inquiry with the Maester proved him right. Apparently, over a week was unusual, a fortnight near impossible.

That night, he sat on the foot of your shared bed, watching you fret around the room. Daemon had asked for shared chambers, thinking it would bring the two of you closer. With his constant exiles and marriages, and the fact that Alicent had coddled you during your whole existence, you were a stranger with a familiar face. He had hoped to entice you by appealing to your curiosity about marital duties. Safe to say, it didn’t work.

You had put up barriers. Both metaphorical and physical ones. Right now, you were at it again. Laying down a towel on your side of the bed and a pillow in the middle of it. As he watched you, he found himself struck by the beauty of your hands. They were firm and precise in their movements, fixing down the towel and then neatly delimiting your side of the bed with the pillow.

You were wearing the most hideous nightshirt know to man, more adequate for a Septa than a newlywed. Slightly bent over, fluffing up your pillows, Daemon noticed that it was as white as fresh snow. Now that he thought of it, all your shifts were. And yet, none of them had ever been stained. Nor had the towel you placed on the bed and loudly proclaimed it was to avoid leakages. An effort to make yourself more unappealing, perhaps?

Somehow, the realization didn’t anger him. Instead, it made him more curious. Was this your way of rebelling? Were you scared? What went on behind your eyes, inside that skull of yours?

“Wife.” Daemon finally spoke, when you were starting to kneel for your nightly prayers. You paused, kneeling gracefully. You looked up at him, all curious eyes and nervous smile. “Have your courses always been this long?”

This time, he watches your reaction closely. During these past days, Daemon has not pressured you about it. But now, he waits on bated breath.

Your eyes widen. The hands you have clasped in prayer get even tighter pressed together.

“Oh, you shouldn’t… These are womanly concerns.” You are a terrible liar. He would laugh, were it not such a cruel thing to do when in the face of a little fool.

“I insist.” Daemon arches an eyebrow at you. You squirm on your knees like there are ants on your shift. You are visibly distraught. Does it pain you, pious girl that you are, to be committing a sin?

“Yes, they are.”

Another lie. He had asked some of the fools in Viserys’ employment. Yours didn’t last more than a week. But Daemon finds all the twitching you are doing entertaining, and so, decides to give you more rope to hang yourself.

“And yet, your father promised that you were fertile.” He drawls, cruel amusement almost leaking into his tone. He can’t help the way his lips twitch. This is too entertaining. It’s like toying with a mouse before eating it.

“I… I am.” You weakly defend yourself. Your face is looking more distressed by the second. And is that..? Oh, wonderful, you are starting to sweat a little.

“No, you are not. You are either lying about that, or about your moonblood.”

“I am not!” You protest, finally getting up from your kneeling position. A shame. You looked positively delicious in your predicament.

“Yes, you are! But I am giving you a chance to tell me the truth. Which one are you lying about?”

“I am not.” You look about to flee the room, so Daemon gets up and places himself on your path. You flinch a bit, but stubbornly refuse to admit the truth. His amusement at your attitude is starting to turn sour. Not only it is unflattering that you are making up excuses to avoid bedding him, but they are so stupid half the court is laughing at him behind his back about it. And you, absolute fool, can’t admit it.

“Wrong answer, niece.” He steps closer, trying to intimidate you. “I know the truth.”

“You do?” You startle. You take a step back, nearly tripping on the hem of that ugly nightgown. Daemon reaches to steady you, his grip on your arms punishingly. You twitch, as if sensing that you are caught in the maws of a hungry beast that could pounce at any moment.

“You are not on your moonblood. You can't be every single day of the moon!” He shakes you a little, making you yelp. But then, the most astounding thing happens. Because instead of going very still, as the frightened bird that you are, you shove him hard.

“What would you know!” You scream at him, pointing one finger at his face. Daemon wishes to say he is unbothered by your hysterics, but instead, he grabs your accusing hand and tugs it. The delicate bones shift inside his hand, threatening to snap, and you're left with no choice but go towards him or break your finger.

Wisely, you choose the second. You are breathing hard, and looking up at him in righteous indignation.

“Brute!”

“I asked your maids.” Daemon smirks at you, something ugly appearing on his face. In truth, whatever you see spooks you because you deflate a little. “So? Shall you tell me the truth? Or must I find it myself?”

He makes it as if to lift your shift. You bat his hand away, hard. Interesting enough, you harden then.

“What else is there to know? Beyond that I am not on my moonblood?”

“We can start with why you lied. Or why you don’t wish to lay with me.” Daemon suggests, gripping you tightly so you cannot escape. He brings his face closer to yours.

Your eyes are wide. Your face is frozen into a terrified expression, like you are realizing all your lies are catching up to you.

“I didn’t want you to force me.” You say, voice barely a whisper. Who do you think he is? Some sort of monster? Your depraved half brother, perhaps? Daemon had already heard the exploits that one was up to. Jerking off in a window, of all things.

“Force you! If I wanted to force you, I could already have.” Daemon rolls his eyes. You were not trained in any sort of combat, and you were the kind who had her head in the clouds more often than not. You were not a match for him. If Daemon wanted to force you, he just had to pin you down or pull out Dark Sister.

You stay quiet, perhaps coming to the same realization. You have gone to bed next to him for nearly two weeks, only in thin shifts. Every day, you have woken up untouched. Doubt starts to cloud up your face, as if you are noticing how vulnerable you truly have been and how well Daemon has behaved.

As if he were going to be deterred by a little blood. He was a true Targaryen. It was in his house’s words. Plenty of maidens bled when being split open on his cock. Your moonblood would not be very different.

Daemon decides to appeal to your more… Hightower side. Perhaps that would get you to yield to him. He uses his more Otto-like tone, trying to sound as cunty as possible.

“It’s your duty.”

You shake your head, frantically.

“We can’t. It's not right. You are my uncle.”

Your words are spoken with such conviction, he has to fight the urge to scream. That was your problem? You? A daughter of the house of the dragon, complaining about incest?

“It is not unprecedented. Our whole line begins because Aegon the conqueror had his sister wives. And then, Maegor married his niece, too.” Daemon’s words are sharp. He lets go of you and starts to pace the room. Good Gods, what had Alicent done to you? Had she twisted your mind so, you now thought marrying him was wrong because you were related?

“And their marriage was cursed. No child was born out of their union.” You reply, with an ugly smile. He wants to slap it out of your little face. Smug little girl, thinking she knows everything about the world.

“Jaehaerys married his sister, the Good Queen Alyssane. They had plenty of children.” He insists, trying to get you to notice the flaws in your argument. Everyone knew that the only way to preserve the Valyrian bloodline was by marrying other Valyrians. Otherwise, the magic in their blood would dilute, and they would no longer be able to claim dragons. It was common sense.

“All of them turned out very… queer.”

“My parents..!” But you interrupt him before he can finish.

“Exceptionally queer, too.”

Daemon feels his face heating up. No one before has managed to infuriate him so. He wants to shake some sense into you. His hands itch for something to punish you with. Impudent little thing, daring to suggest his parents had been queer!

Queer! The queer one here was you! A Targaryen who opposed incest!

“Listen here, you awful little…”

“Stop that. Stop insulting me, by the Seven. You won’t change my mind.” You raise one of your hands, in the universal halt sign. “I will never share your bed.”

At that, Daemon thinks actual steam must be coming out of his ears. Never. As if. You would change your mind, he knows it. No one can resist him for long. He is experienced, charming, and handsome. A prince and a true dragon. What more could anyone want?

He would make you regret your words. He would show you. Under all your repressed, Hightower ways, you were a dragon. Targaryen blood ran thick. Daemon would have you eating out of the palm of his hand before you could realize. Before, he hadn’t really been trying. But now? He was ready for war.

“Come here.” He orders. You stare at him, and do not move. “You will disobey me in this, too?”

You step closer, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I wish to make a deal.” Daemon says. You cross your arms over your chest. “You don’t have to bed me if you don’t want to. But you will have to give me something in exchange.”

“What?” You tap your foot against the floor, impatiently. Yet your face, as always, betrays you. His offer has made you lower your guard, interested in what he has to say. Probably because you are seeing a way out of this whole issue.

“I want you to let me be as affectionate as I wish with you.”

“Fine.” You snarl at him, trying to look fierce. But you are too new to this game of pretending for Daemon to not see through your mask. You are confused.

He steps closer. He gathers you into his arms, and hugs you.

At first, you tense. Your arms remain glued to your sides, body stiff in his arms. Daemon enjoys the feel of it regardless. You smell like innocence, sweet and young. Your body is soft and feminine, nothing like the hard muscles of his first wife. He allows himself to relax into you.

Eventually, your body sags a bit. You relax into the hug.

“I wish… I wish….” You start speaking, face hidden in his shoulder. Daemon doesn’t let go. His gut tells him that whatever you are going to say, it is important. “I wish I wasn’t ashamed. And that… In our wedding ceremony, I would have liked to know what was being said.”

Daemon’s heart aches. His poor little Hightower, denied of her birthright. And then, a giant grin spreads on his face. Here it was. The opportunity he needed.

“I will teach you.” Daemon whispers, against your hair. He kisses it. It’s a lovely thing, an icy blonde that doesn’t fit your warm personality. Now that you are not fighting him, he is starting to notice you are very sweet natured. “I promise.”

“You will?” You look up at him, wary. “And what will the price be?”

Daemon chuckles.

“No price.” He caresses the bridge of your nose, tracing your features. You seem bashful at the attention, and it is so adorable, he can’t help but kiss you.

You startle. All coltish, you nearly elbow him in your haste to move away.

“What are you doing? We said no bedding!”

“I know.” Daemon smiles at you, indulgently. Now is the time to tread carefully, less you spook, and he ends up losing all his progress. “I just want to kiss my wife. Affection, for the sake of it. Kissing doesn’t need to lead to anything.”

You nod. You don’t seem convinced. But he soon discovers your hesitance comes from something else.

“I have never kissed anyone.” You whisper, almost ashamed.

“Then let me teach you that too.” And he is leaning in, and capturing your mouth with his.

“I GOT you something.” Daemon suddenly says, one morning. You lift your gaze from your book, an historic account about the doom of old Valyria, and watch him with curious eyes.

Your husband is carrying a bundle of cloth on his arms. He is back from his usual shenanigans in the city. Betting and drinking, but no longer any whoring, he assures you. The Lord of Flea Bottom is no more, or so he says.

It is quite early. You have just broke your fast with your mother, after the two of you did your morning prayers together. It is a ritual you find great comfort in, despite Daemon doing his best to discourage you. He doesn’t like that you worship the Faith of the Seven.

He has grown slightly more tolerant of Alicent as time goes by. You cannot say the same for her. Despite the fact that Daemon treats you well, she still can’t seem to get over the fact that he is Daemon Targaryen, the same man who had terrorized her father, courted her best friend and possibly murdered his last wife.

The bundle of clothes moves in Daemon’s arms. You place your book down, and creep closer, wondering about its contents. It’s then that you hear it. A soft, quiet mewl.

A grin spreads across your face. You cross the distance between the two of you, and watch as a small paw reaches out from the cloth, flexing its tiny claws. It is covered in white fur, the cushions on the bottom of it a soft pink.

“A kitten!” You say, delighted. You take it from Daemon and cradle it against you. The kitten can’t be older than a few weeks. His eyes are already open, a cloudy gray that takes your breath away. It’s love at first sight. “Oh, husband, thank you!”

“I saw it when I was coming back this morning. Thought you would like the damn thing.” Daemon says, gruffly. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I will name him… Quicksilver!” You say, cheerily. It makes his lips twitch a bit, unable to hide his amusement. This week, Daemon has been helping you practice your High Valyrian by reading a more recent text, accounting the times of King Aerys.

The language practice has brought the two of you closer. You are no longer as resentful or scared of him as you once were. You spend nearly all your evenings with him, pouring over gigantic tomes written in the language of your ancestors. Daemon patiently corrects your pronunciation, teaching you the right way of rolling the vocals, and how to accentuate your consonants.

You would have never thought you would enjoy learning so much. He is a very compelling teacher, clearly passionate about the subject yet stern enough to make you do all your assignments before their due date. Daemon is patient and encouraging, willing to explain things to you over and over again until you understand them fully.

The kitten yawns, showing a row of tiny white teeth and a pink tongue. You coo.

“Tiny but fierce.” Daemon smirks. “The Seven preserve us all.”

“How pious.” You tease, and Daemon steps closer. He grabs your waist and pulls you in for a kiss, Quicksilver still in your arms.

Despite having kissed him many times before now, you feel as weak to his advances as you had felt the first time he had kissed you. Daemon kisses like he is conquering, nipping at your lower lip until you open for him, and taking complete ownership of your mouth. His hands grasp at your nape, holding you against him. There is no escape from his kisses, and it fills you with a thrill you had never expected to feel before. Daemon wants you. He desires you, as a man desires a woman. There is no headier feeling than that.

At first, you had thought he was lonely. Why else would he ask for affection, when he was able to ask for anything else from you? That night, when he had found out you had been lying to him, Daemon could have asked for anything, done anything to you. Not a man in the realm would have judged him for it.

His behavior after that only seemed to confirm it. When the two of you were in public, his hands would linger on you, as if fearing you would leave his side. When someone told a funny joke, his eyes would seek yours before laughing, making sure you were still there.

It was an urge you understood too well. Abandonment was something you had learned to fear as well. Your mother had left you unwillingly. Your father and sister had both been eager to wash their hands from you. You guessed Daemon’s life had been a bit like that, too. From what you had heard, his mother had passed when he was a child. Your father had grown tired of him. And your sister… Well. That had been his fault.

When you grew up like that, you clung to every kindness, to every slice of warmth you could get. It was no wonder Daemon clung to you as hard as he did. It was difficult to live like that, not knowing what kindness feels like, grasping desperately to any scraps of it until you can almost piece together what the real thing feels like.

Despite having all reasons not to, Daemon’s attention never turned suffocating. Perhaps, you too, were starved for affection. You had gone your whole life with no positive male attention, being overshadowed by your sister and forced into almost a Septa-like life by your mother. His touches were never beyond the proper attention a man would show his wife in public. It felt almost… fatherly.

As a child, your father had never sat with you, or listened to anything you said. Daemon, instead, seemed to pay close attention to everything you did or told him. He sat for hours with you, pouring over myths and historical accounts, correcting your pronunciation of High Valyrian, teaching you the meaning behind old rituals.

It was as if a door had been opened for you. One you could use to glimpse inside his mind, and your father’s and even Rhaenyra’s. You understood now much more about how they behaved, and why they did. You didn’t necessarily agree, but you understood.

Some confusing feelings had begun to arise with all this new information stuffed into your head. You liked Daemon’s attention. He was charming, and it made you feel good about yourself, being able to keep someone as worldly and cultured as him interested in you. It made you wish, sometimes, to have been his daughter instead of King Viserys’. But at the same time, the way you felt and the things you did with him weren’t the kind of things you imagined daughters feeling for their parents.

When Daemon kissed you, as he did now, you felt your stomach swoop. His skilled mouth made your skin tingle, and all your hairs stand up on edge. It made you feel ashamed of yourself. You weren’t supposed to feel such things for your uncle. No matter how Valyrian, it was just not right.

What made you feel even more ashamed was the fact that sometimes, when he kissed you for too long, the place between your legs would get slick with arousal. You wanted him too, you realized, with the utmost horror. You wanted him like a woman desires a man. A wife desires her husband.

It is then the game starts. Daemon kisses you, and you kiss back, eagerly exploring his mouth and learning how to play his game. You make out with him for what feels like hours, until you feel drunk from his kisses and become as pliant and soft as clay being molded in his hands. It is then that you let him touch you a bit more, push the boundaries your previous truce has set. His hands grasp at your hips, his lips mouth at your neck. And when the edge of your shift starts to ride up, or his lips trail too close to the neckline of it, you jolt out of your stupor.

Shame licks at your spine, grabs tightly at the back of your head. Makes you stiffen under him, body set into a hard line. How can you be so wanton? Why do you behave in such whorish ways? You struggle then, overcome by the embarrassment you feel at your own behavior.

Daemon tries to subdue you. Sometimes, you fold, other times you spend the night tossing and turning on the bed, trying to get the upper hand. Sometimes, he wins, and pins you down on the mattress. But instead of forcing you, he kisses you again and the game begins anew.

You spend the nights like this. Kissing and struggling with anxious violence, until it has begun to replace the act of love. You can tell Daemon enjoys your struggles, the feel of your buttocks against his clothed crotch. You can feel the weight of him against your hip, burning hot and hard.

Eventually, he tires and heads out. You don’t know if he pleasures himself then, or if he just ignores his arousal until it goes away. You prefer the second when it comes to yourself. For hours, you stare at the ceiling, willing the heat in your blood to go away. Sleeps evades you, yet when it does not, it feels even more torturous. You dream of him, of the act, conjuring lewd positions and thoughts, until morning comes, and you feel like you have not slept at all.

This precarious balance could never last. You are not good at the court’s games, having been a wallflower most of your life. You are a stranger to waging tongues, and malicious comments, but Daemon is not. He is doomed to always be the center of attention, this husband of yours.

Someone notices that almost three moons after marriage, you are still a maiden And someone remembers Daemon’s lack of children with his first wife. One plus one makes two.

He comes to find you in the Royal Sept, as you are lighting candles with your mother. He grabs you briskly by the arm and drags you away, the match still alight between your fingers.

“Have you heard?” Daemon asks, breathless. It is clear that he has rushed to you. “What they are saying about me?”

You shake your head.

“How would I?” You are, after all, as isolated as you were before the wedding. Your only companions are Quicksilver, Daemon, your mother, and your siblings. And Aegon is at that terrible age, where he behaves like a little deviant. The others are too young to provide true companionship, Helaena stuck on her imaginary worlds and Aemond not quite a boy, not yet a man.

“They say I am impotent. That your womb has not quickened because I have not taken you. Because I am unable to.” The crude words Daemon speaks make your eyes widen. You have grown protected from the nastier side of court life, forgotten as you were. You cannot believe how someone would dare comment on a married couple’s bedroom activities, which are meant to be one of the more sacred things to happen between man and wife according to the Seven. Much less, how someone would dare to utter such poisonous slander.

“We know it’s not the truth.” You place your hand on his arm, trying to soothe his wounded pride. Daemon is, above all, impulsive. You fear he is about to do something rash, even if you do not imagine yet what.

Isn’t it enough that the two of you know the courtiers are in the wrong? You have felt the press of his member, hard against your hip, in the nights the two of you struggle. You have felt his hips rutting against yours, as his kisses mapped unknown constellations on your shoulders. What does it matter if Daemon hasn’t taken you? How can these people dare interfere, or even mention what the two of you do or do not do?

Shame, once again, grips you in its clutches. You feel your face warm at the thought of how these strangers must view you. Queer. Twisted. You wonder if they blame his inability to perform on your blood ties. If they think the Seven are cursing your marriage, just as they had with the ones of King Maegor.

“It isn’t.” Daemon says, coldly. He walks away, a tense line on his shoulders, and you walk back inside the Sept.

Alicent is still lighting candles. You sense that there are not enough of them to make a difference for what is about to happen.

That night, a disgruntled looking Harwin Strong wakes you up. He tells you how he is there to supervise your packing. You are leaving the city, he explains, to your bewilderment. Effective immediately.

As you place your dresses inside some linens, and ready Quicksilver, you manage to coax the story out of him.

Daemon had been at his usual haunt in Flea Bottom, betting on some cockfights. You could picture the scene clearly. Daemon, lazily counting his winnings with that infuriating smug look he got when he was proud of himself. An angry patron, getting up and on his face after losing to him.

“Maybe that cock will work for your wife!”

The whole establishment erupting into laughter. Daemon, cold smile on his lips.

“Go to your manse, and arm yourself. Because I am going to kill you tonight.”

After that, there was little he could say in his own defense to King Viserys. It had been a premeditated act, in front of multiple witnesses. No way of denying it, or trying to shift the blame.

You stood outside the city gates, observing Caraxes. He looked as done with Daemon’s antics as you felt. In front of you, stood the world.

Daemon strode by, being dragged by Ser Harwin. He was chained, but managed to look as carefree as any free man.

“You know the rules.” Ser Harwin said, unchaining him, before turning towards you. There was a bit of sorrow in his brown eyes, perhaps feeling pity for you. “Farewell, Princess.”

“Where to, Lady Wife?” Daemon asked, cheekily. There was no hint of remorse on his face. It seemed exile reinvigorated him like nothing else.

Your lips pursed into a thin line. You didn’t want to leave. It was scary, the thought of being away from home. The times you had been outside the Red Keep could be counted with the fingers of your hands alone. And what were you to do, friendless in the big world that opened in front of you?

You wanted to punish him. If he was giving you a choice, you were going to give him a lesson.

“To the North. Perhaps that hot blood of yours will fare better there.”

“ARE YOU sure?” You ask him, all pleading eyes. Daemon nods, already sitting inside the hot spring. You are strangely fearful of the warm water, perhaps, having already grown used to the cold of the North.

“If this scalds me alive, I will come back to haunt you.” You warn, turning to face away before beginning to undress. Daemon can’t help but let his eyes linger on your body, despite knowing how indignant it would get you were you to notice. He has promised to avert his eyes, after all.

Naive as you are, you never check to see that he actually does.

He watches as you remove your furs, and unlace your dress. It has taken him quite some effort to get you to feel comfortable enough to be naked in his presence. There might come a day when you are desensitized to nakedness, but Daemon guesses you are still far away from it. He has to keep trying.

You are worth the effort, though. His precious niece, sweet as the Maiden herself and twice as pretty.

“Dragons don’t burn.” He answers, absentmindedly. You are only wearing your chemise and your hoses, and as you lean down to remove those, he gets a perfect view of your cute rear.

“Perhaps. But I am no dragon.” You pull the chemise over your head, unaware of the fact that you are being watched. Daemon drinks in the sight of your naked legs, strong yet delicate, leading up to beautiful hips and a soft back. As you pull your hair up, he notices how the muscles of your arms and back move in a graceful combination that can’t be anything more but a natural gift. He spends a few seconds mesmerized by you, before you start to turn around and Daemon remembers he is supposed to be averting his eyes.

He fixes them politely on the other side of the hot spring, careful to not let you catch him looking out of the corner of his eyes. You are becoming sloppy in your old age, he scolds himself. Daemon can't help it. Lately, he feels more like the boy he once was than the man he is. His attempts at seduction are fumbled, he gets carried away by his passion, a single one of your smiles can render him tongue twisted.

Everything that you do is charming. The slight sway of your hips as you walk, the way your eyes light up when you laugh, but most of all, your personality. Freed from the cage of Alicent’s judgmental stares, you seem to be growing into yourself. Life on the road seems to suit you, despite your fearful nature. Surrounded by strangers, you no longer feel the weight of being judged for imaginary sins.

“You are. Just one with a more…. Fragile constitution.” How he wishes to be able to turn back time, sometimes. Gather the girl you once were into his arms and soothe all the old hurts. Raise you the right way, give you all the attention you had desperately needed and watch you bloom into an impressive woman. You were already a creature of impossible beauty. How much better could you have been, if they hadn’t stunted your growth?

You were too much of a Hightower, Daemon himself had thought once. But Alicent had thought you not Hightower enough, and she had tried to mold you into one, keeping you well away from what she thought of as queer customs.

Who had told you weren't a dragon? And how had they made that awful lesson stick, until you felt adrift, and belonged nowhere?

The sudden sound of water shifting, and you hissing makes him jolt out of his contemplation. Daemon turns his head the barest bit, managing to catch sight of your hips sinking into the water, and the shape of one of your breasts. There is one puffy nipple crowning it, hard and proud and begging to be bitten. He fights the urge to pounce on you, and instead remains sitting on his side of the natural pool and tries to relax into the warm water. Patience is of the essence in seduction, after all. You need to come to him convinced it is your idea.

“Ready.” You say, sounding a bit too close. He turns and there you are, right in front of him. You sit on the shallower end, water covering you to nearly your collarbones. Daemon playfully reaches out with his foot and touches your leg, making you jump. He laughs.

“It isn’t so bad, is it?” Daemon’s voice still carries a bit of mirth. He can’t help it, you have such cute reactions.

“No. Almost like a warm bath.” You fan your face with your hands. Seeing you lose your composure a little, Daemon feels a bit guilty about pressuring you to enter the pool. It’s true you are not as used to extreme heat as he is. He rushes to your side, uncaring of his own nakedness.

“Too hot?” He asks you, wiping away a stray drop of sweat before it can get into your eyes. You mumble something incoherent, so he presses a hand to your forehead. He doesn’t want you to swoon from heat exhaustion, out of all things. But your temperature is normal. It is then he realizes your eyes are fixated on his chest.

Ah. Poor thing. Daemon can feel his lips stretching into a proud smile. Finally, succumbing to your lust. He should press his advantage, but he finds himself hesitating to do so. Despite how appealing he finds you, he understands that you are different. A being that walks the world of the divine and the mundane that skirts the two but was not made for the more carnal things.

Instead, he commits the sight to memory, for when he decides to touch himself. Perhaps tonight, even. It is something he has been doing more and more often. Daemon has found intercourse with whores is nowhere near as fun as laying on the bed, with you by his side, and tugging at his cock until completion.

He is never quiet about what he is doing. Soft grunts and moans fill your chambers each time he does. You pretend to be asleep, but Daemon can tell you are listening. The next day, you turn fevered with lust. It is you who kisses him, who rakes her claws along his back.

There is no consummation yet. But it is becoming clearer than once fully freed from the judgment of your family, there will be.

You sway slightly. Daemon opens his arms, and lets you curl into him. He guides the two of you into a sitting position, placing you firmly on his lap. Your hair falls into a mess of curls thanks to the humidity, up do barely resisting. He fixes it for you, tightening the ribbon keeping it up. Then, he starts massaging your neck and shoulders.

The pleasure of your bare skin under his hands is undescribable. It’s a luxury he has worked hard to get, and for that, tastes even sweeter. Your sweet little face is scrunched up, in a rare show of pain and pleasure. Daemon wonders if it is the face you would make when he spears you open on his cock.

An annoying hardness begins to make itself known in his groin. He feels like a mere boy, getting excited about the smallest touch. You are driving him mad. And Daemon is enjoying every second of it.

Almost as if listening to his inner monologue, you shift on his lap. Something seems to be bothering you. You can’t get comfortable, and you squirm on his lap more than a seasoned whore. Daemon can pinpoint the exact moment you notice what you are squirming on. Your eyes go wide and you freeze. An embarrassed look takes over your face.

He fights the urge to laugh, wrapping his arms more firmly around you and encouraging to rest against his chest. Daemon could spend years like this. Denial is a fun game. Months have passed, and he has yet to grow tired of it, of taking away your innocence little by little.

You lean in. You give him a playful little smile, and you bite, hard. The pain from your teeth blooms on his shoulder, making his cock throb.

“Impudent little thing.” He chastises, softly. “I should spank the defiance out of you.”

You laugh. You have come to realize that he is not as much of a brute as everyone painted him to be, and that he is too soft to make good on his threat. Ever since your argument, Daemon has never hurt you. He likes you too much for it. He wouldn’t force you to bed him, nor would he willingly do anything to upset you. Not even if you announced you didn’t want him touching you ever again.

Was this what love felt like, he wondered? Being happy with just sharing the same air you did, watching you play with your cat, being honored that he was trusted enough to feed the damn thing?

It probably was. But hell, if he was going to let it stop this corruption of your innocence. No. Instead, Daemon grabbed you by the shoulders and bit down on the hollow of your throat, playfully. You made a small sound, like a caught animal. He could tell you were getting ready to succumb to pleasure once more. His hedonist little wife, always ready to be put in a kiss drunk state. You turned liquid in his arms when it happened, going lax over him.

Daemon could tease you some more. Or… He leans in, breathing in your scent, before blowing a giant raspberry by the side of your neck. You shriek in laughter, squirming on his lap. Water is sent flying everywhere. He peppers your face and neck in kisses as you do, laughing st your squeals and squirming.

“Daemon.” You say, after a while, when the both of you have calmed down. Your head rests on his shoulder, expression hidden.

“Little niece.” He whispers, and you tremble at the endearment.

“I have decided something.” You whisper back. Somehow, your voice feels loud in the cave of the hot spring, nothing but the soft murmur of water being heard.

“You have?” Daemon asks, heart thumping in his chest as if he has just taken to the skies in Caraxes. He pulls you out of hiding, lifting your head towards him.

“I want to marry you right.” You say, shyly. You look deeply embarrassed. “Under my faith. So we can…” You trail off, averting your eyes.

“So we can..?” Daemon asks, feeling a triumphant grin spread over his face.

“Have a child.”

And oh, it is the most wonderful thing he has even heard. He will buy you a cloak, and a couple of ribbons for the hand fasting. He will find the two of you a home. Daemon says all this, as he presses his forehead against yours. Not even his conquest of the Stepstones felt as sweet.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #prince daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon x you #prince daemon x you #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon x y/n #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon fluff #daemon fanfic #daemon fic #prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen fic #daemon x oc #daemon targaryen x fem oc #hotd daemon #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #asoiaf fanfic #asoif/got

[yoonivy]

symptom of your touch.

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. smut & angst. friends with benefits.

All through his life, Aemond got used to it; toiling for the things that Aegon is freely given. But you… You were the only exception. Aemond cannot bear to lose you to Aegon too.

warnings. rough sex, creampie, breeding kink, dirty talk & degradation, mirror sex. unrequited love.

author’s note. titled after the aly & aj song but also heavily inspired by a taylor swift song!

word count. 7k+

--

It is Aegon who invited you to come over to watch movies with his family that night. 

But when you make the two second walk from your front door to his just next door, your best friend isn’t even there.

“Where is he?”

Daeron shrugs at your question, opening the door wider so you can step inside the Targaryen household. “Dunno. He left, like, half an hour ago, though.”

You heave a sigh, tapping the phone in your hand. 

To Aegon — where are you????

You hear their mother, Alicent, calling you from the kitchen so you make your way there.

“Hey, sweetie,” she greets with a gentle smile when she sees you. “Have you ate, yet?”

You nod, slipping onto an island stool beside Helaena. “I ate dinner just before I came over.”

You caress your hand on Aegon’s younger sister’s arm as a form of hello and she smiles sweetly at you while her mother lifts up a tupperware for you to see. “Well there’s leftovers here if you get hungry later, okay?”

“Thanks, Alicent,” you chirp as Alicent stores the food inside the refrigerator. 

After an exhausted huff that causes the tendrils of the loosened hair from her bun to fly, Alicent still manages to give you a grin. “No problem, my love,” then with a frown, she looks down at the smatchwatch on her wrist. “Do you know where Aegon is? I thought we’re having a movie night?”

You shake your head. “I texted him but he hasn’t answered yet.”

“That boy… I swear…” 

“Let’s just start without him,” Daeron suggests, strolling into the room to grab a can of Coke from the fridge. Alicent grabs the drink from his grasp before he could open it.

“You’ve already had too much today,” is all Alicent says when the soon to be high school senior whines out ‘mooom!’ .

“We can watch a movie we know he won’t like first so he doesn’t get mad when he comes back during the middle of it,” Helaena speaks up just as your phone vibrates with a new message.

From Aegon — i’ll be back soon 😘 — just start without me

You scowl, noting that he didn’t really answer your question. But whatever. 

“Aegon said to start without him,” you tell his family. 

Alicent sighs, head shaking. Then she turns to Helaena with a smile, “Bug, can you pick the movie?”

Helaena nods enthusiastically, hopping off the stool to do just that.

“Daeron, help me with the snacks,” Alicent instructs, already grabbing bowls from the cupboards. “And ____, sweetie, can you get Aemond? He’s in his room.”

The request has you gnawing on your bottom lip, reluctant, but you take a deep breath and say, “Yeah, sure.”

Alicent looks over her shoulder, kind eyes on you. “Thank you.”

Then her attention is back on Daeron, who once again tries to open a can of pop. “Daeron!”

You leave them to enter the small hallway, stopping at the bottom of the staircase. You stare up at the second floor, anxiousness twisting knots in your stomach. 

You have not spoken to Aemond since the party at Quentyn Martell’s last weekend.

You still remember the crushing look of hurt on his handsome face when you told him what you needed to tell him, all too well.

Every step you take up the stairs reminds you how awful you’ve been to him all summer. It was completely unintentional, but you can’t deny how selfish you’ve been. Especially since you know that Aemond would be willing to do it over and over again if you only asked him to.

You rap on Aemond’s door with the back of your hand, hearing him call from inside, “Yes?”

“We’re, um, gonna start movie night now…” you trail off, speaking to the closed door. Your voice is so soft, like you don’t want to be heard by him. “If you wanna—”

The door suddenly swings open, and you meet Aemond’s wide open stare. 

You cannot help but stare back. You still cannot believe this is your best friend’s younger brother. The gangly boy you grew up with. 

Aemond has filled out more, still lean yet definitely defined in all the right places. He chopped off his gorgeously long hair into a cropped haircut for the first time in forever. Although you were initially sad about the haircut, the short hair grew on you. Especially when he styled it to part neatly to the side — he looks so handsome.

When you saw him for the first time in the beginning of the summer, you thought you were dreaming.

His first year away from home was good to him.

“Hey,” you breathe out, offering him a wavering smile.

He takes you in completely, violet eyes washing over you. Every second has you feeling smaller, nervous for his final reaction. Then finally — “Hey.”

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you. And you feel so uneasy, you had to turn away from his stare, cocking your head down the stairs. “Um, we should…”

Frowning, Aemond nods. “Right.”

He slips out his room to walk ahead of you, and for some reason your stupid, stupid guilty conscious makes a grab for his arm to stop him on his track.

“Wait, Aemond–” He stiffens under your touch. You press your lips together before asking, “Do you want to talk about what happened first?”

Aemond whips his head to look at you, and you notice the dark circles under his sullen eyes. He looks so sad and you hate yourself because you know you are the reason. 

He shakes his head slowly, prying your hands off him with such gentle care. You’re not sure if he is trying not to hurt you or himself. “No. Let’s just have a good night tonight, alright?”

After a tentative nod, you follow him down the stairs and to the living room, lagging a few steps behind to give him space.

Unfortunately, since the two of you are the last to arrive, the only seat available is beside each other on the couch. But luckily, since Aegon isn’t there yet, there is a comfortable space between the two of you. 

After the second movie is done, Alicent heads to bed first for work in the early morning. Being a widowed mother for eight years already, Alicent has gotten used to being the breadwinner for the family even if now her children are helping support her — with the three oldest already in university with decent paying jobs on the side. She can stop working if she wanted to — Viserys left a big inheritance — but you think she’s just lonely and needs something to occupy her time during the year when the home is empty except for her and Daeron.

Halfway through the third movie, Helaena says her goodnight with a yawn. She hugs you and Aemond, then kisses Daeron’s forehead (which he pretends to be grossed out by), before she heads upstairs to her room.

Before the fourth movie even starts, Daeron’s snores are resounding loud in the room, mouth wide open and asleep on the reclined leather chair. Aemond sits up to throw the blanket that Helaena had abandoned on his little brother and then settles right back down beside you — even though there is another couch now empty for him to sit on.

With Aemond by your side the entire night, you tried not to look at your phone out of respect for him and his feelings. But as it gets later and later, you can’t help but start looking between the television playing the fourth movie, your phone, and the door like clockwork. 

You’re worried. It’s already past midnight and Aegon is still not home. 

You’ve sneakily texted him a couple of times during the first two movies, but he hasn’t answered. 

You open up SnapChat now, knowing that would probably give you an idea on where he might be. 

Of course, the first story you see is of Aegon sticking his tongue down Jeyne Westerling’s throat just 10 minutes ago.

You close off the app with a disgusted grunt, finally deciding it’s time to go.

“I’m gonna head home,” you tell Aemond after an irritated huff. 

“I– alright…”

When you stand up, Aemond does too. He follows you to the front door.

“You can stay the night,” Aemond says before you step into your shoes.

You stand up straight, still no shoes on, to give him a wan smile, “I have my perfectly good bed just next door, Aemond.”

Aemond nods slow, glaring at the ground. Then his gaze flicks up to meet yours, his purple eyes so intense that your mouth parts in a soft gasp. He presses his lips together to wet him with his tongue, and rephrases his previous statement into a question, “Do you want to stay the night… with me?”

Your heart catches in your throat.

“I thought that– Didn’t you—” you draw a slow, deep breath; trying again so you don’t stumble your words anymore, “You said you wanted to stop this.”

“I was drunk when I said that.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” you remind him.

Aemond scoffs, looking off to the side. “Then that saying is clearly false.”

Then his gaze finds yours again, wide and imploring. Don’t make me ask again, his pretty violet eyes say, because you know I will. I always will.

You should say no and go home. 

It’s a terrible idea and you’ll regret it now that you know how much it hurts him when you leave him after.

But your better judgment gets away from you, remembering how Aemond’s body feels against yours. 

“Okay…I’ll stay the night, ” You tell him, slow yet sure. “…With you.”

Aemond lets out a shuddering breath he had been holding, cupping your face to pull you into an unhurried and tender kiss. It’s sweet and chaste. That’s how it always starts.

As quiet as you both can, you slip into his room together, Aemond’s hand holding yours. 

As soon as he locks his door behind him, Aemond’s mouth is on yours again. This time with more heat, stoking a burning flame deep in your loins. His large hands slip under your shirt, grasping tight on your hips. When your mouth parts with a keening mewl, he takes that opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth, deepening the kiss with a pleasured grunt of his own.

Aemond pulls apart from you, glancing down to unbutton and unzip your jeans with experienced quickness. 

“Off,” he commands between heaving breaths, watching you through dark and hooded eyes as you do exactly what he says. 

When you kick away your jeans, Aemond is already pulling you back to him and pushing your back against the wall, lifting up your right leg around his waist to grind the hard bulging in his pants against your panty covered core. 

You stutter out a moan into his mouth, and he hushes you, catching your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling and nipping until they feel swollen and raw. You damage his the same with every fervent kiss you crush against his mouth. 

Neither of you stop, unable to pull away from the other’s lips or grinding hips. Not even when Aemond slips a hand down and pressed his fingers onto the cotton of your frilly black panty, the pads of his fingers becoming wet and sticky at the contact. 

It has him choking out an airy moan, cursing under his breath. “Seven Hells…  you’re soaked.”

You bite at his shoulder to suppress a whine, bucking into his fingertips as they tease the sensitive button between your thighs. 

“All for me, right, pretty girl?” He huskily murmurs in your ear, his finger rubbing and rubbing until your legs start to shake around him. 

You nod fervently at Aemond’s question, and he rewards you with a smirk, another bruising kiss, and his fingers pulling your panty to the side to trace up and down the folds of your cunt. He spreads your slick with every slow glide, and it has you needy for something more. 

“Aemond, please…”

He lets out a husky chuckle as you feel his fingers teasing at your entrance. You move your hips to try to force it to slip into you, but Aemond pulls away with a playful hum. “Uh-Uh.” 

Your mouth opens to protest, but then Aemond suddenly tucks a finger inside you. It has you keening and whining instead, grasping onto him tightly.

“Good girl,” Aemond praises breathily against your temple. He put another finger in beside the first and starts fucking into you at a moderate pace and occasionally scissoring wide. You wince at the stretch but you love it. His fingers slide slowly in and out of you, deeper each time until they’re all the way down to the knuckles, curling so it hits your sweet spot. Biting down your bottom lip, you stifle a moan as you come undone, dripping onto Aemond’s hand. He groans without stopping the flick of his wrists, keeps you shaking and writhing against him throughout your whole orgasm, “That’s it… That’s a good girl.”

Once you’re spent, Aemond pulls his fingers out of you. He brings it up between you, both noticing how much it gleams, fully covered in your juices. Keeping his gaze in yours, Aemond presses his soaked digits against your bottom lip, which you open without hesitation, darting your tongue out to taste yourself on him. Aemond grunts, sticking his fingers deeper in your mouth. Eyelash fluttering at him, you close your lips around his digits with a hum, sucking and licking until your essence is nearly gone. 

Aemond grins in satisfaction, gaze soft with endearment, and then he is kissing you once more.

“I can’t wait any more,” he tells you, pressing his hard bulge onto you as evidence of that. 

Stumbling onto the bed, Aemond falls over you; his mouth hot on the juncture of your jaw and neck; and his hand spanning wide and grazing up your ribcage, dragging your shirt up with him.

He groans when his thumb brushes across the underside of your breast, finding you bare.

“Knew you weren’t wearing anything underneath, little tease,” he sneers in your ear, biting at the lobe while his fingers twists at a nipple until it pebbles under his touch. “That’s why you came over, right? Wanted me begging for another taste?”

Eyes squeezing shut, you shake your head no. 

That’s not what you wanted. You didn’t come over to hurt him again.

But when Aemond dips down and his warm mouth latches onto the nipple on the side of your chest that his hand was not already groping tenderly, your back arches for him. For more.

And so there might have been a small chance that he is right in his assumptions.

You feel Aemond’s teeth grazing your skin. And when you glance down at him with a whimper, he meets your gaze with mirth and something more feral in his own. Then he is biting down around the well-sucked and hardened nub, teeth marks replacing the one he made there last week that is fading away. 

As your hand threads through his hair, Aemond’s tongue laves across the valley of your breast, tasting salt skin, and then proceeds to do the same to that nipple exactly what he had done to the one before. 

His hand trails down, pushing your underwear aside once more to press his fingers inside again — though this time, it’s slow and his thumb is drawing lazy circles around your clit.

You come for the second time that night like that, from the combination of him fingerfucking you and biting your chest multiple times as if laying his claim on you.

Aemond sits up on his knees to look down at you. 

He admires the sight of you laying under him with your shirt rucked up over your tits, heavily breathing, nipples wet and raw from his mouth, and your cunt dripping for him while your thighs are covered in your mess that he made of you. 

Aemond hunches over, a palm pressed on the mattress just beside your head and his other hand gripping so tightly around your jaw that your mouth falls open.

“You’re such a messy slut ,” Aemond sneers at you, but his tone has a hint of lightness in it, praiseful; and when he spits in your mouth right after, you swallow it down with a contented mewl. There’s a glint of possessiveness in Aemond’s dilated eyes, the violet irises hardly visible anymore.

“ My messy slut,” he all but growls, kissing you again and again and again. 

There is something about the way Aemond kisses you. It is like he is trying to put all his mounting feelings there against your lips, because he knows if he says it aloud, you will just likely run away. 

So you let him. Let Aemond kiss you as though the two of you are lovers. Like this isn’t just a beneficial arrangement between two lonely and desperate people.

When he pulls back, he stares at you for a while, his hand curled at the side of your face while his thumb tenderly grazes along the fullness of your cheek. He licks his lips, as if he is going to say something, but then he stops and shakes his head to himself.

“Come on, get on all fours,” he commands instead, laying a solid smack on your outer thigh to get you moving. You roll over, getting on your elbows and knees while also throwing a playful glare over your shoulder at him, mouthing a reminder that his sister is just in the room next door. 

After rolling his eyes, Aemond pulls his shirt off and throws it carelessly somewhere in his room and pulls his jeans and underwear enough for his hard cock to spring out.

You entice him with a sway of your hips, and what you get in return is a slap over your cunt. It makes you accidentally yelping out loud, but you cut it off by dropping your head forward to bite down on the pillow beneath you. 

“Act like a whore and you get treated like one,” Aemond reminds you, gripping your hips hard enough to leave indents of crescent moons on your skin. You nod in understanding, smearing makeup all over his pillowcase. 

Aemond grabs the fat of your ass, spreading your cheeks apart. It feels so lewd, how you feel him leering at the way both your holes clenches, how you’re absolutely dripping down your legs and onto the cover of his bed.

“The prettiest little pussy in the whole Seven Kingdoms,” Aemond murmurs, so softly as if he had not meant to say it out loud, and yet the compliment sends a thrill down your spine while you whimper for him.

But that does not compare to the noise you make when he gathers up saliva in his mouth, only to slowly dribble it out to drop onto you, letting it drip down the cleft of your ass all the way down through the folds of your pussy. “But it’s so soaked and eager for cock like a slut.”

You can’t help but hum in agreement, pushing back to grind your ass along his length. He lays a wet smack to your ass for that little disobedient act, though before you can arch away, he pulls you towards him, his cock spearing you wide open. In this position, you feel every twitch of the veins on his cock while he reaches so deep inside you. The leaking head of his cock pressing against that sweet spot with every thrust of his hips against your ass. You shut your eyes to focus on the wonderful feeling.

“Gods, you’re so tight and sweet,” Aemond hisses, throwing his head back. The way your cunt squeezes around him is like a chokehold. It’s hard for him to breathe at how amazing it feels, his body moving and his heart racing for more. 

He looks back down again, the sight of the mixture of his precum and your juices frothing around the base of his cock as he slams into you again and again has him groaning.

He grabs onto a fistful of your hair, pulls you up until your back hits his chest. The new position has you sinking down on his cock, writhing and mewling with every inch you take.

“Look up,” Aemond whispers in your ear, and when your eyes finally flutter open, you see the reflection of yourself and Aemond in the mirrored sliding door of his closet. It is quite a sight – your red-rimmed eyes, your tear stained cheeks, the heavy heaving of your arched chest, the hickeys and bite marks all over your body, and the way your glistening cunt is stretched so wide around Aemond’s huge cock. “Gods, you’re gorgeous. And you look so good getting fucked.”

To prove his point, he guides you to ride him with his hands on your hips. 

“Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart,” Aemond orders as he pulls your hair back tighter, fucking up into you when he pushes your hips down. You moan out his name which makes him smirk, his hand covering your mouth to muffle your incoherent and pleasured noises. “Shh… Shh… Shh… If you get any louder, someone’s gonna barge in here and see how you’re such a cockslut for me… So just keep quietly taking my cock like a good little girl, yeah?”

Nodding, you press your lips together in hopes to obey him, not wanting to get punished when you are so close. You watch yourself in the mirror getting fucked so roughly, the heat inside you continuing to build up.

“Fuck, you feel so goddamn good,” Aemond hotly murmurs against the side of your neck, leaving more hickeys there as a reminded of tonight.

You’re greedy. So greedy. 

You love the way Aemond makes you feel.  

He fucks you rough and hard in the way you crave; but with every touch, you feel his adoration for you.

You revel in it. 

Greedy. Greedy. Greedy. 

“Come on, baby, come on my cock — Fuck! You look so good, bouncing on my cock… Can’t wait to fill your tight little cunt… Gonna breed you— yeah? You like that, little slut? Fuck, that’s what I thought…”

Aemond loses it when you nod at his accusation of you wanting him to breed you. He drives into you until your eyes start to roll back, seeing stars.

You made him this way. This is how you slowly coaxed him to take you. When this first started, Aemond was sweet and caring, cooing praises into your ear with every slow thrust of his hips. But as it went on, you asked more of him. A hand squeezing around your neck, a strike rippling your bottom until it’s bruised, had him uttering spiteful and awful names that made you cry —  you don’t know why but that’s how you like it. 

(Perhaps it’s because of the rumors you heard about another Targaryen guy who likes to fuck girls just as roughly.)

At the thought, you come impossibly hard. Your squirt goes everywhere, has Aemond slipping out at how wet it is. He groans in both frustration and satisfaction, pushing back inside you just in time to fill you up to the brim with his cum. He empties inside you, rolling your hips against him until you are too sensitive, whimpering for him to hold on a second. 

Aemond does not care and does not give you a moment to catch your breath, already pushing you back down on the bed and turning you on your side, lifting your leg to hang on his shoulder and guides his already hardened cock back inside you again. Though feeling oversensitive now, you can’t deny how much you want more. Until you can’t think anymore about why your best friend still hasn’t made his way home yet or whose bed he ended up in tonight.

Aemond fucks you until the morning light, has you shaking and quivering and cumming in every new position — on your back, in a mating press, his tongue spreading over you, behind you again… 

It’s because it has been a week since he had you, so really, he is just making up for lost time.

--

You wake up cuddling with Aemond, after only a few hours of sleep. But you feel well rested despite that and the strenuous activities you partook in all night and early morning. 

Humming in content, you nuzzle your face into the nape of Aemond’s neck. Surprisingly, this morning you are the big spoon, your arm and leg thrown over Aemond’s body like a clingy koala.  

Ever the light sleeper, the butterfly kisses you leave on his spine has Aemond stirring, turning his body in a still half-asleep pace to face you. 

“Mornin’,” he drawls huskily, an adorable sleepy grin on his lips. 

“Good morning,” you greet back with a smile, a bit more chirpy and awake. You lean in to give him a sweet peck on his lips, but Aemond pulls you in for something deeper as his hand slides to the nape of your neck in a possessive hold. You mewl as his tongue slips in your mouth and when you feel him thickening up against your thigh.

Gently, you push him onto his back, mouth still on each other with passionate kisses as you climb on top of him. You only part for his lips for a second to grab his hard cock to ease your cunt over it, sliding him inside you with a wet squelch. 

Aemond sighs at the tight clench of your walls around him, languidly kissing you while you roll your hips over him. The sex is slow and sweet, gentler than all the ones the two of you had in the last eight hours.

You cream around him in such a lovely way, softly moaning his name in his ear for only him to hear. That’s all it takes for Aemond to come inside you again.

“I need to pee,” you tell Aemond a couple minutes later, your fingers running gently through his hair while his face is tucked into the crook of your shoulder.

Aemond doesn’t immediately let you free, he even tightens his arms around you. He pulls his head back though, the back of it hitting the wall behind him, just to peer at your pretty face. 

“Just piss on my cock… You’d probably like that,” he says with a teasing smirk.

You shove at him, laughing as you get up from his softened length and off the bed too. “Shut up!”

Once you find your tiny crop top, you put it on. You find your underwear too, but it’s so ruined that you throw it at Aemond instead. He catches it easily, balling it up in his hand and takes a deep inhale, all the while without taking his gaze off you.

Though the sight makes you heat up from head to toe, you wrinkle your nose at him. “Gross.”

Aemond only grins. He knows you well enough — you like depraved shit like that. If you already weren’t so stuffed full of his cum, he’ll probably find you wet again just from his little panty sniffing stunt. 

As you put on your jeans and socks, you and Aemond are making playful conversation.

It’s easy. It’s nice. It feels a little too domestic that it has Aemond thinking this could be a start of something. But he knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up like this.

“— I still can’t believe the Oberyn Martell is actually going to be a professor at your uni next year…”

“You know, it’s never too late to transfer,” Aemond tells you with a frown. The school he is attending now was your dream school all your life, and yet when you got in, you declined the offer – to go to the same school as his brother. “You got in once. You can easily do it again.”

“Yeah, but…” You are standing by his desk, flipping through the brochure detailing the seminars Oberyn Martell, a famous political journalist, will be holding for the rest of the year before his official classes for the next year at Dorne University. You shrug, sending a weak smile his way, “King is pretty good too. I’ve no real complaints except for…”

In the middle of speaking, you trail off, staring out the window as a heavy revving of an old car engine can be heard outside.

Aemond already knows who it is. 

It’s Aegon, pulling up into the driveway in his sleek red 1968 Shelby. But what really gives it away is how your brows knit together as you watch Aegon walk up the pathway, whistling happily without a care in the world, as if he wasn’t out all night making you worried sick.

Aemond is looking at you the same – longingly and sad. Hoping and wishing and praying for you to feel something for him, even just a tiny bit of what you feel for his older brother. 

“I should go,” you tell Aemond with a wan smile after you quickly check yourself in the mirror to fix anything amiss.  

Sighing tiredly, all Aemond can do is nod as he stares down on his lap.

Without another word, you leave him there glancing down at his hands that just touched you all night, memorized every curve of your body, and found all the right places that made you sing in pleasure.

But it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

--

Aemond heads downstairs ten minutes after you left, already hearing laughter coming from the kitchen. The air smells of fresh brewed coffee, bacon, eggs, and waffles. 

He passes by Daeron in the living room. The youngest Targaryen has a plate of all of that beside where he sits on the ground while his focus is on the story-driven zombie apocalyptic video game on the television screen. 

When Aemond arrives at the kitchen, he stands by the arch of the door, leaning on his side against it with his arms crossed in front of him. 

He hates how his heart aches, watching as you laugh so joyfully at a story Aegon is animatedly telling while he pours maple syrup on a plate of waffles that the two of you were sharing . Aemond knows you don’t like things too sweet, and yet you allow Aegon to drown the waffles until they are soggy.  

It’s always like this. You give, Aegon takes. You give up your dream school because Aegon’s fragile ego couldn’t handle being rejected and wants you beside him at all times. You let him treat you like shit because you are so in love with him. 

You’re so enraptured by Aegon’s attention finally on you that you don’t even notice that Aemond has been there for a while. 

Aegon tells a joke that has you laughing so hard, your head tilting back to expose your neckline.

All of the sudden, Aegon stops laughing with you, a frown on his face as his hand reaches out to touch a mark on your neck. “I didn’t know you’re hooking up with someone…”

Clearing your throat, you pull away from his touch, smoothing your hair down to hide the mark. “I’m not.”

Aegon rolls his eyes, “Oh, cause you really gave yourself a hickey… right. So who is it?” He starts to name all the guys the two of you know, and everytime you shake your head and tell him to stop, he just gets even more annoyed and angry. 

Aemond can tell that Aegon is jealous, always so possessive of you even though he doesn’t want you. But you don’t notice, you just think he’s mad cause he thinks you are screwing one of his friends.

“Can you just let it go, Aegon?” You grit out, after telling him once again that no, you are not screwing either of the Cargyll twins.

“I don’t get why you won’t tell me who it is? I tell you about all the girls I hook up with all the time!”

“And you think I want to know?”

“Just– tell me–”

“She said to let it go, Aegon,” Aemond barks out, finally making his presence known. 

Aegon stares between his brother and you, breathing heavily in anger. 

“Whatever. I don’t need this,” Aegon fumes in conclusion, storming out the kitchen door that leads to the backyard, and it slams close behind him.

Chewing at your lip, your gaze is set on the door he just left from.

Aemond takes a tentative step towards you. “Don’t, ___…” You glance towards him, the telltale sign that you are about to burst out crying evident in the hiccupy way you are trying to get air through your parted mouth. Aemond presses his lips together, trying to convince you to stay by how carefully he is approaching you. You deserve to be treated as a first choice. Aemond would always treat you as such. “Stop… Stop always being at his beck and call.”

You seem to think about it. Maybe he can finally get through to you — but then the revving of Aegon’s car is so loud, it snaps you out of it. You frown, eyes watering. “I’m so sorry, Aemond…”

Then you are running out after Aegon like you always seem to be.

And for the third time that summer, you crush Aemond’s heart beyond repair.

--

Summer’s ending, and every single day, Aemond’s wishing for it to just be over.  

Sure he can change his flight back to Sunspear to an earlier one, but he knows his mother would question why and also be incredibly sad about it. Aemond does not have the heart to do that to her. 

He has all his luggage packed already, eager to just book it to the airport as soon as he is able to. 

It’s been too much to bear. He still sees you pretty much every day but he hasn’t talked to you since that morning a week and half ago. 

But of course, you and Aegon have reconciled. Attached to the hips once again. Best friends forever and ever and ever and ever — just like the two of you would often promise each other since you were young. 

Aemond calls it the honeymoon period. When you and Aegon make up after a fight (one that Aegon is usually the cause of and the one that starts it for no reason) and spend every waking minute together for the next few weeks. Aegon will demand for your time whenever he wants it, has you waiting by your phone for his call and canceling plans that he is not a part of. You don’t seem to mind though, as long as Aegon showers you with needy and dependent affections… Until a new girl catches his eyes that has him wagging his tail and tongue hanging out. He then neglects your friendship in pursuit to get in her bed, causing another fight.  

Rinse and repeat. 

The cycle will never end. 

Not unless you end it. Decide that you’ve had enough of Aegon treating you like a convenient option instead of a priority. 

Or more unlikely, for Aegon to finally return your feelings. 

But Aemond highly doubts either of those will ever happen. 

“Hey, are you ready yet?”

Speak of the devil…

Aegon peeks his head inside Aemond’s room. He didn’t even bother to at least knock before he barged in. He takes a look at where Aemond is sitting against the headboard of his bed with a book in his hands — dressed in dark blue jeans, a plain white t-shirt with a black short-sleeved shirt loose and unbuttoned over it. 

“Oh good, you are!” Aegon then opens the door wider. “Actually, can I talk to you about something?”

Aemond huffs in irritation, and before he can even answer, Aegon steps inside like he owns the place, closing the door behind him.

Aegon takes his sweet time – glancing around, picking up things on Aemond’s desk to look at, then putting it back down, flicking at the picture taped on the wall… Finally, he turns to face Aemond and comes out with it, “Do you know who _____ is hooking up with?”

Aemond’s eyes widen slightly but then quickly keeps his expression carefully neutral, not wanting to give anything away. “No. Why would I know?”

Aegon nods slowly, but there’s something about the way his lips purses to the side seems disbelieving.

Aemond clears his throat after standing up from the bed. “Why are you even asking me?” 

Did you tell Aegon something? About you and him?

“I dunno, just asking…” Aegon shrugs, mouth pulled down in an exaggerated frown. “…You two have been spending a lot of time together lately, so I just thought you would know.”

With narrowed eyes, Aemond reminds him, “The only reason we’ve been spending a lot of time together is because you’re always ditching her for other girls.” 

Aegon licks his lips and then grins uncomfortably at how his younger brother just called him out. “I see that now… I think it’s because I—“ Aegon stops mid sentence and sniffs noisily, rubbing his hand over his mouth as he starts to pace a bit. 

Aemond is quick to pick up on his brother’s odd behaviour and eyes him quizzically. 

Then Aegon stops and looks directly into Aemond’s eyes — an expression of open vulnerability sets on Aegon’s features that Aemond feels his stomach drop. 

Oh fuck no… Don’t you fucking dare say it, Aemond thinks with a slight shake of his head. 

“I think I like her, Aemond,” Aegon confesses, eyes wide and watery. “I think I’m gonna tell her tonight.”

At his sides, Aemond clenches his fists, his nails biting into his palms enough to hurt. But his expression remains unbothered, apathetic even. 

“Why are you telling me as if I care what you do with your life?”

Aegon chuckles with a roll of his eyes. “ Please, I’m not a complete idiot…” He is grinning as he takes a step closer to Aemond. “I know you’re in love with her…” Aemond cringes at the truth being said so loud in his otherwise quiet room. “…and you have been ever since we were young.”

Aemond’s glare on Aegon is heated. 

So Aegon knew, and yet he always held your loyalty and preference to him over Aemond’s head.

With another step forward, Aegon is right in front of Aemond. The younger Targaryen’s nostrils flare, trying to keep his anger in check with his steady breathing. 

“And I’m not cruel, Mondy…” Aegon says, and yet he is looking up at him with a taunting smirk. “I care about you, so I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

Then, just as he is about to turn and leave Aemond’s room, he clamps a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, fingers digging in as he sneers into Aemond’s ear, “And just so you know… I intended to replace every filthy mark you’ve stained on her body with my own.”

Aegon’s smirk then turns to a playful smile as he lightly smacks Aemond’s cheek twice. “Mum wants to leave soon to get a good spot at the beach, so hurry up, yeah?”

Once again alone in his room, Aemond lets out the ragged breath he had not known he was even holding. He takes a seat on the edge of his bed, pressing the heels of his palms against his forehead enough to hurt — but it's still not as bad as the squeezing of his heart.

--

It is a Targaryen family tradition to celebrate the annual summer festival that marks the end of summer at Blackwater Bay beach. But obviously with what Aegon has planned to do tonight, Aemond would rather be anywhere but there. 

When Alicent’s mini Cooper pulls into the parking lot of the beach, Aemond guesses it’s a little too late to back out. He steps out of the car, just as a red Shelby parks just right beside them. 

Aegon exits his car, sunglasses on even though it’s already pretty dark outside. You’re not with him, Aemond notes, only the Cargyll twins follow after Aegon. You must be coming here with Alys and them.

Aemond helps Alicent grab the coolers from the back of the Cooper along with Daeron, letting Helaena take the lead to a perfect grassy area to watch the fireworks from. Aemond doesn’t stick around, deciding to walk the boardwalk that trails along the beach.

That is when Aemond catches sight of you, in a pretty white linen summer dress and your toes already in the sand. You are laughing with Alys and Rhaena, a lit up sparkler in your hand.

So pretty, like a shining star.

So close, yet so out of reach.

Just when he is about to step onto the white sand to make his way to you, someone bumps harshly past his shoulder. 

With a scowl, Aemond watches on in bitter jealousy as Aegon runs to you, feet on the sand and an unlit sparkler in his hand. He captures your attention with a call of your name, and you look back at him, smiling so beautifully — a smile solely reserved for Aegon. It has your girlfriends giggling, skipping away arm in arm to give the two of you some time alone together.

With a nod, you press the tip of your sparkling sparkler to light his.

As soon as it does, Aegon leans close, murmuring something in your ear. When he pulls back, your eyes are wide, a mixture between guarded and hopeful.

In the dark, Aemond can barely read your lips,

You do?

Aegon nods. 

Then his lips are on yours just as fireworks light up the night sky in brilliant arrays of colors and patterns. 

It’s a picture perfect scene. One that could be in the movies when the leading hero finally gets the girl.

And as always, Aemond is left way far down on the list of credits in the story of Aegon’s life. 

All through his life, Aemond got used to it; toiling for the things that Aegon is freely given. 

When Aegon got his father’s beloved car when he passed away, Aemond didn’t care.

When Aemond got into the best school in the whole Seven Kingdoms and yet the fanfare wasn’t nearly as huge as when Aegon got into King’s Landing U, Aemond also didn’t care.

But even if he had anticipated it happening again – he didn’t think it would hurt this much.

Because it’s you . You are the one thing that Aemond wanted so badly for himself. He has been in love with you all his life and would have done anything for you, if you’d only let him.

Aemond chuckles bitterly, tearing his gaze away from you and Aegon, still locking lips.

Now you’re just another prize that Aegon has won without merit. 

And Aemond? 

He is the fool who stupidly got his hopes up — because all along, you were never even his to lose.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #hotd imagine #hotd #aemond #aemond targaryen

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile XV

Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader

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Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Because I wasn't satisfied with the last chapter I decided to post the next one right now. I’m so excited about your thoughts because the plot is finally beginning !  I can’t wait to hear about your theories. 

“ It makes your boobs look ugly, another one please !”

You were being tugged behind the curtain already being undressed to put on another dress. Today you were with Alice, in one of the most expensive shops of all New Orleans, to find your wedding dress. It was an exciting, amusing and stressful experience. Alice was being, as usual, honest about the dress you have been trying for almost an hour. 

“ Alice, how many more dresses do I need to try? You know we still don’t have a date for the wedding? Alastor’s father is still missing.”

“ What about it? His loss if he misses the wedding. Now, I think I’ve found the perfect dress for you~!” 

You laughed behind the curtain. Alice didn’t even know Alastor’s father, she never met him but you have told her once that you didn’t feel comfortable with him and she decided that she would hate him until the end of time. You looked at the dresses you have been trying, a part of you was happy to be here with your best friend and yet you wondered…Were you selfish? You knew Alice was in love with Alyzée but they couldn’t get wed to each other… Were you hurting Alice without being aware of it?

“ Alice–?”

“ This one. This one will fit perfectly your waist, your legs, your shoulder, your chest. For heaven’s sake, I’m the best.” she said looking at her nails. Why were your best friend and your future husband so full of themselves while you were always insecure ! “ Come on, try this one.”

“ Alice.. I’m.. You’re okay?” you asked, taking the dresses off her hands.

“ Yes? Well, I’m still shocked about what you told me about John, but you know what we say, we don’t keep trash around us.”

“ Who is “we”?”

“ Me, Myself and I. Now, try the dress, doll ! I’ll find the shoes!” you laughed as you watched her running away. You sighed with a smile, you were surrounded by amazing people, you should try to be more sure about yourself.

The workers from the stores helped you put on the dress and your shoes. You looked at yourself in the mirror. You felt.. pretty. Really pretty. You smiled at yourself, moving the pans of the dress, loving the movement it was doing.

“ Can I see?”

“ Of course Alice.” you turned around. Since you could remember, Alice always knew how to dress you up. From her Christmas’s Eve’s soirée where she had found that beautiful dress from today, she would always come with outfits from other countries, always being new, unique, something Alastor scoffed most of the time. He was always saying that Alice was running toward the future without being aware of her surroundings. And Alice was always saying that Alastor needed to shut up because he was lucky to look good in anything.

“ Oh my Lord. You look ravishing, my friend!” she clapped her hands together, her eyes whelming up a bit. “ Oh God… I’m… I’m so proud of you.”

“ I haven’t done anything yet.” you laughed nervously.

“ Take the compliment for once. So, what do you think? I , personally, think it’s the perfect dress for you. But what do you think?”

“ This is my favorite too. but the price–”

“ Let me buy it.” you opened your mouth, ready to complain but Alice stopped you with her hand.” I know, I know, you’ve never liked me paying stuff for you, expensive things mostly. But please, just this one, let me buy it. I… The next time I go into this kind of shop might be for my own wedding, which won’t be filled with laughter and love like we just did. It might be selfish, but just.. I want this moment. I’m sorry–”

“ Okay.” you smiled, almost moved to tears by her comment “ But Alice, for your wedding, no matter with who, I’ll be there. There will be laughter and love, because you won’t be alone in this.”

You saw Alice nodded, wiping some tears from her eyes. You looked at her, your best friend might never be married to the one she loved, but you will never let her feel loveless. 

You took off the dress, as Alice went to pay in cash. You joined her once you were dressed with your own clothes and you both walked toward her place. You saluted the butler, who bowed to you.

You both sat down in the huge living room, sighing in relief. You took off your heels, your feet were killing you. 

“ By the way, if we need to find Alastor’s father to be able to have your wedding, do you want me to… pull a few strings for you? I could call the best of the best!”

“ No, no. I won’t lie, the fact that he is missing isn’t… bothering me.”

“ I’ll cheer for that. “ she winked at you before asking for wine. You laughed, she always loved Rosé. It wasn’t very strong in alcohol, it had a very good taste but when the alcohol hitted. Dear lord…

You didn’t drink too much, you had to walk back home yourself after all. You smiled when you saw Alice put on Alastor's broadcast even though she was rolling her eyes at the radio sometimes.

“ Are you hearing him? Gosh. I knew you when your voice was cracking, Alastor !” she shouted at the radio.

“ Alastor voice never–”

“ A woman can dream, dear. Gosh, now I hear his voice anywhere I’m going.”

You laughed behind your glass. Alastor was gaining popularity surprisingly quickly, which was good of course. It was the best outcome you could imagine.

“ Now, about my cottage.”

“ Alice, we told you we don’t have the money and you just bought me my wedding dress.”

“ Who is “we” my dear?”

“ Me, Myself and I.” You stuck your tongue at her, making her laugh. Alice was a girl ahead of her time with her manners and way of talking, she always felt like a breeze of fresh air. 

“ Well, if you all say so.” She took a sip of a drink before looking at the door, her father making his entrance. You stood up as the big man smiled at you, he always has been nice, never raising his voice, always wanting what’s best for Alice.

“ Oh, good afternoon ladies. Alice, I just wanted to tell you that you might have a date with the son of the–”

“ Yes Daddy, I know, don’t worry I’ll go.” she said, looking away. You saw her father smile sadly before leaving after giving you both candy you used to like when you were younger. You looked at her, worried. Was she going to be okay? “ Don’t look at me like that Doll. It’s going to be the same as usual, I’m going there, bat my pretty eyes and at the end, I’ll just say to Daddy that the man wasn’t what we needed for the family.”

“ How long do you think you can keep this game going?”

She stared at the large windows in silence. Alice was just like a bird in a cage, she felt like freedom, but would never taste it for herself.

“ As long as I can.”

You stayed with her until the sun was setting down. The maid took her to her bedroom as she was sleeping on the sofa. Seems like going on another date was getting harder and harder for her. Was Alyzée aware of it? You sighed as you gave your goodbye, before walking out of the mansion. 

You decided to go into a park, walking between the trees. There weren’t a lot of people outside, even though we were in March, the weather was still cold. You stopped when you saw an old man fall not too far from you.

“ Oh sir! Are you alright, let me help you!” you said as you took the cane that had fallen from his hand. You helped him sitting down on a nearby bench. 

“ Oh, thank you little lady.”

The man was tall, black with brown eyes, a white beard, he was wearing a hat, helding on his cane, he seemed like he had injured his leg.

“ Do you want me to take a look at your leg? I’m no nurse, but I used to help my father when he came back from war.”

“ Ahh, war. You don’t need to take care of me, little lady.” he smiled warmly at you. “ You look sad yourself, do you need to talk about it with an old man?”

You looked at him, he felt so warm and he was… cute. His aura was gentle, cute like a kid that wanted to learn something new. You haven’t seen your grandfather since he died during the war, you haven’t had the strength to go back to your old country to go to his grave so… Maybe why not indulge yourself and talk with this man?

“ I’m… I want to help a friend, she is in love but can’t marry that person.”

“ Aah, love. And why can’t she?”

“ She had to marry someone from “noble blood”.” you sighed, rolling your eyes. It was bullshit. “ She has no choice.”

“ Mhn… I think she does, little lady. We always have a choice, when you think you don’t have one, it’s because you already made up your mind. “ he smiled at you with eyes that held so much wisdom. 

“ But… What if the other choices are more dangerous?” you asked, feeling like you weren’t talking about Alice anymore.

“ Well, little lady. What would you do?” 

You stopped talking. You killed to be with the one you wanted. You had a choice and yet..

“ Are you unhappy with the choices you made?” 

“ No, but I’m afraid of what it will bring at my door.”

“ Aah.. Si jeunesse savait, si vieillesse pouvait.”

“ What?”

“ You will see, little lady. Your friend is maybe so blinded by what she has to do that she can’t see what she could do. Love is the deadliest poison and yet the sweetest remedy in the world. She should try to think for herself, don’t you think? Would you rather live your whole life in misery or be happy for a short time of your existence? The difference between existing and living is thin, little lady, but it exists.” he nodded before looking at the sky, seeming lost in thoughts. 

You stared at this mysterious man. He seemed to be around 60, maybe that is why he seemed so wise. You looked at the sky and gasped when you saw the moon in the sky. It was already dark!

“ Oh, I need to go!” you stood up but before leaving you took the candy from Alice’s father. You smiled at the man, placing the candy in his veiny hands. “ Thank you for that useful advice.” You beamed at him as he looked curiously at the candy before smiling at you. “ Maybe we’ll see each other one day again !”

“ May our ways cross again if needed, little lady, may our ways cross…”

You ran back home, feeling better than when you left Alice’s house. You walked inside and saw your father with Jeff in the living room. They were still trying to understand how Alastor’s father could have disappeared like this. You smiled at the men, walking toward them.

“ Nothing news?”

“ No, my sweet daughter. We are trying, but from the moment he left the bar he wasn’t seen anymore.”

“ I’m sure the wife was having an affair and decided to kill the husband. Classic scenarios.”

“ And how could she have done that?” you sat on the sofa, staring at Jeff with an innocent smile. You almost smirked when you saw him puffing his chest, feeling so much pride in vomiting all the information he should kept away from you.

“ The man came home, drunk. She could easily poison him, hide the body somewhere and end the story.”

“ Mhn… But without a body, you don’t know. What if he was the one having an affair and ran away? From what I understood, he seemed to be someone who drank a lot, maybe he was being ambushed in an alley because we know for a fact he never made it back home.” you smiled at him, your father smiling with pride by your side.

“ That what they say but–”

“ No, that’s what we said. I was there. I’ve never seen this man come back home.” you stared at him down. He shut his mouth. “ You see, I really want to get married and the fact that you are trying to put the blame on my future family in law is getting on my nerves. So please, do me, us, a favor, find out what happened. And if you are unable to, just give up.” you looked at your father. “ I don’t want to wait forever, I want to get married.”

Your father stared at you before kissing your forehead.

“ Alright sweetie, we have a new man who’ll help us in this case. I’ll give him three months, if he doesn’t find anything, I will close the case and we will concentrate on your wedding.” you hugged your father with a happy grin. Finally! 

You bid your goodbye before going into your bedroom, getting ready to go to bed. You listened to the noises downstairs, waiting for Jeff to go and your father to go to bed.

You were concentrating so much on trying to hear what was going downstairs that you didn’t notice the shadows behind you. You almost shouted as a gloved hand fell upon your mouth, muffling your screams. 

“ You’re such an easy prey, dearest.”

You sighed in relief as you closed your eyes. Alastor was really the quietest being you have ever met, which was surprising when he was the noisiest man on the radio.

You turned your head toward him, looking at his mocking smile. He was so full of himself. You bit his finger before letting it go, going for a hug. He hummed against you.

“ How did you come here?”

“ Well, the windows, dear.” 

You scoffed before forcing him to sit on your bed. You sat on his lap and took his hand with yours, playing with his fingers.

“ I have my wedding dress.” you smirked when you felt his whole body tensed underneath you. “ And you won’t see it, because I left it at Alice’s.”

“ Do you really need Alice in your life, dearest?” asked Alastor with an amused voice.

“ Yes! Come on Alastor, be honest with me, you enjoy Alice’s company?”

“ Hah ! I enjoy Alice’s contacts nothing more.” he rolled his eyes, pressing you against his body. “ She is useful and she can be amusing, when she is having problems.” he smirked at you, making you slap his shoulder, trying to contain your laughter. He was such a…

“ Well, I have some news on your father’s case, my dear future husband.” you smiled as you explained what happened with Jeff. You couldn’t help but grin when you saw Alastor beaming with pride as he listen to what you have told the policeman.

“ My, my… So, they think my Mother did it?”

“ For now, we know that we have three months until we are completely free of it.”

“ Have you felt it again?”

You tilted your head.

“ What?”

“ The need to kill.” he asked you, gripping your waist, pressing your body against his. You felt lightheaded.

“ N-N.. Well… I thought for a second.. to kill John.” you saw Alastor’s pupils dilated as he stared at you before kissing your neck. You tilted your head to give him more room.

“ Mhn, interesting, go on, why?”

“ Because he was bad mouthing you.” you tried to contain the anger in your voice, you didn’t want to wake up your parents. “ Who does he think he is?” you rolled your eyes, you were still hurt about what John has said but now you weren’t feeling sadness over it, only anger.

“ Would you like to kill him?”

You looked at Alastor who had his chin against your chest, looking at you in a way too innocent face for the conversation you were having.

“ Alastor, we can’t. There would be too much suspicion on us, we already have your father’s disappearance on us, if we kill John–” he kissed you feverishly making you sigh in the kiss. Oh, how you loved the feeling of Alastor’s lips against yours.

“ Do you hear yourself, darling?” he smiled against your lips. “ In your mind, you are already ready to kill him… ” he sighed against your skin. You stared at him, stroking his cheeks. You wanted to see the Alastor you had seen the first time you killed.

 The difference between existing and living is thin, little lady, but it exists.

You kissed Alastor on the nose, with an excited smile.

“ Not now.”

You fell asleep with new marks on your thighs and your neck. When you woke up the next morning, you were already smiling.

You stayed with your mother all morning, spending time with her until you decided to go to Alice’s. You didn’t know when her date was supposed to be, but if you could help her morally before she had to leave, it would be great. You took some pancakes you’ve made and walked toward her mansion, the butler let you enter, escorting you to the living room.

“ Miss Alice shall be here soon.”

You nodded before sitting on the sofa. You put the pancakes on the table and wait until you hear the familiar footsteps of your best friend. You turned your head and smiled at her, as usual, she was beautiful. 

“ Hello Alice.” you stood up and you both hugged each other. She sat next to you, holding her head in her hand. “ Mhn, the wine doesn’t taste good the day after, right?” you laughed as she groaned.

“ Please, not so loud…”

“ What a hangover.” you whispered, mockingly. She stuck her tongue at you before digging into your pancakes. “ Well, someone is hungry.”

“ I don’t want this man to think he has a chance with me because I seem eager to eat.” 

You smiled, crossing your legs. You told Alice that you needed to wait three more months before finally concentrating on your wedding. You laughed as she let out a sigh of pure relief.

“ Thank God, since when do we stop living because a man disappeared.” she rolled her eyes before eating the last pancake. You look at the butler who came to announce Alice’s date. And like an actress, Alice put on the fakest smile she could conjure, Alastor would be proud. You stood up as a man, looking around 40 came into the living room, he was sweating so much you could see sweat pearling on his forehead.

You gave Alice a look, encouraging her with your eyes before leaving, you even made a face to the butler who nodded at you, with a disgusted face. You laughed before leaving, going out to buy some pastries. You walked to the park, thinking about your weddings. Where should you do it? What about the honeymoons? Did Alastor want children? 

You stopped when you saw the same old man from last time, sitting on the bench, smoking a pipe. You grinned and walked toward him.

“ Hello, sir.”

“ Hello, little lady.”

“ Might I sit a moment with you?”

“ It would be my pleasure. You seem happier than yesterday.”

You smiled as you sat next to the man. You felt safe with him, maybe it was because his aura reminded you of your deceased grandfather..? You didn’t know. You began to talk, mostly about what was going on in your life until you began to talk about your wedding.

“ Mhn, you have quite the ring.” the old man said with a little grin. He didn’t have a ring on his fingers, did he never get married?

“ Yes, in less than three months, I will be able to concentrate on my wedding.”

“ Who is the lucky lad?”

“ If you are listening to the radio you might have heard him, his name is Alastor.”

“ Alastor heh..? Quite a name, quite a name…”

You smiled, happy that Alastor was getting a name to himself. You took your box of pastries and held one for your new friend. He thanked you before eating one éclair au chocolat. You smiled as you kept talking with him, the man mostly listening and giving you wise advice.

“ Being too confident is not a good thing, your insecurity might be a blessing on some occasions.”

“ What do you mean?”

“ Don’t be afraid, to feel afraid. The ones who don’t fear are gods, spirits…”

“ But it’s irrational.” you frowned, how many times you felt jealousy when you didn’t need to be.

“ Yes, but it’s instinctive. Here is some wise advice from an old man: trust your feelings.  Did they ever betray you in the past, when you needed them, little lady?” he looked at you with a warm smile.

You looked at the ground. Your family always told you, you were sensitive, you would easily be overwhelmed by what you were feeling or what was going on around you. 

But when Alastor’s father took the bullets, you didn’t know why, you felt it in your guts that something was going to happen. That’s why you had run outside to find Alastor and that's how you killed his father. 

But then, why did you not feel John’s romantic attention towards you ?

“ People who feel a lot are trying to balance themselves by becoming observant. That way, they feel more grounded, they think they are being rational, which can be good sometimes. But you mustn't discard your feelings, you’ll lose yourself like that. You seem like a sensitive little lady, it’s not bad and it’s not good, that's what you seem to be. Why would you want to be like others, they are already busy being themselves.”

“ So.. I should listen to myself more?”

“ It’s a choice you can make. Feeling emotions is a good thing, it connects you to the rest of the world.” he nodded before looking at the sky, smiling warmly. “ And isn’t it beautiful?”

You stared at the man. He was such an.. intense person in a way. Would he talk to you the same way if he knew you had killed someone and you didn’t feel any kind of remorse?

“ What if… by being connected to the world, I might be a bad person?” you whispered.

“ That’s your choice. For some people you will be a bad person no matter what you do, no matter what you think.” he looked at his cane before eating the rest of his éclair au chocolat. “ Soldiers killed during war, the winners are seen as heroes, and the losers as cold blooded killers. Who is right? They all killed people, they all did horrible things and yet they aren’t seen as the same. Your father have killed during the war, right? What made him different from an enemy soldier?” 

“ Because… he was fighting for what’s…right..?”

“ Who says?” he tilted his head, always having a gentle expression. He wasn’t judging you, he was just curious about your thoughts. 

You couldn’t find an answer to his questions.

You stayed in silence for a moment, thinking about the man’s words. What was strange, was that his words weren't shaking your morals, but it was making you accept them. You had killed, you wanted to kill again, maybe not as strongly as Alastor, but you wouldn’t be opposed to killing again, if it was to protect. You knew it was the difference between you and Alastor, you would kill to protect while you knew Alastor would kill.. Because he wanted to.

And you accepted it, you accepted him, you accepted yourself. 

You would be the wife to a murderer, maybe he would kill again, maybe not. You didn’t really care. You would be by his side, as promised. 

You opened your eyes, feeling lighter. You didn’t expect to feel burdened by all of this, but maybe, the fact that you were trying to make the wedding happen was a way for you not to think about what happened.

You felt better.

You turned your head toward the man who was looking at the people walking in front of you. They weren’t looking at you, just walking, not even caring about you. You smiled.

“ Thank you. I feel… better.”

“ Is it a good thing?” he asked, amused. You grinned.

“ Well, for my own happiness, yes!”

“ Then, everything is good.”

“ I’m going to meet a friend.. But, can I have your name sir?”

The man stared at you with his usual gentle and wise expression. You waited politely, maybe he thought you were being rude, asking his name out of the blues?

“ Legba.”

You bid your goodbye before walking toward Alice’s home. You were going to encourage her to break free from her chains! She didn’t need to marry a sweaty man, she could handle herself perfectly! You entered the mansion, the butler escorting you once again in the living room. Now, you just need to wait!

You opened your eyes, not even realizing you fell asleep when you heard shouting at the front door. You walked toward the entrance and saw Alice and the sweaty gentleman, your friend was shouting at the man, demanding his departure from her house while he was clearly trying to calm Alice.

“ What is going on?”

“ This man is just a filthy pig! Touching me like I’m some kind of harlot.” she was fuming, trying to contain her rage. What did that man do? The man, who didn’t seem sure of himself became more confident, pointing at Alice.

“ Maybe that’s what you are, kissing the mayor’s daughter like this. What a scoop that would be, unless we come to an agreement of course. I think you would make a darling wife Miss Alice. I’ll let you think about it, and if you need more convincing, I have proof. Now, have a great night ladies.”

And just like that, he left.

Alice closed the door before dropping to her knees, breathing heavily. You took her in your arms, looking for a butler or a maid but nobody was around, which was weird. You tried to calm her but she was panicking.

“ He saw us.. He saw us kiss.. Oh lord, what could happen if he were to open his mouth about it.” she was shaking, nipping at her nails. 

You calmly took her hand with yours.

“ Do you have any way to get rid of him?”

She looked at you, seeming torn to speak before sighing.

“ Don’t think I’m a monster but… Most of the richest families have.. people who do their dirty jobs? Sending… assassins or things like that..? I’ve never done that of course, but I feel so trapped right now… Oh, what Alyzée is going to think.”

“ She won’t need to think about it. Use your assassins.” you wondered if you were shocking her. Maybe you were a little too at ease with the idea of killing someone ?

“ No. They would report everything to my father and if they see the proof… My father would know about me and Alyzée.” she sighed, rubbing her face with her hands. You knew it was dangerous, you knew it could backfire but…

“ What about me?”

“ You? What you?”

“ Do you want me to… ?”

Alice stared at you before laughing so hard she was crying. Or was she crying so hard that she was laughing ?You waited for her to calm down before staring at her.

“ Are you serious ?”

“ Seems like she is.”

You both turned around to find Alastor, standing in front of you, the door open.

“ My dear, we don’t talk about taking trash out at the entrance, I taught you better than that.”  he smiled widely at you. Alice was looking at you then at Alastor, seeming confused. You sighed before helping your friend standing up. “ Is there a place we could talk about getting rid of the trash?” asked Alastor with a beaming grin.

Alice seemed to come back to herself, and she tugged you to her father’s office. She locked the door behind Alastor, staring at you. 

“ Explanation ?”

“ Nothing too serious. You’ve been caught in a big scoop Alice, and you need us to clean the mess you’ve made!” you paled, asking Alastor how did he know, did the bastard already told everyone? “ Oh dear, no, but from Alice’s expression, the only things that could make her so upset would be you or her lovely Alyzée. I took a lucky guess.”

“ Alastor, you are… your father… oh… that explains so much.” Alice let herself drop on her father’s chair. “ So, that’s why you didn’t want me to help to look for his father, because he killed him?” asked Alice, looking at you, confused.

“ We killed him.”

“ Of course you did.” she sighed, putting her head on the desk. “ I need.. a fucking glass of whiskey, I’m not having this conversation sober.” She took a bottle from the cabinet before sitting back in front of you. She poured herself after giving you and Alastor a glass. “ So, let me get this through, you both killed Alastor’s father and now you want to kill the man who knows I’m in love with Alyzée?”

“ Well, Alice, for once you made your brain work. I would almost be shedding a tear if I cared.” said Alastor as he sipped his drink. “ And furthermore, this man is a pig that needs to be slaughtered.”

You felt relaxed. You didn’t know why, but the fact that Alastor was referring to the man as a pig made you feel even less remorse than you could have felt.

“ What are you winning from this?”

“ Nothing–”

“ Doll, I know you don’t want to manipulate me. I know. I’m talking about your murderous husband. He wouldn’t help me freely.”

“ Using your brain for the second time? What a day folks ! It’s simple really, you are at the head of one of the richest families in Louisiana. Having you on my side is a plus.”

“ I’m already at your side–!”

“ No Alice, you could be cutting yourself to prove your faith and I would still doubt you. But a crime, that is a win-win situation. The pig is slaughtered, you are free, my darling and myself are doing what we need and everything is back to normal!” exclaimed Alastor with his usual smile.

“ … Fine.” 

As Alice and Alastor were talking about the contract, you felt shivers down your spine. You closed your eyes, trying to comprehend what was happening. You don’t know why but you remembered Legba’s words. You need to trust your instincts. You couldn’t hear Alice and Alastor anymore, you could hear footsteps… You could hear…a shovel digging into the ground.

“ Darling?” 

You gasped as you felt Alastor hand on your shoulder. What just happened ? They both were looking at you, worried.

“ I’m okay.. I just.. I’m okay.” you nodded, feeling extremely tired all of the sudden. “ Alastor… Where is your father's corpse?”

“ Six feet underground.”

“ I think.. I think we should check it out.”

“ Why dig up dirt from the past?”

“ Because I think someone is trying to dig him up.”

Tag List: @lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie @sodavizz @boogiemansbitch @tessemerick @slytherin4ever @kammsinn @alastorssimp @t0xic1vi @diamond-almond @fangirlbitch02 @saccharine-nectarine @thenorthnightingale @bibliophile-yomna @itzjustj-1000 @mothraantics @yourdoorisunlocked @phamtasic @karmakillz @holographicage @sarcastic-sourwolf @akuraluna2468 @everwolf-20 @thesunandmoons-blog @songbrita @noraunor @fandomsbookclub @hokkaido97 @catticora

#hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor headcanons #alastor scenarios #alastor scenario #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #fanfiction #alastor fanfiction #fiction #alastor fiction #human alastor #human alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fan fiction #hazbin hotel

[happilyhertale]

Emerald eyes - Aemond Targaryen x fem!stark-reader

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!stark-reader

Warnings: Fluff

Author’s note:

This story was requested a long time ago... But since the events at the weekend got me out of my Daemon rabbit hole a bit, this story is now finished! English is my second language, soo.. please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 1.8 k

Other stories of mine

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Aemond struggled with the idea of marrying a woman from the North. The prospect of entering into an alliance based solely on affection seemed incomprehensible to him, and the idea of marrying a woman from the North only made him more confused. However, Queen Alicent's persistent persuasion had convinced him of the importance of such an alliance and made him realise the unpredictability of the future.

The imminent demise of King Viserys, which would occur sooner or later, emphasised the need to keep the North as a firm ally before the North swore allegiance to Rhaenyra and her kin. Aemond recognised the duty of securing the North's loyalty and finally thought the idea of marriage made sense.

As he stood in the keep that warm morning and his mother fussed over his appearance, Aemond could not suppress a sigh of mild annoyance.

"Mother, could you please desist?," he finally muttered.

"If you didn't carry yourself with such disarray, I wouldn't need to rectify the creases," she replied in a hushed tone. "And you smell like your dragon again," she added.

Aemond's lips drew together into a thin line.

"Just because I am to be married, I fail to see why I should cease riding Vhagar," he retorted

Before Alicent could say anything in reply, the gates opened and a carriage rolled into the courtyard, the gravel crunching under the horses' wheels and hooves. And a spark of anticipation suddenly flared up in Aemond as he thought about what you would look like. Would he feel a pang of excitement when he looked into your eyes, as he did with certain captivating eyes? Would he enjoy hearing the timbre of your voice as you talked about your day? Or would it be a marriage of convenience, characterised only by superficial politeness?

When the carriage came to a halt and nothing happened, Aemond wanted to take matters into his own hands and open the door. But a servant beat him to it. The door swung open and shortly afterwards Lord Rickon Stark stepped out.

"Lord Stark, it is a pleasure to welcome you to the south," Alicent greeted him. Aemond, however, was mesmerised by the sight of the brown locks of hair that peeked out from behind Lord Stark. He leant slightly to the side to catch a glimpse of your eyes and Aemond's world came to a standstill. The most beautiful green eyes he had ever seen met his gaze, and an involuntary gulp betrayed his astonishment. The thought of acquiring the most exquisite emeralds in the world for you crossed his mind, but was immediately dismissed, as any emerald in the world would be considered insufficient, as it would not do your eyes justice.

The impulse to forgo his Valyrian features in order to pass on those enchanting green eyes to his future children flashed through him, accompanied by a sudden wave of uncertainty.

What if you found him repulsive? A tightness enveloped his chest and he longed to grab his mother's arm to steady himself - the chaos of emotions inside him was just too much. But all his worries vanished into thin air when your green eyes met his and you simply smiled. Aemond's lips mirrored your smile, and regardless of propriety, the two of you stood in front of each other and exchanged smiles.

"Prince Aemond," you finally said softly, and Aemond had to suppress a groan of pleasure when he heard your gentle voice.

"Lady y/n," left his lips instead, and Alicent responded almost simultaneously.

"Lady y/n. Forgive my son's manners. He was busy with his dragon, as usual, instead of preparing a proper greeting for his betrothed," Alicent added with an almost feigned gentleness.

Aemond gave Alicent an incredulous look. He didn't want you to think he wasn't interested in you. But before he could elaborate on that thought, you steered the conversation again.

"You're riding Vhagar, aren't you? The greatest dragon in Westeros?" you asked quietly.

Aemond nodded slightly, "Yes, a very old, stubborn lady.. but incredibly loyal," he replied, "If you want, I can introduce you to her," he added almost shyly.

And contrary to his expectations, you nodded eagerly and your smile widened.

"I would love to meet her, my prince," you replied.

Aemond nodded briefly in agreement.

"Follow me, Lady y/n," he said, turning slightly and extending his arm to you. You accepted the invitation with a shy smile, leaving Alicent and Lord Stark pleasantly surprised at the obvious harmony between the two of you.

Together you strolled to Rhaeny's hill, and with each step Aemond's excitement grew as to how you would react to Vhagar. Your attention remained on Aemond, however, and your thoughts wavered between the stories you had heard about him and the surprising reality that was unfolding before you.

You've heard so many terrible stories about Aemond. Many were told to you by your brother, mostly to tease you, but they still made you nervous. You were afraid that his face would be so disfigured that you wouldn't be able to look at him. That his seriousness and his petulant moments would rob you of your happiness. But he seemed completely different. His face left you speechless - but not because it was so horrible, but because you thought he was somehow handsome.

Contrary to your initial fears, his disfigured face turned out to be strangely handsome. The eye patch gave him an air of mystery, and his violet eye beamed at you joyfully. His lips were curled into a smile that made your knees weak. And now you were holding his arm, feeling his warmth, and you couldn't be happier. Captivated by his stories, you weren't distracted by his appearance - at least not too much. He talked enthusiastically about Vhagar and all the things she had experienced in her two hundred years on this world, and you couldn't get enough of it. Although you already knew a few stories about Vhagar, Aemond told you that she is probably the only known dragon without large horns on her head. She only has small outgrowths on the back of her head. He grinned enthusiastically at you and told you that he had written this information down for posterity. Your grin widened as you felt his pleasure literally bubble through your body, and somehow you felt the urge to get closer to his lips... you had to imagine how his lips would feel on yours.

As you clung to his arm, mesmerised by his tales of Vhagar, the dragon pit grew larger and larger in the distance.

You were brought back to reality as you stood in front of the huge walls of the dragon pit. Suddenly you felt the excitement again and grabbed Aemond's arm a little more. You entered the pit and went deeper inside. You had never seen a dragon before and were curious to see what effect it would have on you. But when you spotted the outline of an island in the far corner of the pit, your eyes widened.

You don't want to let go of Aemond, but he is now standing in front of you and you instinctively reach for his hand. You missed his slight smile as you reached for his hand, and the admiration for your courage in his eyes as your gaze remained fixed on Vhagar. Aemond also refocused on Vhagar and slowly walked towards her. You walked behind Aemond, sure that he would feel how wet your palm was by now, but you didn't care at the moment. Aemond lifted his other hand slightly and spoke soothingly to Vhagar in a foreign language. The dragon's huge head slowly lifted and completely mesmerised you - she was so beautiful.

Even though you were aware that she was the largest and oldest dragon in the world, standing in front of her was very different to just reading about her. You walked closer to her until suddenly you were standing next to this mountain of a dragon. Aemond watched your features closely. The way you smiled, even though your breathing was a little faster. The way your emerald eyes no longer shone for him, but for the figure in front of you, made him smile. He would feel jealousy if it had been anyone other than Vhagar.

When you suddenly reached out to touch Vhagar, his eyes widened. Just as he was about to say something, Vhagar turned her big head towards you. You stopped moving and breathing, but your hand remained on Vhagar. You looked straight into her big eyes, Aemond didn't say anything either and watched the scene carefully. But then Vhagar simply turned her head away, as if she was bored. You exhaled in relief, a soft giggle escaped your lips and you looked at Aemond, who was also smiling in relief. Slowly, you began to stroke the scales of her body. Aemond was impressed by you, by your enthusiasm, by your courage. He could never have imagined that a woman could be so interested in Vhagar, let alone in him.

The journey of your fingers continued as you explored the dragon's scales.

"How does it feel?" whispered Aemond suddenly. Your green eyes met his, your hand still on Vhagar.

"So warm.. Hard.. but warm," you said softly. "A complete contrast to the fur of a direwolf," you added.

He smiled at you and nodded slightly.

"Impressive, isn't it?" he whispered, "How such a large animal covered in scales can be so warm."

You could only nod, your hand continuing to run gently over the scales, feeling every crevice in each scale your fingers stroked.

"It's from the fire inside her, you know? It radiates through her, right into her scales..." he whispered, suddenly placing his hand over yours. The warmth now flooded your hand from both sides.

"... And when you sit on her, your whole body is flooded with her warmth..." he continued to whisper, your faces so close. Fascinated by his words, you felt his warm breath on your skin, his fingers gliding gently over yours.

"I would love to experience that..." you whispered.

He nodded slightly when he heard your words, "As soon as we're married, I'll take you with me. We'll ride Vhagar together whenever you want... " he whispered. Your lips almost touched and you felt your breathing getting heavier.

"... How does that sound?" Aemond whispered, barely perceptible.

A slight nod on your part serves as an answer and you notice how his eyes keep wandering to your lips.

"When we're married..." you finally whispered. And then your lips met. Your lips moved around each other in a literal embrace - touched cautiously at first, but became bolder with each movement, becoming more and more confident. The lips that you were both sure would be with you for the rest of your lives.

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Taglist:

@hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemonds-eyeball @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @valeskafics  @believeinthefireflies95 @snh96 @echos-muses

#aemond x y/n #ewan mitchell #hotd #aemond fanfiction #aemond imagine #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #aemond fic #aemond fanfic #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fluff #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon aemond #aemond one eye #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #hotd aemond x reader #aemond the kinslayer #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #aemond kinslayer #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond #hotd fic #hotd aemond

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Perfect Score - Chapter 10 - A Song of Ice and Fire | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: The moment has arrived for you and Aemond to prove yourselves against the Martells. You can only hope you've done enough to earn your place | Word Count: 7.7k~ | Warnings under the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: teasing, hair pulling, mile high club (oop), voyeurism, degradation, daddy kink, oral (m receiving), ass slapping, orgasm denial, threatening behaviour, mentions of a broken family, mentions of chronic pain, blood, slight angst, injury in relation to chronic condition, trigeminal neuralgia, hospitals

A/N: I can't believe this is the LAST CHAPTER FUCK 😭😭😭 i love these two sm, would die for them 🥰 I really hope you guys enjoyed this series, it was so fun to write! If you're lucky there might even be an Epilogue 😉

Sunspear.

That’s where the finals would be.

Cocky fuckers. Thinking that they had the win, by having it on Martell turf.

At this point, the prospect of winning was low on the priority list. The top spot had been somewhat taken over, by carrying out the plan you had in store, which Aemond was increasingly becoming more and more suspicious of.

You and Helaena would play dumb whenever he walked past her room, hiding whatever you were doing. As much as Helaena prefaced that what you had planned was a terrible idea, she’d grinned and told you to do it anyway.

She’d even given her opinion when you modelled it.

“Perfect” she said with a proud smile, leaning back in her chair.

You’d packed the suitcase well enough that Aemond wouldn’t see it even if he opened it by accident.

When it was time to load up the car for the flight to Sunspear, staying in a hotel overnight before the finals tomorrow, there was a finality to it that widened the pit in your chest. Helaena had barely had you out of her arms, intent on hugging every last bit out of you so that she could savour the feeling.

“We’ll all be watching the match tomorrow” she smiled, “try not to get into too much trouble before then”

As much as you’re happy that she and her family will be there, as your manager, he will too.

Aemond had pre-warned you about that.

But to be honest, you were expecting it.

“You know me, can’t keep out of it it seems” you smile back at her, hand slipping out of hers as you move onto Alicent, who stands straight, pink lips pressed together, like one touch and she’ll just crumble into tears.

Alicent nods, picking at the top of her turtleneck, “It was so nice to have you here, sweet girl. You are welcome back whenever you like” she manages, her voice wavering with emotion.

Smiling gratefully, nothing else need be said when Alicent opens her arms to pull you into a hug, as if you were her own. She smells like expensive perfume, probably YLS, as you’d often seen the bottle poking out of her bag. At first, when you met, you found the scent overpowering, and somewhat tart. But now, as the perfume enveloped you in a warm, motherly hug, it was entirely comforting. And your heart strained in your chest, knowing that it may be a while before you get to come back.

Your face pulls into a smile as Alicent then moves onto her son, bringing a comically tall Aemond in comparison into a warm embrace. No person is more surprised than you when Aegon walks over, trying to hide how nice he’s being with humour.

“Come in. Bring it in then”

You laugh through your nose, giving him a quick hug.

“Alright, that’s enough”

You shrug, smirking, “Fine, you smell anyway”

“Ouch, I’m so fucking wounded”

You pick up your bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

“I’ll be watching as well. Can’t wait to see what happens” Aegon winks.

You turn awake, feigning ignorance, “Dunno what you mean”

You fought the urge to tear up as you looked in the mirror, watching the three of them wave you away. With lips pressed together to force a smile to your face, strained with emotion, you spare them a wave back, bidding the large Targaryen House goodbye.

Once past the security gates a deep exhale exits your lungs, and Aemond’s hand wraps around your knee, stealing your attention.

You smile at him, giving a soft nod, “I’m alright”

Aemond laughs through his nose, “You’re acting like you’ll never go back” he chuckles, “I know Mum would be very offended if you didn’t”

Smiling, you know it’s probably true. That they would like you back as often as possible, no matter the outcome of the finals.

Aemond scrolls through his phone, biting the inside of his cheek, “Applications are closing soon” he muses, almost so quietly you don’t hear him unless you’re leaning close.

“For what?”

He clicks his phone off, shoving it into his sweatpants pocket, “For the new academic year” he replied anxiously.

“Philosophy and History right?” you smile, putting your hand on his to calm him, “You’ll love it, Aemond”

“I know, it’s just-” he adds, “I don’t know if I’ll be good at the whole academic side of it. It’s one thing to be interested-”

“You’ll do great because you’re interested in it” you smile, “besides there’ll be plenty of workshops on essay writing and such”

He sighs, like the idea of doing all of that is just so overwhelming right now. Not knowing what to expect, has his whole body tense.

“Finals first. Then I’ll apply” he states, turning to flash you a small, Aemond-smile. One you return with warmth.

“I’ll help you with your Personal Statement”

He laughs, “Then I’ll never get in” he jokes, making you swat his arm playfully.

It was a couple of hours on a plane to Sunspear, and with the assistance of the private jet supplied by Hightower Management, it was a simple process. The car even pulled up right next to it, allowing you both to largely avoid the media who stood behind the chain-link fence, trying to get a word or a photo from the mysterious couple.

You’d barely looked at the news. But every now and then, a notification would inevitably pop up on your phone, about your outburst and subsequent removal from the Targaryen House. Frustration boiled in your veins.

That wasn’t true.

But then again, not a lot they wrote about was true.

It happened so often, each time affected you less and less, and the quicker it was to push that aside.

An ‘unnamed insider’ had also offered their opinion.

‘There was an altercation with the Chairman of Hightower Management, in what I understand was a lapse of morals’.

You had laughed when you read it.

And so did Aemond.

Alys Rivers.

Still trying to dig her claws in, desperate for even a slither of that limelight. Of Aemond’s attention.

She wouldn’t fucking get it. No fucking way.

Aemond had joked that you’d beat her in a fist fight if need be. And you didn’t doubt it. In fact, the mental image somewhat amused you.

You looked up from your phone, the hum of the incessant jet engine vibrated through the seats. Arryk was fast asleep in the front of the jet, slumped back in his seat, with his hands clasped on his chest. His suit, inevitably crumpled with the awkward sleeping position he found himself in.

Aemond was seated next to you, earphones in, leaning back to only appear as if he were dozing.

You bite your lip, looking back down the aisle and then to Aemond.

He cracks open his eye as you stand up from your seat, a suspicious look rakes over you as you pull the jumper you were wearing over your head and huffing it onto the seat.

“Where are you going?” he asks gruffly, to which the only thing you can do is smile, seeing the way his gaze absorbs the image of what you’re wearing stuck tight to your skin.

Knowing he fucking hates it.

Hates it.

You roll your eyes.

“The toilet?” you reply sarcastically.

Gods, you know you’re pushing your luck but you just can’t help it.

You can practically feel the irritation radiating off Aemond. His lips part to say something but you’re gone with a smirk on your face before he can say anything. His harsh, determined gaze bores into the back of your head, burning a bright hole through it. You sway your hips as you walk down the aisle to the bathroom, closing the door, but not locking it.

10 seconds.

That’s how long you give it.

You pretend to wash your hands, looking in the mirror and smoothing your palms over the ponytail that sits semi-loosely at the back of your head.

5, 4, 3…

The door opens quickly and with a click it’s shut again, but this time Aemond slides the lock across. He had to duck to get into the cramped bathroom, and now with two people inside, it feels utterly stifling.

You have to bite back a smile that you’d guessed him so spot on. It hadn’t even been ten seconds. And here he stood, putting on a stoic, blank face, as if he had no intention of doing anything at all.

Your lips part to speak, but your throat is instead met with pressure, his palm flush to it and his fingers around the sides as he pushes you further into the bathroom.

“You want to get fucked?” he suggests in a dark, husky voice, the muscles in his arm tensing and untensing as his control begins to wane, “Hm?”

You can see the way he expects you to respond, but as his fingers press on the sides of your neck, it only serves to make your mind swirl with want, seeing how frustrated he is. Nothing seems to want to come out of your mouth, shock pleasantly blocking your throat.

“Think I didn’t see that? The way you rolled your eyes? Acting like a little slut?”

You swallow under his hand, his words sending a bolt of arousal straight between your legs, throbbing with desire. The way your cheeks burn makes it clear to him what you really want, coupled with the tremble that has now managed to worm its way up your legs.

In a smooth moment, your thighs hit the counter in front of the mirror, his arm now reaching widely around you to hold your head up to see his expression in the mirror. You shiver at the sensation of his hair on your skin, his nose dragging up the side of your neck, his breath eventually hot on the shell of your ear.

“You just want it, don’t you?” he grunts, pressing his now noticeable erection against your backside, his hips moving torturously slow, as if to make you wait, to tease you.

Pride rings in your body at the way he’s just so easily fallen apart the way you predicted.

“No” you tease, biting back a smile which he sees in the mirror.

His mouth drawn tightly into a line, not revealing at all what he’s thinking.

Aemond’s large hands go to your leggings, tearing them down harshly like he can’t get a good grip on them. The speed, the sheer neediness of the gesture, has arousal pooling where you need him most and your skin prickling with desire.

“We’ll see about that”

You have to spread your hands on the counter to keep yourself up as Aemond tugs your leggings down just enough and bends you over, exposing you just enough that the cool air against your core makes you shiver.

“No” he gruffs, wrapping your hair around his knuckles and tugging back to make you look in the mirror at him, “You’re going to watch”

You barely have time to think about his threat before you feel the fat head of his cock kiss your folds, pushing forward, Aemond moans breathily as he looks down to watch you take the entirety of him, squeezing his length tightly.

It feels like the air is being constantly pushed from your lungs, he doesn’t even give a moment of reprieve, one hand tugging your hair and the other kneading the fleshy globe of your ass to spread you open for him to see. His cock pistons so quickly and with such a lewd sound that for a moment, it makes you embarrassed that Arryk might actually hear from the front of the plane.

“Keep your eyes open, princess” she breathes, leaning over your neck and giving a harsh tug to remind you. You whimper as his teeth graze over your skin, combined with the way he bullies that sensitive spot inside you in this position, it all feels very too much.

“Just my little fucktoy aren’t you, hm?” he grunts against your ear. And without even thinking you nod quickly, not trusting yourself to speak, your eyes dragging down to watch the ceaseless rocking of his hips slapping against you.

He delivers a hard slap to your ass, “Say it”.

“ - yes, I am - I am -”

Aemond groans, burying himself as deep as he can inside you with each devastating thrust, “Yeah, that’s right -”

You gasp loudly, eyes slipping shut as his hand makes his way to your front, his thumb drawing harsh circles against your clit. It’s more pressure than you anticipated to such a sensitive area, and it has your body pushing back to meet his, desperate.

“ - fuck, Aemond -”

“ - not my name, princess-”

Just when you’re about to lose it, he ceases his movements to your clit and slows his pace dramatically and he chuckles darkly when you whine with annoyance.

“If you want to cum, I want to hear it-”

You can’t help but feel irritated. You are so, so close. It’s unfair.

“Come on, you can do it, baby-”

With a strained, annoyed tone, “-fuck, daddy please - I’m so close-”

You feel him grin against your neck, “better”

Nothing feels more overwhelming than when he picks up the pace again, blood feeling as if it’s on fire as it hums around your body, right to your little bundle of nerves that Aemond hasn’t left alone.

“-that’s it, cum around my cock, princess-”

And you do.

Hard.

So much so that Aemond has to put his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. Especially when his pace never falters, and he fucks you through your orgasm with the same vigour. Aemond moans as your walls flutter around him, squeezing his length tightly.

He pulls out, fisting his length quickly in his fist, a shuddered groan falling from his glorious lips as his warm cum coats your bare pussy. It’s near-pornographic, the way it feels to be covered by him, and even more so when he smears his cum over your slit with the head of his cock.

You smile tiredly, seeing that this little act is something that Aemond enjoys doing often.

Perhaps it's his way of reminding you you're his.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect-” he praises, “-baby you’ve made such a mess- come on, be a good girl-”

You’re near breathless as he pushes you to your knees in front of him, covering your lips with the cum that glazes his cock before plunging into your mouth. You let your jaw relax as Aemond makes the slow, lazy pace, using your mouth to clean the aftermath off his length.

You moan around him, the taste of him salty and heavy on your tongue.

“That’s it - you like me using your mouth, don’t you-”

You make a noise of confirmation as he continues to use you, making his head tip back at the vibrations stimulating his oversensitive cock.

He pulls you off by your hair, looking down at you reverently, using his thumb to swipe whatever was left on your lips back into your mouth.

As your eyes meet, both of you light up in a smile.

"Seven fucking Hells, what am I going to do with you" he smiles lovingly.

The Dornish heat was nothing compared to that little bathroom.

The air was crisp as you exited the plane, a dull, but satisfied ache between your thighs. In fact, Arryk had looked at you both with some level of barely-contained suspicion when you came out the bathroom on the flight, and you’d flushed bright red when he asked if you were alright, and swatted Aemond when he made no attempt to hide his smugness and laughed out loud.

The hotel was lavish, and entirely different in style from the hotels you were used to on the tour. The floors were marble, the walls largely made of stone, with bright and vibrant colours decorating the tall ceilings and walls.

Even people’s fashion was different. Flowy fabrics of silk and light linens, probably due to the intense heat, which was already making it difficult to concentrate.

You gave Aemond a look when the receptionist gave you one key.

As if being in on an inside joke of sorts.

The last time you were forced to share one room, it was a very different circumstance.

The room was spacious and utterly luxurious, but you’d expect nothing less from the Martells.

The bed was enclosed with panels of delicate details surrounding it, along with silks of various vibrancies to lift it. The floor was marble, and a nice cooling sensation in comparison to the stifling air.

And as Aemond snaked his arms around your waist as you looked out onto the balcony at the lavish gardens, leaning down to bite at your neck softly, your eyes slipped shut.

“Aemond the finals are tomorrow, we have to practi-”

“And I intend to” he whispered back, kissing higher and higher on your neck, while one of his hands sank lower and lower, til they were beneath the waistband of your leggings.

“It’s still early, Princess” he mused.

You had both christened the bed that afternoon, and later on, any available flat surface Aemond could find, he would do things that would make even Aegon blush.

Unlike the other hotels, there was only one ice rink in Sunspear, and it would be the one you’d be using tomorrow to compete against the Martells. It was a bit annoying having to book in a spot to go over the routine, and you and Aemond had already practised beyond measure, but it was still nice to get a few more sessions in before the big day.

Surprisingly, you felt okay, and Aemond was the nervous one. Even though realistically, there was little outcome for Aemond, whether you won or not.

You sigh, the cool air of the rink hitting your skin, “At least it’s nice and cool in here”

Huffing your bag onto the floor, you look behind at him when he doesn’t reply.

Aemond, with a stoic expression, only gestured with his head in the direction of the stands.

Larys Strong sits there, his cane in hand.

His head is angled down, so that he’s looking over the bridge of his brow, his darkened eyes flitting between you and Aemond from where he’s seated in the middle of the rows of seats, which tomorrow, would be filled with people.

Immediately, irritation gnaws at your insides. And the only saving grace is Aemond’s careful hand on your arm, grounding you.

You make no effort to go to him.

He will come to you if he wants to speak.

It almost pleases you that it takes him so long to stand and step down to the ice rink, so that it gives you more time to think of what to say. You go to move away to speak to him, but Aemond’s fingers tighten, holding you close to him.

He wanted to stay with you.

“Aemond” Larys greeted first, leaning on his cane as he stopped before you both, smirking as he searched both of your faces.

Aemond didn’t respond.

“What do you want?” you ask, getting swiftly to the point, as you knew he wouldn’t.

Larys bowed his head, as if briefly embarrassed and wondering what to say, his slick wavy brown hair not moving around his shoulders.

“I am here for the finals-”

“That’s not what I asked” you added quickly, “to the point, please”

You didn’t see the barely-contained smirk that Aemond was struggling to keep at bay behind you. It turned out, he rather liked to see you angry.

Larys floundered noticeably.

“You had seen my emails?”

“I had”

Larys raised an eyebrow, “and it was insufficient?”

Biting your lip, you couldn’t hide your contempt, “You expected me to go to the press?”

“I thought that was the plan”

“There was no plan. Nor an exchange of terms between you and I. I sought your help because I thought you had information on my employment, and you did. There is nothing more to say”

He goes quiet for a moment, before lifting his signature smirk to his face.

“I see the Ice Princess has some fire in her”

Aemond’s grip tightens, as if he’s ready to explode at any moment.

“I do hope Floris is alright” he muses, taking a short step forward, “it’d be a shame for such a capable skater to retire so soon into her career”

Your eyebrows furrow.

Was that a fucking threat?

Larys smirks slightly, appearing to have hit the nerve he was after.

"Good luck with the finals"

"Watch it" Aemond responds, keeping a firm grip on your arm. Now because he's afraid you might actually hurt him.

Larys laughs through his nose.

Fuck you.

You and Aemond watch with bated breath as Larys leaves slowly, the clang of the double doors rattling behind him.

Aemond let's out a breath.

"Should I be watching where I put my skates now?" You ask him, half joking. But it earns a breathy laugh nonetheless.

"You say that. Maybe you should"

Practice goes as expected.

The routine is intricate, perhaps the most technical so far, but in a nice way. Working with Aemond now, when everything had been addressed was nice.

Gods it was so nice.

It almost made you sad that he wanted to retire after the finals.

He was so graceful. For such a tall guy, lined with lean muscle, he had such elegance on the ice. Wasn't afraid to show off, which the judges would no doubt love.

The song?

Swan Lake. The Ending Song.

A bold choice of Otto's.

Was that a threat too? Perhaps?

It didn't bother you too much, as you'd found a perfect place within the song to do what you had planned for weeks.

And gods, it'd all be worth it to see his face.

It was all very surreal.

A flurry of texts crowded your screen on the morning of the finals.

Rhaenys.

Baela. Rhaena.

Floris.

El.

Even some of your family.

Estranged family.

You're certain you blocked their number.

You sigh, pulling the towel around yourself and walking out of the open wet room. Aemond is laid flat on his back on the bed, a damp cold cloth applied to the marred eye.

If you didn't know any better, he looked asleep.

"Still bothering you?" You ask.

He just makes a noise of confirmation. His eye not moving.

You rub his arm lovingly as you sit next to him.

His eye had been bothering him all night, so much so that embarrassingly (his words) he'd had to remove the glass eye he wore and slept without it to alleviate the pain.

He'd looked so vulnerable when he showed you.

As if you'd run away when you saw it.

But instead, your heart leapt. You were more lovey than usual after a little drink at the bar with Aemond after practice, and you'd pressed your lips to his scarred cheek. Lingering.

Little did you know, that his heart leapt as well.

And when you slept, moulded in each other's arms.

It felt like it was always meant to be this way.

It changed something.

"Do you want some painkillers?" You ask softly,

"I'm alright, just took some…waiting for them to kick in"

Patting his arm, you give him a reassuring smile, though he can't see it.

Making sure he's not looking, you sneak the outfit out of your suitcase and into your bag for later. Biting your lip, you try hard to contain the excitement in your veins. And nerves as well.

For a lot of things.

Ping!

You laugh through your nose.

Scrolling, you check the other messages you have.

You laugh at that too.

Gods she's such a boomer. It's kind of painful.

You shoot her a quick text back, clearing the texts from your family without replying.

Not like they deserve it anyway.

Everytime you see a text from them now, it only reminds you of why Otto hired you.

Bad circumstances.

Someone of low background.

Ugh fuck him.

Fuck. Him.

With a barge pole if needed.

Aemond huffs as he gets up, squinting and looking over at you, "ready to dance with the vipers?"

"Oh more than ready" you smile at him.

You're thankful you have your own dressing room at least. To get everything right without Aemond's curious eye constantly looking at you.

No time for quickies this time round.

You look at yourself in the mirror, hair all done into a ponytail with curls falling from it. Decorated with glitter hairspray and little pearls. Your outfit is black, as Otto had said it would be in his email. The corset is almost velvet like, with a slight v at the top (which made it difficult to initiate your plan, but you managed).  And the mesh skirt over the leotard sways like a cloud over your legs.

You steel yourself.

You can do this.

When you go out to the hallway, looking down to the ice rink, where the stands are entirely full with the echoed chatter of the audience, your skin immediately prickles with nerves.

You feel Aemond's hand on the small of your back, making heat crawl up your neck.

"Feeling okay?" He asks in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

You don't think you'll ever get over the feeling you get when you see him with his sapphire eye.

It literally takes your breath away.

But his scar looks reddened somewhat.

You furrow your brows, "Are you?" You ask, concerned, "your eye. It looks sor-"

"I'm fine" he says quickly.

I don't believe that.

You can see the way he's trying to be brave about it. His jaw tight and his good eye looking anywhere but you, as if he knows he'll be found out.

"Aemond we don't have to. If you're in pain-"

"No. I want to do this for you" he urges.

For you.

You swear for a moment your heart skips a beat, stilling in your chest as the rest of you gets warm.

Aemond can never be forced.

He's stubborn like that.

A Targaryen trait, you muse.

But you know deep down, he won't heed your warning. He's headstrong. Completely sure of his own opinion, rightly or wrongly.

There's something about it now though, which doesn't feel right.

"I'm alright, princess. Promise" he adds, taking one of your hands in his while he takes in your outfit.

"You look nice" he says, forcing a smile to his face. His hand goes over your sleeves to the clips at the top. He plays with them briefly, as if wondering what they are before you playfully slap his hand away.

"Off"

He gives you a look.

A suspicious one.

He knows you're up to something.

Then he smiles.

Again a forced one, but stubbornness will kill him first.

As you both walk towards the ice rink, journalists, media, the judges, the faces of the audience as well as the Martells all serve to wake your nerves.

You wave at Rhaenys in the crowd, Baela and Rhaena seated either side of her.

"There they are, the Ice Prince and Princess. Ready for the finals in their all black get up"

"They appear to be closer this time, speaking in hushed voices- oh! Was that a kiss I saw?"

"It was! Perhaps there is more to this mere partnership than meets the eye"

Aemond whispers to you, "up in the stands, to the right"

When you follow his eyeline, your face drops and you turn to avoid the cameras from getting a good look at your expression.

Otto Hightower sits there.

Alone.

Good.

He's looking down at you both, chin high but his gaze looking over his nose like you're shit at the bottom of his shoe. His hands are clasped in expectancy, clearly desiring a favourable outcome to the performance.

But at least now you know where he is, so you can see the look on his face.

The thought of it has an evil smirk rise to your face.

"Are we going first?" You ask.

Aemond nods.

Fuck. You hate going first.

And as if by magic-

"Aemond fucking Targaryen. The One-Eyed wonder!"

Qoren's voice has a tendency to travel. And right now, it's travelling through every nerve in you, jolting them awake. He walks over with a swagger, a slowness, clad entirely in bright mustard and wine tones, akin to his partner who is sat on the bench scrolling through her phone.

Aemond sighs, "Qoren" he greets flatly, rubbing his thumb against his temple on the marred side of his face.

"Just wanted to say good luck" Qoren smirks, nudging a curled wave out his face, "I'm certain you won't need it"

Cunt.

That's what you want to say.

Instead, you roll your eyes and take Aemond's hand leading him to the ice rink.

"Ignore him" you tell him, pulling of the blade guards and tossing them aside.

Aemond huffs a laugh, "Seven Hells, if he's in your bad books he's done for" he replies, joining you as you both go out onto the ice to do a few laps.

"Our Crownlands couple look ready and composed for a challenge today"

"And a challenge it will be. It's never easy going first, especially against the Martells. They'll have to work for it"

You skate next to him for a few warm-up laps, the heat rising again to your face as he takes your hand, giving his signature one sided smile.

Your heart flutters pleasantly.

In front of all these people?

He sees your reaction.

"I'm not going to hide anything anymore, princess" he says softly, "I've done it for far too long"

One part of you wants to cry with joy.

The other wants to drag him to the nearest dark corner.

So instead, you squeeze his hand. A good compromise.

As you skate to a halt in the middle, you mouth the words.

'I love you'

And your heart roars with delight.

He mouths it back.

"Our couple seem utterly smitten with each other"

"Their chemistry rivals the Martells, for sure!"

Taking a deep breath, you and Aemond nod to each other, getting in position to wait until the music starts.

It's quiet.

You could hear a pin drop.

His hand is warm.

The clarinets begin to play, the opening sequence of violins accompanying the music as you and Aemond begin the medium paced routine. The only sound you both can hear is the blades tearing through the ice, the rustle of your clothing against each other and the shallow breaths between each movement of the routine, moving swiftly hand in hand, twirling and feeling light and airy as Aemond lifts you effortlessly.

The music is almost frantic, the trumpets are getting so loud that they almost vibrate the ice beneath you. But you concentrate on the routine at hand, letting Aemond take your weight with each quick lift into the air, each synchronised motion perfectly executed.

“Quite a quick routine from the couple. Good choice of song and good technical ability so far”

“Yes, they really look like a proper team now, don’t they?”

As the music picks up momentum, you briefly glance at the stands mid-spin, smirking when you spot Otto’s eyes half closed, looking right at you. As if wondering what it is you are thinking.

Drums.

As Aemond moves in front of you for a split second, your hands lift to your shoulders, unpopping the buttons there.

No going back now.

Aemond looks over you in brief shock as the black is completely encompassed, a sheet of dark green falling over it like a curtain, replacing the beaded darkness with the bright forest colour he was so used to seeing his mother wear on her old performances.

It quickly changes to a barely-contained smile as the fabric laps at your thighs, the green mesh replacing the translucent black, right as the music hits its crescendo.

"Oh my-is that what I think it is!"

"Hightower Green looks very good on our Ice Princess!"

You don’t even have time to look at Otto.

The audience is a mix of clapping, awes and shouting of support. Never wavering for a moment.

Aemond continues the routine with a big, boyish smile plastered onto his face, performing the rest of the moves and lifts with a renewed vigour and passion that was not there before.

The rest of it seems to fly by, assisted by the smitten way you look at one another. Before you even know it, the music has died out. You and Aemond face each other, foreheads almost touching as the applause roars around you, several items like flowers and flags being thrown onto the ice around you.

It’s difficult to describe Aemond’s expression. Awe? Affection? Lust?

Love.

All you know is that you love it. And that all this was worth it.

You’re about to open your mouth, when his hands find each side of your face, his fingers holding the back of your head desperately, as he crashes his lips to yours.

In front of everyone.

In front of all of Westeros.

It feels exhilarating. Adrenaline boils the blood inside you, burning for him. And when you part, breathless after not only that, but the energy of the routine, all you can do is smile. Feeling so in love with him it’s honestly disgraceful.

Hand in hand, you bow to the audience, a massive grin plastered on your face. Rhaenys, Baela and Rhaena are all stood, clapping passionately. Larys is seated at the end of a particular row, both hands clasped on his cane, smirking beneath it, as if he just loves watching the drama unfold.

And then Otto.

You’re happy to find he looks absolutely livid.

That's right, you think. This is where my loyalties lie.

Aemond’s grip tightens on you as you give your bow to the judges. But it’s not a tight, comforting hold. Not one of victory, or love.

“Aemond?..” you ask, turning to him.

He’s breathing heavily, his other hand pressed to the scarred side of his face, his good eye blinking quickly as he turns to you.

Your face blanches, “Aemond, what’s wrong-”

“I’m fine, it’s just-ah fuck”

He nearly doubles over in pain, his hand pressed painfully to the left side of his face, the faintest bit of blood trickling between his fingers.

Panic rings through you, and with your hands on his sides, you guide him on the ice towards the edge, helping him sit, ignoring the muffled whispers and rumours that echo around the atrium, “let me see, Aemond..”

He shakes his head erratically, “No, no, just-I’m okay”

“Aemond you are not okay” you urge, watching the way his other eye waters from the pain, his face going pink as he encourages himself to take deep breaths.

“It appears he may have some sort of injury. We’re waiting on some updates from management”

“Who do you need me to call?” you ask him hurriedly,

“I don’t know-fucking-call Mum, please” he replies pitifully, bending over in searing, hot pain that radiates from his eye socket.

Spotting Arryk, you rush over and grab his phone that he throws, pulling it to your ear while rubbing Aemond’s shoulder.

“Aemond, take the sapphire out, it’s just going to hurt you more-”

“No, no, I can’t-” he shakes his head, panicked and scared.

“Aemond”

When his good eye meets you, he looks so vulnerable and unsure you almost regret your tone.

But you just want him to be okay.

Turning away, he dislodges the sapphire, his hand still covering his face, despite having the utmost trust in you, he still doesn’t want you to see it, all red and sore.

“Hello, Alicent? Yeah I think Aemond is having one of his neurological-fuck-I don’t know-episodes? I don’t know what to do?” you speak nervously into the phone.

“I know, I know, sweet girl. He needs to go to Urgent Care right away, and needs his glycerol injections, alright? Where’s my father?”

“I don’t know, I can’t see him!”

“He has Aemond’s health insurance card, okay, find him and get him to hospital as soon as you can. okay? Has he taken the sapphire out?”

“Yes, I made him”

“Good. Until he gets to hospital, just apply a warm compress and keep him calm, okay? You can do this”

You hang up quickly, looking around and spotting Otto as he paves his way through the crowd of people. Still rubbing Aemond’s shoulder, all notions of hating him are gone in favour of helping the quivering, vulnerable man in front of you, whining pitifully as his nerves are set aflame.

“Otto, he needs to go to a hospital. Do you have his health card?”

Stoically, he nods, his eyes ignoring you, “I do, Arryk will take us. Come on”

He assists Aemond to his feet, leading him to the exit with urgency.

The fire doors open and Aemond turns to you, “You have to stay”

“What? No! I’m coming with you!”

“One of us has to stay, we’ll get disqualified” he reasons, with a wavering voice.

“Aemond, I don’t care about-”

“Well I do. Stay” he urges.

You go quiet, staring at him in disbelief and also shock. And seeing it all over your face, how conflicted both of you are, he leans forward pressing a kiss to your forehead, his fingers stroking your hair lovingly.

“I’ll be fine, baby..” he adds softly, “Stay”

You watch him hurry out of the fire escape, and straight into the back of Arryk’s car with Otto. He’s so doubled over in pain, clutching the sapphire in one fist, that he barely has any time to look back at you standing there, the warm air making the mesh skirt lap at your legs.

You only meet his worried gaze at the last second.

A shuddered breath tumbles from your lips, the adrenaline and panic of the last few minutes just sinking in. You feel a bit helpless, unable to do anything for him as he’s driven to hospital.

“Hey” the soothing voice of Rhaenys at your side pulls you out, and you look at her with bleary eyes, “are you alright?”

You nod quickly, “Yeah, I think so..”

She guides you back inside, sitting at the sidelines, “Sit here, I’ll get you a drink”

You can’t relax. The room feels like it’s spinning.

“Just a little update. Aemond Targaryen has been rushed to hospital in what we believe is an episode of acute pain due to a long-standing condition”

“We’ll wish him all the best in hospital and hope it isn’t anything too serious”

Rhaenys gives you a warm cup of coffee, but you can’t drink it, you’re too on edge already. And if any caffeine is pumped into your already hammering heart, you think it might explode.

You don’t even concentrate on the performance the Martells are doing, eyes nowhere near the scoreboard. Your leg bounces nervously, fully aware that you are probably being scrutinised endlessly by the media, with hundreds of articles already written about you.

Their orange and red outfits dance in your periphery. Spins, twists, lifts. Things that right now, don’t mean an awful lot to you. All you can think about is when Aemond turned to you, blood trickling between his fingers, face twisted in pain.

“Hey…”

You don’t even realise you’ve zoned out until Rhaenys taps your arm excitedly.

Shaking your head, you look around, everyone’s stood. Smiling. Clapping. The Martells are lazily skating their way to their end of the rink, talking with their manager, with bowed heads.

“Wha?..” you reply, completely dazed, “what’s happened?..”

“Qoren’s partner fucked her landing. They’re a whole 10 points short on the technical. Not including the penalty they’re likely to get” she replies, leaning closely to whisper it, a victorious smirk on her face.

Oh shit.

Your eyes meet the scoreboard, watching as the rest of the scores come in.

With the penalty, they’re tragically low. But your breath feels hot in your throat still.

This was always the part you hated.

Rhaenys’ ring-clad hand grips yours tightly.

The crowd's cheer, applause and shouts of support are nothing compared to the roaring in your ears.

"We won"

Entirely shocked beyond words and comprehension, Rhaenys pulls you into a hug, jumping up and down excitedly. Your face is blanched with shock, eyes still, and you realise you must look a total idiot to everyone else. The reality of the situation still not entirely dawning on you.

"The Crownlands have done it. The Championship title is theirs!"

"Shame our Ice Prince cannot be there to receive his trophy"

"Go! Go!" Rhaenys urges, pushing you by your shoulders to the stands where the judges are all grinning, holding the trophy, medals and large bouquet of gloriously colourful flowers.

It's a blurred slew of 'well done' and 'congratulations'.

The Martells, though devastated, nod in your direction in congratulations. And you barely hear it, but Qoren even seems to offer some sort of kind words for Aemond's condition.

Still doesn't make him less of a twat.

The trophy, long and golden, is heavy in your hands, rested against your shoulder, with the flowers pushed into your other, shoulders sagging with the weight of two medals around your neck.

Aemond.

With a few quick thank yous and bows of your head, your panicked, searching eyes find Rhaenys, who already has her car keys and your jacket in her grip.

"Come on" she utters, "quickly"

It feels utterly silly to still be wearing the green outfit for the competition while riding in the passenger seat of Rhaenys' Mercedes. But at least your black jacket provides some semblance of normality. You didn't even have time to take the medals off.

You did however, change your shoes, shucking your skates off in the footwell of her car.

She's driving well over the speed limit. But hey, most of Sunspear are as well. Through several junctions, she even graces some of the locals with her middle finger.

If you weren't so taut with nerves, it'd make you laugh.

The tyres screech loudly as she pulls into the hospital car park, the trophy nestled between your legs nearly making you trip over yourself as you hurl yourself out the car door.

Those tell-tale clicks of camera shutters and the echo of incessant questions are instantly upon you.

With the trophy loosely in one hand, all you can do is run to the entrance of the hospital, where the media are not allowed.

This time, they part a path for you.

The security guards at the front who have been fending them off, see your outfit, medals and trophy and immediately slip the door open, "Room 47"

You nod in thanks, your breath feeling like blood in your throat from the effort of running so fast and so suddenly. The lights inside the hospital hallways are stark, clinical, and far too bright. Your trainers thud against the linoleum floor, eyes desperately searching for the numbers on the rooms.

"25...24...shit, I'm going the wrong way-"

Aemond.

It doesn't help in the slightest that the hospital is a complete maze. You probably look a complete mess, pink in the face, hair all mussed up from running, but it's the last thing on your mind.

At the end of the hallway, you spot Otto, chatting with a dark-haired man in a white coat. Engaged in conversation, only looking up when the tide of loud footsteps comes closer to them.

You don't care about that either.

Otto tries to reach out to stop you from going in, but you're too fast, fiddling with the handle of the door before he has a chance to pull you back.

It's quiet. Your hurried breathing sounds so loud in your chest.

The door slams into the wall and Aemond looks up, seated sideways on the hospital bed. His cheeks are pink, from the remnants of pain that still linger, but he looks calmer, relaxed, with his brows unfrowned and sitting comfortably on his forehead. His hair, that was so neatly styled for the competition in his signature bun is somewhat curled from the sweat on his forehead and back of his neck.

A surgical patch is taped over his left eye.

His lips twitch when he sees you there, his right eye gleaming with affection, clearly out of breath, having ran the entire length of the hospital to get to him.

"Hey Princess..." he says softly, in a way that never fails to make your heart lurch into your throat.

You almost cry with relief that he's alright.

He licks his dry lips, "Did we do it?..."

With a relieved smile, a lump forming in your throat with emotion, you nod quickly, "Yeah...yeah we did..."

The breath is expelled from your lungs near-painfully when you surge towards each other, throwing your arms around one another, the trophy propped on the floor where you were previously stood.

He feels warm, with his hands around you like this, his heart thrumming fast in his chest. Your body sags against him.

He feels like home.

You hear him inhale, the familiar scent of you immediately having a calming effect on his body, his hand raising to brush your hair from your face as his palms cup either side of it, pressing a light feather-like kiss to your forehead.

His thumb wipes your undereye of moisture. But his smile says it all, his eyes crinkling, briefly irritating the spot where he's obviously had his glycerol injections not a moment before.

"I never doubted you" he utters quietly, "...not for a second"

You give a watery laugh. Hardly recognising this Aemond compared to the one you first met.

Competitions.

Scores.

Drama.

It all means fucking nothing.

The future. Happiness. It's all right here.

"Aemond Targaryen, don't ever scare me like that again..." you smile at him, half-joking, fingers tenderly stroking along his jawline, prickles of regrowth rubbing comfortingly along your skin.

He huffs a laugh through his nose, his mouth opening slightly as he smiles.

"No promises, princess"

And finally, with a pleased little muffled sound crawling up your throat, his tender, full lips descend onto yours, sealing whatever is felt between you right now and all that has happened before.

It doesn't even need to be said. Those three little words.

Because they're just not enough.

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[lovelykhaleesiii]

Could you do the reader being insecure after giving birth (it’s been a few months) and Aemond reassures her before they have sex

thank you for the request, this is such a sweet idea 💛

definitely know Aemond would be the patient and tender type. He won’t rush you but he’ll notice that you haven’t been yourself around him like you used to, and that concerns him. When he gets the truth out of you, he’s hurt but he wants to make sure you know that he doesn’t think any less of you.

hope this is okay x

Divine Beauty

PAIRING: Dad!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,519.

WARNINGS: mentions of childbirth, pregnancy + side effects, body insecurity, body shaming, swearing, fluff.

Childbirth was proof of miracles, an honourable right for most women, and one that you could proudly say you accomplished. It was not easy, to say the least. The labour was long, the pain unbearable and yet all the torment vanquished when you heard the first cries of your newborn daughter, cradling her tiny self in your arms provided a soothing warmth like no other.

And yet, nothing could neither amount to the sentimental sight of your beloved husband meeting and holding his newborn daughter. How tiny and nestled she looked, asleep in his strong arms. Your intuition convinced you, that your little one knew her father's touch instantly, and was comforted of how well protected she would be by his side. An understatement, Aemond was obsessed with her, refusing to let anyone else besides yourself and his mother, Queen Alicent, to hold the child.

From the exact moment he knew of your pregnancy, you could recall it as though it only happened yesterday, he was eagerly committed to the idea of fatherhood. If he was nervous, he showed no ill signs nor flaws, he was determined to be a great father, unlike his own, having only known neglect. Nonetheless, Aemond took measures to ensure your pregnancy was smooth and healthy, regardless of the symptoms, he wanted to minimise the risks as much as he possibly could. He saw to it, that you had your own reliable maester at hand, if necessary, he ensured that you were well rested, and that your maids attended to your every needs, at times he often would attend them himself. He especially grew a love to bathing you himself, watching overtime how your belly swelled with his child, and being so gentle with your changing body. And during this crucial time, you knew it was inevitable that your body would change, motherhood was an honour and you would do it again, however, it did not stop the self-loathing.

Terrible thoughts ruptured your mind, as you took long-hard stares at your bare reflection in the mirror. Examining every inch and crevice of your naked body, certain parts of your lower abdomen and back, now covered in faint pink stripes, the prominent dimples embedded in the skin of your thighs. Where your belly once protruded where the babe had grown, now deflated yet sagged just over your waist line. Now that you were lactating, your breasts had enlarged and felt grossly swollen, you'd never felt so 'big'. You felt ashamed that three months had passed and yet you remained this way.

During your pregnancy, Aemond ensured that you maintained a well-rounded appetite. The maester often reminded you both that you were with child, and it was quite normal to eat a larger quantity than what you were used to prior, since your cravings and appetite were upturned. Aemond was certain for you to remain well-nourished, for the maester often alarmed Aemond with discussions of risks of illnesses and deficits if the mother were to expose herself to malnourishment, for both you and the babe. Aemond wouldn't bear the thought, if he could prevent it, he would see to it himself.

Nonetheless, you felt that his good intentions and harmless actions came back for a nasty bite.

You had been avoiding Aemond's touch and longing stares, refusing to get undressed or naked in his presence, out of "modesty." He found it amusing, how you would shriek away from him, vexing him that you had only just given birth to his babe, let alone have another one anytime soon. He had acknowledged that you were still sensitive and in the process of healing from the gruelling birth. He did not wish to force himself onto you until you were capable of taking him again. The maester recommended at least a month, for you to regain your strength, before trying to conceive. You found yourself, sneaking in baths when he was out training or running errands for the day, and often were in bed before he'd return. He did not think much of it until now. He noticed how little you ate, and how you would layer your clothes even on sweltering, hot summer's day. And the whole ordeal of you not allowing him to touch your body, started to concern him.

It seemed enough was enough, for the one-eyed Prince, for he had returned much earlier than anticipated, as he cancelled his training practice that evening, only to 'ambush' you in the confines of your shared chambers.

"You've been avoiding me, ābrazȳrys [wife]," He exclaimed in a stern tone. He'd just managed to catch you perfectly, moments before you were to undress for a bath the maids had just prepared for you.

"Aemond-"

"Do not toy with me Y/N. I see the way my touch makes you feel, like I frighten you now... Do I?" You could sense the tinge of guilt in his soft voice. He takes slow steps towards you, only to stop himself hesitantly, maintaining a small distance, as though not to scare you away.

You couldn't help but sigh, you'd been so caught up in your own scrambled thoughts that you hadn't realised the effect it was having on Aemond. A half-hearted smile appearing on your face, as you closed the distance with your husband, reaching for his rough hand as you held it tightly in yours.

"Of course not, Aemond. You could never frighten me away. I love you so very much, it-it's just-"

The words struggling to leave your lips, as Aemond watched you carefully, his eye lingering over your mouth as he desperately awaited for your response. He gently squeezes your hand, as encouragement before you shamefully pull away from him, releasing his grip on you.

"I-I'm not the same as I was before, Aemond. I need you to know this. I don't think I can ever be, I mean my body. It's-It's...

"Horrendous."

As you left his side, to seat yourself down over the edge of the bed, you noticed the sting in Aemond's face, as he winced when you said the word. Horrendous. Instinctively, your hands touching your cheeks cautiously as you felt flustered and ashamed, hot tears treacle down before hastily wiping them away. You couldn't even find the courage to look Aemond in the eye, for his reaction would be to unbearable once the realisation hits him of how awful you look now.

Although, your husband wasted no second more, kneeling down below you, as he gently pulls your hands away from your face, his thumb stroking the tear trails remnant behind.

"Y/N, issa jorrāelagon [my love]," He softly whispers, the hurt in his voice evidence, as he looks up at you worryingly.

"Look at me-" He urged you, his tone now deep and commanding, his hand lightly nudging your face forward, as your eyes finally meet.

"You can never think of me to be so vile. I would never nor could I ever think of you in such an ill manner. You have given me the greatest gift a man could ask for. Do you think of me so little?"

His thumb had been stroking your cheeks dry, the seriousness in his face disappearing, as he glimpses a small, relieved smile on your face.

"I-I just hate the way I look now, and I would hate to bring shame to you with how others might think of me-"

A defeated sigh, escapes Aemond's lips, as his long fingers begin to comb through your hair. One hand leaving your face, to hold your shaky grip.

"I need you to listen when I tell you this. I do not give a fuck about anyone else may even dare to think. Only you and the little angel you have given me, that's all that matters. I refuse to let you think I could ever belittle you like that, you are my wife... Issa vys [my world]."

Almost on cue, your little daughter begins to cry in her crib, and just as your maternal instinct had kicked in to race to her side, Aemond denies you the chance.

"Y/N, I need you to understand me on this."

You give Aemond a slow, reassuring nod, squeezing his hands once more, as he plants a soft, moist kiss on your forehead. Your daughter's cries growing louder in the background, Aemond urges you to continue with your bath, as he attends to the unsettled newborn babe in her little crib.

Ever so carefully lifting her up in his arms, the moment she's comfortably nestled in, the cries begin to subside to small, little coos.

"Looks like she just needed her father's magic touch," You chuckle, as you begin to undress yourself slowly. Aemond kept his focus on you, as he made himself comfortable in a chair he pulled for himself, positioning it by the bathtub.

His eyes lingered over your body, and yet not a sight of disgust on his face. Each layer you removed, you felt your confidence grow.

"Hmm-" He lowly growls, an intense lust prominent in his eye.

"Issa gevie ābrazȳrys [My beautiful wife], divine beauty."

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfic requests #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen imagine requests #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic

[russellsppttemplates]

here to request more daniel !! literally just anything with his partner being pregnant x

Cw: reader's pregnant, mentions possibility of body insecurities

"Daddy", Sophia called Daniel as he straightened the blanket at the end of her bed, "yes, honey?", he called back. "Mummy is asking for you", she said as she walked back to your bedroom with him, letting him in first as she sat on the bed.

"What's wrong, love? Do you need anything?", Daniel asked before he even looked at you, "Oh, Y/N", he giggled as he saw you struggle to take out the shirt you had on, "let me help you", he added.

Pulling the fabric away from you and only stretching a few stitches, the three of you giggled as you were left in your bra, "I wanted to help mummy, but for that I'd have to get on the bed and she didn't want me to fall off", she explained.

"It fit well when I put it on this morning! I don't know why it was so hard to take off", you blushed, kissing Daniel's jaw as a thank you before walking to your drawer of bikinis, grabbing the one you would be the most likely to fit in ao you could join your family outside, "your parents, your sister and the kids should be arriving soon, so I'm going to get dressed - I think I can do it on my own now - and then I can help downstairs, too", you smiled, "I'm going to put mine on, too!", Sophia said as she walked to her bedroom.

Daniel took the opportunity to hug you as you tied the straps on your hips by the mirror, "you're so gorgeous", he whispered on your ear as his hands rubbed your baby bump, "I'm in awe of you, every single day", he kissed your neck.

"What's with you? Don't get me wrong, I love all of this, and you do it quite often", you reasoned, "I don't ever want you to doubt about your beauty and your worth", he looked straight into your eyes.

"It's not the first time, you know? This time is different. I know how things work, I know how it is. I'm also aware my body is incredible because, for the second time, it's growing and keeping our baby girl safe and healthy", you smiled. "That's what I like to hear", he smiled back, kissing you a couple of times before he changed into his shorts.

"You look very, very handsome, mister", you complimented, kissing his chest as he didn't bother to put on a shirt, walking into the hallway as Sophia followed you to the garden, leaving her towell by the pool as you heard cars arriving.

"Hello everyone, come on in, come on in!", you said as they greeted you, the bump getting a few consented touches from the kids and your mother in-law, "you're glowing, Y/N", Grace said as she left her things by the sun loungers.

Taking off the cover up you were wearing and folding it in your lounger, everyone's eyes travelled to your uncovered bump as you walked to the pool steps, carefully getting in so your body could get used to the water temperature, Daniel following you inside too.

"Help me float, please", you held your husband's hand, getting ready to let yourself fall on your back and taking his support to do so while you heard Sophia play with her cousins on the grass, not missing your sister in-law telling them to wait a little to get tin the pool ao you could relax, remembering to thank her later.

After a few moments of finding your balance, your bump and chest rose up, poking out of the water while you floated, "does that feel nice, love?", Daniel asked as he made sure you were fine and comfortable.

"She's kicking", you mumbled, Daniel's hands coming right up to feel the movements, "she loves swimming, too! If she's anything life Sophia, she's going to be a little fish, always wanting to spend her time swimming", you said, looking up at him as he made sure you didn't hit the walls, "still feels so surreal", he whispered, "and soon enough she'll join us", you added, "little Alice is going to join us soon".

(Thank you for your submission ✨️)

#daniel ricciardo blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

[milfsloverblog]

Green-Eyed Monster (NSFW)

Jane Murdstone x fem!reader

A/N: This is a request that I got a long while ago, something about Jane and some drama/smut. I apologise to whoever sent the request, I can’t find it in my inbox anymore. I started writing this fic so long ago, all the wips in my notes cheered when I typed in the last word. As always, Jane is the reddest redflag. Enjoy!<3

AO3 link in title

You loved Alice, you loved the way she always found a way to make you laugh. When she joined the staff at the Murdstone mansion, you immediately knew you two would be good friends.

Oh yes, you loved Alice. But not like you loved your Lady. Not like you loved Jane.

Loving Jane was like sitting in the sun after a long day of hard work. It warmed your heart and soul, making you feel incredibly alive.

Jane, on the other hand, had thought of a thousand ways to get rid of Alice. Going from simply firing her and making sure she’d never find work again all the way to wrapping her strong hands around the maid’s frail neck and squeezing until it snapped.

She would never, of course. But she was thinking about it. The thought of Alice being overly friendly and so close to you made it really hard for Jane to work through her feelings of homicidal rage.

It wasn’t fair. It was not fair that this silly little thing was allowed to spend her days by your side, making you laugh at her idiotic jokes while Jane could only spend a couple of hours with you late at night when the whole household was already asleep.

“She is being overly friendly to you, and I do not like it.” Jane groaned as you pulled the pins out of her hair.

“There is nothing more than friendship between Alice and me, Jane, you know that.” You reassured your lover, placing a soft kiss on her freckled shoulder.

“To you, perhaps! I see the way she is always trying to touch you, squeezing your shoulder as she walks by or holding onto your arm when she delivers one of her idiotic jokes. Has she never been told that we must not touch what is not ours?” The tall woman huffed, getting more agitated by the second. That silly little maid gave her murderous thoughts.

“I don’t think Alice sees me as anything more than a good friend, and even if she does…I’m yours.” You whispered, brushing your fingers through Jane’s raven locks and gently massaging her scalp.

Jane’s shoulders visibly relaxed and you pushed a soft smile, locking eyes with your lover in the mirror.

“I’m afraid I can not stay with you tonight, Jane. Mister Murdstone has asked me to be up at sunrise to run some errands, and I could use the sleep.” You gave the tall woman an apologetic smile, feeling her shoulders tense once more. You would have loved to spend the night with Jane but you barely got any sleep when you did, the two of you usually too busy making love to each other.

“Right.” She spat out, her lips pressed in a thin line. “Go back to the servant’s quarter, I bet you are craving to get back to your Alice.”

“Jane,” You tutted. “You are being rude, my love. There is nothing I want more than to spend the night in your arms, but I can’t. Not tonight.”

Jane huffed loudly, crossing her arms against her chest and refusing to look at you.

“Fine, sulk if you want.” You kissed the top of the woman’s head and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Sleep well, Jane.” You said, taking a last look at her reflection in the mirror before leaving the bedroom.

But Jane didn’t sleep well. She barely slept at all, her mind filled with thoughts of Alice’s hands on your body. It was unbearable, so much so that Jane came up with a plan. She needed that stupid girl to understand that you were hers, and she would make sure of it.

-

You had not expected Mister Murdstone’s errands to be taking so long to run. You had been gone from the house since sunrise and only came back around tea time, letting a sigh of relief out as you placed the heavy baskets you were carrying down. Food, clothing, newspapers, it was as if Edward Murdstone had decided that everything that could be fetched from town needed to be fetched that day.

You had barely stepped into the servant’s quarter when two hands wrapped around your waist and spun you around.

“I thought you would never be back! Thought you had run away for good!” Alice’s lips spread in a wide smile, making you laugh.

“Sure, and to go where, mm?” You shook your head. “Those errands he makes us run, they get worse every single time.”

“I know. I think he enjoys exhausting us as much as he possibly can.” Alice nodded. “Oh, Miss Murdstone has asked for me to take care of her tonight.”

Your body froze for a second and you had to take a deep breath before acting unfazed. You were about to ask for more details when a bell rang in the quarter, signalling that the Lady of the house was ready for her afternoon tea.

“Let me take care of it.” You pushed a smile and disappeared into the kitchen, quickly putting the kettle on.

A few minutes later you stepped into the study where Jane was sitting with her embroidery.

“My Lady,” You nodded, placing the tray on the table right next to her.

The tall woman barely acknowledged you as she placed her embroidery on the side and poured herself a cup of tea.

“I was made aware that you requested Alice to assist you tonight. Is my presence no longer required, my Lady?”

Jane’s eyes snapped to your face and you hoped she understood the hidden meaning behind your words. Do you not love me anymore?

“Were you made aware that your presence was no longer required?” The woman asked, her eyes slightly narrowing.

“No, my Lady.”

“Good. You shall be in my bedroom at seven sharp, as usual.” She said before taking a sip of tea and shooing you out of the room.

-

You knocked on the bedroom door at seven sharp, pushing it open and making your way inside only to find that Alice was already there.

“Good. Well, now that everyone is here…Sit.” Jane told Alice, pointing at the chair in the corner of the room. “Can’t you follow a simple order?! Sit!” She hissed when the maid didn’t obey fast enough.

Alice quickly walked to the chair and sat down, eyes wide in fear of what would happen to her next.

You stood still in the middle of the room as Jane circled you, feeling like a prey being hunted and played with by a predator.

“You see, Alice, you have gotten awfully close to something that belongs to me.” Jane said as she came to a stop behind you. You felt her tug at the knot on your apron before she took it off, letting it fall to the ground.

Alice watched in horror as Jane’s hands traveled to your front, groping your breasts through your dress before she moved to unbutton it.

“Did you know our little lady’s maid here loves to forgo underwear?” Jane smirked, watching Alice’s cheeks turn crimson as she opened your unbuttoned shirt to reveal your bare breasts. “Would you like to know how I know that?” The woman asked, placing an open-mouthed kiss on your neck. “I told her to.” She grinned and peeled your shirt from your body, letting in join your apron on the floor.

Alice tried hard not to let her eyes roam on your bare flesh, but she was unable to stop herself which only fuelled Jane’s anger.

“I told you she was interested in more than friendship.” Jane hissed in your ear, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin and your nipples to harden.

“M-Miss Murdstone-“ Alice said barely audibly. “I don’t think I should be here.”

“Quiet!” Jane barked. “Don’t you dare move from that chair or I will have you fired by tomorrow morning.”

“Jane…” You sighed and felt the woman’s fingers grab a handful of your hair before giving it a harsh tug, tilting your head so you’d look at her.

“Oh no,” She smirked. “Tonight you will address me either as Miss Murdstone or my Lady.”

She wouldn’t play nice tonight, then.

“Yes, my Lady.” You whispered, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

Jane almost considered indulging you, she almost pressed a kiss to your lips but quickly changed her mind. This wasn’t about your or her pleasure, it was about teaching Alice a good lesson.

“Take your skirt off.” Jane ordered, letting her hands roam on your stomach for a second before pulling away. “I doubt you are wearing anything underneath it but if you are, take those off as well.”

A deep blush crept up your chest as you pulled your skirt down and stepped out of it, revealing that you were, in fact, not wearing anything underneath it. A low chuckle came from Jane’s throat and you waited, eyes closed, for the next order when you felt her lips on your shoulder and hands on your waist, her short fingernails digging into your flesh.

“Spread your legs.” She hummed near your ear and you obeyed without a second thought, your body shuddering when one of her hands snaked from your waist to your bush, resting there for a few seconds before she finally pushed two of her fingers between your folds.

“Well, well,” Jane tutted, pulling her fingers away from you and lifting them to show off the wetness that glistened on them. “Do you like having an audience?” She smirked, her eyes locking with Alice’s as she pushed her digits into her mouth and licked them clean.

The heat coursing through your body felt unbearable, a mix of both shame and arousal that made you feel dizzy.

“Yes, my Lady.” You admitted, whining when Jane’s fingers found their way back between your legs.

“You see, Alice,” Jane looked at the girl on the chair. “This one might act like a prude around you, but she is a filthy whore.” She chuckled lowly, her other hand moving to grab one of your breasts.

Jane expertly flicked her thumb on your nipple before giving it a sharp tweak, making you cry out as your sopping wet cunt clenched around nothing.

“Careful, we wouldn’t want the whole household to know you let your Lady have you.”

Jane didn’t let you answer, choosing instead to slip her fingers deep inside you and relishing in the guttural moan that tore itself from your mouth. She let her fingers commence their skillful ballet, pulling them out of you almost entirely only to push them back in up to the hilt.

It didn’t take long for you to turn into a mess, grinding down on Jane’s fingers as she crooked them to press against the soft, spongy spot that sent lighting shooting up your spine.

Your sinful moans mixing with the wet sounds coming from between your legs only spurred Jane on, her blue eyes fixed on the maid sitting in the corner of the room with her mouth wide open.

“Why don’t you tell your little friend who you belong to, mm?” Jane’s voice echoed in your mind.

“You! Y-yours, I’m yours!” You cried out. “All yours, my Lady!”

“Mine.” Jane snarled looking at Alice, hoping the message was clear.

Her free hand joined the busy one between your legs to circle your clit as she relentlessly pounded into you and could hear yourself begging from a distance - please, please, I can not hold back anymore. It felt like an eternity before Jane finally allowed you to cum, your cunt instantly clenching around her fingers as you were pushed over the edge.

The tall woman kept pumping in and out of you for a moment until she decided that you had had enough and pulled her fingers out, giving your core a harsh slap. You fell to your knees, your body still shaking from the intensity of your orgasm, and struggled to catch your breath.

Eventually, you turned around and looked up at Jane who was now standing tall in front of you. You grabbed a handful of her black dress to steady yourself and buried your face into the soft fabric.

“Thank you, Miss Murdstone.” You managed to say with your shaky voice, making the tall woman smirk proudly.

Jane pulled away from you, snatching her dress from your hands before walking towards Alice who was still transfixed by the whole scene. She roughly grabbed the maid’s face with one hand, forcing the girl to look up at her.

“Don’t you dare say a word about what happened here tonight.” She snarled. “No one would believe you. Now get out!”

Alice didn’t have to be told twice. The young woman was on her feet in a second and scurried out of the room as quickly as she could.

“Did you have to be so harsh?” You croaked as you slowly got back on your feet, watching Jane closing the bedroom door that Alice had left open.

“Which other choice did I have?” Jane said, pressing a soft kiss on your lips before moving to sit down at her dressing table. “She needed to be taught a lesson. You are mine, and she mustn’t mess with another woman’s belongings.”

“Yes, my Lady,” You chuckled softly as you started taking the pins off Jane’s hair. “I’m yours.”

-

You weren’t really surprised the next day when entering the servant’s quarters, you heard one of the maids gossiping with the butler about how Alice had been fired by Mister Murdstone at sunrise.

It did pinch your heart a little to know you had lost a friend, but Jane was right, Alice had to learn the lesson. One mustn’t mess with another woman’s belongings, certainly not Jane Murdstone’s.

————————————————————————

tag list: @weemssapphic @larissaoftarthweems @principal-weems09 @readingtheentrails @catechristiesstuff @kimiinou @winterfireblond @im-a-carnivorous-plant

#gwendoline christie #jane murdstone x reader #jane murdstone #no beta we die like larissa #jane is a red flag but we’re colourblind #jealous women *sigh* #larissa weems x reader

[xetswan]

Youngest Shadow- Meet Again

Six | Seven | Eight |

Meeting the parents… Okay.. Yeah, I can do this. They aren’t really their parents. Also not like I just started talking to them or anything. I take a deep breath just as someone starts knocking on my door. I look to see it’s Bella standing in my doorway, I smile as she enters my room. “What’s up?” I tilt my head. “Woww, you actually dressed up.” She pokes my side, I jerk away from her, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you too.” I compliment, going over to my mirror I just had put up with the help of Charlie. 

I just bought new jewelry for my piercings, to make them less noticeable as well. “You nervous?” She comes up behind me, I give her a look through the mirror, not even turning around to do so. “Stupid question, Bells.” I stand up straight, fixing my hair as I do so. 

“[Name], that boy’s here.” Charlie calls, my body tenses up. My smirks, “shut up.” I tell her, leaving her in my room and I go to the front door. “Bye, dad. I’ll see you later!” I shout out, I’m already out of the door, Jasper there to greet me at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Where’s Alice?” I ask, he takes my arm, leading me to his car. “We thought it would be best to have your dad think you’re just dating me so you don’t have to deal with anything awkward unless you chose to.” He explains, opening the car door for me, letting me get in then shutting it to go to the other side. He gets in quite quickly as if he was already missing my touch. 

Once on the road he puts his hand in between us, giving me the choice to take it. I’d be stupid not to, my hand meets his. I watch him smile in the corner of my eye. Now thinking about it him and Alice always need to hold or touch me in some sort of way. These past three days have been filled of them either putting an arm around my waist, a hand holding mine, one of them clinging to my arm or a hand simply on my shoulder and knee. 

The ride through the trees was beautiful, it’s something I could never get over. The peeping through of animals that stared, the animals that were just living their lives.

“We’re here.” Jasper mumbles, letting go of me but before we could even unbuckle my door opened. It was Alice there with a grin, she helped me out and shut the door. “You look beautiful.” She kisses my cheek that has already warmed up from the attention I got from Jasper. She clinged to my arm as Jasper went up to the house opening the door for us. 

Four of them stood in front of me. “[Name], how wonderful it is to see you.” A lady engulfs me into a hug, confused but still hugging her back she lets go, taking my face in her hands. “It’s been so long.” She whispers, I smile awkwardly, not knowing what she’s talking about. 

“Esme, she doesn’t remember.” Alice reminds her, Esme’s face drops as it clicks in her head. “It’s nice to see you again, [Name].” Dr. Cullen or Carlisle smiles, I nod. “It’s nice when my sister is not hurt at a hospital.” I joke, he chuckles agreeing with me. “Certainly.” I figured he probably meant the same thing as Esme about seeing me again. Realizing they have all met me before in my past life before this one. 

I glance over to Emmett and Rosalie, remembering their names from when Jessica and Angela has explained who they were to Bella. Rosalie has a soft smile upon her lips as Emmett grinned. “Were we friends..?” I questioned, they all chuckle but I wasn’t joking. “Very good ones.” Rosalie tells me and I let out a breath of relief. Her man squeezes her to his side. “Oh yeah, we’ve made quite the memories. You were a wild one.” He laughs loudly, I look back at Alice and Jasper who looked almost pissed by his words but quickly hide it once they saw my face. 

“Well, we’re going to talk to her for a little ourselves before Edward and Bella get here.” Alice excuses the three of us, I wave to them and they happily do the same back. Rosalie had an expression on her face once Bella’s name was mentioned. She seemed pained? Disgusted? I mentally shrug, most likely going to find that out later. 

“What was that about?” I ask them once we were out on a balcony. They act confused but I knew they know what I am talking about. “Your faces when Emmett said something about my past life. Why can’t anyone tell me anything?” I cross my arms. I was a little upset, I don’t understand why they refuse to tell me about myself. 

“[Name], it’s something you have to figure out and know on your own. It will come.” Alice places her hand on my shoulder. I roll my eyes. “Okay, another question.” I state, they both make eye contact with me and I continue. “Why are none of you affected by my blood? Okay I get you two but everyone else also seemed perfectly fine.” 

“Carlisle is because he’s been around and a vegetarian way longer than us.” Alice tells me, “The others is because you’re different, we haven’t figured it out but we don’t know.” Jasper frowns, I could tell they wish they knew so they could tell me. Also probably because I ask so many things. 

I hear two car doors shut and I look over to see Edward and Bella are here. They don’t notice us or at least Bella doesn’t so I turn back to the other two. 

“So, we have to warn you of something.” Alice starts and I notice Jasper has tensed up. “Jasper does well around you obviously but your sister not so much.” I nod, understanding. Jasper holds onto my arm and I look at him sympathetically. 

“We want to also give her a small welcoming gift. We have one for you but that’s later.” Alice winks, Jasper then suddenly picks me up and I gasp as they jump down from the balcony. I hide my face in his neck. He chuckles, carefully placing me back down. Alice goes around picking random wild flowers, I watch as she will turn and ask if each one is pretty enough. 

Each time we would tell her they are perfect. 

I think of all the questions building inside of my head as I lean against a tree, patiently letting Alice do her thing and drag Jasper with her. 

And the one question that seems to never go away: Why me?

Out of all of this, why me? Out of everyone, why me? Something I don’t think even they can answer. Or anyone, really. “[Name], let’s go back.” Alice happily says, showing me her flowers too. I smile, nodding, letting Jasper pick me back up and I squeeze my eyes shut as they jump over the rail. Jasper letting me down but holding my hand immediately after.

“Hi, Bella!” 

Alice bounces forward towards my sister, kissing her cheek and handing her the flowers. “I’m Alice. You do smell good!” She seemed to be teasing. “Alice.” Edward starts. “It’s alright, Bella and I are going to be great friends.” She tells the taller vampire. 

Bella extends out her hand. “And you’re Jasper, right?” He grips my hand a tiny bit tighter and I squeeze it back. “Pleasure to meet you.” He steps behind me. 

“You won’t hurt her, Jasper.” Alice gently encourages him, Edward ends up taking her hand instead. “I’ll give you a tour of the house.” 

“I’ll see you soon.” Alice speaks up, Edward shoots her a look, both Bella and I notice before her guides her further up the house. Jasper seems disappointed in himself then his eyes go to my face and I smile causing him to do the same.

 Alice slides her arm to my waist, giving me a short hug. As awkward as that whole thing was I was glad my sister found someone. The two end up leaving my side, Jasper and Alice tell me they have to talk about something.

Moments later we hear them laughing outside. “She’s brought him to life.” I overhear Esme talking. “He’s been alone too long… but how can it end well?” Carlisle responds. “Alice has been wrong before.” Esme enterjects.

“Not often.”

“How about [Name], she only remembers everything when she comes to a near death experience that in the end does end up-” 

My eyes widen, the words that come out of Esme’s mouth cause my breathing to hitch. Near death… What?

Everything looks blurry and I clench at my chest as I try to catch my breath. I hear someone yelling at me but it sounds disoriented. I hold onto whatever is closest to me and end up knocking a glass thing over, breaking it. Luckily someone walks me away from it. I look up. “Hey, hey, calm down.” It’s Alice and Rosalie holding me as I glance over to see Carlisle and Emmett picking up the glass. “I’m sorry.” I exaspperate. “You’re okay, don’t worry. I need you to breathe.” Alice holds my face in her hands almost like Esme did before but this is more comforting knowing it’s my Alice. 

She places a hand on my heart. Then Jasper gently push the two girls away and suddenly my fear went away and I can actually take a deep breath without it hurting. Alice pulls me into her arms as everything calms down. 

“I want to go home.” I sigh. “We can do that.” She assures me. “I’m sorry,” I apologize to everyone in the room. 

#bella swan #jacob black #twilight #twilight x reader #alice cullen #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock #alice cullen x reader #edward cullen #jasper cullen x reader #jasper hale #jasper #rosalie x emmett #rosalie lillian hale #rosalie twilight #rosalie cullen #rosalie hale #charlie swan #emmett cullen #the twilight saga #twilight saga #seth clearwater

[leaentries]

too young for this | mark estapa

summary: when one night guarantees forever.

warnings: accidental pregnancy, swearing, angsty themes, smut, p in v, unprotected sex

wc: 3.1k

masterlist - next

One time. That's all it took.

You had never been one to go to parties, but your friends decided that you just needed to go. Having been cooped up for the past week after your complete douchebag of an ex dumped you over text.

What an ass. 

You and Richie had been together for two years. Two fucking years and all it took was a quick swipe of his thumbs to end it. It happened on a random tuesday, you had just left your anatomy lab when you felt your phone ding. You looked down smiling as you saw his familiar name pop up. Your smile fell immediately as tears began to make your vision blurry. Even with slightly impaired sight, you could still make out the three words he amounted to in your relationship.

Rich<3: we are done. 

So it's safe to say you haven't been the jolliest the past week. Maybe a party is what you need to bounce back. Staring at the ceiling of your dorm, you contemplated your options. Ultimately, you decided to give in to the relentless begging of your best friends. Besides, your slutty outfits were practically screaming at you to put them on. Afterall, Richie never showed you off, so you might as well do it yourself. 

Peeling on the familiar top and bottoms, you couldn't help but smirk as you passed your bathroom mirror. For the first time in over a week, you actually felt like yourself. The you before Richie. Overcome with newfound confidence, you quickly sent a text to your groupchat.

You: im ready babes! meet me outside?

Jamie: oooo yesss girl! me and alice are walking out now! 

Lydia: yall wait for me! i'm just touching up my hair. i'll be out in 5

Alice: btw we are so getting you dicked down tn y/n/n

Rolling your eyes at the last text, you grabbed your bag and headed out to meet your friends. Lydia ended up taking longer than 5 minutes, causing you and your friends to have to sprint to catch the last campus bus. Living across campus really sucked sometimes. 

As you searched for empty seats on the bus, you felt your phone vibrate from your bag. 

Mark: hey y/n! alice told me youre coming to the party tonight?

You: hi marky

You: yes i am! im on my way with the girls now

Mark: great

Mark: ill be waiting for you 🫣

Mark had always been one of your closest friends. You two met in your mutual college management class freshman year. Alice sat next to you and the three of you quickly became very close. Richie seemed to have a major problem with Mark early on in your relationship. Of course Mark being Mark, he didn't give a shit what your bitchy boyfriend thought of him. To be honest, Mark never liked Richie. So when you called him in tears that dreary tuesday afternoon, Mark was ready to practically murder him. 

The squealing of the bus breaks snapped you out of your phone. You put your bag over your shoulder, grabbing onto Jamie as she passed you. You and your friends made a short walk from the bus to the house. The music was blaring loudly, as people were spread far and wide around the property. A few different games were scattered about, a group of guys yelling in distress as they were clearly losing their cornhole game. 

You pulled out your phone, sending a text to Mark letting him know you were there. Within seconds, you saw the large boy make his way out onto the front porch. His arms immediately wrapped around you as you ascended the steps. 

“ ‘m so glad you’re here y/n/n” his voice was muffled in your hair. 

You smiled at the feeling of your full body being engulfed by him. Letting you go, Mark’s hand slipped down into your own.

“I am so so sorry girls, but I’m gonna have to take y/n with me.” Your friends giggled amongst themselves, causing you to send a confused look their way. 

“Oh no worries, Mark! I hope you have a fun time!” Alice replied, overly excited. 

Fun time? Deciding not to think much about it, you let yourself be guided by Mark’s muscular frame. Even in just a plain t-shirt his tense, thick muscles never failed to show through. Mark turned his head slightly, looking over his shoulder to check on you. You sent him a quick smile in return. He managed to weave his way through the dense crowd and into the kitchen, where a few of his roommates were. He entered the kitchen, never letting go of your hand.

Luke and Ethan greeted Mark quickly, enthralled by the view of the football game from the tv. Upon noticing you by Mark’s side, they both sent suggestive smirks towards the two of you. Confused by this for the second time, you turned to Mark. Tilting your head up to meet his eyes, not failing to notice the light blush that took over his feature.

“Why are all our friends acting weird?” You said in a low voice, so only Mark could hear you.

“W-What do you mean?” He chuckled nervously, “I think they are acting just fine.” Giving him a slight glare, you rolled your eyes, turning away from him slightly. Your gaze fell on the crowd, seeing many familiar faces in the dancing group. Although, your cheerful attitude quickly diminished as you caught sight of a certain brunette. Mark noticed the change almost immediately, turning to follow your stare. Richie was just off to the side of the main group. Typically, it wasn’t new to find him at these parties, but what was new was the blonde he had his tongue shoved in. 

A lump formed in your throat. You forced yourself to look away, the pain from the past week hitting you like a freight train. 

Mark's jaw ticked, his hand gripped yours tighter. He looked down at you “Do you want to leave, pretty girl?” His voice was soft, a stark contrast from his burning eyes. Taking a deep breath, you shook your head no. You were not gonna let Richie control you, he doesn’t deserve that power anymore. 

“I want to dance. Come dance with me, Marky.” Mark was surprised by your request, but led you to the dance floor regardless. 

Heat gripped your body like a vice, making you aware of how little clothes you were wearing. You let your body press up against Mark, arms reaching to wrap around his neck. Mark found his hand gripping your full hips, pulling them to meet his own. You leaned your face up, only to practically be touching noses with Mark.

The air felt thick around you two. Moving your hips against his, Mark held back a groan. 

“Got to be careful, pretty girl. Don’t want you to start something you’ll regret.” Mark’s chest pressed closer into your round breasts. Mark could feel himself grow stiff in his shorts at the feeling. Swallowing harshly, you met his gaze. You gently pulled his ear down to your lips.

“I could never regret you, Mark.” 

Richie was long forgotten as Mark gripped your wrist tightly, dragging you up the stairs. He took you to his room, closing the door forcefully, not forgetting to lock it. Mark’s chest heaved, almost like he was out of breath. He pinned you to the back of the door, bringing his forehead to rest on yours.

“You gotta tell me to stop, baby.” He whimpered into your lips. Throwing all caution to the wind, you pressed your lips against his, hard. A moan escaped your lips at the force of the kiss. Mark’s hands began to grip every part of your body he could reach. He wanted you, all of you. He cradled your face, turning your body before walking you towards the bed. The back of your legs hit the mattress, as Mark reached down to grip your plushy thighs. He sat you on the bed, beginning to trail kisses down your jaw.

His right hand traced from your thigh, over the expanse of your torso, taking time to tease the valley between your breasts. His calloused fingers took place around your throat, squeezing slightly. The lack of oxygen sent your brain into a frenzy. Your hips bucked up into his, grinding against his thick cock. He placed his other hand on your hip to keep you in place. 

“You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted this, pretty girl.” He mumbled into your neck. “How bad I need you.” 

He smashed his lips into yours once again. The kiss was desperate and sloppy, showing the amount of pure need and want between you two. Mark shoved his tongue into your welcoming mouth, seeking its warmth.

You were becoming restless, the ache in your core increasing with every push and pull of Mark’s hips. 

“Please Marky,” you whined, “Want you, fuck, want you so bad.” Your breath hitched as Mark changed the angle of his hips. His cock was pressing deliciously into your throbbing clit. 

“Okay, okay, pretty girl.” Mark pulled away, taking his warm body with him. A small whine began to leave your mouth, but was cut short when he hooked his finger around your shorts. 

He dragged your panties and shorts down in one go, too impatient to wait. Your hands traced down his toned front, tugging on his own shorts. Once the both of you had eagerly removed the remaining clothing, Mark had begun to line up his cock with your entrance, teasingly dragging his tip along your slit. “Oh fuck, Mark please don’t tease.”

Mark smirked at your pathetic voice. 

He began to ease his heavy cock into your core. You moaned loudly at the stretch. “Fuck me!” You bit your lip in an attempt to keep your voice down. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I plan to.” Mark pushed the rest of the way in, releasing a breathy moan at the feeling. He dropped his forehead on yours, giving you a moment to adjust to his size.

Mark was admittedly the biggest you’ve had, much bigger than Richie. Reaching spots you never knew existed.  “I won’t move until you tell me, baby.” The notion was small but you couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest.

Nodding your head, “I’m good, Marky. You can move.” At this, Mark began to slowly drag his cock out of your pussy, till just his tip remained inside. He paused for a moment before plunging back in, setting a ruthless pace.

Your moans echoed through the room, Mark’s headboard slamming against the wall. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Mark groaned. "I could be a better boyfriend than he ever was." His hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises the next morning. You threw your arms around his body, nails scraping down the wide plain of his back. Angry red trails lined the hard muscle. You dug your teeth into Mark’s shoulder as his pace increased ever so slightly. 

“ ‘m not gonna last, pretty girl.” Mark squeezed his eyes shut, in an attempt to hold off his orgasm. The sound of your moans in his ears made it almost impossible. He brought one of his hands from your hip to rub harsh circles on your clit. 

 With the added stimulation, you felt your core tighten impossibly fast. “Shit, Mark. ‘m gonna cum,” you panted, “fuck, gonna cum all over your big cock.” Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave. 

Searing pleasure overcame your senses, your walls pulsating rapidly around Mark’s dick. Mark felt himself lose all control, releasing into your warm pussy. His body stilled as he came, a loud groan ripping through his throat. He collapsed on top of you. You laid with Mark’s head in the crook of your neck and your hand playing with his hair. As the two of you basked in post-orgam bliss, you felt a wave of drowsiness hit you. A loud yawn escapes your mouth.

Mark lifted his head to look into your eyes, “You tired, pretty girl?” You nodded slightly. He felt his heart soften at your droopy eyelids and pouty, swollen lips. “You are so fucking beautiful.” Your eyes widened at his sudden confession. You hid your face behind your hands, becoming bashful like he wasn’t just balls deep inside of you.

Mark chuckled, placing a gentle kiss to the back of both hands. “C’mon lets get cleaned up, baby.” He slowly pulled his, now softening, cock out and pulled on some boxers. He walked into his bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth. Mark gently began to clean around your sore opening. Once he finished and put away the cloth, he gave you one of his t-shirts to wear.

One of the things you loved about Mark was how big he is. Even if people consider you “bigger,” his shirts still fit you oversized. You took the shirt from his hands, pulling it over your head. Mark motioned for you to scoot over, allowing him to lay down. He pulled your body on top of his, almost immediately closing his eyes. 

“Goodnight, pretty girl.” You smiled as you laid your head on his chest, “Goodnight, Marky.” 

❥.

The following week went by in a blur. You were able to hide the fact that you and Mark hooked up from most of your friends, other than Ethan. That little shit did not hesitate to chirp you both the next morning. Although you and Mark are “seeing” each other, you haven't made anything official. But you didn’t feel pressured either. Everything had been going smoothly, you continued with your normal everyday routines, except for the part where you have been staying with Mark every night.

Your roommate, luckily, has been out of town for the past two weeks. So you have been able to remain inconspicuous thus far. Being with Mark was so easy, so genuine. You wondered how you ever even ended up with your ex when Mark was there the whole time. But alas, everything good always comes to an end. 

Your alarm went off as per usual, Mark’s arm gripped your body tighter to his, “Don’t go.” He whined. You turned your body to face him, taking time to study his tired features. Even with sleep clouding his eyes, he still managed to look as handsome as ever. You hit snooze on your alarm, deciding that your writing class can suck it. 

You closed your eyes, basking in the morning bliss with Mark, but before long, you found yourself pushing out of bed making a b-line for the bathroom. You kneeled down in front of the toilet, before emptying the contents of your stomach. You heard footsteps hurriedly follow behind you, as a hand came to hold back your hair. 

“That’s it, pretty girl. Let it out.” Mark soothed, using his other hand to rub your back. 

Once you had finished, you slouched back. Your body became overly weak after the energy it took to expel your dinner. Mark sat next to you, letting you lean up against him. He brought a hand to your forehead, feeling for a temperature. His eyebrow furrowed, “You don’t feel hot.” He looked down at your face, to find your eyes closed. His chest hurt at the sight of you so weak. He gently helped you up, putting you back in bed. “I’m gonna skip class to take care of you. okay, baby?” He pulled the comforter over your shaking body. You shook your head in protest. Although in your state, it wasn’t as much of an effort as you thought. 

Mark went downstairs quietly, as most of the house was still asleep. When he returned he brought a glass of water and a cold rag. “Apparently, we do not have any medicine. I guess Luke used the rest of it last time he was sick. I am gonna go and pick up some more, will you be okay here?” Mark couldn’t hide the worry laced in his tone. You gave him a weak smile and a small “thank you.” He leaned down to place a soft kiss on your forehead, before slipping on a hoodie and making his way to the store.

Laying in the peaceful room, your slumber was interrupted by the sound of your alarm. Hitting snooze became your worst enemy. As you turned on your phone to exit the alarm, you saw a notification from your period app. You tapped it, opening the calendar. Panic took over your body. 

Period late for 8 days

You quickly sat up, thinking of what to do. There was no way you could be pregnant. It was impossible. Denial flooded your mind, until flashbacks to the night of the party tore through the facade. You needed to take a test, asap. Knowing you couldn’t go to the store, since Mark was there, you did the next best thing. You called Jamie. 

You knew for a fact Jamie kept emergency pregnancy tests in her dorm. Girl has her priorities. Jamie raced to the house as fast as she could, not believing what you said over the phone. You told her just to walk in and come to Mark’s room since everyone was still sleeping. 

You sat on the bed, stressing out, when the bedroom door opened. Your eyes darted up and your breath hitched. Jamie's head poked around, your body relaxed. Jamie looked at you expectedly. You let out a sigh, ‘Look, it just happened.” She rolled her eyes, “You just happened to fall on Mark’s dick?” 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, it just all happened so fast and we didn’t want to ruin anything. But it might not even matter at this point, because I might be fucking pregant.” Your eyes began to well, the thought of losing Mark was too much to bear. Jamie came up and wrapped her arms around you. “Don’t apologize, here,” She handed you the test, “Go take it and we can go from there,” Taking the test in your hand, you walked into the bathroom. 

After doing your business and peeing on the stick, you put the cap back on and set it on the counter. You set a timer for 3 minutes. You slowly sank to the floor. Never in your life has three minutes seemed so slow. Your phone finally went off, causing you to abruptly stand up, slightly losing your balance in the process.

You stared at the test, “Well? What does it say?” Jamies asked through the door. Your eyes remained on the test. 

Pregnant 1-2 weeks

Well, fuck. 

#mark estapa x reader #mark estapa #mark estapa x chubby!reader #too young for this m.e #umich x reader #umich hockey x chubby!reader #umich hockey #michigan hockey #luke hughes #ethan edwards #leawrites🍀

[barbieaemond]

Thorns in your mouth

PART 1

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

WARNINGS: angst, smut, oral sex, a bit of religious kink, a bit of choking

WORD COUNT: 787

Author's note: Widow's blood is poison. This will likely have a third part.

taglist: @zae5 @arcielee @bunbunbl0gs @multyfangirl @chompchompluke

“Until all the roses turn to black.” you said, but they didn’t have the time to either wither or blacken. A fresh new bouquet of white roses is found on your nightstand any other day following the events above Storm’s End.

His lack of regret is also lack of concern. He doesn’t care about the Gods as much as he doesn’t care about the maid knocking while you are sprawled on the chaise as if lying in your tomb, still but feverish, waiting for another death.

“Answer.” he mumbles, with his mouth full of your cunt.

“My lady?” The young woman calls, but the call of his tongue drains you of every will, except the arching of your back, the drops of sweat on your temples. The swirls of his tongue are soft as a rose on your throbbing flesh, sharp as a thorn as he buries it deep inside. One last time and you're melting in a trickle of blood—of bones.

Your hand knots his hair and pulls at the roots, clawing at your need, raw, a wound split open that leaks and pours into his mouth. His name is a curse and a blessing clashing on your tongue, your fingers keep pulling, grasping silver and leather.

A flash of glinting blue before your eyes and you greet it with a smile, as one upon seeing a star. There’s a sneer twisting his mouth, one that you felt curling your own lips countless of times. That sneer is a glimpse into a mirror, a glimpse at your own desire. Ugly, exactly as desire is.

He thrusts inside you with ease, an act that goes almost unnoticed as breathing, but necessary. You're an extension of his body as he grips your waist and starts rutting with a cruel purpose.

“Do you like taunting the gods, don’t you?” he grins watching the seven pointed star stuck with sweat around your neck.

“I like taunting you.”

He wraps his fingers around the thin silver chain and twists, so hard he’s able to lift your head from the cushion.

“Will you get on your knees after this? Will you ask the Gods forgiveness for your sin?”

“I will ask them to give me more of it. I will beg them to make me sin before it vanishes.”

“What?”

“The smell of you on me.”

It does fade away for a few days. Everything fades away except the wailings of the Queen echoing through the walls.

“It’s not your fault.” you whisper in his mouth “It’s not your fault.”

“You’re lying.” he croaks in your neck, guiding your hips to move slower and slower.

“I know, but you believe me.”

Fingers dig in your skin, willing to break you, to tear his grief to pieces. But in the end, he only says “Yes.”

Everything was slipping from his grasp like water. Helaena, Aegon, his mother. You were the only immutable condition. Stable, firm, stone that does not scratch despite the winds, rains and storms that come against it. And he wanted to carve himself into the woven you were made of.

He asked you to stay one night, and the next, and the one after that.

“My husband will grow suspicious.” You said once, lying next to him, your flesh still entangled in one another.

“You could slip some widow’s blood in his cup.”

“To make myself a widow?”

“To make myself your husband.”

“You are.”

“No. I will be when I will fuck you in the royal gardens and no one will spare us a look. I will be when I can come inside you and see you round with my child.”

That was the last night you spent together.

Despite all the careful measures and lies and deceptions, this thing was just as plain as those white roses, plain as Aemond intended it to be. It only took a careful look. A glimpse at how your eyes would find his and his yours. It only took asking the maid to whom she was bringing those bouquets of white roses. And she did ask, Queen Alicent. She did look.

“This thing must end, Aemond. Immediately. We need her husband’s support, his army. Why are you challenging the Gods? Have they not cursed you enough?”

“I thought the Gods had forsaken me by now.”

“You forsook them the moment you succumbed to sin with a married woman.”

“I can assure you, Mother, she’s more my wife than his.”

“Enough! The Gods may have forsaken you but I did not. And I will not let you forsake your family even further.”

And enough it was.

Roses were left to bloom on their branches. While you, and him, withered and blackened.

#liv's drabbles #liv(in la vida loca) #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x fem!reader

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Wolf (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Daemon inherits the Red Keep. He turns it into a sex club. You know, as one does.

Warnings: Modern Daemon x Hightower reader. Smut. Dom/ Sub dynamics. Overstimulation.

A/N: Daemon's views do not represent my own! Pt 2 to this. There is no need to read pt 1 to understand it, though. Also, do not learn BDSM from fanfic.

You sighed. You dropped your head, smashing the keyboard. This was unbelievable. Had your CV always looked so bland?

You erased the keysmash, and put instead, five years of experience as an CDO.

The door to your office was slammed open, making you jerk in your seat. You looked up, an annoyed remark already on your tongue, and froze. Daemon. Because who else would barge in so rudely?

“Your whorish sister is suing me.” He sat down, dramatically slumping down on the chair. “Make it stop.”

Your eyebrows raised.

“Good morning to you too.” You closed the tab you were browsing in, job offers in King's Landing, and looked up at him. It was the first time you had seen each other since the elevator incident. So far, you were unimpressed with his opening gambit. “Alicent is the most monogamous person in Westeros.”

“It was a figure of speech.”

“Whatever. I am busy.” You typed even more furiously. You had all tabs closed, but Daemon didn't need to know that. It gave you an excuse to avoid looking at him. After that afternoon in the elevator, you were too embarrassed to do so.

Despite having been the one in control the whole time, you were the one who felt more ashamed of your encounter. Once the power trip had worn off, and you had faced reality, embarrassment had started to creep in. Sitting in your father's car with a bruised throat and soaking wet underwear had been humiliating enough. Just thinking of it made you hot under the collar, and not in a good way.

Daemon, instead, had the shamelessness of a porn star. To him, it hadn't been a big deal at all, and it showed. He strutted around the building, giving you naughty little grins every time your paths crossed. The only change had come, oddly enough, from following his real Instagram. You had been added to his Close Friends and now endured the terrible, inhuman torture of watching his selfies. If his mirror pics showed any more skin, they would be dick pics.

“You won't even ask why I am being sued?”

You sighed. You stopped feigning typing.

“I don't need to ask. I can guess it has to do with the contesting of your brother's will.”

Good Gods, you had heard enough of that. Alicent was clawing at the walls and frothing at the mouth that she was getting evicted from her home. Viserys had left her a considerable amount of money and properties, just as he had done for their children. But the Red Keep, the ancestral home in which she had lived ever since they married, was going to Daemon.

Your father was impossible, too. The majority of Viserys' share had gone to Daemon and Rhaenyra, which meant they could easily kick him out of the company. If they managed to agree on something, of course.

“It does.” Daemon kicked his feet up, placing them on your desk. He made a show of getting comfortable.

“There. Out of my office. I'm working” You slapped what you could reach of his feet and calves, until he had no choice but lower them.

“Fuck, you are so…” Whatever Daemon was going to say, he didn't get the chance. You slammed your laptop closed with much more force than necessary, making him wince. “Stop that. Seven Hells, you are so uptight. Relax. It doesn't matter. It’s not like you will hold this job much longer.”

“Is this my notice?” Your eyes narrowed. “Because you need to present it written, and I have to…”

“I just mean, when Rhaenyra gets the…” Daemon started saying, but once again, you did not give him the chance to finish. If he was going to interrupt you, you were going to interrupt him too. Petty as it sounded, it brought you great satisfaction to see him squirm.

“When Alicent, Aegon, Aemond, Helaena and Daeron, you mean.” You smirked.

“God, what a mouthful.” Daemon laughed. It was annoying. His laugh was so loud and unashamed. You wanted to punch him. Or, at least, shake him and see if his only two neurons made synapse.

“Whatever.” You started to get up, grabbing your coat. Where were you going? Not even you knew, but it would be fine, as long as it was away from him.

“They could fire you still.” Daemon got up as well, blocking the exit. There was no escaping him, it seemed.

“I'll take my chances.” You snarled. Fuck, you didn't even mind Rhaenyra that much. It was the principle of the thing. What had she done for the company? Both she and Daemon just rode Viserys and Otto's success, spending money like it grew on trees and causing so many PR scandals they could as well be a controversial rock band. “Move.”

“It's still going to Rhaenyra.” Daemon placed a hand on your shoulder, holding you in place. His grip wasn't harsh, but rather, a warning. It made you think of the way he had tugged your hair, when you were on your knees… “Your sister is suing me because I want to put a sex club on the Red Keep.”

You choked on air.

“You want to do what?!”

“It's an historical building. Or so she says.” Daemon ignored you completely. To him, apparently, filling one of his ancestral properties with a bunch of naked, drunk people, was the new normal. You know, just what one does, if one is filthy rich and bored on a random Tuesday.

“It is one.” You said, a bit perplexed. The Red Keep was more than a hundred years old. Alicent had taken great care to restore the place, bringing experts from all over the world to ensure the best care for the building. You could not even imagine the look on her face when she realized that not only was she being evicted, but that also, Daemon intended to use her home as his sex dungeon.

How would that even work? Was it legal? Tourists visited the Red Keep, you knew. The place was nice, but it was a castle. You could not picture it as a club, or anything more than the home it had been for your nephews.

“The inauguration is on Friday. See you there.” Daemon clapped your shoulder, oddly sheepish. He seemed to actually want you there, which threw you for a loop. He kissed the corner of your mouth, and left, leaving you stunned in the middle of your office.

It ate at you the whole week. A few discreet inquiries confirmed that yes, Alicent sued Daemon. And then, Daemon sued back.

His official Instagram says nothing. His secret one, though, has it plastered all over. You make a note of it, sure that it will leak before the week is over. You get it right. The week passes in a flurry of desperate interns and phone calls, trying to calm down outraged members of the board. His face is all over the news, and the stocks drop. Again.

Your father is furious. Positively seething. Alicent is no better, especially the more Friday approaches. Each day that goes by, it’s one closer to losing her claim on the Red Keep altogether.

It had been a foolish choice, choosing Aemond as a lawyer. He was precisely the kind of man who never knew when to negotiate. If it had been up to you, you would have hired his associate, Alys Strong. Now that was a woman who you could respect.

You tried pretending deafness and blindness, clinging to the idea that out of sight was out of mind. It didn't work whatsoever. You couldn't stop worrying about what would happen if anyone found out about your rendezvous with Daemon last month.

Death, surely. Either throttled by Alicent, or out of sheer embarrassment of your father learning you had sex.

You should stay away from him. It was the reasonable thing to do. A one-night stand didn't mean anything. Everyone had those. Daemon was trouble. But gods, the look on his face when you had left him wanting. How powerful you had felt. Anyone would have trouble letting that go.

Friday dragged by, and you still had not made your choice. You agonized over it all day. It was only when you got off work that you made your choice. You were going, if only to see the clusterfuck with your own eyes.

Daemon had that kind of effect on you. It reminded you of the magicians at the birthday parties you used to attend as a child. He made you recklessly curious, always wanting to see what would be his next trick.

Deciding what to wear was another agonizing choice. Overall, it didn't matter. You realized as soon as you entered the Red Keep that you were overdressed. If you had shown up only in your panties, perhaps you would have blended right in.

It was tacky. It was tasteless. It screamed Daemon.

The Red Keep layout was kept the same, probably because it was an historical building and anything but would go against the conservation’s laws. All the furniture had been removed, making you barely recognize the rooms you passed. This was no longer your sister's home, but a den of sin.

The rooms were only lit by red lights, the heavy bass of some song that was probably in the Fifty Shades of Grey soundtrack echoing in the stone walls. You made your way to what used to be the dinning room, and walked towards the bar.

Tonight was meant to be a soft launch, and you intended to take advantage of the lowered prices. You asked the bartender to bring you a cocktail, but much to your surprise, the cocktail did not come alone. Instead, it came with a pamphlet and a small basket, filled with colorful bracelets.

“You have to wear one, Miss.” The bartender said. You stared.

When you were confident about what they each meant, you grabbed a purple one and placed it on your wrist.

“Switch.” Daemon whispered in your ear, startling you. “Are you sure about that?”

“Good Gods! You frightened me.” You complained, clutching your chest. To be able to speak to him over the loud music, you had to lean into his space quite a bit. By the smirk on his face, he was clearly enjoying it.

“I live for that. Frightening naive little girls.” Daemon gave a tug to the bracelet, letting it snap against your skin. “Sure about the color?”

“I am.” You moved back, scowling. You hated that he always wanted to command everything around him. The bracelet on his wrist was dominant red, making perfect sense.

“I would not say you are.” His hands were quick to catch you, one at your hip and another at your nape. Daemon ran a finger down your spine, making you shiver. “I think you are a little princess who loves submitting.”

“I am not a sub all the time.” You pushed his hands away. If anyone saw you practically on his lap, there would be hell to pay. Alicent would throw a fit, and so would your father. Besides, you didn't fancy ending up in the tabloids. “And get your hands off me, we are in public.”

“Look around, you prude. Practically an orgy.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw, and gently tilted you to face some couches in the other room. There were two women kissing, while a man was kneeling between their spread legs. None of them were wearing any clothes. You swallowed. You had been carefully avoiding looking at the others in the room. “And you are a submissive to me. You know what they say…”

“And what gave you that impression?” Your tone was sharp, but you were not as invested in the conversation as you once were. No. Because your eyes were fixed on a younger man, lingering by the corner of the room. A very familiar one, with silver hair. Was that..?

Whoever caught your attention, he was not allowed it long. Daemon stepped in front of you, blocking your view of him. One of his hands went to your face.

“Looks like one.” He pressed a kiss to your neck, open-mouthed. You hated your treacherous, treacherous body for reacting to it, a moan escaping your mouth. “Sounds like one.” Daemon kissed you, exactly at the pace that you liked. For some bewildering reason, that not even you could fathom, you kissed back. “Tastes like one. Must be one, don't you think?”

Daemon grinned at you, superiorly. Irritatingly, and just like that time in the elevator, you weren't sure if you wanted to slap the smile off his face, or kiss it away.

“I do not look submissive.” You bristled. “What in the Seven Hells gave you that impression?”

“Your eyes are all glazed over. You look fucked out and I haven't even touched you. And of course…” Daemon brushed the slope of your nose with a finger and gave it a boop. You batted his hand away, annoyed. “The fact that you were practically drooling to suck my cock a month ago.”

“First of all, that is not even a word. And you said it yourself. A month ago.”

“What? Glazed over or fucked out?”

“You sound like a bad porno.”

“A bad porno you like, little brat.” Daemon nosed along your shoulder, making your knees feel weak. He had the face of a man experiencing heaven, as if the tastiest delicacy was just there, for him to consume. “Lucky you, I love brats.”

“As if I care.” You did, but Daemon didn't need to know that. Part of you felt strangely pleased at being his type.

Daemon laughed. He kissed the tip of your nose.

“You owe me a punishment. Up for it?”

And again, contradicting all common sense, you nodded. Daemon grabbed your hand and brought you to a closed door, but before you could get in, someone pressed into your side.

“Aunt. How lovely.” Aegon said, smiling like a shark. You felt so embarrassed that you felt as if about to spontaneously combust. Daemon's arm around your waist tightened.

“Dear nephew!” Daemon smirked. “Fancy meeting you here. Tell me, how did you get in? Fake ID?”

Aegon was well over legal age, but he glared at Daemon regardless.

“With the invitation you sent me.” He then waved a hand towards you. “Does Mother know about this?”

“Well, yes. But I wasn't expecting you to show.” Daemon said, casually. Your mouth fell open.

“You sent him an invitation? Are you insane?” You shouted, turning towards him.

“I take it Mother doesn't know.”

“I wasn't expecting him to come! How would I have known?” Daemon shouts right back.

“You are mad.” You detangle yourself from him and ask the bartender for a shot. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

You down the shot so fast, you barely feel the sting of alcohol in the back of your throat. Aegon watches, amused, and asks for a drink of his own. When faced with the basket, he immediately picks a submissive bracelet and slips it on casually.

“Nice place you got here.” He complimented. Daemon ignores him, choosing instead to grab you by the arm.

“I can explain, little Hightower.”

“Fuck, you call her that?” Aegon whistles, delighted. His voice has a hint of awe. “That's dirty.”

“Shut up!” You glare at Aegon. Daemon falls quiet. “No, not you, fool. Explain.”

“I sent one to your sister, to Cole, to your father, to that boy with the stick up his ass, to Harwin and Nyra, to Helaena, to…” Daemon was counting with his fingers, and it seemed like he wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

“I get it, I get it.” You interrupted. “What for?”

“To piss them off, of course. Gods know, some of those cunts need loosening up.”

“And Rhaenyra? Is she happy with what you have done with the place?” You snarl, a bit of jealousy creeping in your tone.

“Very. In fact, I saw her disappear over there with that Cole guy.” He pointed towards one of the rooms.

“Criston? Didn't think he had it in him.” Aegon comments idly.

“He is dornish.” Daemon interjected, as if it made perfect sense. But it didn't because being dornish didn't equate with wanting to receive whatever Rhaenyra had in mind. You certainly wouldn't be up for it. Your paths had crossed with hers enough times to know that, just as Daemon, she demanded worship.

Whatever Criston was doing here, you hoped he didn't regret it in the morning. Or else, you would have to explain to Alicent why her bodyguard was moping around and hungover.

Alicent. Fuck. Criston wanted to fuck her so bad it made him look stupid, and so did Rhaenyra. Perhaps that was it. Neither of them could have her, so they settled for each other instead.

“And heavy on the guilt.” Aegon muttered.

“Well, dear nephew. As lovely as it was meeting you here, and as touching as your show of support for my fine establishment was, I have business with your aunt.” Daemon's hand presses against your lower back, urging you forwards. You give Aegon a wide-eyed look. He is not the sort to care where others stick their cocks, and you are on relatively good terms, but he could still tell.

“Gross. Does Grandfather..?” Well. No one said Aegon was the paragon of intelligence. It is for the best that you didn't answer his question. Plausible deniability and all.

Daemon and you exchange a look. Your eyes, pleading. His, annoyed.

“Anything he drinks is free.” Daemon grumbles to the barman. He knows as well as you do that Aegon is easily distracted.

“What? For real?”

Neither of you answered. Daemon kept moving, and so did you. He led you towards one of the locked doors, deftly pushing a token inside a slit, and the door opened for you.

Your expectations for what was inside were high. Needing a token to open a door must mean this place is something special. A dungeon, perhaps, or a room filled with chains and leather. Maybe even a bedroom.

But as you have often come to realize with men, having high expectations is a terrible idea. The only thing inside is a cozy-looking couch and a small table that holds a bowl full of condoms and lube. You are unable to keep the disappointed little frown from your face. Daemon had talked such a big game, you had expected something different. Something more.

“This is it?” You say, trying not to sound as disappointed as you feel.

“Yes.” Daemon sits down on the couch. You stare. You must be pretty obvious because he gives you a lazy smile. “Not what you were expecting?”

“No.” Entranced by the way his lips curl, you step closer to him.

“What were you expecting?” Daemon’s hands go to rest on your hips like it's the most natural thing in the world.

“I don't know. Whips, chains?”

Daemon chuckles.

“Oh, sweetling.” He kisses between your collarbones, mouth leaving a trail of scorching heat on its path. You gasp, feeling weak at the knees from the simple touch. Your hands go to his shoulders, clenching and unclenching on his shirt to try to steady yourself.

Thing about Daemon? He is not polite. He kisses your chest and shoulders as if he wants to devour you. Daemon is messy with it, too, leaving you covered in hickeys and saliva. It should disgust you, but it only manages to turn you on more.

The bass pounds outside the room, mixing with the heavy pulse of your blood in your ears. You could swear you can listen to your heartbeat, with how fast your heart is going. Little pants escape you, only encouraging Daemon to get wilder.

He mouths at your throat. He takes off your top, sliding it down your shoulders. You cling to him, trembling and feverish. Your nails dig into the skin of his back, you feel as if about to fall over.

“Please.” You say, and you don't even know what you are asking for. Daemon, though, seems to know exactly what you need. His hand sneaks into your trousers, finding you wet and willing. Your knees buckle.

“Shh.” His voice is soothing. “Straddle me.”

So you do. His mouth goes lower, taking one of your nipples inside his mouth. You give a small, keening sound.

“Daemon…”

“I'm on it.” He smiles against your skin and slowly starts to suck. His fingers move upwards, after collecting some of your wetness. He locates your clit with deadly accuracy and starts rubbing soft little circles.

You mewl. Your hand goes to his neck, holding him as close as you can to your chest. It's not hard for him at all to bring you over the edge. You fall over it embarrassingly fast, muffling a moan on his shoulder.

Daemon lightly bites around your nipple, making you jolt. He keeps stroking you through it, pleasurable circles on your clit turning into painful oversensitivity. You cry out, legs trying to close, but finding there is no way for you to do it with how you are straddling Daemon.

“Hurts. Stop, Daemon.” You complain, trying to get away. Instead of complying with your request, though, Daemon only holds you tighter.

“Now, little brat. Where do you think you are going?” He smirks. Alarmed, you try to break his grip, pushing at his shoulders and even attempting to cup a hand over your cunt. “I have not forgotten what you did.”

You bite at his shoulder, hard. Daemon laughs, and keeps abusing your poor clit. His fingers pinch around it, exposing more of the bead.

“What's your safeword?”

“Safeword.” You mutter back, too distracted to try to be creative. The burning sensation on your clit keeps you from it, rising and rising and making you think you are about to come again. Soon, the pain changes from a bright flame to tiny embers, making your hips chase his hand once more.

“Good girl. Clever.” He kisses your forehead. “If you don't say it, I won't stop, no matter how loud you scream.”

Your mind is at war with your nerve endings, and it's steadily losing the battle. No matter how hard you try to focus on the thought of being unable to come again this fast, your body seems set on proving the contrary.

You want to give Daemon a witty retort. Perhaps, say something about the lines of how he will disappoint yet again. Yet, you are unable to because a shrill moan is leaving your lips, and you are falling over the edge again.

Daemon, though, is relentless. He pushes a finger inside of you, searching for the spot that will make you scream. You try to close your legs, shield your body from him. It’s pointless. He has too good of a grip on you, one hand holding you open and teasing your clit, and the other fingering you.

He definitely knows what he is doing. You are suffering too much to enjoy it.

Your body jerks as if you have touched a live wire, stomach’s muscles quivering with the effort of holding you uprights. Sweat is starting to ruin your hair, making it stick to your nape and temples.

“No, no, no.” You push at him, trying to get away. This time, you half manage, falling off his lap and into the couch instead. Daemon just looks amused, and leans down to nuzzle your belly.

“Thank you.” He lifts your hips slightly, even as you start to try to kick him off. He removes both your trousers and underwear with a swift tug. “This will be so much easier.”

And so, he licks a long stripe through your folds. You moan, half pleasure, half protest. Daemon wraps his arm over your hip and pins you down. He then takes your clit into his mouth.

The feel of his warm mouth around your clit eases a bit of the soreness there. The pleasure has made you stupid, so you open your legs to give him better access. You can feel the smugness radiating off him as you submit.

He is a dragon, he will tell you later. And dragons eat naive girls like you for breakfast, dinner and supper, if they are stupid enough to let them get close.

Daemon pushes another finger inside you. The stretch feels unbearable, making you try to squirm once more, but he is moving his fingers in a come and hither motion; your body is going rigid, and you are screaming and falling and—

You lose count, after that. Your body feels abused, there are tear tracks on your temples. You feel feverish. You go in and out of consciousness, as Daemon laps at you, fingers you, rubs at you.

Time turns liquid. It slips through your fingers, moments at a time. You are not very conscious of your body, or of what Daemon is doing. There is only hot, molten pleasure and burning pain.

How much pleasure can a body take? Your hands push weakly at his head, moments later, you beg for him to use his tongue instead. He gives you a last one, forcing your body to arch and twist and making you sob desperately, before scooping you up in his arms.

Daemon's hands go to fix your top. You shake, afraid that he is going to continue and torture your nipples instead.

“No, no, no, no.” You chant. “Please. I am so sorry. Please.” You are barely aware of what you are saying. If you could hear yourself with a clear head, you would scoff at this pitiful woman who bends for the simplest things. You would scoff at her, just as you had scoffed at Daemon for being made into a slave to his pleasure.

“You won't do that again, will you?” Daemon licks your tears, and you cling to his shirt in desperation, willing to keep begging if necessary. Pleasure is as devastating a weapon as pain, you have found out. The line between the two blurs until you are not sure if you need his mouth on you again to soothe the pain, or if you need him to never touch you to stop hurting.

You shake your head. You would do anything Daemon wants.

He grabs you by the jaw, roughly.

“Say it.”

“I won't. I promise, please.”

Daemon hugs you to him. You melt, mind and body exhausted.

“You were good.” He tells you, after a while. You are not sure how much time has passed, but your head feels much more clear. “My brave girl.”

You cling to his reassurance. You tell yourself you have done good, that you endured and never even thought of the safeword. That your body was pushed to its limits, and that you were able to conquer them. Still, you ask.

“Was I good?”

“The best.” Daemon caresses your hips, drawing nonsensical patterns on the side of them.

“Thank you.” And you pull yourself together, one piece at the time. Your eyes focus, you can feel the way his chest constricts and expands with his breath. You righten yourself. “Water. I want a water.”

“You are back, I see.” He stares at you with none of the contempt he had displayed a month before. “Cunty little Hightower that you are, used to the lush life.”

“I do not think it too much to ask.” You scowl, more than ready for another round of banter. No matter how tired your body is, your mind is still sharp.

Daemon laughs.

“Get down from my lap and I will get you one.”

You do so, on shaky legs. You sit. Primly, as if not sitting naked in a sex club, but rather at the table of an important restaurant.

Daemon laughs at the sight you make, thoroughly fucked out but so damn composed it's nearly irritating. It almost makes him question if he has fucked you well enough. The tear tracks on your face seem to say so, but your demeanor says otherwise.

He comes back with your water, and you straighten a bit more. Your hands give you away, though. As sharp as your posture is, you are still shaking.

“You could come with me.” Daemon opens the bottle for you. “I would pay you.”

You feel as if you have been gutted. You are more than this, you think. A Hightower, an heiress in your own right. Not a trophy wife, not someone to be used and paid. You have a degree, you are smart. And you have sworn not to become like Alicent.

Viserys had been a kind godfather and mentor to you. He had not been a good husband to her.

“Be your sugar baby?” Already, you feel your walls rising back up. Why would he ask this of you? It must be a mockery of some sort, perhaps he has not forgotten how cutting your barbs to him once were. This must be Daemon getting his revenge.

Your mental retreat must be paired with a physical one, even if you do not realize it. Because Daemon is coming after you, his hands on your hips, pulling you back into his lap.

His face changes to something more serious. He rubs his nape, and you know, only by that gesture, that what comes next will be good. Daemon Targaryen does not do sheepish, you would say if asked. Yet here he is, blushing like a schoolboy. It makes something roar in you.

“While that sounds tempting, I like you too much for it. Respect you too much for it. But the club needs a presence on social media…”

You nearly smile. But you are a Hightower and you enjoy making him grovel. Daemon calls you a cunt for a reason, after all.

“Everyone would say I fucked the owner.” You whine, hiding your face on his neck so he doesn't see the ferocious smile on your lips. He must feel it against his skin, the most beautiful of curves, sharp teeth at his throat.

“So? Did you not?” Daemon asks because he is also an annoying asshole. The remark, even if teasing, makes something painful tighten around your chest. As much as you can pretend not to be bothered by it, this getting out would end you. Your father would die of a fit of rage, your sister would never speak to you again, not when the man you are fucking and working with is suing her to the Seven Hells and back.

Rabbits and other small prey animals freeze to avoid detection. You do the same. As if standing still may make you escape notice, will make Daemon unable to read the lines of your face and body.

“You don't have to say yes right away. You can think it over.” His hand rubs the small of your back, soft and sweet.

He can tell. Of course, he can, if the truth is written on your features so well, you might as well be shouting it from the rooftops.

Daemon smiles. He helps you dress, tenderly.

“Come. I'll drive you home.”

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