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dwindlinghaze · 10 months

Text

language of flowers

summary: the five times remus gave you flowers secretly and the one time you gave him not so secretly (plus extra)

contents: fluff, angst, bad writing bcs it's 1 am in ly country and i can't sleep.

a/n: my fav writing prompt so i just have to do it :) i hope u enjoy ☁️☁️☁️☁️

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

one

you walked with your arms linked with mary as you two made your way to enter the charms' classroom. it was quite sunny outside, seeing as the flowers in the meadows were blossoming prettily.

"don't you just love spring?" the girl sighed, gazing at the scenery outside the stoney windowsill miles below. "look how colourful those flowers are!"

"they sure do look unreal! like that poppy field in wizard of oz!" you replied, matching her energy.

"mhm but this one's not poisonous, i assure you!" she grinned before you two separate ways to your own assigned desks.

you made a bee line towards your table, furrowing your brows at the peculiar light pink object on your desk. you reached close enough to see that it was a carnation you had thought was a rose.

a single stem with pale pink petals. over it, sat a small folded parchment that was tied with similar coloured ribbon as the flower.

you opened it curiously, tilting your head to the side. it said:

I don't want to look at anything else now that I saw you. I don't want to think of anything else now that I thought of you. I've been sleeping so long in years of dark night and now I see daylight, I only see daylight

your heart fluttered at the messy scribbles in the palm of your hand. cheeks growing maroon as you try to hide your face behind nothing.

"watcha have there?" a blooming voice came from beside you, catching you off guard.

you jumped back a little, causing the person next to you laugh. "oh hey rem," you said in trembling words.

"hey," he replied to the greeting as he sat down beside your desk. "you've got a flower!" he smirked teasingly.

remus saw the severe blush in your cheeks, him applauding for himself inside. he was the one that gave them to you- the flower and the note. it was a giddy feeling to see how you react in such a happy way.

"someone left me a flower!" you grinned at him, showing your bright smile. "uh but i'm not sure if it's meant for me i- maybe they just put it in the wrong desk," you felt yourself deflated at the thought.

it was logical though. nobody ever seems to be interested in seeing you. let alone giving you a handwritten love letter with a carnation.

seeing the excitement fading off from you, remus spoke up abruptly, "i don't think it's in the wrong desk. this specific desk has always been your since first year. c'mon smile for me yeah? the flower is meant for you. and only for you."

you smiled at him, feeling your cheeks reddened again. a small part of you hoped that it was from remus. you liked him since god knows when but you never spoke of it. afraid of what might be as the outcome.

"thanks rem, you really know how to make people feel better," you said to him, eyes glimmered with adoration for the boy.

"what does the letter say?" he spoke softly, looking at you in curiosity.

you unfold the piece of parchment that was on your palm before reading the heartwarming words to him. "not gonna lie- i had a hard time reading it the first time," you chuckled.

remus laughed nervously, fingers gripping on his chair. he scribbled it messily on purpose in hopes of making you not know that he is the one writing it for you as for he knew you will recognise his usual handwriting in the back of you head.

you put the flower and the note inside your robe's pocket, making sure that no damage will be done.

you went to bed that night with the words repeating inside your head like a mantra. nobody has ever said such thing to you. with the carnation placed on your night table, you toss and turn in your bedsheets. hoping a certain boy who loves chocolate and books and sweaters and libraries and teas and blankets and-

two

saturday afternoons are the best time to spend in the library. nobody ever cares to even steal a glance at the large wooden doors- their minds are full of weekend spirits.

that's exactly why you went to the desolated place. reading one of your favourite muggle fiction beside the windowsill as the rain pattered on the glass, its sound calming your ears.

you finished your book in the quiet until you were completely done, getting up to get a new once since you really have nothing to do today.

mary was still sleeping. she dedicated saturdays as her 'stay in bed the whole day', therefore now you're alone. you weren't exactly close friends with lily and her friends though you talk to them once every while; your friendship was kept small.

your pointer finger ran through the spine of the books, stopping once you saw one that catches your interest. you head back to your secluded desk, only to find another flower on top of it.

your heart beat twice faster now, glancing around to see if anyone's there or not. you couldn't seem to spot anyone though.

the flower this time is not a carnation. it was a white tulip. a paper was also attached within the stem just like last time.

you read it, it was shorter than the last one:

you're a mansion with a view.

it took you an embarrassing amount of time to fully understand what it meant.

mansion with a view- beautiful inside and out.

if you had a mirror in hand right now, the reflection it shows will be you and your crimson red cheeks.

after reading that, you find it hard to avert your focus to the book in front of you. the words were like splutter of inks and has no meanings.

at last, you decided to go back to the common room, seeing what the others were doing. you bumped into someone on the way there. someone tall and smells nice and familiar. with the impact of the crash, the things inside his bag are now on the floor, scattering everywhere.

"oh i'm so sorry i wasn't looking!" you sent an apologetic glance at the person, only to find out that he's remus lupin.

"s'fine," the boy smiled, kneeling down to collect his things.

"here, let me help you," you said, picking up the ones that were more far away from him, now all of his belongings are in his bag again.

"hey, s'this yours?" he held up a small parchment.

"uh yeah," you chuckled. "funny. you remember when someone gave me a flower a few days ago? they gave me one again."

"you think it's funny?" remus furrowed his brows, secretly eager for your answer.

"well- no. it's just not typical for me to receive these stuff. i like them though. it's very sweet," you blushed.

remus adored the faint pinks in your cheeks. he was the reason for that- technically. he didn't know what to reply, afraid if he said something, his stealthiness will be exposed.

"i'm going to the common room, you comin'?" he spoke.

"yeah. i was going there too," you nodded and began walking with him to the gryffindor tower.

remus is a mansion with a view.

you felt bad for the person that wrote you the letter because you were thinking of someone else with those exact words that they wrote for you. you couldn't help but wonder who it is though. maybe by then you'd fall for them too with all the sweet compliments they give.

three

a pretty and small bundle of blue flowers was propped on your desk one morning, like it's waiting for you. a small note was also attached to it, like the usual.

your smile grew larger, trying to hide your blush with your hair as you strode to your table.

you can't lie- you've been looking forward to it. it's almost like the only thing that's been keeping you excited lately.

"ooh, you've still got a secret admirer huh?" mary snickered, pushing your side teasingly.

"mhm," you agreed mindlessly, smiling in a joking manner her way, not caring about how much you will be poked fun at.

"don't you wonder who it is?" she raised her brows.

"i do," you admitted. "if they confess to me in real life, i'm sure i will give it a try," you shrugged as you opened the small paper.

"read it aloud. i want to know how much of a hopeless romantic some people are," mary giggled.

"if all my flowers grew back as thorns, windows boarded up after the storm. i'd built a fire just to keep you warm..." you said slowly, comprehending the words.

"aw that's sweet although i've no idea what it means except the last line," mary said.

"oh shut it mary," you nudged her side, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

you hoped whoever this is, knows how much you appreciate them and should not be afraid to confess to you openly. you would be upset if this person didn't make the move because you feel like the person behind this is sweet and hopeful.

you've got a slender vase in your dorm filled with water half way up to put the flower in them to keep them alive as long as it can. these pretty blue forget-me-nots are a perfect addition to your collection.

"moony, when are you going to actually confess to her? are you going to wait until earth slipped off its axis and fell into jupiter?" sirius flopped down on remus' bed face first, groaning.

"what are you talking about. i already have," remus replied nonchalantly.

"no- pads meant like actually! not in some handwritten note that doesn't even have your name in it- let alone your initials!" james chimed in.

"that's the whole point y'know. so she doesn't find out," remus rolled his eyes.

"don't get sassy moony," sirius slapped his arm. "what if she found out that it was you all along?"

"she wouldn't."

"she would," james retorted.

"she wouldn't."

"she definitely is going to."

"no."

"your head is as thick as the hogwarts wall," sirius scoffed. "one way or another- she's going to find out about it- or at least try to."

"say, if she did find out it was you, will you two be like- i don't know- together?" james thought out loud.

"i doubt i can."

remus. remus lupin with his complicated head. he sends you flowers and love letter daily but he doesn't want to be with you? pathetic.

"why not? it's y/n we're talking about. she fancies you," james said.

"i don't know," remus said, burying himself under his blanket while also pushing sirius off of his mattress.

truth be told- it would be his biggest regret if he never spoke of his love. he would love to be loved by you or even just loving you.

somewhere in the haze, he has grown some strong feelings for you. he didn't know how it happened or when or maybe it had always been there since you two got paired up in care of magical creatures.

he grew fond of you. the little things that you do make him fall for you even more. the way he wants to be the highlight of your day, the moon in your twilight, the sunrise in your mornings. he wants it all.

he wants to know the feeling of being mutually in love. though he believed no one will ever love a monster like himself.

that part of him is slowly breaking his own heart. how could anyone ever be in love with a hybrid? how will anyone ever live with the curse of their beloved one?

even with all the reassurances in the world, he would never accept himself. it was a blessing for him to even have friends. he wondered if some miracle could be strong enough and kill the wolf inside him so he can love openly.

so he can love you without any doubt and afterthoughts.

four

monday sun rises, meaning classes are back to normal again. you were getting ready for the day, sitting on your vanity when a common barn owl dropped a stem of flower right at your lap.

a pretty pink hydrangea was there, a note slipped in between the delicate petals.

all these people think love's for show, but i would die for you in secret

your smile reached your eyes as you put the pink flower along with the other bundle of flowers from your admirer.

you were kind of in a funny situation. you wanted to always keep getting these flowers for as long as possible but you also wanted to know who this person is but also you wanted remus to give you these.

it's all silly, you know.

"rem! i got another flower!" you said giddily as you stood beside him for the first class. it was a very heart-fluffing thing to see for him. you look flushed and happy.

"yeah? this person must love you very much!" remus replied with a sly smile. it was quite a nice feeling; talking about his love for you in a third person.

"yeah..." you trailed off. a part of you had a small hope of remus being your secret admirer but he seemed to be so cool about it. he doesn't show any signs or hints. maybe he's just a good actor. "do you have any idea who might that be?"

"mmm, no," he shook his head, turning his focus on the professor ahead. "but this person better be so proud of themselves because they made you giddy. look at you! you look like a puppy in a park," he chuckled.

"oh shush," you kicked his feet softly.

you made a mental note to yourself to be cautious of your surroundings at all costs next time, especially when you're alone. you were curious to find out who the person behind this is.

many many thoughts swam through the head of yours. a certain person popping here and there too.

five

you walk with your head down.

it hasn't been a pleasant day. firstly, your shoes got stuck on the mud when you're on the way to attend care of magical creatures. secondly, you dropped your bowl of soup during lunch, ending up with you having to deal with the stickiness in your uniform skirt until class has ended because there's zero time in between each.

it wasn't a big thing really, but it was big enough to bother you for the rest of the day.

your daily flower hasn't been sent too.

that was a silly thing to think of.

you decided to have an evening stroll around the castle grounds, just to clear your head a bit. you haven't had nature walks in quite a long time.

what you didn't expect was to see a certain gryffindor boy, holding a book while scheming through the field of wild plants.

you couldn't quite catch what the book was, but you caught how calm he was. how stunning he looks under the warm orange sun.

remus looks so peaceful. like a painting. like he has no single worry in the world. (as he should)

he bent down, reaching for a pink flower. he held it with such tenderness, afraid it will be damaged.

you hid behind a tree, heart beating in anticipation.

you knew this was wrong. say if you were the one who's giving out flower to your crush secretly, you wouldn't want anyone to see.

thank god it was getting dark because now you were able to run back to the castle. breathless.

when you arrived at your dorm minutes later, you saw that same identical flower remus picked earlier on your bed.

it was a pink chrysanthemum. smells beautiful.

this one looked the prettiest compared to the rest somehow. maybe because you saw that beautiful sight of remus picking them fresh from the soil.

the note read;

i'm captivated by you, like a firework show. i see sparks fly whenever you smile.

every word now and then seemed to melt your heart a little more, knowing the person behind this.

six

it has been a few days since. the last class you were supposed to be having right now was dismissed, meaning the students have extra time before dinner.

you decided to go outside, to the field of wild plants.

you now felt somewhat guilty for dragging this- although you shouldn't really. it was remus' idea and whatever is the outcome, it will be on him but since you found out about it, you can't help but feel like you have to face remus.

tell him so he doesn't have to be a lover from afar. so he doesn't have to be hopeless and pining for god knows how long.

well, how bad can it be? you two have the same feelings to each other. nothing bad will happen right?

you don't know much about flowers but a red rose seems like the most common type of flower to give to your significant other.

you decided to pick them up, stupidly not realising that there were thorns on them.

"aah!" you hissed, dropping it on the ground. you looked at your finger, a red scratch painfully visible on your skin.

"are you okay? what happened? why are you bleeding?" a familiar voice appeared from behind you. "oh [y/n]..." remus frowned sympathetically as he grabbed your fingers. he grabbed it with such tenderness that it reminds you of how he hold that pink flower.

"m'fine, rem." you pulled your fingers but he was much stronger than you are.

remus took out his handkerchief from his pocket for him to wrap them around your scar in order to stop the bleeding. "what are you doing here?" he asked, gently caressing your hand.

"i-," you paused, taking a deep steady breath. "i wanted to give you a rose," you replied, unable to look at his face.

he dropped your hand, his mouth agape.

you can't be. there's no way....

he waited for your explanation. "i know i shouldn't but i saw you. three days ago, you were here. um, i wanted to give you a note with a flower too. uh- here," you put the folded parchment to his palms. cheeks red from embarrassment.

remus was afraid of what the note contained. it could be you rejecting his feeling or something else he couldn't quite make himself to believe.

he put the parchment inside his pocket, "let's go back."

and that was the last thing you heard from remus.

extra

it has been two days. two whole days of remus being afraid to open your note.

it was propped on his desk. untouched.

he didn't even know why he's being this complicated. of course james and sirius were right. you would find out sooner or later. you are not dumb. never.

so today, he man-ed up himself.

he reached for the parchment that was tied with a pale yellow ribbon, slowly unfolding it. he saw small doddles of yours around the edges and corners.

this sure is not a rejection letter.

he felt so ashamed. he must be putting you through a tough time right now and it's all because of his fear of being rejected.

don't you worry your pretty little mind. people throw rocks at things that shine. and life makes love looks hard. the stakes are high, the water's rough. but this love is ours.

that is the sweetest thing remus has ever read. he quickly got up from his bed. done sulking around and absolutely done with being scolded by james and sirius every hour of the day.

he will make it up to you. he will.

you on the other hand was sad, confused, and lonely at the same time. it's miserable and not magical.

you thought it would be good to give remus a rose? bad decision.

for god's sake, you didn't even know for sure that the flower he picked was for you! it could be for someone or something else. maybe that flower you received was from someone who is not remus.

maybe just the colour of the flower was the same as the one remus picked. that's it.

your thought were quickly interrupted when remus entered your space.

his eyes looked tired and hopeful at the same time. in front of him was a giant bouquet of different kinds of pink and white flowers.

"forgive me please?" he said slowly, stretching his arms forward.

"wh-"

"i'm sorry. sorry for not responding to you sooner. for keeping you in a difficult situation. i'm going to make it up, i promise."

"it's okay, you're here," you smiled at him, that sunken feeling went away.

"i am. these are for you, there's roses."

"rem- they're so pretty," you took it from him.

"like how you are-" he said, cringing at his own words. somehow when you're around, his brain seemed to lag.

you shook your head, laughing, "i love them."

"i was wondering; if you're free on saturday, would you want to go on like- a date? with... me?" he bounced his legs.

"at six?"

"yes."

"a date then."

#x reader #character x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus fluff

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unicorncornflakes · 7 months

Text

Family Sins - One Shot || Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Paring: Reader x Aemond Targaryen.

Summary: Every Thursday afternoon you and Aemond meet, even if you have to pay for his family's sins.

Tags: Alternate Universe/ Emotional Hurt/Angst/ Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: I am just sad. This is the best I can write these days.

Author´s note: Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Word Count: 4.2 K

You were soaked to the skin. All your clothes were loose. But, you were still pretty. It was all Aemond could think when he saw you walking through the aisles of that roadside gas station. He followed you with his eye while you consulted the prices of a small cocoa bun. Your black sweatshirt was soaked all over while your damp hair was tied up in a ragged bun. Your black-painted nails grazed some of the price signs as you put the small dessert back in its place and grabbed a cheaper one. You smiled at him as he followed you closely and he picked up the same product that you had left in its place. You didn't talk, Aemond wasn't given to too many words and you were tired from the rain. But, storms always made you happy. It was something Aemond could never understand, but he shared with you.

Outside, at that small gas station in the middle of the forest, it was still raining. Only Aemond's gray Mercedes and the old bicycle that your mother had given you two birthdays ago were parked at the door. You always pedaled five kilometers to meet Aemond. Every Thursday afternoon. He came directly from the city and was waiting for you, drinking a coffee that he always considered awful while you arrived. He always thought he could go find you. Pick you up at the door of your house and take you to a better place. But, that would have been giving you greater importance than you really should have for him. Although, you had driven him crazy. That was all he could think every time he saw you arrive at that place on your bicycle. In summer you always arrived with your short shorts, in winter with your military boots.

On that rainy autumn afternoon, you arrived with that huge black sweatshirt that must have been borrowed, courtesy of your older brother, surely. Or that was what Aemond thought as he followed you through that small commissary that the gas station had. The idea that that sweatshirt belonged to a man other than your brother drove him crazy, so he preferred to think that it belonged to your brother. It made things easier for him. You looked at a series of cookies one last time and left them in their place.

Aemond continued to follow you at a safe distance. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye while you laughed. The two of them alone in that place. Thus, things seemed easier than they really were. Everything was simpler when you were alone.

You walked up to the register and opened the small cloth bag hanging from your back. You took out that cat-shaped purse that Aemond had bought you at a market in Flea Bottom. Also soaked, you opened it, careful not to break it while you counted the coins that that strawberry bun that you had left on the counter cost. Right behind you, Aemond also placed the cocoa puff you had chosen earlier and took the elegant black leather wallet out of his pants. Unlike you, he wasn't wet. His hair was immaculate and his clothes looked as always, well ironed and freshly washed. That black turtleneck sweater he was wearing that day, you knew, cost the same as what it took to eat at home for a whole week.

“Give me a pack of Lucky Strike too,” he said diligently as the cashier looked you up and down. Aemond also dropped a package of condoms on the counter and you blushed while he simply prepared to pay with his credit card. Two small buns. A pack of tobacco. A package of condoms…

Rob, the cashier, looked over his shoulder at you as he charged Aemond for that purchase. He was your neighbor and you were sure that he knew what you and Aemond were going to do that rainy afternoon. You left the store with the strawberry muffin even before Aemond finished paying, although it was clear that you preferred the chocolate one.

He looked at you through the huge glass doors of that gas station and wondered if it wasn't better to give you the treatment you deserved. However, he simply took the condoms and tobacco in one hand, that chocolate bun in the other and went outside. The water continued to fall hard and you were leaning against the door frame. It fell so hard from the ledge that it soaked your torn canvas sneakers, even though the rest of your body was trying to regain heat. Aemond gave you the cocoa puff and you reluctantly took it. You knew what awaited you at home that night because of that simple gesture that was intended to be kind on Aemond's part.

“I could have bought it,” you said without much encouragement, taking down your backpack from your back and putting the condoms and both buns in it. You looked at Aemond, who remained stoic and unfazed as always.

“You would have bought the strawberry one because it's the only thing you can afford and because you need to eat something,” he responded, shrugging his shoulders and opening the packet of tobacco. “This way you will eat something you like,” he said out loud, making the difference between him and you evident: he always paid with a credit card, it seemed like his money was created out of nowhere. You always carried coins in your bag and you never bought what you wanted because you simply didn't have the money for it.

“I guess,” you answered, not daring to look at him. Aemond approached you and finally kissed you. All of his slim, slender body against yours. The height difference was considerable. He just grabbed your face in his hands, his lips making contact with yours in a sweet and passionate way. You held his wrists, as if you always needed an anchor to the ground every time he kissed you. That kiss, surrounded by the storm, was observed under the disapproving gaze of that gas station cashier in the middle of nowhere. The rain threatened to soak you, but you didn't care.

As always, in the middle of all your kisses, Aemond opened his only eye, almost wanting to check that you were real, and not a simple fantasy of his imagination. He always slowly closed his eye again as your lips continued to crash against each other.

At the end of that silent kiss, Aemond took your hand, without looking back, and opened the passenger door for you in the rain. You quickly got into the car and Aemond ran to the driver's seat in the rain. You saw how his hair had now become wavy and he gave a half smile when he saw how you smiled silently, tiredly resting your head on the seat. “I could take the bike and put it in the trunk. Take you home after the motel,” he confessed, not daring to look at you. At that moment, he wanted to go further with you, beyond what he wanted to admit.

"No, do not worry. Then just leave me here and go. I’ll go home from here on the bike,” you told him, not daring to look at him either. You grabbed one of the wet, unruly strands covering your face and tucked it behind your ear. “I don't want my parents to know where I've been this afternoon,” you confessed dejectedly. You knew they would find out before nightfall, just when Rob walked through the door of your father's bar, the nerve center of the town where you lived.

“As you wish,” Aemond responded as the engine roared just started. He turned on his car radio. It only played classical music and you wondered as always if Aemond listened to anything else or the high cultural esteem in which you knew he was held prevented him from doing so. “I bought you other sneakers,” he whispered while keeping his eyes on the road. The windshield wipers of his car moving frantically in the face of such an amount of water.

“It wasn't necessary,” you responded, biting your inner cheek. You hated that he did that. You hated that he bought you everything you needed. You knew he did it for a simple reason: to hold your meetings every Thursday afternoon. As if you were a prostitute, Aemond bought everything he thought or felt you needed. It was his way of keeping you by his side. The only language of love that seemed to know how to offer, understand… “My sneakers are fine,” you said, looking at them. Destroyed and torn. That was all they were.

“They were just on sale,” he responded, putting the issue to rest. His voice always seemed to be devoid of all emotion. Sometimes you wondered if Aemond knew how to feel anything other than indifference or anger, but you knew he did. Every Thursday afternoon he demonstrated it to you. Always in the solitude of that motel room that he reserved for a few simple hours. The radio interrupted the broadcast to talk again about another urgent environmental disaster and Aemond turned it off.

Both you and he knew it was what was going to be talked about. You could see him tense up as he drove. And you directed your body towards his, releasing the seat belt. You bit your lip hesitantly as you brought his body closer to his, one of your hands gripping his seat. The other traveled to Aemond's fly.

“Hmm” was all you heard him say as your hand slowly lowered the zipper. The metallic sound of each and every one of the teeth that made it up exploded against your ears, just like the sound of the rain in the now silent interior of that high-end car. You unbuckled his belt and your hand quickly found his cock in his pants, hard and warm, soft and firm. You bit your lip seductively as you took her out of those extremely expensive underwear. “I don't want to have to give explanations at a police checkpoint like last time,” he answered, without taking his eyes off the road. Grabbing your hand with his as the other grabbed the steering wheel. “Don't be mean to me, (Y/N),” he asked you under his breath.

“I just wanted you to relax,” you whispered sensually and he smiled again without looking at you, although you never knew if when Aemond smiled he was truly happy. You returned to your seat and watched as he quickly buttoned his pants again. “If you don't like it…” you purred and he interrupted you.

“Hmm, I didn't say that,” he repeated again, remembering the fine he had had to pay and how your cheeks had blushed the most while that police officer asked you what your relationship was and forced you to take out your ID card to verify that You were actually nineteen years old and no less. Aemond was six years older than you at the time, but he had always looked older than he really was. He remembered telling the police officer that you were a couple and how you had looked at the ground in regret as those words came out of his mouth. The following Thursday you had not shown up, nor the next one. Three weeks later you came back with a very bad-looking bump between your ribs that you promised was the result of a bad fall on the bike. He knew you had lied, but stating it out loud would have meant never seeing you again.

You finally arrived at that roadside motel and Aemond left you in the car while he went to the reception to get the keys to room thirteen, the one he reserved every Thursday. You received a message from your mother asking if you needed her to pick you up after your study hours at the library. You answered no because you were carrying the bike. You lied to her again. You turned off the phone and closed your eyes. You could understand why your parents didn't want you to see Aemond, but it really wasn't his fault…

He woke you from your thoughts as he opened the car door. You walked out next to him and he held your hand again. You ran through the rain until you reached the second floor of the motel. He clumsily opened the door and you both walked in laughing and soaked. Aemond kissed you again, closing the bedroom door behind you. Holding your face again, with no escape. Your bodies swayed together in that room that had witnessed your meetings for the last two years.

You could hear him gasp as he kissed you. You broke away from his grasp and took off your soaked sweatshirt, which fell heavy to the floor. You also took off your wet shorts and were left in your underwear. Cold and shivering, Aemond covered you with his body, though he was almost as wet as you. You took off his eye patch and he laid you on the bed.

He smiled bright and powerful, like you knew he really felt about almost everyone. He was a Targaryen. He took off his turtleneck and you could see the symbol that already named him as such. The tattoo was fresh on his skin. A green and black dragon on his shoulder. Detailed to excess and you knew it named him as someone important within the family and business, criminal and legal structure. You didn't dare ask, even though he knew you knew the meaning. Your sister had explained it to you when Aegon received his. Years ago, you had both been naïve enough to think that type of tattoo was exciting and powerful. Your sister had been a fool. You weren't on a different path.

Aemond's arms supported his entire weight as he lunged at you to kiss you. His pants though on but his belt undone. He had never been a subtle boy. He smiled at you proudly and cockily, he almost seemed to know what you were thinking. He was dying to tell you that just two days ago he had given him the tattoo, that he had stood stoically and without any emotion while it was done, but his heart had been beating strongly, as if this were finally the moment of approval that he had been waiting for all his life.

He kiss you. His lips met with strength and need. They eagerly bumped into yours. A watery sound. A pleasant shiver ran down his spine, like every time he kissed you. You knew there wouldn't be much more foreplay.

He stayed silent over you. His single eye scrutinized you while the prosthesis remained immovable in that empty eye socket. He had never told you what had happened to him. He would never do it. You had heard rumors, but... His eye continued to look at you in silence. You looked beautiful with your hair wet, all spread out against the pillow, your eyes locked on his, a half smile on your lips.

His thumb brushed your bottom lip gently. Comfortable silence reigned in that cheap motel room. The gray walls. The simple sheets. That sad blind half lowered. The complete scene of your meetings every Thursday afternoon. “I love you,” Aemond confessed in a whisper. Your eyes appeared to offer a small surprise upon hearing him. He felt your entire body stiffen under him. It was the riskiest confession he could make to you. However, he was happy. At that moment, he was happy after a long time. “I love you” he repeated again with more force, as if he wanted to reaffirm his words.

His lips found yours again and you relaxed at the attention. You were in big trouble if Aemond confessed something like that, but it was really what you wanted him to do. Confess that way, with you, and only you. He lightly bit your lower lip with a smile, trying to relax you. Your hands ran up his arms as you kissed. The hand traveling on his right shoulder tried to avoid the dragon tattoo. Aemond was beginning to follow in his older brother's footsteps... You thought, you always thought that he was not that kind of man... but, he craved power like everyone else, right?

Aemond's always skillful fingers undid your panties, removing them heavy from not only the humidity of the rain that had soaked everything. You were too. Your core throbbing and waiting for a simple contact with him. An arrogant smile appeared on his lips when he saw the small soaked grotto, as if his mere presence already activated all the keys you needed. You smiled shyly at him and he kissed you again.

Your bodies merged in an embrace that promised to be eternal. You felt Aemond's cock hard, eager for what he always got when he was with you. The bright red tip protruded through the elastic of his boxers and you licked your lips in a reflex and subconscious act that Aemond was always grateful for. Seeing your wet lips and bright eyes, he could only think that you were perfect, terribly perfect.

“I'm going to get the condoms,” you whispered, a feeling of regret running through your head, as if those words had ruined everything. The atmosphere that had existed until that moment seemed to have almost disappeared and you felt his grip loosen.

“Sure” It was all he said as he stood up and took off his pants and boxers. He didn't dare look at you because he thought that afternoon was finally the moment you would leave him... bareback. He had confessed. He had done it... and you had been taking contraceptives for a year, he had no more sexual encounters than the ones he had with you... he looked at you out of the corner of his eye, crouched down rummaging through your bag, looking for the packcage that he had bought himself. You had never talked about it, but… “I'm not my brother, you know?” He whispered, looking back ahead, not daring to look at you. “If something happened, I would…”

You interrupted him by returning to bed with a condom and leaving it between the sheets while you lay on your side and he turned to look at you. “You know we can't take risk,” you told him as he went back to the bed and grabbed the wrapper. You didn't point anything out but it always made you nervous that he would tear it with his teeth. He put it on silently and positioned himself between your legs. He looked into your eyes and, for the first time, you saw an authoritative gleam behind them, almost as if that damn tattoo had changed him.

“I'm not my brother,” he repeated again under his breath. He entered you forcefully, without breaking eye contact. Your legs surrounded your hips and you moaned at that impact with such violence that it caused his testicles to collide against the slit of your pussy. You closed your eyes and didn't say anything. The sins of his family would always be present among you.

“I'm just saying that family is destroying the town.” Old Tom was sitting at the bar while your father cleaned it. It was late, but he kept moving that old rag against the bar. His eyes filled with worry as he waited for you. He knew where you had been. He knew what you had done. He had always thought of you as a smarter girl than your sister, but it was clear that you were not.

“Once again they have polluted the river with waste from the plant,” said Clark. His mug of beer met his lips. Your father knew where you had been, Rob had told him before he went home. His face had turned gloomy just then. “Those damned Targaryens…”

Just then, all the voices fell silent in the town bar. You had just walked through the door, soaked to the skin. You had pedaled there from the gas station in the rain, even though Aemond had insisted on giving you a ride home. You couldn't let your father see you with him, although when his accusatory eyes fell on you, you knew he knew. Everyone tried to return to their previous conversation as your steps led you to the bar. There a boy with white hair painted in silence. You sat next to him and saw your sister's son painting a green dragon. You were surprised to see him there. Normally the child was always well hidden at home.

“They are just destroying lives. That's the only thing they know how to do…” Tom attacked again. Clark agreed and your father approached in silence, trying to pretend he didn't know, but he knew, of course he knew.

“Your mom had to go pick up your brother… Why don't you join Greg for dinner?” your father whispered as the four year old was still engrossed in his drawing. You scooped up the little boy, who clutched the paper in his hand as you walked up the back stairs.

Your house was on the second floor of your father's business. The metal steps creaked under your weight, but your father's eyes exerted a greater weight on you. He would never tell you anything. He hadn't told your sister before he died either, but the Targaryens had destroyed his life, the life of the people in that place... your life.

Greg stared blankly as you dressed him in his pajamas after dinner. Sitting on your bed, his purple eyes seemed empty and innocuous. It had always been like this. Consciousness never seemed to have reached that unwanted child. You ruffled his hair, almost expecting a smile, but he just fixed his eyes on you. Empty and deep. As if he knew everything and nothing at the same time. You sat down next to him and took off the new sneakers Aemond had forced you to accept.

“Today I saw a dragon,” you commented, also staring at the wall. The boy turned his head slightly. His huge eyes fixed on you. The stories you always told him seemed to be the only ones that woke him up from his lethargic state. “A green dragon, like the one you were painting,” you smiled at him and his eyes seemed to get even bigger.

Greg's real name was Aeron, courtesy of your sister and his father, Aegon Targaryen. Your sister had been stupid enough to get pregnant by that rebellious boy and die in childbirth, leaving her son alone. Your parents had wanted Aegon to keep the child, but it had been impossible. A child who was not like the others, a dragon locked in a home where they were hated. Greg. It was a much better name according to your father. Your grandfather had been called that.

The Targaryens had destroyed the town with the pollution emitted by their businesses, both legal and illegal, and your entire family. And you… you had fallen in love with one of them.

Greg ended up falling asleep with you while you waited for your mother and brother. Your father always closed the bar late, but it wasn't normal for them to take so long to come back. Something must have happened...

At midnight, the lock on the front door clicked and you went out into the hallway to see if your brother and mother were finally arriving. However, that was a big mistake.

“Be thankful they're not going to press charges,” your mother's words echoed throughout the house, no doubt she was scolding your brother. He uttered something incomprehensible in the state he was in. At the time, you didn't know it, but your older brother was in trouble with Aegon again... bloody knuckles. His lost look. The split lip. While you had made love with Aemond, Gregory had punched Aegon to death.

You stood petrified, contemplating him in silence. Just then he located you. “You're a whore who sells herself for a simple cocoa roll,” he whispered. He had never told you anything like that. He, unlike your father, had always known how to hide his anger towards you. But, that night was the one that changed everything.

“Gregory, stop it,” your mother scolded him, knowing before you what he had in mind, after all she had given birth to him… Gregory pounced on you. “Gregory!!!” your mother shouted it. His bloody nails dug into your brother's skin as he hit you while you fell to the ground.

Your father had only hit you that one time... only that one time... was all you could think as you received one blow after another. He grabbed your hair, stretched your neck, and choked you until you were unconscious... The Targaryens had destroyed everything you cared about... and the only thing you could think about was that Aemond would be angry when he saw your body full of bruises... The enormous Greg's eyes watched everything in silence. That child had only seen violence in his life.

The Targaryens always destroyed everything, and Aemond and the tattoo he now had on his shoulder were proof of that.

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