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fioiswriting · 30 days

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Muña | one shot

Summary : Marrying your bastard nephew to mend fences between your families wasn't exactly what you had planned. But when you realise that Jace has grown into a strong and handsome man, you might be ready to rethink your plans.

Rating : Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x Aunt!Reader (Reader is Alicent and Visery’s daughter. She’s one year younger than Aegon)

TW : p in v sex, mommy kink, sub!Jace (kinda), Dom!Reader (but they both switch tbh), inappropriate use of the word muña, oral (f receiving), afab reader, incest, unprotected sex, not proofread

Words count : 8064

AN : hi everyone!! I’ve been very busy lately so I haven't had time to update BUT I’ve been working a bit on various fics. Sorry to all my Aemond girlies but today it’s time for some Jace x reader. It’s a fic I’ve written for my gf who’s turning into a Jace girlie 🤭 It's full of indecency and inappropriate things.

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

Enjoy 🖤

The gardens had become your refuge over the past few days. Under the shade of the trees, on the soft grass, you had found a peaceful haven away from the excitement caused by the arrival of your half-sister and her herd of bastards. The Red Keep made you feel suffocated. And seeing your mother pacing back and forth, running left and right, didn't help. You had to calm her down. You had to keep an eye on your older brother, making sure he didn't slip away into the maze of Flea Bottom for the umpteenth time. You had to hold your family together, and you were tired.

You almost envied Daeron, in Old Town, away from the hustle and bustle of the court.

At least no one would think of looking for you where you were now. And you could enjoy a moment's respite, poring over the thick book you had borrowed from Aemond's library. Had he known that you had entered his room without warning, had he known that you had dared to disturb the perfect tidiness of his precious bookshelves, he would probably have threatened to feed you to Vhagar. But what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. Besides, you could perhaps find a way to pay him back later.

For now, you just needed to be left alone.

You stretched out, arms reaching for the sky. The sun's rays crept through the leaves, their warmth leaving a pleasant sensation on your face. Summer was back and you were delighted. The gentle breeze that ruffled the corners of your book and occasionally lifted the silver curls around your face gave you a sense of freedom. You deftly kicked off your shoes and lay back for a moment, your eyes closed.

Footsteps echoed on the cobbled floor, and you sighed in annoyance. You didn't have to open your eyes to see who it was. You recognised his footsteps. So, you kept your eyes closed. With any luck, he would continue his way and leave you alone to find someone else to annoy.

"Hey, my favourite little sister," Aegon exclaimed as he landed heavily beside you, his body brushing against yours. You opened one eye to acknowledge him, then closed it again, your arms crossed behind your head. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on me?" he insisted when he saw you weren't answering him. "You know, make sure I don't run off or end up drunk somewhere…Stuff like that. Which our mother probably asked you to do."

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. It was true that Aegon was terribly annoying. But of all your siblings, Aegon was still your favourite.

You resigned yourself to rolling onto your stomach, your chin resting on your hands and your head tilted sideways to face him. "My dear brother," you replied sarcastically. "Unable to occupy yourself, as usual." He rolled his eyes before reaching out to remove a leaf that had gotten caught in your hair. He subtly ran his fingers through one of your curls, his touch as light as a feather. "And why have you decided to come and disturb my moment of peace, tell me?"

He blew the leaf away and you watched as it flew away on the breeze. Your big brother's eyes shone with mischief. "Why would I need a specific reason to spend time with my favourite sister?" he added, and it was your turn to roll your eyes. He moved to lie next to you, his body practically pressed against yours.

If you moved a few centimetres, your elbows would touch his.

You'd always been inseparable, and the habit had stuck over time, even when the teenage years had driven you apart. But in those moments, you were like two children again, ready to run away from Septa lessons to get into mischief in the castle.

“Because you always have a reason for everything,” you replied, and he looked at you with a fake hurt look that was greatly exaggerated. With Aegon it was easy. It had always been easy. He wasn't as serious as Aemond, he wasn't as strange as Helena, and he wasn't as far away as Daeron.

"I just wanted to make sure my little sister was all ready to meet her betrothed tonight." He paused. "And also, that she hadn't suddenly decided to become a pious woman and follow the path of the Seven." His voice lowered. You poked him in the ribs. "See? I'm a caring big brother. I care about you."

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied. He laughed. Then he rolled onto his back, arms crossed behind his head, one leg bent, and he closed his eyes. The golden rays caught in his long lashes made him look like an angel.

Everything he wasn't.

'Well?' He added. “Excited to see Jacaerys Strong?”

You sat cross-legged. The bracelets on your wrists clinkled. Aegon knew how much the idea horrified you. You had no desire to marry Jace, to sacrifice your freedom for your half-sister's bastard eldest son. You had no desire to leave the Red Keep, to follow him to Dragonstone and spend your life bearing him children. It was your mother and Rhaenyra's idea, of course.

The union of the eldest daughter of one and the eldest son of the other, as a way of repairing the rift that has grown between your families over time.

As if you were destined to mend fences, to undo the mistakes of your own parents.

It wasn't that you hated Jace. But he was your older sister's son, a bastard who had pretensions he shouldn't have precisely because he was a bastard. He was the model son, the perfect son, the prodigy son, the one who always did everything right. It irritated you. He irritated you with his brown curls and his awkward posture.

It wasn't fair that your father showered him with praise when he could barely remember your own name.

You stood up, smoothing the folds of your red dress to make yourself more presentable, and you caught your brother's eyes on your body, his eyes riveted on the thin fabric that revealed your delicate shapes. God, you loved to play with that. You knew how to get men wrapped around your finger with your sweet, innocent air, and Aegon was the first victim. You approached him and held out your arm to help him up, which he accepted by pulling himself to his feet heavily. After putting your shoes back on, you bent down to pick up the thick book in your arms. If you lost it, you could be sure that Aemond would be angry with you. And that was a risk you didn't want to take.

"Perhaps you're right, lēkia. I'd better go and make myself more presentable for my betrothed. I wouldn't wish to disgrace our family." And with that you turned back, your hair swirling in the air behind you as Aegon watched you go with a small smile on his face.

You knew how much Aegon hated being ignored, and even more so when it came from his little sister. You knew that he would return with his tail between his legs and a pleading look on his face. Between his constant whining and his dirty jokes, he gave you little respite, but it was a game that had developed between you; a game that, deep down, you enjoyed.

He was so predictable.

“If I had known you liked strong men, I would have dyed my hair,” you heard him shout from behind you. Aegon wasn't the least bit shy. You shook your head, your silver locks bouncing.

"Get lost, you moron," you replied without even turning around.

The meal in honour of your betrothal promised to be exciting.

***

As soon as he saw you, your nephew rose to pull the chair beside him in a gallant gesture, and you found yourself watching him. Really watching him. His long, broad fingers on the back of the chair. His dark locks falling around his face. His precise features; his straight nose and deep eyes and square jaw. You hadn't realised how much your nephew had changed. He'd grown up too, and he was now a good head taller than you.

He had become a strong man, indeed.

But you refused to admit that Jacaerys Strong had become quite pleasant to look at.

"Princess," he said, pushing the chair back for you to sit down. Fingers brushed the skin of your partly bare shoulders. The touch had lasted a fraction of a second, enough to make you wonder if it had been a figment of your imagination.

"Lord Strong," you replied in greeting. If the words hurt him, Jace didn't show it. Always the perfect son. What would it take to push him over the edge? To crack the shell he'd built around himself? To shatter the image of the gentleman?

To your right, Aegon was already seated. He was holding a glass of wine between his fingers while Aemond seemed to be lecturing him about something you couldn't understand. The exchange between you and Jace had obviously not escaped his notice, and the corner of his mouth had already curled into a smirk. You knew what it meant.

His silence was full of implications, louder than any words.

Your mother had lectured him before dinner, warned him to behave because that was what was expected of him, and she was counting on you to make him obey.

But your older brother didn't say anything. He simply raised his glass in your direction, his lips forming a word that you couldn't read. You weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed.

You looked at your nephew. He had donned a gambison in the colours of the Velaryons, and you couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation.

After all, a bastard in blue was still a bastard.

"Enjoying King's Landing?" you asked your betrothed, in an attempt to start a conversation. His attention turned to you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“It's quite different from what I remember,” he replied, his voice a little lower than usual, his warm eyes meeting yours. “But of course it all depends on the company you are with."

You hesitated, suddenly unsure.

You hated what the sound of his voice did to you. You hated the way his eyes suddenly made you feel vulnerable.

Fuck.

“It all depends on the company, indeed. And do you find yourself in good company tonight, nephew?" You gave him a defiant look, as if to judge his reaction.

As if to unveil what he held within himself.

“I'm not quite sure. Should I?” He paused, one eyebrow raised. He had taken the bait. “What would yousay?”

His eyes sparkled with something you couldn't quite put your finger on. It wasn't the malice you usually found in Aegon's eyes when he wanted to tease you. It wasn't the gleam that animated his mind when he came up with a new plan for you to cover.

"I would say I'm in pretty strong company," you replied as you took your cup, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of your lips that you hid behind the glass.

You were cruel, giving him no respite, you knew. But you admired his composure. He hadn't cracked yet.

You knew men who were less patient.

Jace leaned towards you. A slight tilt of the head, just to make sure you were the only one to hear him. As if he wanted to share a secret with you. “Careful, Aunt,” he began, his voice suddenly quieter than before. It was almost a whisper. “I might begin to think you enjoy my company.”

You know I don't, you wanted to reply, but Jace had already straightened up as if nothing had happened, his head turned away from you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Baela give him a questioning look, and an unfamiliar sensation stirred in the pit of your stomach.

An unpleasant heat.

A hint of irritation.

You were annoyed, and you didn't know why.

“Look how handsome your betrothed has made himself for you,” Aegon sneered as he reached for the decanter and leaned in close to your ear. “A true Velaryon, isn't he?” He huffed.

You wanted to slap him on the thigh, make him swallow his mockery.

“If you think he's so handsome, I can happily leave him to you,” you replied, and Aegon's eyes widened. You saw him take a sip of wine, and something deep inside you told you he probably wasn't opposed to the idea. His usual mischievous smile was hidden behind the wine glass, but there was no mistaking his eyes.

Aegon had that tendency to give himself away, and you could read him like an open book.

The meal proved to be as boring as you had imagined. Small talk exchanged over fake smiles. An illusory moment in which everything seemed to be going well for one evening.

You weren't fooled, and you knew it was all a facade. You knew your family well enough to understand that the slightest spark could set things alight. You knew your brothers well enough to realise that all it would take was a simple glance between them to liven up an evening they found dull.

You just hoped they wouldn't cause too much trouble tonight.

To your left, Jace was still deep in conversation with Baela. They had that kind of complicity that made your blood boil inside; a shared laugh that sounded in your ear like the squeaky music you hated. You frowned. It was you, his betrothed. It was you, not Baela, and you didn't understand why that statement was suddenly so important.

After all, you despised this union. You hated Jace. You had no desire to promise him the rest of your life.

Jace was a bastard, and you deserved better.

So why did the sight of him touching Baela's hand cause a twinge of jealousy in your body?

His fingers brushed over hers absently. A light touch on her knuckles.

And all you felt was fire.

And then. Then, your fingers slipped under the wooden table.

You knew you were playing with fire. And you knew that if anyone paid too much attention to what you were doing, they would see that you weren't exactly behaving like the perfect Princess Targaryen you were supposed to be.

But you didn't care.

You let your fingers wander, running along the outside of Jace's thigh before moving up to settle in the hollow that connected his thigh to his hip. With a faint touch, your fingertips brushed the inside of his thigh, and then lower, tracing small circles through the fabric that was already beginning to tighten.

Jace almost choked.

He spat out the contents of his glass, his dark gaze fixed on you. Everyone had fallen silent, their heads turned towards him. Rhaenyra's eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

And you hadn't removed your hand.

An innocent smile lit up your face, your eyes sparkling with mischief. You wondered if Aegon could read you. If he could see that look on your face, so similar to his own. That distinctive feature you shared.

Deciding to play with your prey a little longer, you put on your best fake concerned face, pretending to be worried about his health.

"Are you all right, Jacaerys?" you asked, your voice a little higher than usual as your nails dug into the fabric of his breeches. Not to hurt him, of course. Just enough to wake a certain part of him, just enough to remind him that you were his betrothed.

He cleared his throat and coughed again.

“I swallowed wrong,” he replied.

Your fingers crept a little higher, trying to explore his upper thigh, where you knew your nephew would be sensitive. You didn't want to be rational tonight, you wanted to let the fire take over and consume you.

You wanted to let the sleeping dragon within you awaken.

The taste of the forbidden was divine, and the heat spreading through your lower belly was too delicious to stop now.

"Be careful, mandianna. We're not married yet." you said. We're not married yet and look where I've got my fingers. You kept your thoughts to yourself. "I wouldn't want to find myself a widow already," you replied in High Valyrian, amused, and Jace looked at you with his big brown eyes, somewhere between anger and excitement, embarrassment and curiosity.

Under the table, out of sight, your hand brushed the stretched fabric where you could read the confirmation of what he was feeling, the manifestation of his desire.

He was hard.

Perfect.

It was you who provoked this.

He responded to your touch.

You felt a familiar breath on the back of your neck and realised Aegon was leaning against you again. He was pretending to serve you some of the vegetables that had just been brought in for the starter, taking the opportunity to whisper in your ear as he did so well. "Try to be more discreet, little sister," he chuckled softly, his voice nothing more than a whisper to make sure no one heard you. Discreetly, he nodded to where your hand still rested on your nephew's thigh. He tilted his head. "Rhaenyra is right in front of us. Do you think she can see what you're doing to her son under the table?"

He put on his best disinterested face. As if the words exchanged between you were nothing more than banalities.

As if he weren't commenting on the indecent deeds you were doing under the table, unworthy of a girl of your rank.

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied, trying to keep a straight face. You didn't want him drawing any more of your family's attention to you, especially when you hadn't finished playing.

Your big brother gave you a knowing wink, as if to promise you that your secret was safe with him.

And you decided to continue entertaining yourself with the new game you'd invented.

You were bold, and you decided that if Jace didn't already know it, he would find out soon enough.

***

It wasn't that Jace was disappointed with his betrothal. You were divine, and the dress you wore made you so regal that he couldn't keep his attention anywhere but on your body, on your cleavage so gracefully offered to his gaze.

It was precisely why he had turned to Baela, why he had tried to distract himself with their conversation, why he had desperately tried to find something else to hold on to.

Because you were making him lose his footing. And that was a feeling he hated.

No, Jace did not regret his betrothal. You were everything a man could want; you were beautiful, you were regal, you were clever, and above all, you were a Targaryen. A princess. The king's daughter.

The only problem was you were distant and elusive.

Jace remembered your pretensions and mockeries from his childhood. He remembered the little brat you were, following in your older brother's footsteps. He remembered a little girl with a strong temper, who knew what she wanted. He remembered the pranks, not just the ones he'd taken part in, like the Pink Dread, but the ones that had turned against him because of you and Aegon, too.

It was clear that the little girl you had once been, taller than him, with long silver curls and an air of self-assurance far too confident for her young age, had grown into a beautiful young woman.

And that was something Jace hadn't considered.

He couldn't concentrate on his conversation with Baela, not when your fingers were digging through the linen of his breeches into the flesh of his thigh, as if to remind him to whom he had been promised.

Your fingers, slender, light, burning against his inner thigh.

He clenched his jaw.

All around him, the words and faces of the guests mingled in a swirl of sound and colour. Fuck.

Fuck.

His breeches were really becoming too tight.

You'd dared to do that. You'd dared to slip your fingers under the table, in front of everyone, and Jace didn't know whether to admire your audacity or wrap his fingers around your wrist and force you to take them off.

Suddenly he felt hot, a familiar warmth spreading between his loins.

He wasn't sure he could get up, not with his member pulsing between his thighs.

Fuck. You weren't supposed to make him feel like this. He wasn't supposed to feel such a desire for you when you weren't officially married.

This dinner was about officially declaring your betrothal, not consummating a union not yet pronounced.

He was trying to calm down. He tried to ground himself back into reality. Perhaps by staring intently at the contents of his plate he could ignore the sensation of your fingers rising dangerously high; the desperate need to finally have your fingers wrapped around his manhood.

His knees slammed into the table in a sudden movement.

Your fingers had just brushed the bulge that had formed between his thighs.

And he needed more, infinitely more.

You couldn't have the cruelty to arouse such lust in him and then leave him like that. He would never forgive you.

"Stop that," he growled in your direction, low enough for no one else to hear.

But you still had that damn innocent smile, that damn audacity to act as if nothing had happened.

"I don't know what you're talking about, mandianna." Nephew. The sound of the High Valyrian rolling off your tongue sent a wave of heat between his legs. Seven hells, you were going to be the death of him.

He wanted more.

He needed more.

More of your fingers around him, more of your tongue against his length, more of that innocent look on your face as you knelt before him, more of your tight cunt.

Jace was on the verge of losing it. You'd made him a slave to his own desire. You had closed your claws around him and he knew there was no turning back now.

“If you play with fire too much, you might get burned, muña," Jace retorted, leaning towards you, and he felt the imperceptible movement of your hand twitching at the threat. Aunt.

Despite his dwindling strength, King Viserys tried to make a speech about family, betrothal, and a whole host of other undoubtedly honourable values, but neither you nor Jace paid any attention. You were caught up in your own game.

Then Jace stood up, forcing you to remove your hand.

You could see he was uncomfortable, for you knew where to look, for you knew what you had done.

You knew he had a painful erection between his thighs, and it was all because of you.

But you could only admire your nephew's composure.

“To my uncles, Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. I have fond memories of our shared childhood.” His glass between his fingers, he raised it in the direction of his uncles, then turned to you. "And to my sweet and beautiful bride-to-be, who I'm sure will never cease to surprise me with her daring and surprising side. May our marriage be filled with joy and satisfaction".

The toasts continued, as did the meal. The servants had brought the rest of the dishes consisting of steaming meat and tasty garnishes. It was almost too joyous, almost too happy to be real. As if there was a threat lurking somewhere in the corner.

But Jace still had to teach you a lesson.

The music started, the sound of instruments filling the room. Jace apologised to Baela and walked over to his aunt. His other aunt. Your sister.

And you felt the anger return; the same inner turmoil as before.

Jace had held out his hand to Helaena and led her to dance a little further away. You immediately exchanged a questioning look with your brother, who had also stared at Jace in disbelief as he had walked away on your little sister's arm.

"So?" Aegon began. "It seems your betrothed didn't appreciate your little game?" You glared at him, but he just scoffed. "If he changes his mind... You know I like it."

You wondered if you could do the same. You wondered if you could ask Aegon to dance and if Jace would feel the same bubbling inside him, the same jealousy coursing through his veins.

You hated that feeling.

You shouldn't feel that kind of emotion, especially not for him.

You obviously didn't see it, too focused on your own annoyance, but Jace kept glancing in your direction, as if to make sure you saw him.

He wanted to make you jealous. He wanted to fuel the feeling he'd identified in you. He wanted to catch you at your own game. And one thing was certain, Jace hadn't played all his cards yet.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

After a moment that seemed an eternity, your betrothed returned to sit beside you, Helena going back to her own seat. You were less and less able to hide your annoyance, and no doubt Jace noticed, for he leaned towards you, a satisfied look on his face. "Your sister is very sweet," he murmured. He knew very well that this simple phrase would be enough to send you over the edge.

You liked attention. You liked compliments. You liked to be praised.

You said nothing back. But Aegon had his trademark grin, the one that stretched his lips when he had a devious plan, and he was already getting up on the pretext of serving Baela some wine so he could whisper in his nephew's ear. "I know my little sister can be particularly demanding.” He paused. “And difficult to tame. So if you ever need any advice... Or demonstrations…"

Jace was fuming, but he knew he had to keep his cool. It was Aegon, typical Aegon, to push his buttons, to succeed in making him suddenly unsure of himself, to make his mind confused. His fingers closed around his cup, his jaw clenched, and it took all his self-control not to throw the contents in his uncle's face.

He didn't even look at Aegon, who had returned to his seat with a triumphant smile.

But you felt something under the table. Something slipped between the folds of your dress, along your skin, discreetly, lightly, a delicious touch against your skin that made you want more.

Your eyes widened.

Jace.

Jace the perfect son. Jace the model son.

Jace slipping his fingers under your dress, touching the skin of your thigh, rising dangerously high where you could already feel the wetness forming in the crease between your thighs.

This was the moment he snapped, you knew it. You hadn't heard your brother's words, you had only seen him lean towards your betrothed, but you knew he must have struck a chord with Jacaerys Velaryon. That he had probably touched his weak spot.

Or perhaps you were just getting your comeuppance. After teasing him, after making him hard and desperate.

Jace moved his hand, tracing the space where your skin was soft and tender, all the way up your thigh, with a slow, gentle touch. His hand moved further towards the centre of you, where you were sensitive, and he brushed against your crotch. He didn't even need to apply any pressure with his fingertips to tell that you were wet.

Your hips automatically moved towards his hand in search of more contact, causing you to wiggle in your chair. All you wanted to do was grab his wrist, force him to slide his fingers under the fabric separating you, force him to touch you right here. But you were still at dinner and the game was becoming far too dangerous.

"I told you to be careful," Jace whispered as he withdrew his fingers and resumed his serious gaze, his fingers fidgeting on the wood of the table. “Two can play at this game.”

And then perhaps the Seven heard you. Perhaps they were offering you a way out. To be honest, you weren't sure if it was a miracle or a curse. For Aemond had risen, and he had done what he did best; he had made a mocking and provocative speech to his nephews.

Everything happened quickly. Jace and Luke leapt to their feet to answer the provocation, Aemond and Aegon were ready to fight back, and even Baela and Rhaena were prepared to defend their family. You had no time to move, no time to react, for dinner was already over, and so was your little game of cat and mouse with Jace.

This was your way out, you knew it. You were tired of sitting around a table listening to boring speeches. And the entertainment that had consisted of sliding your fingers under the table to push Jacaerys Strong over the edge had now turned against you.

"I shall rest," you warned your mother, who was deep in conversation with Rhaenyra, her features wrinkled with worry. "Tonight's events have left me somewhat tired. And I think a night's rest would do me a world of good." She nodded, stroking your hair, and you knew instinctively what she was thinking. Always the perfect daughter.

And as you passed through the heavy door of the dining room, you hurried off in a direction that was not that of your room.

Oh, but if she knew.

***

Thankfully, the corridor was deserted. You didn't have the slightest desire to run into a guard who would ask you where you were going or escort you to your room for security reasons.

Your steps were as discreet as possible on the stone floor, like those of a small mouse. You moved quickly, stealthily, almost on tiptoe.

Only the crackle of the fire broke the heavy silence between the cold walls, where the dancing shadows of the flames distorted.

You slowed your pace. You had a doubt. You weren't sure which door was the one you were looking for.

And then suddenly, as you reached the end of the corridor, you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you against the wall, away from prying eyes. A strong grip, as if it didn't want to let you vanish again.

Jace was holding you between the wall and his own body. Despite the darkness, you could see his eyes shining in the candlelight, fueled by a devouring hunger you didn't know he possessed. He stared at you for a moment. His eyes in yours. A tension hung between you, burning, ready to consume you both, and you were completely willing.

Gently yet firmly he turned your body. Your chest against the cold wall, your back against his warm chest, and you pulled your hips back to provoke him. You wouldn't succumb so easily, not to Jacaerys.

He pressed himself against you, moving his pelvis forward so you could feel his hard member against the top of your buttocks.

"Do you feel what you're doing to me?" Another thrust of his hips. "Can you feel the effect you're having on me?" He pressed harder against you. Through the layers of fabric between you, you could almost feel him throb. Gods, he seemed big. "Teasing me all evening... Such a tease, aren't you?"

If it wasn't the consequence of your own actions.

You stifled a moan with your arm so as not to attract any patrolling guards. What you were doing was dangerous. At any moment you could be caught. At any moment you could be in big trouble.

But you couldn't stop now. Not when the best was yet to come.

You moved again, seeking more contact, seeking to make Jace harder and more painful than he already was, and you turned your head to challenge him. "What if it's you who's just too weak?"

You felt his hoarse breath against the back of your neck, at the base of your hair. He seemed to be hesitating, thinking. About what he was going to do to you, about what he was going to do to make sure you were responsible for your actions. Again he turned you so that you had your back to the wall, facing him, and you recognised the gleam of desire in his eyes.

Towering over you, he lowered his gaze to you, your faces inches apart. For a moment he let his eyes devour you, wandering from your eyes to your lips, from your lips to your breasts, visible through the fabric of your dress. He wanted to keep this image printed behind his eyelids; your half-open lips, your pleading gaze, like that of a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

You looked ravishing.

"Tell me to stop," Jace murmured. And you knew it was the sensible thing to do, you knew it was better to stop everything now, while it was still possible to turn back. For you weren't married yet.

But you had no desire to be responsible.

His fingers curled around a lock of your hair and tucked it behind your ear, waiting for your answer before continuing.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" you replied, your eyes locked with his. He felt your hand against his cheek as you detailed his face, tracing his well-sculpted cheeks, and he longed for more contact, his face seeking the warmth of your palm.

You put your arms around his neck to draw him closer, to close the distance between your lips, to feel his warmth against your body.

To quench this desire, this need that was becoming uncontrollable.

And your lips met in a feverish, urgent kiss. He pressed you further against the wall, his fingers running down your sides, brushing against the breasts he so craved.

He found your hips and his fingers worked frantically up the bottom of your dress in a crumpled ball of fabric to reach your core. "Look at how wet you are." His fingers brushed your folds through your undergarments. "All of this just for teasing me." He pressed one hand against the wall, still leaning against you, but not giving you what you wanted: his hand had stopped, and you tried to wiggle your hips to force him to continue, to force him to give you what you wanted.

Deep down, you loved the way he was losing control.

You loved that side of Jace you didn't know.

So you grabbed his wrist, guiding his fingers under the last barrier that separated his skin from yours.

The sensation was delicious.

The touch of his warm fingers against your folds sent a wave of heat from your lower belly through your entire body. You didn't want him to stop. "Here." You breathed against his lips. "This is where muña needs you." Aunt. He tensed beneath you, and you wondered if it was the ambiguity of the family tie, uttered in High Valyrian, that had such an effect on him.

You let your lips brush against his.

He collected your wetness on his fingers, exploring the slit between your folds up to your little pearl. You were soaking wet. And you desperately needed him inside you.

His fingers slid down to your opening where he applied a little pressure with the tip of his index finger without ever penetrating you.

"I know," he murmured, drawing small circles before abandoning your opening to return to your bud. "But I can't give you what you want now."

You whimpered under his cruelty, against his lips.

You could see through his game.

He wanted to make you beg, but you weren't the kind to beg. You were the one with the power and you were going to show him.

"We shouldn't stay here," you muttered, rubbing yourself against your nephew's hand. "If someone catches us..."

Jace nodded his head in agreement, withdrawing his fingers glistening with your juice, which you guided to his own lips, spreading the stickiness against his lips.

"If you're a good boy, I'll let you taste me."

And with that, he pulled you into his room.

***

Lying on the bed where you'd pushed him, Jace watched as you removed your dress, his prominent erection stretching the fabric of his breeches. The dress fell to the floor, forming a red puddle that you stepped over, one foot after the other.

Your nephew couldn't look away from your hypnotic figure, but his eyes inevitably wandered back to your breasts. You'd seen him glancing at your cleavage all evening, you could tell he wanted to run his fingers over your soft flesh, his lips over your nipples, and now that you were completely naked in front of him, you could see the unmistakable desire in his eyes.

You walked up to him. He clenched his jaw when he saw you. You, and the perfection of your shape, your little pointed nipples, the tantalising path that led from your chest to the space between your thighs where he knew you were soaked for him.

The flat of your hand pressed against his chest, forcing him to lie down between the pillows. He complied, never breaking the eye contact between the two of you, and you took your place on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. His husky breath escaped through his parted lips, lightly caressing your face.

You were naked, he was still dressed, and you had infinite power over him.

You lowered your hips against his covered crotch, the essence of your desire staining the linen of his breeches as your hips began to move slowly.

You leaned down and traced his jaw with the tip of your lips, planting kisses along his throat. Underneath you, his member twitched. Mimicking what he'd done earlier, you let your fingers rest on the painful bulge between his legs and whispered, "I know." You applied a little more pressure, drawing a moan from between his lips. "I know it's painful. But I can't give you what you want right now."

Jace growled. He wanted to turn you over, slam you against the mattress, pound into you and make you swallow your insolence. But he wanted to see how far you were willing to go. He wanted to see you keep control for a while longer.

You deftly undid his breeches to make it easier for your hand to slip through. You found his hard member, warm and heavy between your fingers.

It was a new sensation. As a model princess, you'd never ventured into this territory, saving your maidenhood for your future husband.

But Jace was your future husband.

You closed your fingers around him, your thumb collecting the sticky beads that had already formed at the tip of his cock and spreading it along his length.

"First I want to come on your tongue," your lips articulated against the skin of his throat as the hand that was in his breeches moved up his torso to close around his jaw, your thumb caressing his lower lip to emphasise your words. "Will you let me?" you added. In response, he let the tip of his tongue slip between his lips, touching the pad of your finger. "Let me show you," he whispered.

And indeed, Jace worked devotedly between your thighs, his tongue tracing the length of your slit, drinking in your essence as it flowed from your entrance like a delicious nectar. His tongue tickled your little knob, his thumbs spreading your folds to gain access to the treasure he coveted.

One of his fingers found your hole clenching around nothing, tracing small circles against it to force you to voice what you wanted. "Do you need me here?" he whispered against your flesh, the vibration of his deep voice sending shivers through your core. Your hands buried themselves in the dark mass of his hair and you moved your hips against his face, urging him to maintain the contact of his mouth against you. "Use your words, muña," he added, despite his nose being buried between your folds.

When you gave him the answer he was waiting for, he let a finger enter you in a delicious stretch. You held back a moan, your fingers digging deeper into his hair, not caring if you were hurting him or not. He continued to explore your cunt with his tongue, like a thirsty man, like a devoted man.

You wouldn't last long, your release close.

Jace then added a second finger. The sensation of his fingers inside you, against that rough spot, combined with that of his tongue between your folds, against your pearl, was simply divine.

"Go on," Jace started, but you immediately cut him off. "Shut up." You didn't want him to speak. You wanted him to continue with his damn tongue, with his broad fingers inside you. You didn't want him to stop. "I am... I am close."

And your climax washed over your entire body like a wave of warmth. Your legs closed around your nephew's face.

It was probably one of the best sensations you'd ever experienced.

Still between your legs, his fingers gripping your thighs, Jace collected your arousal on his tongue, sending shivers of overstimulation down your spine, and your whole body shuddering in a brutal spasm. You straightened up, knees still bent, your hand returning to your nephew's hair to guide him over you, his face close to yours. You stroked his cheek gently, as if to let him know he was a good boy, and your thumb picked up the sticky fluid that was smeared all over the bottom of his face.

You were both out of breath. You from the intense release you'd felt, he from the dedication he'd shown.

A smirk formed at the corner of your lips, and you pressed your thumb between his lips to ensure he didn't waste anything. Jace tilted his face close to yours. "You taste divine," he breathed, turning your cheeks red. "But now I need to be inside you."

His fingers slipped between your thighs, where your centre was pulsing, still far too sensitive from the ministrations he had given you.

"You can give me another, can't you?" He asked, and you nodded, so sore.

After he undressed, Jace pushed on your shoulders to make you lie down, but you skilfully changed positions, taking him by surprise.

You were unwilling to give him the power he wanted, not yet.

Straddling him, you moved your hips to rub your crotch against his erect manhood, spreading your wetness along his length. Beneath you, his torso rose and fell rapidly, and the grunts he let out conveyed his need for more. So your hand sought his hard member, guiding it to your entrance without letting it penetrate you. "So?" you asked playfully. "Do you think you've been a good boy ? Do you think you deserve to be inside me?" You wanted to make him beg, and Jace could see right through you. "To be the first?" you added, lowering your voice slightly, as if you were telling him a secret.

But he wasn't sure he could hold out much longer.

So he capitulated, giving you the defeat you'd been waiting for.

"Yes." he breathed. "Please." Your victorious smile stretched your lips and you guided him further against you, pressing his erection against your opening. Fuck. He was massive.

He was about to breathe a sigh of relief, ready to feel your velvet walls tighten around him, but you blocked his hip movement.

It wasn't enough.

"Please who?" you asked, your fingers moving back and forth around his manhood. He glared at you. You were gloating. "Please, muña," he finally begged, and you gave him what he wanted.

You lowered your hips to let him slide into you in a long thrust that stretched you around him. He was indeedmassive, and the new sensation of having him inside you was a delicious mix of dull pain and burning pleasure. You stood still for a moment to adjust to his presence inside you, your core throbbing around him. The initial pinch gradually dissipated, replaced by a pleasant sensation that sent a wave of warmth through your body.

And then he began to thrust in and out, pushing up to sink into you. "Fuck...fuck, you're tight," Jace growled. Your loose hair cascaded down either side of your face, tickling his cheeks, and he caught it in a messy bun to hold it behind your head.

You could feel the same pleasure as before building up in your lower abdomen.

Gods, you could feel him so intensely. So deeply too. Bouncing rhythmically against that particular part of you.

You buried your head in his neck, his woody scent filling your nostrils.

It was primal. Animal, between the two of you. All that mattered was the here and now. Your body against his, the sweat beading between you, the moans filling the room.

Jace tugged at your hair, causing you to throw your head back, freeing access to your chest, and he straightened up into a sitting position, his member still deep inside you, to find your breast. He buried his face in it and your hand instinctively found the back of his head to stroke his hair. Jace's lips traced a trail of kisses down the valley between your breasts, following the curve of your flesh before closing around your nipple, which he sucked gently. One of his arms wrapped around you to hold you tight against him, his other hand resting on the breast he wasn't devouring.

You stayed like that for a while, your legs on either side of him, his mouth seeking solace in your breasts, the divine sensation of being full, with him inside you, in the softness of the night, the flames rocking your lovemaking.

One of Jace's arms finally found your back and in one swift movement he reversed position. He desperately needed more, sensing that he wouldn't last long.

He pinned you beneath him, against the mattress, your legs immediately closing around him and the pace quickened. His thrusts became more messy, more sloppy because of your two combined essences. "You're mine, now" he grunted, and you shivered. His index and middle fingers wandered between your folds, caressing the spot where you were joined before moving to the pearl hidden at the top of your slit. "Am I?" you replied teasingly. You could feel him throbbing inside you. "Then be a good boy now and give muña your seed."

That was the spark that ignited the fire. Jace quickened the rhythm of his hips, his fingers still buried between your folds, his movements erratic. With each of his thrusts, you felt his member hitting that sensitive spot against your spongy inner walls. You tensed and for the second time that evening, your release flooded your entire body. You were followed by your nephew as Jace spilled into you, his seed painting white ropes against your womb.

He lay still inside you for a moment, his cock softening as you both caught your breath, your hands in his dark curls, his head at the nape of your neck.

You winced as he withdrew from your still sensitive core, his now cold seed flowing between your thighs. Jace dropped down beside you, satisfied. Then you turned to him. You grabbed his wrist one last time and guided his fingers to your centre, where your folds were smeared with the remnants of your lovemaking.

"Look how much you've left inside me," you whispered into his ear, making Jace collect his own seed on his fingertips and push it back into you. "I'm going to keep it all inside me, would you like that, sweet boy?" you whispered again.

And Jace pulled you against him to kiss you, his member stirring between his thighs, against you. It was true that he'd given you the upper hand this time. But he was ready to show you what he could do. You snuggled up against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

"Perhaps…We should bring the wedding date forward."

And he smiled.

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace x reader #jace velaryon #hotd x reader #jacaerys smut #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys x fem!reader #jacaerys velaryon fanfic

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m4tthewmurd0ck · 5 months

Text

Tom Blyth x Actress!Reader

TBOSAS Vogue Interviews — You + Josh

no descriptors other than reader being shorter than tom but i use she / her. click [HERE] for the table of contents for all things tom x actress!reader, and click [HERE] for Tom + Rachel’s interview! little reminder, tbosas has been out for a month when this takes place so they are allowed to mention spoilers. this interview takes place the same day as rachel and tom’s, so you don’t know any of their questions or answers yet. little reminder, your character in HOTD is named juliette.

Like Rachel and Tom’s video, the first bit shows short clips of some answers, but no context as to what the questions are.

You burst out laughing. “That is absolutely not what happened and you know it!”

Josh thinks, then snaps his finger and points to you. “Lover, or Evermore.”

You and Josh fist-bump as you look at the camera and say “Willem Dafoe” at the same time.

THE INTERVIEW —

The actual video begins with you and Josh trying, and failing, to stop laughing.

“I’m sorry we’ll stop,” you promise as you attempt a serious face. “Hi Vogue, I’m Josh Andres Rivera.”

Josh looks at the camera with a straight face as he introduces himself using your name. “Today we’re here to ask and answer questions rapid-fire style! I have the first one, can you give us any spoilers for season two of House of the Dragon?”

You burst out laughing again. “That is not the first question… is it?”

Josh shrugs, “no but the people want to know.”

You look at the camera, “sorry I love my job too much, the people will have to wait. We are completely finished with the filming but I may actually get fired for revealing everything. However I will say if you thought the first season was crazy, you have no idea what’s coming. Where my character is involved, remember she doesn’t know that Lucerys is dead, or that Aemond is directly responsible. And he’d just convinced her that he would change and do better for her before he left, so you have her finding out to look forward to.”

“Not a spoiler like I hoped but I will accept your answer, and I can’t wait to see Juliette kick Aemond’s ass! Okay the real first question, what songs did we sing first when we went and did karaoke as a cast?” Josh raises his eyebrows. “Someone did their research. Oh God I honestly have no idea what the first song was. I definitely sang one too many though. Do you remember yours?”

You nod, “Style by Taylor Swift.”

“Oh yeah that’s right!” He looks at the camera, “that was the day I found out I’d be working with Taylor Swift’s number one fan.”

“The real question is do you remember what I said my favorite album of hers was?”

He thinks for a minute. “Fuck — oh sorry can we swear? You just told me the other day too!” After a few more seconds, he snaps and points to you. “Lover or Evermore right?”

You do a slow clap. “I’m impressed! At my core I am a Lover girly but right now my favorite album is evermore.”

Josh grins at the camera. “Major bff points right there. Okay my turn to ask a question. Oh I bet Rachel and Tom got asked this too. Most difficult scene to film and why?”

“Ooh that’s a good one,” you think for a moment. “Physically, for sure the big scene I have with Tom. Emotionally, I think Sejanus’ execution. Obviously because that’s an emotional thing in itself, but it was the most difficult emotionally just because of how much I had to cry. From the moment Sejanus is led to the tree, to the moment my character falls to the ground sobbing once he’s dead, it started out as tearing up and by the end I had to like I said be full on sobbing. I’m just thankful we got that scene in a few takes,” you laugh.

Josh nods, then points to you as he looks at the camera, “if you guys haven’t seen the movie yet, she’s incredible. I had a hard time with that scene but I can’t imagine how difficult it was for you. It was so cool to see the final cut.”

“If you don’t say your most difficult scene, that was so sweet I may actually cry right now, thank you!”

“Okay okay, emotionally I’d also say my characters execution. Physically, escaping from the arena with Tom. We tripped a few times, it was also hard because we had to coordinate with the actors who play the tributes to make sure they wouldn’t actually catch us.”

“What do you think Rachel and Tom said their answers were?” Someone asks off camera.

You and Josh are both quiet for another moment as you think.

“I think Rachel said the hardest scenes physically were the games because she missed stunt training in the beginning.”

Josh mimics your slow clap from earlier. “That was my exact answer too. And Tom… I think his answer emotionally was yours for physically. I know he was a little nervous to film the fight scene with you in the cabin.”

“My heart,” you put your hand over your heart and smile at the camera as if he’s right there, before turning back to Josh. “Yeah neither of us wanted to rehearse it very much since we couldn’t meet with the stunt coordinator until the day we shot the scene. He was so worried about hurting me. Okay sorry we took so long just for that one question. Describe each others characters in three words.”

“Badass because… hello that whole scene with Tom, kind because she puts everyone else before herself, and cunning. I like that she can think on her feet.” Josh sits back, satisfied with his answer.

You high-five Josh. “Nova May appreciates that. And now I definitely have to top that. Loyal. I know it’s almost to a fault but Nova May really loves that about him, congenial because I feel like it’s really easy to love Sejanus. He’s not like the others who grew up in the capital. And… sweet. He didn’t let having money get to his head.”

“Sejanus also appreciates your answers. Okay my question, name three characters from other franchises that you think would do well in the games.”

“I love this! I swear this isn’t because they’re shows I’ve worked on, they genuinely are the first characters to come to mind. Aemond Targaryen because he clearly has no problem with murder,” you laugh and look at the camera, “love you Ewan! Hmm, Paul Atriedes just because I really wanna see Timmy film the arena scenes. And Joel Miller because I am a Last of Us girly and I know he could kick ass.”

Josh nods, appreciating your answers. “I probably should’ve spent just now thinking of my answers, shit. I’ll say… King T’Challa because he’s overall just a badass and he can fight. This is also in the MCU but Kate Bishop because a bow and arrow are good for long distance kills, and then… just because I’ve been watching The Last Kingdom a lot, Uhtred Ragnarsson.”

“Who plays the best movie villain?” You ask. You and Josh look at each other and grin, having just discussed this a few days ago.

The 2 of you fist bump as you look at the camera and say “Willem Dafoe.”

“There will be no elaborating. Two words: Green Goblin. The ones who get it, just do,” you shrug, and the camera then zooms in on Josh who just nods.

Someone off camera motions for you and Josh to get to the last 2 questions.

“Advice for aspiring actors?” You ask. “I’d say don’t give up. You may get a hundred no’s, but if this is really what you want to do just keep working, keep auditioning. That one yes after a hundred no’s could be the role that changes everything.”

Josh points to you again, “I completely agree. Even if you feel like the only option is to give up, if this is your passion and genuinely what you want to do, don’t quit. You never know when your big break might come. I think I’ve got the last question. Favorite part about filming The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes? I know what she’s going to say,” he points to you and laughs. “Name starts with a T and ends with om,” he looks at the camera again. “You guys she was all heart eyes the moment they met.”

You can feel your face getting warm, but in the end you nod. “That is absolutely not what happened and you know it!” You sigh, then admit defeat. “Alright it’s true. I don’t know that Tom and I would’ve met if it weren’t for this film. Although I had already watched season one of Billy the Kid, that was released I wanna say a couple of months before I booked this movie. So I was already a fan of his.”

“And we all know my love for Dune and House of the Dragon,” a voice speaks up from behind you.

Immediately you get out of your chair and Tom pulls you into his arms, hugging you tight as he looks down at you. “Alright my love?” He asks. After a minute you return to your seat and he greets Josh.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, still surprised.

“Just thought I’d come surprise you,” he smiles. “And I sort of tricked you. That dinner meeting your agent mentioned is actually dinner with me,” Tom turns to Josh. “Rachel says she’s free if you both want to join us.”

Josh agrees and pulls out his phone, saying he’ll let Rachel know.

You swear if your heart could beat out of your chest, it would. No one has ever made you this happy.

Someone off camera asks you all to film the outro for the video.

“Thank you to Vogue for having us!” Tom stands beside your chair and puts his arm around you.

“We hope you enjoy our film, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes,” you smile at the camera.

“It has been in theaters for a month now but you can still catch it for a limited time,” Josh finishes.

“Bye guys!”

TOM BLYTH x ACTRESS!READER TAGLIST —

@callsignwidow | @spencerstits | @coconut-dreamz | @daenerysqueenofhearts | @inf4ntdeath

if you’d like to be added let me know!

#tom blyth x f!reader #tom blyth x fem!reader #tom blyth x actress!reader #tom blyth x you #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x female reader #tom blyth fluff #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow x f!reader #coriolanus snow x reader #lucy gray baird #lucy gray #sejanus plinth #josh andres rivera #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow fluff

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ewanmitchellconnoisseur · 3 months

Text

"𝑨𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒚" - 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 2 Aemond x Reader

A/N: I had not originally planned on this being a series but the Aemond girlies loved the first one so here is a second as a lil gift. //Divider by @firefly-graphics & @cafekitsune

Summary: You wake up to unfortunate circumstances. It only gets worse when you finally get some answers. A dream confirms that whatever chance you had at having a normal life was gone.

TW: Blood, Death.

← Previous Part • Final Chapter →

Word Count: 3.6k (Not proofread, we die like men 🫡Im also just too tired I'll do it eventually🤣)

You yawned as you sat up in your bed rubbing your eyes. You look over to the spot Aemond was in and simply see a flower. Blushing you reach over and smell the flower.

You look over to the bath on the other side of the room and notice there's no steam coming out of it. You stand up and grab your robe off of the armchair next to your bed.

You walk over to the door after you wrap yourself in the armchair and attempt to open the door. You're shocked when the door doesn't open or move an inch.

"Hello?" You try opening the door again but they don't budge. "Is anyone out there?" You wait but hear no response.

You're unsure of what to do now. You look around your room for something to do. All that you manage to find are some of your old toys and unfinished projects.

You sit in front of the fireplace trying to think of what could possibly be going on. You remember a piece of the wall that could move and search for it, trying your best to remember exactly where it was. You end up finding it next to your dresser.

The piece moves easily and you reach inside. Your hand touches something and you instantly remember. You lay down flat on your stomach reach in with both hands and pull out the wooden box.

You're filled with nostalgia as you sit down on your bed with the box. You blow off the smoke and open it up.

Inside lies a small journal which you place to the side already deciding you have to see what young you used to write about. Inside also lies a small cushion you had sewn for you and Halaena's dolls. One of your teeth which Aegon convinced you to let him take out by tying it with string to a door.

You're confused for a moment at the last item. It's a black handkerchief with gold detailing. You pick it up and stare at it a moment before you remember.

Aemond had found you crying in a corner of the library covered in dirt, mud and God knows what else. He had asked you what happened and although you didn't want to tell him he convinced you too. You admitted that your brothers had joined Aegon in tormenting you by throwing mud at you insisting it was just a joke.

Aemond felt bad especially since he understood what it meant to be at the end of their cruel jokes. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the mud off of your face before walking you to his mother's chambers.

Alicent cleaned you off and got you a clean dress before seeking out the boys and your mother. All three of them were forced to shovel horse shit while you, Helaena and Aemond watched and ate cake.

The memory brought a smile to your face. Aemond had asked you for the handkerchief back but you told him you couldn't find it.

You pick the journal back up excitedly and open it up to a random page.

King's Landing 117 AC

Dear Diary,

Today my brother was born. Father named him Joffrey, I personally think his name is stupid but I held my tongue. Septa Anne would be proud. I went with the boys to the dragon pit today. It was awfully boring. Aemond and I watched while they got to practice commands. AND YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHAT THEY DID! They gave us pigs! PIGS! Called them the "Pink Dreads".

Sometimes I wish I could just gouge out Aegon's eyes and put them in his soup when he isn't looking...maybe I can get Helaena to catch a beetle for me...

Anyways. I went to the kitchen to get cake but then Harwin stole it! He said it was taxes? WHAT EVEN IS TAXES?

You can't help but laugh as you continue to read. You fall asleep while reading about the time Aegon fell out of a tree while trying to grab a bird.

You wake up and blink a couple times, clearing your vision. You sit up and jump back when you see Aemond next to you lying in your bed.

"Gods! When did you get here?" He has a smirk on his face as he continues to read while eating an apple.

"A while ago. You were sleeping peacefully I didn't wish to wake you." You nod and look at what he's holding. You quickly notice it's your diary and try to snatch it out of his hand but he's quicker. He clicks his tongue at you as you try to reach for it. "Im quite enjoying this. Listen to this one. Aemond gave me a flower today!"

"Aemond! Stop! Give it back" Your face flushes in embarrassment. "I was a kid!" He drops the apple and manages to grabs your hands with one of his and holds them down.

"He is so cute!" He looks back at you with a shocked expression. "You thought I was cute, princess?" Aemond pulls you to sit in his lap and you hide your face in his neck out of embarrassment. "Aemond smiled at me today!"

"Stop!!! Please I beg of you!" He laughs and puts the journal down.

"And this!" He lifts you out of his neck and waves the handkerchief in your face. "You swore to me that you lost it! Liar!"

Aemond begins tickling you and rolls you over caging you under him. He leans down and leaves a trail of kisses from your neck down to your collarbone.

"Aemond?" He hums back in response. "Why was I locked in my chambers?" He stops kissing you for a moment before he leaves a final one on your cheek and sits up.

"You need to break fast first...then we can talk."

Aemond calls for food and for your handmaids to prepare you a bath. You're shocked at first cause of how open he was about being in your chambers while you were fully undressed. You wanted to ask if the talk had gone well about the betrothal and if that's why he was ok with people seeing him here but you opted to wait.

He watches you eat occasionally grabbing slices of fruit off of your plate.

"If you want one you could just take from the tray you know?" He smirks as he puts another grape in his mouth.

"But they taste much better off of your plate." He leans over and bites the strawberry that you're holding.

"So." He leans back in his chair. "Are you going to tell me why I was locked in here?"

The atmosphere immediately changes and is tense. He sighs deeply.

"...King Viserys died..."

Your eyes widen and you drop the food in your hand back onto the plate. Your heart clenches at the news. You had spent much of childhood following him around, you had even willingly chosen to be his cupbearer in some of his council meetings simply because you wanted to be near him.

"...that doesn't explain why I was locked in my chambers Aemond. Matter of fact that is far from an explanation. If my grandsire died I should have been notified."

Aemond fidgets with his hands the same way Alicent does as he looks at the wall.

"Kepus. What are you not telling me?" He continues staring at the wall occasionally looking at you. "Aemond." [Uncle]

"Aegon was crowned king." He says it quickly with his head held high. "As the king's firstborn son, he is the rightful heir. He was crowned before the masses in the dragon pit."

Aemond watches as your breathing quickens and your facial expressions. Your lips are pressed together as you're clenching your hands so tight.

"Who made that decision?"

"It was the King's wish. He said it upon his deathbed to my mother." You roll your eyes and stare at the wall. There was a battle going on within your head. Part of you was understanding of the firstborn son point but the other part was devastated for your mother.

"Does my mother know? What of my grandmother? I was supposed to leave with her this mourning."

"...your grandmother interrupted the crowning. She was riding Meleys, many people died and just as many were injured." You cover your mouth with a shaking hand. "I believe she is already on her way to Dragonstone probably to speak to your mother..."

Meanwhile in Dragonstone

Rhaenys wasted no time heading straight for the princess. She had no time for formalities.

She walks into the room seeing them both by the fireplace.

"Thank you, Ser Lorent." Rhaenys stops at the head of the table. "Princess Rhaenys, might we hope for news of Lord Corlys' recovery?"

"Viserys is dead." Rhaenyra's face drops as Daemon turns around. "I grieve this loss with you Rhaenyra. My cousin, your father...possessed a kind heart." Rhaenyra struggled to comprehend what was happening. She knew her father would die soon but hoped she would be back to King's Landing in time to be there.

"There is more. Aegon has been crowned as his successor" Rhaenyra clutches her stomach as Daemon walks over.

"They crowned him?" Rhaenyra was looking off into space, grieving.

"How did Viserys die?" Daemon had a look on his face that no one could quite place. Was he sad? Angry? Or just plain confused.

"I could not say." They both look at each other.

"How long ago?" Rhaenyra asks.

"A day past, perhaps two. I was made prisoner in my quarters while the Queen made her preparations."

"Viserys has been slain." Daemon watches Rhaenyra.

"Alicent demanded you declare for Aegon." It was not a question, Rhaenyra already knew that it had happened.

"She did. I refused her." Rhaenyra let out a shaky breath.

"And yet you are alive." Of course, Daemon was skeptical, when was he ever not?

"The High Septon crowned Aegon in the Dragonpit. I witnessed it myself just before I fled on Meleys." Rhaenyra was still clutching her stomach.

"They crowned him before the masses." Rhaenys nodded.

"So that the masses would see him as their rightful King," Rhaenys responded.

"That whore of a Queen murdered my brother and stole his throne. And you could have burned them all for it." Daemon's unknown emotion was now evident, he was angry, livid even.

"A war is like to be fought over this treachery, to be sure. But that war is not mine to begin. I only rushed this warning to you out of loyalty to my husband and to my house." She took a deep breath. "The greens are coming for you Rhaenyra. And for your children."

"M-my children?" Rhaenyra's face contorted in pain. "My daughter! You brought her with you?" Daemon stood straight up.

"Sadly...no...Alicent had her chambers guarded well and her room had no passages. I'm sorry. I did not wish to leave my granddaughter either."

"You left my daughter with those cunts?" Daemon walked around the table to face Rhaenys. "You left her to become a bargain in this war?"

"I did my best Prince Daemon. We have allies within those walls that can get a message to her. Once I hear word she is alright I will be sending someone in to retrieve her."

"You have done enough." Daemon pointed at her. "I will retrieve my child from the snakes you fed her too."

"Enough Daemon..." Daemon turned to face Rhaenyra who was now hunched over gripping the table. "The babe... it's coming..."

King's Landing

Aemond watched as you paced around the room. You had requested he leave you alone for the a day only allowing in your handmaidens and refusing to see anyone else.

Since you had called for him this morning you hadn't said anything in almost an hour and instead paced around the room looking for the words to start this conversation. Occasionally you would stop, point at him and open your mouth but then you'd scowl and resume pacing again. He could tell you were conflicted.

"Ñuha jorrāelagon, kessa ao sit ilagon? Before you burn a hole into the floor." [My Love, will you sit down?]

"Now is not a time for jokes, Aemond! Do you know what your family has done? This is an act of war! They have usurped the throne right out from under my mother's feet. If you think she will let this go easily- no, if you think Daemon will let this go easily you are all sorely mistaken." you begin pacing again.

Aemond stood up and walked over to you and grabbed your hands.

"Gīda." [Calm] He pushed a strand of hair out of your face. "Everything is going to be ok."

"What will happen to me?" The thought had crossed your mind many times as you wondered what would be made of you.

"My grandsire and the King have agreed to our betrothal. They will announce it as part of the terms if she agrees to declare Aegon as the rightful King and kneel before him and the council."

"Terms?" You back away from him letting go of his hands. "Our marriage would no longer hold meaning Aemond. It would be seen merely as something my mother won in bowing to Aegon, a spoil of war. Either way, she would never say yes."

"Then Aegon will marry us anyway." He shrugs and pulls you back into him as if none of this bothered him. "He is my brother and he knows of the love I hold for you."

"And if I say no?" His face became stern.

"You wouldn't hurt me so."

"You mean the way that you have today?" He sighs deeply. "Why did you not come and free me from my chambers?"

"Because I knew you would leave at the first chance." You look away from him and he turns your face back towards him. "You're mine and I wasn't willing to risk losing what is mine."

You would typically enjoy this possessive air around him but you currently found it suffocating. You wanted nothing more than to put space between you but he was holding you tight against him.

"Aemond. This is not right. You must understand that?" He rolled his eyes and let you go.

"Who sits on the throne is none of my concern and not on my list priority."

"Then what is?" You step towards him angrily.

"You!" he snaps. "You are my only priority. If you say no to marrying me then you will be made prisoner here. You will spend the entirety of this war locked in here." You could tell he was being truthful. "Marry me and you will at least have some freedom."

"Some?" He walked back over to the table and sat down tired of this conversation. "What is some?"

"You will be allowed to walk freely around the castle with a guard of my choosing."

"And Vermithor?" You think of your dragon and where he could be. You had claimed him when you returned to Dragonstone after what happened at Driftmark. Aemond's bravery in claiming Vhagar led you to sneak into where he sleeps and approach the dragon yourself. You had also thought that if you claimed him you could ride to King's Landing and see him. You had learned the song Daemon would sing and tried singing it to him to calm him down. It worked despite almost being burnt to a crisp you had claimed him.

"I will visit him on Vhagar." He reached for your hand but you shied away. "You must understand that my grandsire worries about allowing you to have full freedom. After a while, you will be allowed to go riding."

"How long is a while Aemond?" He visibly gulped and bit the inside of his cheek. "How long?" Your voice was cold and made the hairs on his neck stand.

"Until you give birth to our firstborn." He said it quietly already knowing how you would react. It was smart you'd give them that. They know you wouldn't fly away while your child is in their possession. "My grandfather's decision not my own."

"And did you try to fight him on it?"

"Why would I?" He shrugged but soon noticed the angry expression on your face. "I want marriage with you, I want children." He tried to reach for you again.

"So do I Aemond! But not like this." You take his hand and he pulls you to sit on his lap. "I want us to marry because it is what we want. I want my mother to be there! This isn't the way I want to do this."

Aemond leans his head against your chest.

"My hands are tied, my love." You get off of his lap and walk over to the fireplace facing your back to him.

"I wish to be alone."

"Baby..." You hear him get up and walk over to you.

"Please go...now!" A few seconds later you hear him sigh and leave the room. You sit on the armchair and allow yourself to cry.

This was all too much for you. You worried for your mother and the rest of your family. Did they think you were a traitor now? Will they think you have chosen Aemond's family over them if you were to marry him?

You know there's no way your mother will kneel before Aegon, even if she decides to, Daemon would rather lock her in her chambers than agree to that.

How could they be so foolish? So reckless?

You walk over to your bed and lie down. You go over the pros and cons of agreeing to marry Aemond. You then think about ways you could escape. Maybe agreeing to a betrothal will at least get you the right to walk around, you could find your parent's allies within the walls and find a way back to them.

You can stall the wedding for a while. Aemond would understand you'd prefer to be married only after the war was over and your family could attend.

You soon tire yourself out with all this thinking and fall asleep.

You spend the next day alone in your chambers. Alicent had invited you to join her in breaking your fast but you respectfully declined. You needed more time.

You saw a boat sail out from King's Landing and knew it was most likely Otto heading out to deliver the terms to your mother. You knew it would not go well and they would be lucky if she didn't feed them to Syrax for their treachery.

It was only the following midday when you grew worried. You saw Vhagar fly away from the castle. Part of you wish you knew where he was going and the other part of you remained angry. You thought he knew you better, if he did he would have fought harder for your freedom right? He would have denied Otto's offer and not allowed him to make your marriage into something that they hoped would sway your mother into giving up her crown.

Gods you missed her, you prayed every moment for her safety. For all of their safety.

It rained that night. Something was off. You could feel it in your bones. You tried to sleep hoping it would calm your nerves. Your handmaid brought you tea to help you relax. You soon fell asleep but sadly even your dreams were disturbed.

You wake up on the floor of pitch black. Everything around you was dark. There was no light just darkness. You sat up and looked around.

"Hello?" Your voice echoed. You stood up and began walking around in the dark abyss not knowing where you were going.

"Gēlȳn enkagon jamela!" You hear Aemond's voice. [You owe a debt!]

You quickly turned around but nothing was there.

"Aemond?" You walked in the direction that you heard his voice. As you got closer you noticed your feet getting wet.

"Taoba!" You hear him again but in a different direction. [Boy!]

You turned again where you heard his voice and walked quicker in that direction. You felt something patter on your head and looked up. Nothing was there just darkness but you could for sure feel something wet as if it was rain.

There was a flash of a bright light to which you shielded your face.

"Daor Arrax!" Arrax? That's Luke's dragon.

"Luke? Luke, are you there?" You noticed your clothes clinging to your body as they were now soaked the scent of salty water filling your nose.

"Vhagar! No! No..." What had happened? Why was he saying no?

You look around you quickly trying to make sense of what it is you are hearing. The rain is heavier and you look at your hands. They aren't just wet...they're red. Your dress is now too stained red. You touch your cheek and look back at your hands and see the same red substance.

Something drops from above causing you to step back quickly. More pieces fall from the sky surrounding you. You shield your head and scream as the red rain grows heavier and more pieces fall.

When the rain softens and the sound of stuff falling ceases you open your eyes and look around you. Your face twists in pain as you see pieces of the body of Arrax surrounding you. It only gets worse when you see a human body part. You look closer and notice the hand.

"He got me." You hear his Lucerys voice and you instantly know it was his hand.

You wake up in a sweat your hair sticking to your neck and your pillow drenched. You look up and see Aemond standing at the end of your bed his clothes drenched.

And in that moment you knew.

The war had started.

A/N: So this is clearly turning into a series. Which I'm actually not mad about. Not sure where this is going but naturally the chances of any of this being 100% original is not possible. There are far too many HOTD fanfics for any ending or storyline to be original. I can only hope that it is 100% enjoyable.

I will still obviously do my best to come up with a unique ending but I feel like to have a unique ending people need to die. I need to start killing off characters like Grey's Anatomy 🤣

Anywho I hope y'all enjoyed this part! If you wish to be added to this Taglist or any other one please let me know!

Gen Taglist: @thought--bubble, @valeskafics

#ewan mitchell verse #ewan nation #ewanverse #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x you

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year

Text

No Pain, No Gain | Part 2 | PersonalTrainer!Aemond x fem!reader

A/N: thank you for all the love on the first chapter you little horn-dogs, particularly to all my queens I gave love to in the first chapter <3 you modern!aeomond girlies are smth else

Series Masterlist

cheers to @ewanmitchellcrumbs as per, for reading beforehead. luvu

warnings: EVENTUAL SMUT, 18+, sexual tension, binge eating, mentions of breakup, cursing, dickhead Aemond, reader is horny af, English slang (soz), warnings will be added when needed

As much as you’d hate to admit it. Baela was once again right. Working out did make you feel a bit better. Getting your arse out of bed, with the constant ache of your legs and arms and forcing yourself out of the flat was a nice change of pace. Even more so when you thought about the fact you were doing something good for yourself.

The two workouts you did after meeting Aemond for the first time were admittedly difficult. He’d sent you some workouts to do, each alternating depending on the day you would go to the gym. Legs, arms, mid-section. His sense of organisation was almost impressive, if it weren’t for the one word answers he would give he might actually be tolerable.

You pull on your black sports bra. It’s Friday, exactly one week after you’d met up with him for the first time and to your distaste, you’d have to see him again. You’re about to pull it over your head, watching Baela fanny about gathering her stuff so she can stay with her sister for the weekend. It’s funny to watch her when she’s flustered like this, it makes her irritable, which is rare for her.

“How is it…that my armpits ache?” you ask as you pull it over your chest.

Baela white curls peer around the door, pursing her lips at the gym outfit.

“What day is it today?” she asks, packing her makeup bag, a mess of dirty brushes and probably stuff she’s had for going on four years.

Huffing, you check the schedule on your phone, “Some legs I think, maybe some core if I don’t kick him in the face”

Baela shoots you a look, “Oh come on, he can’t be that bad”

You sit on the bed, unlacing your trainers to pull them on, “It’s just his face when he said it to me. Genuinely he makes me just wanna-” your hands clasp together in a strangling motion, imagining his dumb face between your hands, “Ugh!”

Once you’re laced up, you run your hands through your hair, “I hate men”

“Same girlie” Baela says from the kitchen, “speaking of which I think your ex is back in town”

You raise your eyebrows, “remind me, why I should care?” sneaking up behind you she squeezes your thigh playfully, right where the muscle is so tender, “Ah-ah, ow! You bitch”

“Because you might run into him and I know what you’re like, ice queen” she says, packing every little thing into her overnight bag she can, even going as far as to sit on it, “if you do run into him just don’t give him the time of day”

She jumps on the bag, trying to zip it up.

Sigh, “Move, let me” you say, shooing her away.

You lean your body over the bag, using your chest to sandwich the two parts together and zip the bag up, raising your arms in victory.

“God that’s so hot” Baela says biting her lip to which you give her a playful swat, “Aemond’ll have you in that position later”

Gag.

“Baela! That’s your cousin!”

She shrugs playfully, “Doesn’t mean you can’t fuck him”

“I’m not fucking Aemond, Bae” you say sternly

She scans you, silently judging, “You need a good dicking. I’m not saying it has to my cousin, but something please. You’re annoying when you’re horny”

You put your hands on your hips, pretending to be offended as she drags her overnight bag to the door.

“Oh please. I see how often you have to charge your vibrator”

“Don’t you judge me”

“I’m not judging, I’m just saying having a human dick might be due at some point” she half-shouts down the hallway, “Off to Rhaena’s, have fun!”

The door slams shut after that.

“Oh boy I will” you mutter under your breath, grabbing your car keys.

Ping.

And as if right on cue, the annoyance in question has sent you an Instagram DM. You read it already half-annoyed and tap off a reply as soon as you’ve typed it.

As much as you mean for the response to be sarcastic, you have a feeling he won’t get that vibe. And if he does, he won’t care.

Besides, why doesn’t he use capital letters? Where’s the ‘sorry i’ll be late’? And who the hell signs off every message with their initials?

This guy.

He’s going to be the death of your patience for sure.

Secretly, you appreciate coming to the gym in the middle of the day when it’s not as busy. It at least eases a tiny bit of that anxiety you feel. And you know it’s not true, but when it’s busy you feel like everyone is watching you, knowing that you’re not as fit as them or as good as them. It feels a bit like you’re on show.

Once locking up your bag and coat, you pull your wireless earphone out and stick one in, pulling yourself onto the stairmaster. Start on Level 5 for 5 minutes and then the rest on 10, he had instructed. At first your legs felt like they were on fire, but it had gotten a bit easier as the week went on.

As you step again and again, you put on a random playlist. Seeing as you and Baela share a Spotify, you get recommended some right tat and so you distastefully scroll past her music and land on a random one. Some 80’s tunes would have to do. You didn’t have any energy to care anyway.

As boring as the stairmaster is, it gives you a good view for people-watching and generally being nosy. So as a-ha Take on Me plays in your left ear, you watch the various other gym-goers. Some putting very little effort into their workouts and slinking into the background. Some making way too much effort, banging the weights, grunting and generally acting like they’re cock of the walk.

You’re so engrossed with people-watching, you almost jump out your fucking skin when someone yanks the airpod out your left ear, almost sending you arse over tit on the machine.

“Shit” you mutter, hands grappling the handles.

With a sour expression, Aemond pulls the airpod to his ear, frowning at the music.

“80’s music. Really?”

Your expression turns bitter pretty much as this dickhead opens his mouth. Briefly scanning him, he appears to be wearing the same kind of outfit. What fucking cartoon character behaviour is this?

Yanking the airpod out his hand, you put it back in its case quickly, trying to hide the way your face heats up when you see how his hair is now and around his shoulders. Doubly so when his arms raise above his head to pull it into a bun in the middle of his head to get it off his neck.

Bonk. Stop it. This guy’s a dick. If I‘m thirsting over my personal trainer, maybe Baela is right and it’s time to get out there and get laid.

He gets onto the other stairmaster next to you and you try your best to ignore him. That is until he reaches over and adjusts the level on yours to go up to 10, as if you can’t do it yourself. A flash of annoyance passes your face and you swat his hand away.

“I can do it myself, you know”

He raises his eyebrows, victorious as if he’d wanted a reaction from you the moment he stepped in.

“Tetchy” he muses.

As he starts the same warmup, annoyingly faring better than you and barely out of breath, he doesn’t make another attempt to speak.

“Busy day then” you say, startling him by speaking.

He looks at you like he was just expecting you to be weirdly quiet the entire time.

“What”

“You were late”

He raises his eyebrows, taken aback by the sudden conversation. But as swiftly as he looked over he turns away, “Family emergency”

You furrow your brows, “Should you even be here if it’s a family emergency?”

Aemond sighs, as if resigned from the conversation already.

Well fuck me then I guess.

The silence falls between you for a while and once your time is up, you hit ‘stop’ on the machine and go to the water fountain to fill up your water bottle. God it’s so difficult to even make small talk with the guy. As frustratingly attractive as he is, he’s not making it easy to get on with him.

You screw the lid on the water bottle, adjusting the sports bra slightly and take a long sip, briefly looking behind you to see if he is still on the stairmaster. And he is. Staring right at you with that indifferent, stoic look. But as soon as your eyes meet, he looks down at his feet, stopping the machine.

Was he staring at me?

You can feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment the closer he gets, on the basis of filling up his own water bottle, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious in just your black sports bra and leggings.

Stretches, first. If you can get through this it’ll be fine.

They go relatively smoothly.

You say relatively…

…you’re staring at him the entire time, stealing glances where you know you shouldn’t. A few times he nearly catches you, so you internally scold yourself for staring too much. But you can’t really help it, especially with the big fuck off mirror in front of you.

“60 second plank, go” he orders flatly.

You get into position on your elbows, ignoring the way he’s looking over your form. If you think about it too much you really might have to bonk yourself.

As he kneels there watching, you freeze, feeling his large hand softly on your lower back, pushing slightly.

“Don’t arch your back too much”

He pushes more on your lower back, dangerously close to your ass, which only makes your upper arms shudder even more than they already are.

His hand smoothes up your spine to your shoulders, resting in between them.

“Relax your shoulders for me”

Fucking helllll…

It’s weirdly intimate and sinful, lustful thoughts are beginning to sneak into your brain.

Stop, stop, stop.

Be professional.

But his hands are so big. Slender long fingers running up your spine which makes you swallow thickly. And the way he said ‘for me’ is not helping at all in the slightest.

The last thirty seconds feel like fucking years, and even once he’s taken his hand away, pleased at your corrected form, you feel it. The way his hand felt. How it burns hot even now he’s taken it away. You can practically memorise where they were, and wondered how they would feel between your th-

STOP IT.

The timer goes off and you’ve never been more relieved that it’s over.

“Squats next”

Oh Jesus.

They’re not much better. You already feel dumb doing squats with someone watching, but he’s watching so intensely, hands on hips that it’s just distracting.

“Deeper”

You meet his eyes in the mirror, face betraying the sinful thoughts you’re having.

“Excuse me?”

He raises an eyebrow, his eyes flitting over your flushed expression.

“You need to squat deeper”

Oh…

You’re halfway through them when he approaches from behind, extending one foot out between yours to kick your legs further apart. His knee grazes your thigh and you think you might actually die. Because even though he’s just correcting your stance, it felt so intimate the way he just kicked them apart like that without saying anything.

You look at him in the mirror but he’s still observing your body as you squat and you find your line of sight has diverged to below his waistline (for some reason) searching for something underneath his black sweatpants. That is until his eye flicks up to meet yours in the mirror in front of you, and feeling cornered, you flit your gaze away.

Is it hot in here?

“3 more”

And there it is. The sour way he speaks. It’s amazing how just a few words can dull the spark so quickly.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he seems to somehow go even more sour when he sees who’s calling.

“Sorry, just need to take this” he mumbles, already with the phone to his ear as he rounds the corner.

Once out of sight, you adjust the straps of your sports bra, visibly flustered. What the fuck is wrong with me, get it together. That’s it, as soon as I get home I’m downloading that stupid dating app again.

You absolutely cannot think of him this way. You’re paying him as your personal trainer, it’s wrong to think of him this way. And on top of that, he’s an all round dick. One word answers, being generally rude and condescending. God, how can a man with looks like that be such an unbelievable twat and manage to keep clients?

He’s gone for a bit longer than you imagined, so instead you go to the leg press, sitting down and pulling out your phone. Opening your browser was a dangerous one, the last tab you had open was a sex toy website. Luckily nobody is behind you, but it still piques your interest. Maybe you should buy more, for the horny, out of control woman you seem to have become.

“Looking good, sweetheart”

Oh lord. You recognise that voice.

Dread pools in your gut as you look up and click off your phone. Your fucking ex is right there, leaning against the machine with that smug look on his face. You pull the most hateful expression you can muster.

“What do you want”

He has the audacity to shrug, “Can’t I say hello?”

“No”

“Oh, come on baby”

“Do not call me that” you warn him, eyes blazing with hatred, “Save it for your girlfriend, whatever her fucking name is”

“Girlfriend?”

“Yeah, the one plastered all over my feed” you say sarcastically, pretending to fiddle around with the weights, knowing full well you can only leg press 18kg.

He smirks victoriously, revelling in the fact you’ve not blocked him yet.

“We’re not together”

“Oh, that didn’t take long” you put on a sickly sweet voice, dripping with sarcasm, “so what, you think you can just come crawling back to me?”

He doesn't answer that, he simply lets his eyes rake over you in the outfit you have one and says, “you look really good”

“Thanks, now piss off”

“You won’t even get a drink with me, baby?” he asks, trying to seem sweet.

“If you call me baby one more ti-”

“Can I help you?”

Aemond’s stern voice makes the man jump and he looks behind him, smiling nervously. Aemond stands, hands in pockets, looking down at him like he’s shit at the bottom of his shoe. Briefly, his gaze flits over to you, seeing how annoyed and uncomfortable you are with his presence.

Your ex gives him a once over and brushes past him, but not before sending you a, “See you around” before disappearing into the furthest side of the gym.

Gag.

Aemond looks behind him, making sure he’s out of sight before looking back.

“Was he bothering you” he asks flatly.

You scoff, “It was that obvious?” you reply sarcastically.

Aemond asks no further questions than that, allowing him to surmise the situation for himself. He looks off into the direction your ex went, his tongue poking at his cheek in what looks like annoyance. Tearing your eyes away from his gorgeous profile once again, you adjust the weight to 18kg and get your legs in position. The horizontal leg press was a lot more beginner friendly, so you pull your legs in front of you against the plate.

Aemond watches for a second, squatting beside you while you adjust in the seat, eyes rolling over your form. If he was being handsy before, that’s nothing compared to what he does now. He clasps his large hands around your leg, pulling them apart slowly so that your feet are shoulder width apart on the plate. But he keeps his hand there for longer than you anticipated, which makes you swallow thickly, face quickly heating up again.

He looks up at you, “You need to spread your legs a bit more” he instructs lowly, his eyes trained on yours as he says it.

You feel like you’re staring at his mouth, really analysing what he’s said. The connotations aren’t lost on you, and a familiar flutter blossoms in your belly. Clearing your throat, you start the set, trying your best to not look at him and just focus. Your clothes feel too tight and the air feels too hot. Electrified, as if a current could be passed between you both. Hands grip tightly onto the handles.

He scoffs, reaching right over you to adjust the weights, “You can do better than that”. Even his voice seems to have changed and he’s so close you can smell whatever detergent he must use for his clothes, it makes you stay frozen in your spot. Now being able to see every little detail of his face, his arm so close to brushing against your sports-bra clad chest. Your brain feels like it’s made of cotton as your breathing shallows.

He changes the weight to 30kg and watches you as you carry on with the set quietly. The weight isn’t bad in itself, you’re just not used to it, so your legs start to shake and your chest starts to flush with a soft sheen of sweat. Feeling a bit embarrassed about the shaky legs and the fact that he’s so insistently watching you makes you want to disappear into a hole in the ground.

“Struggling?” he smirks.

He smirks. The bastard smirks.

You give him a look, but as much as you try, it’s not as icy as before, betraying how you’re really feeling right now. But if he sees it behind your eyes, he doesn’t let it show on his face.

The bastard’s doing this on purpose.

It’s not even the fact he’s doing it that makes you mad. It’s how easy it seems to be.

He takes his hand away, obviously very pleased at what he’s done.

You try to work through the last 3 reps.

“Such a good girl for me”

Your cheeks burn scarlet, your whole body is hot as you look over at him in shock. But he’s looking at you so casually.

“What”

He smirks again, raising his eyebrows, “I said just one more for me’”

You just do the last one as quickly as possible, brushing past him with lightning speed to gather your belongings. The weights land back with a loud clunk. You are certain you’re going mad, feeling the sweat cool on your skin as you stuff your things in your bag.

“You ok?” he asks with mirth in his tone. You don’t look back and nod your head quickly, just knowing that he’s right behind you with his stupidly large frame, stupid toned legs, stupid sexy arms, stupid long fingers, stupid stupid smile.

“Yep, fine” you blabber it out quicker than you can think and try and change the subject, “Hope the family emergency is…okay”

It comes out more awkwardly than you intended. Aemond only huffs a laugh through his nose. He’s not been this…weirdly friendly since the first time you both met.

“My Dad’s dead but yeah”

Your heart freezes instantly, and you break whatever promise you’d made and look at him. He looks very casual about it, hands in pockets, as if it’s just a minor inconvenience. Trying to keep your expression neutral.

“Oh”

There’s a bit of a quiet moment between you both as he raises his eyebrows.

“Impressive” he says, making you send him a quizzical look.

“What is?”

He licks his lips, smirking at your confusion, “You didn’t default to ‘Oh, I’m so sorry’”

He says it jokingly, but you can tell there’s some tension in his voice.

“Should I?”

You get the sense that this guy isn’t so often taken off guard, but the question you pose him now seems to and the smirk is wiped off his face, replaced with an unsympathetic expression.

“No” he answers simply.

Clearing your throat and throwing your coat on now that the heat of the situation has somewhat dissipated, you inhale deeply, “see you next week”

His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek again, jaw twitching as his eyes search your face, before scanning you again. That smirk tugs at one side of his lips, making your eyes flit there for a brief moment, admiring their shape as he speaks.

“See you then”

You’ve never been more sexually confused in your life you think. So even when the session is over, you just sit in your car, processing it all. Even scrolling through your phone doesn't take your mind off it, reminded by your past search history.

Your flat is weirdly quiet without Baela there, lonely even. For a few hours it makes itself quite useful, as you lay in bed with your current favourite sex toy trying to get these horny thoughts out of your head. But every time you’re close he pops into your head. Jolting you back into the real world.

He’s a personal trainer, he’s supposed to be hands on. You’re just touch-starved.

He’s a dick!

Maybe he’s just cold at first.

He thinks you’re a weak as fuck, stupid and brainless. Who are you kidding?

Your brain attempts to make sense of it all.

After (unintentionally) edging yourself for what feels like hours, your brain and thoughts betray you severely and you orgasm washes over you with a pained and shuddering cry, all while thinking about all the ways he touched you today and what it felt like to have his burning skin on yours for just a moment.

“Fuck…” you sigh out loud..

You want to fuck your personal trainer.

Buzz buzz.

‘Hay-Baela’ appears on your phone and you pick up quickly.

Baela: Evening hoe, how’s things?

Y/n: Fine, just devoured a takeaway.

Baela: Anything nice?

Y/n: Just some Indian food which I’m sure will come back to haunt me.

Baela: Be a shame if it didn’t. How was your session?

Y/n: *sigh* yeah fine, my legs were shaking a bit during leg press though. Had me on 30kg.

Baela: Yeah, Aemond said you did well.

Wait…what?!

Y/N: Eh?

Baela: Aemond texted me earlier, said you did good and you were toning up well?

Y/N: Right…

Baela: Anyway, have a good weekend, don’t burn the flat down. Oh, and I’ve got a parcel arriving tomorrow.

Y/N: Wait, Bael-

Baela: Bye!

The bitch hangs up on you, leaving you in a post-nut haze, confused and somehow more horny than when you started.

The fucker must be doing this on purpose.

“Fuck!”

Taglist (bold couldn’t tag): @mrsgrwy @lovelykhaleesiii @urmomsgirlfriend1 @iiamthehybrid @namelesslosers @chainsawsangel @warmfieldofgrass @mynameisbaby9 @afro-hispwriter @tempo-rary-fix @toodlesxcuddles @definitelynotsatans @svtansdaddyx @tssf-imagines @darkenchantress @vrtualfairy @fan-goddess @skikikikiikhhjuuh @helaenaluvr @sarahkimtae @blackxisxmyxcolour @castellomargot @girlwith-thepearlearring @julczimozart @amazingdisneyfansblog @slutforaemond

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flowerandblood · 1 year

Text

The Crime and Punishment (2)

[ modern! lawyer • Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: sex content, age gap, smut, angst, domination kink, sexual tension ]

[ description: Aemond becomes a co-owner of one of the largest law firms in the area. He is invited to cooperate by one of the best lawyers he knows. While working in the evenings on further matters at his house, he meets his daughter, much younger than him, whose behavior gives him sleepless nights. Anon Request: Age gap, domination, lots of sexual tension and guilt. ]

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

Previous and next parts: Masterlist

______

A few days had passed since he touched her for the first time. They both tried to pretend that nothing had happened. They did not look at each other and did not speak to each other. There was tension between them as they were left alone in the room. It felt like some kind of competition.

Her father often asked her for help in the law firm. Mostly when it comes to documentation. Of course, they had everything electronically stored, but they also had to have copies of the files in separate folders and binders in case something happened.

Aemond hated messy paperwork. She'd seen him scolding his assistant many times for not being able to arrange them properly and for putting them all over the place.

As far as she knew, the girl also studied law and did an apprenticeship with him. But she didn't seem to be able to handle the pressure and demands he placed on her.

"Leave it. Go home now. I'll take care of it." She said to her once, putting her backpack on a chair.

It was hot despite the air conditioning. For this reason she decided to wear a dress with small flowers, pretty and girly, with a triangle neckline. The girl looked at her gratefully.

"Thank you. I owe you lunch." She sputtered tiredly, putting down the pages she had been sorting. She packed her things from her desk and left.

She went to work, standing at the table where all the documentation from the previous month was spread out. From a drawer she took a piece of divider and a marker.

She knew what he liked.

Each client was to have their own binder. Inside, each case was to be separated by a red sheet with its number, date and table of contents - so you could see where one began and the other ended.

They had to be accurately described. The case was to be divided into parts: the evidences, the opinions of the experts, their discussions recorded by ear, the testimonies of the witnesses, the testimony of the client himself, the evidences of the prosecutor's office.

This order had to be followed, no other. Each part should be arranged logically, fragments of the statements of the same witnesses were to be arranged one after the other, so as not to look for them further. If there were any small notes or footnotes among the papers, they had to be stapled to the relevant document they concerned with a stapler.

She arranged everything with care. She put the sheets of paper into piles, and then put everything as one part into a binder. She flinched when she heard his voice behind her.

"What are you doing?" He asked coldly, standing in the doorway. She wondered how long he had been watching her silently.

She went back to her work, pretending she wasn't impressed by the sight of him in a tight, thin black turtleneck hugging his chest. She wondered how it was possible that he wasn't too hot inside.

"I'm putting together your documentation." She said softly as she stapled the two sheets together.

"Where is Hannah?" He asked indifferently, walking over to the table where she stood, roughly leafing through one of the binders that she had just set aside.

"I sent her home because she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Should I call her?" She asked as she tucked pieces of paper into a plastic sleeve. A momentary silence answered her.

"No." He said finally, without commenting further, sitting down at his desk. She knew it was a sign that she was doing her job well and he couldn't find anything to complain about.

She decided that she would work standing up since she led such a sedentary lifestyle. She allowed him to look at her long, shapely legs without restriction. She wondered if he was just thinking about how soft her skin felt when he touched her.

She heard him start typing on his laptop. He was probably replying to a client. She glanced at her watch - it was seven o'clock in the evening. She wondered when he rested.

She had heard that he had dumped his long-time partner, Alys, precisely because she wanted him to give up his career and start a family with her. In six years of relationship he hadn't even proposed to her, and her biological clock was ticking.

Turns out they have other priorities in life.

She guessed he wasn't a sexual ascetic, but she knew he hadn't had a long-term relationship with anyone since then. She wasn't going to be his adventure. One of the smiling journalists or clerks that he could fuck once in the back room. She wanted him to die of despair because of her.

A knock on the open door snapped her out of her thoughts. Daemon, a close friend of her father's for many years, stood there. He was a well-known forensic pathologist, helping them with their cases and determining the possible course of events. He often came to visit them and helped her father when her mother left them and he struggled with depression, unable to get out of bed.

"Would you like a quick snack before the restaurant downstairs closes?" He asked lightly, smiling out of the corner of his mouth.

She thought that he always looked very good. His slicked-back hair, gallant smile, unbuttoned jacket, casually buttoned shirt. He was a very handsome man, and she thought it was great that he'd asked her that in front of Aemond. She smiled broadly.

"Of course." She said lightly and glanced at Aemond who was glaring at her from his laptop. "Do you mind? I promise I'll finish it today. I have the keys to the office." She said calmly.

He looked away, starting typing again on his laptop. His lips were pressed into a thin line.

"No."

***

She and Daemon sat at one of the tables. It was practically empty around them because all the offices, except theirs, were already closed. Daemon ordered a drink, she took tea and a piece of chocolate cake. He stared at her for a moment in concentration.

"How are you?" He asked finally, taking a sip of his drink. She looked at him from under her long lashes and smiled slightly.

"All right." She answered briefly, taking a piece of cake on a small fork into her mouth. Daemon looked at her expectantly.

"You still don't speak to her?" He asked finally. She looked at him with furrowed brows.

"No, Dad." She said maliciously, giving him a warning look. He laughed at her words and shook his head.

"You're going to have to do it eventually." He grunted as he took a sip from his glass. She sighed heavily, looking away.

"My dad told you to talk to me?" She asked tired. She hated bringing it up again. It was a closed chapter for her. Daemon stared at her silently.

"He worries about you." He finally said, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

There was something rakish and youthful about him, a certain arrogance and energy that always impressed her. She couldn't be mad at him. She smiled pityingly.

"I know. But I don't think I have to explain anything. Not even to you." She said, as she popped a piece of cake into her mouth and ate deliberately, keeping her eyes on him. He looked at her thoughtfully. He didn't speak for a moment.

"You know that if you need to talk, you can always count on me." He said finally. She smiled warmly at him.

"I know."

***

After a few minutes they got up and said goodbye. He was already on his way home and she was climbing the stairs up to their office. On the way she met her father, who was running downstairs in a hurry.

"There's a new witness in the case. I need to question him. Can you get yourself an Uber home?" He asked, grabbing her by the shoulders. She shivered with excitement at the thought of being alone with Aemond in the office.

"Yes, don't worry." She said lightly. He nodded and ran downstairs.

She walked slowly down the corridor thinking hard about what she should do. She decided that the best option was to let him look at her. She knew that just being alone with each other would make the tension unbearable for them. She decided that there was no reason to exaggerate and to show him anything more than she herself wanted.

She entered the code and heard a confirmation beep that the password was correct. She went inside and walked through the glass walls to the only room with a light on.

She saw with surprise that he got hot after all, and he was left in just a tight black T-shirt, a nice little watch with a black strap on his wrist. He was leaning over the papers on the table she had been dealing with.

He gave her a quick glance, eyeing her up and down, as if to see if she really had eaten something or if she was doing something else with Daemon. Deciding to pretend not to see it, she stood next to him, getting to work without saying a word.

He sorted the sheets and documents as he saw fit, handing them to her and telling her the client's name and case number. She wrote it down, working with complete concentration, her small hands slipping the pages into plastic sleeves and placing them in the correct order into binders.

She smelled the intense scent of his cologne water and felt with amusement that her nipples hardened slightly, her insides clenched, hot and moist. She thought it was ridiculous how much he affected her.

She glanced thoughtfully at his large hands, lines of veins showing through their skin. He had slender fingers. She remembered how nice their touch felt on her skin, and a pleasant shiver ran through her. She turned her head as she went back to work. She closed several ready-made binders and walked over to the regiment, clearing space and putting them in their proper place.

She heard him move and stand behind her. Her movements slowed in tension, wondering what he would do. She felt him place one of the files on the shelf above her head, placing it on top of the others. She could feel his breath and the warmth of his body. Her heart was pounding like crazy.

Slowly she slid the last of the binders into place, her hand trembling slightly. She felt that he hadn't moved away, his hand still searching for something just above her. She knew he was pretending.

She placed her hands on the shelf in front of her, not moving. She felt that he wanted her to turn to face him, to show with her eyes how much she wanted him. She decided she wouldn't give him the satisfaction and waited for him to pull away.

A strong, aggressive shudder went through her, as she felt his fingertips brushing against the side of her thigh. He guided them as he had done then, up and down, lifting her dress slightly, so that once in a while he could see the fabric of her panties. She swallowed hard, feeling her own wetness between her thighs.

Her fingers tightened on the shelf in front of her and she leaned forward slightly, her buttocks landing on his pants right behind her. They both sucked in a sharp breath as her butt pressed against the bulge hidden under his fly. His hand tightened around her buttock as she began to rub innocently up and down against him, feeling the pleasure of him throbbing under her.

"Stop." He whispered softly. She wondered if he was trying to convince himself or her.

"Just do it." She said softly, squeezing her eyes shut. She felt him freeze, his breath caught in his throat.

They were panting softly, rubbing against each other slowly and intensely, she could feel him completely hard now. His thumb pushed the material of her panties aside, exposing her wet, fleshy structure to him, all hot and throbbing. He ran his thumb over her entry, lapping it in her fluids, his breath quivering slightly.

"Are you sure?" He asked quietly, unsure of himself. She had never heard him talk to anyone like that before. It turned her on even more. All she wanted was for him to fuck her.

"Yes." She whispered softly, her lips quivering slightly, her face pressing against the bookcase in front of her.

She began to breathe faster when she heard the sudden sound of the belt from his pants being unfastened and his fly being unzipped. She felt him pull her panties down to her knees.

She couldn't suppress a soft moan of delight as she felt his huge, throbbing manhood begin to rub against her, sticky with her wetness. He held her buttocks, parting her in front of him, his cock literally slithering over her dripping entrance.

"Are you so wet for Daemon too?" He asked low and mean, his voice quivering slightly, his fingers tightening on her skin. She smiled to herself, breathing deeply through her mouth, unable to bear the tension between her thighs. His jealousy was like a honey to her ears.

"Are you trying to accuse me of something, Your Honor?" She asked lightly, wetting her lips with her saliva, her fingers tightening on the shelf in front of her.

She gasped as she felt him grab her by the throat and pull her higher, until his mouth was at her ear. She was surprised that she liked it. He wasn't violent, but he was determined. He didn't want to give her control.

"Yes. I think you like an older man to fuck you well." He hissed softly into her ear, her lips parting slightly.

"So what are you waiting for?" She asked quietly. Silence answered her, his body froze for a moment.

She moaned loudly, suddenly feeling him deep inside her. Her lips parted in shock as he filled her so much that he barely fit. He must have been just as surprised, because a helpless, short moan escaped his lips. She wondered if she would be able to get more of such wonderful sounds out of him.

His cock began to move inside her, and they both gasped loudly, unable to contain themselves or pretend they weren't enjoying it. He slid in and out of her in an intense, hard rhythm, his throbbing cock rubbing against the soft, moist, sensitive skin inside her.

His balls hit her ass with a wet slap each time he thrust into her again. She couldn't help but moan loudly every time he rubbed against the spot inside her that her fingers always sought when she touched herself. Hearing this, he began to fuck her there on purpose, making her pant in pleasure.

"So close already?" He asked ironically, speeding up, his thighs wet with her juices hitting her with a loud, sticky slap, her fleshy, hot walls pressing desperately around him.

They both breathed heavily, feeling they wouldn't last long. She swallowed hard in humiliation at hearing his words. She couldn't help it, no one had ever fucked her so wonderfully before. Her nipples were painfully hard, her insides swollen and bloodshot with excitement.

"Yes." She mumbled softly, her hips responding greedily to his every thrust as he pumped his cock deep into her, pushing her tight walls to breaking point.

"Do you take pills?" He whispered quickly, panting harder and harder, accelerating, as they both fucked greedily, the shameless, wet sound of their bodies hitting each other reverberating across the room.

"Yes, please, come inside me, please, please, please!" She moaned loudly and sobbed as she felt his fingers on her clit, massaging it in intense, circular motions. Her lips parted in a soundless moan, her body arched in pleasure as she felt a powerful, wonderful orgasm surge through her body, knocking her unconscious for a moment.

She heard him groan loudly as he felt her walls pressing down on him greedily. He couldn't take it any longer, he thrusted in her one last time and just came inside her, semen flowing out of him in waves.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" He was panting low, furious with himself, and at the same time delighted with the pleasure that he was experiencing right now. His nose and forehead brushed her hair, inhaling her scent. They both moved for a moment, unable to stop. Silence fell between them, broken only by their heavy, labored breathing.

"I'm sorry." He finally whispered, his voice trembling slightly as if he was terrified of what he had just done. She slid her hand off the shelf and placed it on his hand, still holding her hip. She stroked him gently and reassuringly, his face still buried in her hair.

"Don't be. Let's get back to work."

______

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @avgdusterfan @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @random-ocity @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost

Others: @fan-goddess @itsabby15 @fangirlninja67 @the-common-cowgirl

If you want to be tagged, leave a comment below. ♥

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 10 months

Text

Comet Donati [Chapter 7: Heart Attack]

A/N: Hello all! Only 3 chapters left!!! 🥰 Thank you so much for loving this fic and giving all my eccentric AU ideas a chance. I’m currently in Washington DC visiting one of my best friends, so if I’m a little bit tardy replying to your comments/messages then that’s why. Don’t fear!! I will check in as soon as I can, and I am still amazed by and will forever cherish your support. 💜

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (+18), drugs, alcohol, smoking, Shelby being a bigger plague than the locusts of Egypt, mental health struggles, references to violence and abuse, New Jersey, pregnancy, mini golf, lots of content for the Cregan girlies.

Selected Chapter Quote: “We’re meant to be together. We have so much history.”

Word count: 6.2k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @doingfondue @catalina-howard @randomdragonfires @myspotofcraziness @arcielee @fan-goddess @talesofoldandnew @marvelescvpe @tinykryptonitewerewolf @mariahossain @chainsawsangel @darkenchantress @not-a-glad-gladiator @gemini-mama @trifoliumviridi @herfantasyworldd @babyblue711 @namelesslosers @thelittleswanao3 @daenysx @moonlightfoxx @libroparaiso @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @mizfortuna @florent1s @heimtathurs @bhanclegane @poohxlove @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @heavenly1927 @mariahossain @echos-muses @padfooteyes @minttea07 @queenofshinigamis @juliavilu1 @amiraisgoingthruit @lauraneedstochill @wintrr13 @r0segard3n @seabasscevans @tsujifreya

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

You type into Google as you hide in the public bathroom stall, pink tile walls and mint green porcelain, very 1950s, phantom drips of water and humming florescent lights: Can Plan B make your period late?

You scroll through the results, clutching your iPhone with both hands. Faintly, you can hear the rest of the band outside, chattering, laughing, slurping on Slush Puppies, smacking trees and rocks with their golf clubs. Yes, the consensus seems to be; Plan B can delay your period. Incidentally, so can pregnancy.

“Fuck,” you whimper. You peer down at your panties, as if you can force bloodstains to appear: sparce rosy threads of warning, dark red splotches like rust, you aren’t particular. You’ll take anything. “Fuck,” you say again, defeated. You get dressed, wash your hands, and head back out into the cloudless afternoon sunshine.

“Stargirl, it’s your turn!” Aegon shouts as you trot over to them: tenth hole, shaped like an L, featuring an intimidating loop de loop. The course is dinosaur themed; Rhaena picked it. Aegon points to Jace. “This deformed bastard wanted to skip you.”

“I told you,” Jace moans. His speech is garbled and lisping, his face comically swollen, bruised yellow-emerald-indigo and drooling blood, stitches above his left eyebrow. He just had his dental implants placed yesterday; the four teeth that he lost at Club Camelot could not be readily located for reattachment. “I can’t keep track of who’s next. I’m on like four different opiates.”

Baela frets over him. “Shh, shh, baby. Try not to talk.” There’s something about watching someone get almost-murdered that makes you want to forgive them, you suppose.

You grab your club and golf ball, dark blue, from where you left them by a tree. Rhaena gives you a covert little thumbs up and raised eyebrows. Everything good? You smile—too widely, insincere, a liar—and nod. Technically, you have yet to obtain concrete evidence to the contrary.

You take your turn, somewhat awkwardly due to the splint that still encumbers your dominant hand. You are thinking about anything but mini golf. Your ball goes halfway through the loop de loop and then comes rolling back. How many strokes? Four, five, you lose count, it doesn’t matter. Aegon is snickering, though not in a mean way, never in a mean way. Aemond is watching you. He does this constantly; you can feel his eyes—river water, otherworldly atmosphere—on you all the time, you can see him on the periphery of your vision. But when you glance at Aemond, he looks away. You’re wearing flip flops, a black NSYNC t-shirt, and bright pink shorts that Baela insists are of the very short variety. Aemond is staring a little extra hard today. Shelby alternates between glaring at him and at you.

Jace putts next. He misses the ball twice. On the third try, he hits it into a nearby pond. Golden koi fish scatter beneath the rippling sheen of the water.

“Loser,” Aegon declares mildly. “Criston, why the fuck are we in New Jersey?”

“Because you’re playing three shows at the MetLife Stadium in East Rutherford,” Criston says as he putts; his green golf ball sails through the loop de loop, bounces off a wall, and then rolls straight into the cup, a hole in one. “One Direction did it, Taylor Swift did it, and now you’re going to do it too. And if you don’t make it too unbearable for me, I’ll even take you to the beach while we’re here. Okay?”

“Okay,” Aegon agrees. He slurps on his Slush Puppie. “Oh, Aemond, I need the Netflix password.”

“You forgot it again?!” Daeron says. Jace, groaning softly, lies down on the ground in a patch of shade. Baela gets a bottle of Orajel rinse out of her purse and starts pouring it into his mouth.

“Get your own account,” Aemond snaps at Aegon. “I think you can afford it.”

“Bruh, that’s not the point! I don’t know where I left off in Grey’s Anatomy!”

They keep bickering. You stop listening. You can only hear the sounds of rustling leaves, squawking seagulls, the whistling of the warm August wind. You can only feel the weight of Aemond’s half-fascinated, half-resentful gaze on you. He wouldn’t believe me, you think. If I really am pregnant, he would never believe that it was an accident. He would never believe that I was that guilelessly, unambitiously stupid. Hell, I did it and I barely believe it.

You steal a glimpse of Aemond—black shirt and black sunglasses, white shorts, Adidas sneakers—and he turns away, pretending to pick dirt off his golf ball. Interestingly, he will talk to you about things not related to that night in Tokyo; perhaps it would be too suspicious not to, a neon sign for the rest of the band to read. But he never allows himself to be alone with you. And he never touches you, not even a grazing of hands or an absentminded bump as he passes you in aisles or hallways.

Bump, you think miserably. An inauspicious choice of words.

“We should watch Se7en,” Aegon is saying now. “Comet fam movie night.”

You mutter: “We’re not watching Se7en.”

“What’s Se7en about?” Rhaena asks.

“You wouldn’t like it.”

“What’s in the box?!” Aegon shouts dramatically—quoting the beautiful yet doomed David Mills, a name he once borrowed to schedule a Zoom meeting with you—and then cackles. It’s his turn. He clobbers his golf ball and sends it flying through the loop de loop; it pops over the barrier and disappears into a bush. Startled squirrels dart out of the leaves.

“Loser!” Jace slurs as he lies sprawled across the ground, vindicated.

“Stop spitting blood everywhere,” Aemond says. He putts next, and badly: poor depth perception. “You’re getting it on my sneakers.”

“Watch it, cyclops.” Jace points to his own stitches, bruises, surgically replaced teeth. “I let you have this one. Now we’re even. But next time I won’t be so charitable.”

“You’re not even,” Aegon tells Jace, abruptly severe. He whips off his aviator sunglasses, crouches over Jace, glaring and thunderous like a storm. Baela observes this warily. “Not even close.”

Jace is intrigued. “No?”

“No. Your face will heal.” Then Aegon pokes him in the jaw and Jace screams, tears slithering down his puffy, mottled cheeks. Cregan yanks Aegon away before Baela can scratch his eyes out. Criston repossesses Aegon’s blue raspberry Slush Puppie as punishment. Luke wins the game, five under par.

Comet’s first shows in the United States this tour start just like the last few in Asia: Jace is iced, painted with concealer, thoroughly medicated, numbed into semi-consciousness. He does lines of coke in the bathroom under Cregan’s supervision. He can’t perform without it. Criston tried to negotiate a month off for Jace, but the label’s message was clear: get him on stage, we don’t care how you do it, we don’t want to know about it, here’s a blank check, figure it out or we’ll find another manager who can. Now Criston watches Jace with his arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes wounded and anxious, his shoulders slumped beneath the weight of what he believes is failure.

The story released to the press is that Jace fell down a flight of stairs but is recovering smoothly. He can barely sing; his mic is turned up, and during Jace’s verses Cregan or Luke layer their voice with his. He wobbles and flubs his way through Night 1 in East Rutherford. You spend the show staring up at the stage without seeing it. Baela and Rhaena are with you, but you aren’t really with them; you feel like if they reached out to touch you, their hands would find only translucent emptiness like a mirage. Shelby is flocked by fellow influencers that she’s invited in from New York City. Aemond is somewhere, somewhere: lurking in shadows, brooding, avoiding, musing, suffering, jotting down starlight-colored judgments in his black-paged notebook.

Per tradition, the band and their entourage coalesce in Jace’s suite after the show. Jace himself, the gracious host, promptly collapses on a couch and lies there senseless as the party spins around him like the planets of a solar system. Baela is perched dutifully beside him, holding ice packs to his jaw, wiping away drool the color of one of Aemond’s Brambles. A tattoo artist is inking a goldfinch, New Jersey’s state bird, to the top of Jace’s right foot. Criston is across the room and speaking—rather tensely, it seems—with cigar-smoking label executives. Shelby is snapping photos with her friends; they take turns posing each other out on the balcony, adjusting elbows and wrists and knees, swiping away stray flecks of mascara, rearranging hair, recommending plastic surgeons. Aegon is typing WhatsApp messages—mostly emojis, from what you can see—to Miley Cyrus. At Luke’s prompting, Aemond begins sharing his comments to the presently sentient members of Comet. He puffs on one of his Benson & Hedges cigarettes as he reads aloud. He kindly skips over any criticisms of Jace’s performance.

You can’t stand hearing Aemond’s voice; not because there’s anything wrong with it, but because there isn’t, because you can’t stop remembering what he said to you in that florescent-white bathroom at Club Camelot in Tokyo, because he uses his words on so many people who aren’t you, because sooner or later your time with Comet will be over and you’ll only ever hear him again through Spotify songs and YouTube clips from before the accident, because he will one day be a ghost who haunts you, rattling doorknobs and chilling pockets of air but never speaking. You escape to ask the bartender: “Can I get a Coke?”

“A rum and Coke?”

“No.”

“Like…white powder coke?”

“No, a Coca-Cola. With nothing else in it.”

“Okay, whatever,” the bartender says, perplexed. He fills a glass with ice and dark liquid that pops and fizzes with carbonation, then slides it across the counter to you. You meander out into the hallway where you can be alone, where you don’t have to pretend to be okay.

The carpet is gold but frayed, the walls adorned with faux marble columns and scuffs from recklessly handled suitcases. Even the hotels are worse in New Jersey. You sip your soda—nonalcoholic, huh? you think, then push it aside—and roam past suite doors and vending machines until you reach the cove of elevators. There’s a full-length mirror hanging on the wall there, gilded, gaudy. You frown at yourself, a reflection that suddenly looks a bit like a stranger. You’re wearing a short seafoam green dress, gold earrings and sandals, and an eerily vacuous expression. You turn and move your hair aside so you can peer over your shoulder at what’s been indelibly penned there since Rome: the tiny comet, the lyrics that encircle it.

I wanted to remember this band forever. To remember Aemond. You can feel your stomach drop as it grows heavy with dread. The pulsing music from Jace’s suite has followed you down the hall, Sugar by Robin Schulz and Francesco Yates. I think I might just have more than a tattoo to remember him by after all.

One of the elevators dings and opens. A man lumbers out, towering, broad, monstrous. You gape up at him: brown threadbare coat, heavy boots, unruly dark beard, grey eyes like a bleak winter sky. There is a miasma that colors the air around him with smoke and alcohol, sweat and earth.

“Hello there,” he says, politely enough. His voice is such a baritone rumble that it’s difficult to understand. He has a British accent, but not like Aegon’s, not like Aemond’s. He reminds you of someone you can’t quite place. “I’m looking for a certain young gentleman. I’m hoping you can point me in his direction.”

“Sure,” you reply, trying to disguise your shock so you don’t offend him. He could be someone important. He could be an eccentric producer or a consultant. Or a drug dealer. “Who…uh…who was it you were hoping to speak with…?”

He smiles: sharp canine teeth yellowed by nicotine, glinting eyes like silver coins. “Cregan Stark.”

“Okay,” you stammer. Drug dealer?? “Okay, okay, I’ll…uh…I’ll go get him.”

You hurry down the hall and into Jace’s crowded, smokey suite, clinking glasses and flirtatious titters in dim lighting like late twilight. You return your empty drink to the bartender, then tap Cregan on the shoulder and inform him that someone out in the hallway is asking for him. He doesn’t seem surprised to hear this. Drug dealer, you think confidently. Cregan gulps his vodka shot and follows you out of the suite. He steps through the doorway. He turns towards the stranger. And then he stops dead. His eyes go wide. The blood drains from his face. And Cregan—immovable, inscrutable, unflappable Cregan—shrinks until he is a child again.

Immediately, you know you’ve made a mistake. You reach for him. “Cregan, wait—”

“My son,” the monstrous man sighs. And of course now you’ve realized exactly who the mirrorlike grey of his eyes reminded you of. “My son.”

You can’t stop him. How could you stop him? Faster than you can think, he has crossed the space between you and entombed Cregan in a stifling embrace. Cregan stands paralyzed, his eyes shifting, searching for escape. Tentatively, appeasingly, his hands slowly rise to hug the man in return.

“Criston?!” you shout. But within the suite, he cannot hear you over the music and the berating of smoke-veiled, bejeweled label executives.

“Did you forget about me, huh?” the man asks Cregan gruffly. And as he steps back he grips one of Cregan’s shoulders: not like Criston would, not like a father, like a vice, like a bear trap. He shakes Cregan once, not too hard. “You can fly your private jet all over the world but you can’t call your own father back? Huh? Huh?!” He shakes Cregan again, harder.

“Criston!” you scream. “Security! Somebody!”

Nobody can hear me. Nobody is coming.

You sprint into Jace’s suite, seize Criston by one hand, drag him out into the hall. On the blurry periphery of your vision, you can see Aemond getting up off the couch to follow you. The second he spots the monstrous man, Criston is roaring. “No no no, get away from him!” He pushes between Cregan and the giant, terrifying, wrathful. The man dwarfs him. Criston doesn’t seem to know it. “You can’t be here. We’ve been over this, you’re not allowed to be here—”

The man tries to reach around him to clutch at Cregan’s shirt. Aemond pulls you away from the scuffle. Criston hits the man in the solar plexus; he is momentarily stunned, wheezing. By the time he straightens up, Criston—louder than you, bellowing and fierce—has summoned security. They are swarming the man and escorting him back down the hallway towards the elevators. Aemond goes to Cregan. Criston looks at you. You’re quivering, penitent.

“I had no idea…he asked for Cregan…I would never have…I thought maybe he was a friend of the band…”

“He’s on our no fly list,” Criston says. His voice is tired yet patient. “But you wouldn’t know that.”

You try to apologize to Cregan, but he isn’t listening to you. He’s listening to Aemond. Aemond is speaking to him, low and calm, too quietly for you to hear. “I’m okay,” Cregan says unsteadily. “I’m fine.”

“It’s alright if you’re not,” Aemond tells him.

And you know that right now you are unnecessary, intrusive. Criston goes downstairs to figure out how Comet’s security guards in the lobby didn’t catch this and—presumably—to ensure that the invader is properly dealt with. Aemond slings an arm across Cregan’s shoulders and leads him back to the party where he is cared for, welcome, valued, safe. You hide in your own suite and try not to think about the dates on the calendar—missing blood, summer days ticking down towards zero—as you steep in a hot bath and attempt to scrub everything you’ve done wrong, today, yesterday, ever, off your skin. Then you change into an oversized Backstreet Boys t-shirt and your favorite Cookie Monster pajama pants.

You try to sleep but of course you can’t, surrounded by a silence that only gets louder. When you hear the swipe of a keycard and the creaking of your door, you don’t know who to expect: Cregan, Criston, Rhaena, Luke, Baela, Jace, Daeron, Shelby, Aemond, ghosts. The clopping of his Crocs gives him away, neon pink to match his tank top. “I’m really not in the mood for anything resembling sex.”

Aegon replies as he kicks off his Crocs: “Did I ask, succubus?” He crawls into the bed, throws an arm casually across your waist, rests his head on your belly as your fingers thread through his chaotic blond hair, fond and tender. He burrows into you, into your softness and your warmth and your truth and your mysteries. Sometimes you feel like you’ll give until he falls into you like a trapdoor, the bones of his hands tangling around your spine, his blood vessels spilling into all of your rage-scarlet cavities, hollows of the flesh, hollows of the soul. “You’re sad.”

You stare up at the ceiling. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what. That’s the strange thing. Usually I can tell.”

“You’ve been gone.”

He looks up at you, confused. “I’ve been right here.”

“You know what I meant.”

Aegon doesn’t argue with you, doesn’t try to defend himself, doesn’t make promises both of you know he could never keep. He only lays his head down on your belly again and pulls himself closer to you, closer, closer, melting into your melancholy, dissolving into dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I was eleven when he broke my arm. Thirteen when he cracked my skull for the first time. Then I got big enough to hurt him back.” Cregan looks out over the waves: blue currents, white froth, sunbeams like glinting blades. As Criston promised, Comet is spending an afternoon in Seaside Heights. You and Cregan are sitting on the sand together twenty yards from the others. “I grew up in a two-bedroom cabin with no electricity or running water. We had a metal wash tub outside, ate deer and squirrels and rabbits, never had clothes that fit, never saw a doctor except when what was wrong might kill us. We had a woodstove and chopped down trees to burn in the winter. I had eight siblings, six of whom are still alive. Barnett overdosed. Courtland drove his friend’s Nissan into a brick wall. I’m not sure it was accidental.”

Your words are soft like a whisper, like gentle hands. “Cregan, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not…” His voice breaks. He stops for a while, composes himself, begins again. “It’s not something I talk about. Not because I’m trying to forget it. I can’t forget it, I’ll never be able to, I understand that, believe me. There’s just nothing to be gained from talking about it. I never feel better afterwards. I always feel worse.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“I know that. Don’t you think I know that?”

You wait, watching him. There’s something he needs to say. Down the beach a ways, Baela is doing yoga, her bare feet sure and agile in shifting sand. Rhaena, Luke, and Aemond are flying kites in the breeze: black dragons, green dragons. Shelby is, predictably, filming them from where she stands on Aemond’s good side. Aegon and Daeron are swimming so far out that you’re beginning to worry about sharks. Criston is parked under an umbrella with an unconscious Jace, reading Memoirs Of A Geisha and eating a sandwich full of something called pork roll.

“After Comet happened, I got all of them out,” Cregan continues. “My mum, my siblings. Good houses in safe neighborhoods. Security in case Dad makes an appearance. He does, every once in a while. He’s locked up, he’s free, he’s locked up again. He has nothing else to do but haunt us. I’ve been waiting for him to die since I was old enough to understand what a graveyard is.” Cregan looks at you. “Does that make me a bad person?”

“No,” you answer immediately.

“The thing is…” He holds out one large hand, palm down, like he’s resting it on a table. Then he shakes it. “Nothing ever feels stable. Nothing ever feels safe. No matter how much money I see stack up in accounts, I lie awake at night wondering what I’ll do if it disappears. So many people rely on me. I can’t stop worrying I’ll end up back in that cabin somehow. I can still hear drops of rainwater seeping in through the gaps in the roof. I can still smell burning wood.”

“The fact that you feel this way, given your history, is completely logical…even if the fear itself is not. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Cregan says. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Do you think it would help if we sat down and looked at the numbers and did some math? Because I suspect that even with a hundred dependents, you’d easily be able to float them for the rest of your lifetime just using the money you already have. And there will be royalties from Comet’s songs forever. Maybe if we can show you exactly how improbable your worst case scenario is, that fear will begin to fade a bit. Not go away, not completely, maybe not ever…but I think you’ll be able to quiet it down.”

“I’ll give it a try. If you recommend it.” Cregan lights a cigarette and takes a drag. Criston glances over and then pretends he didn’t notice. “I have a daughter,” Cregan says; and you can’t stop the shock from hitting your face like a fist. He smiles faintly, wistfully. “I know. I’ve worked very hard to make sure she is kept away from…” He gestures broadly. “All of this.” Fame. Debauchery. Tabloids. Reddit threads. “I was way too young. And her mother and I…we were never really together. It was contentious for a while, but we’ve sorted through things. I support them financially, obviously. And when I’m not on tour or in the studio, I disappear up to Lancaster for a few weeks at a time and no one is the wiser.”

You study him as wind tears in off the Atlantic Ocean, as seagulls swoop and screech overhead. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate how you’ve protected her once she can understand.”

“I don’t know how to be a father. Not a good one. But I try. I don’t just show up for movie nights and birthdays. I take her shopping for school supplies. I put her back to bed when she has nightmares. I take her to the dentist, to the park, to the library. She really likes pigs, so I adopted a few from a farm animal rescue and we learned how to raise them together.”

“You caring about being a good parent puts you ahead of a lot of people already,” you say. “Nobody in Comet knows?”

“Just Aemond. Once, years ago, her mother needed something and I was out of the country. I had to let somebody in on the secret, somebody I could trust. I chose Aemond. I chose right.” Now Cregan is amused. “He’s the one who suggested the pigs.”

“Of course he did,” you say; and you can’t help but smile. “How old is she?”

“Six and a half. Do you want to see a picture her?”

“Absolutely. If it’s alright with you.”

Cregan pulls his iPhone from his pocket, swipes around for a while, and then turns the screen so you can see. She looks like him, a lot like him, but with round cheeks and long dark lashes. And Cregan is beaming as he says: “Her name is Iris.”

“So you didn’t have to do the Maury paternity test thing.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “No. I knew from the second I saw her she was mine.”

“She’s lucky to have you.”

Cregan shrugs, pensive, evasive. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do.” And he believes that you mean it; you can see it on his face. Aemond is watching you and Cregan, you notice now. He glances over, pretends he didn’t, glances again. You gesture to the crashing waves and say to Cregan: “If Aegon gets attacked by a shark, will you jump in and punch it or something please?”

Cregan chuckles. “Yeah. That’s my main job here, I think. Stopping people from dying.” And then, seriously: “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I haven’t done anything that warrants it.”

“No. Really.” Cregan reaches out, takes your uninjured hand, squeezes it briefly before releasing you. “Thank you, Stargirl.” Then he stands and walks to the water’s edge, letting the surf rush up over his ankles, for just a moment feeling nothing on his shoulders but the sunlight.

Aemond gives Shelby his kite and, as she glares bitterly, makes his way over to you. He takes off his sunglasses so he can see you better and hooks them on the waistband of his swim trunks: black, of course, his usual color. You’re actually wearing black today too, a flowing coverup over a pink swimsuit. You feel very much like hiding. When Aemond speaks, there is perhaps a hint of envy, green like leaves of poison, gleaming like snakeskin. “What were you and Cregan talking about?”

“Fatherhood.” And then you realize how it might sound.

There is a split second where Aemond looks startled; then he remembers Iris. “Right. Not so easy for people like us to navigate.”

People like us. Celebrities, boy band members, haunted men. You scramble for a nonchalant way to feel out the subject with him. “How does Louis Tomlinson handle it?”

“He’s a saint,” Aemond says. And you think: Patron saint of baby daddies? “Freddie was very, very unplanned. The mother was a nobody, a rebound. And a lot of people assumed she did it on purpose to try to keep Louis. Or to get eighteen years of a luxury lifestyle out of him. Or to just get fame in general. Personally, I believe it was all of the above.”

“Right,” you say, sweating heavily beneath your coverup.

“But none of that is the kid’s fault, and Louis is a good enough guy to realize it. So he plays nice with Freddie’s mother and they don’t go to war through tabloids anymore.”

“So, uh…” How can I put this? “You’re good with kids too. Cregan told me you had the pig idea.”

And the look that crosses Aemond’s face, the look: caustic, incredulous, night-dark, self-loathing. “Are you insane? Have you met me? I terrify kids. And I should, but not just because of the eye and the scar. What the hell do I know about being a decent father? What do I know about being a decent anything? I’d have no idea where to start. I’d fuck it up even if I tried desperately not to. I’d end up with kids like Aegon: addicts who hate themselves, people who are irrevocably lost.”

You say meekly: “I think Criston is something like a father to you. He could be a role model.”

“I’m not half as good a man as Criston is.”

Change the topic, change the topic, before Aemond gets suspicious. And there’s something else you’ve been meaning to ask him. “Aemond…after you almost murdered Jace…when we didn’t know if or how he was going to be able to perform until he healed…did anyone ask you to come back to Comet and fill in for him?”

“No,” Aemond says. And he’s thunderstruck by the thought, appalled, petrified.

“You don’t think that it might have been a good idea? That it might make sense?”

“No,” he says again instantly.

“But…in Tokyo…when Daeron made that speech at the last show…I think the crowd’s reaction was pretty powerful, don’t you? People still care about you. They love and respect you. And I think…maybe…it might help you with what you’ve experienced. To get back on stage—even just one last time—and prove to yourself that you still have what it takes. To know that if you do leave Comet, it’s your choice, not anyone else’s.”

“They love who I was,” Aemond says. “Not who I am now. And that’s easy to do. They don’t have to look at me.”

“Goddammit, there’s nothing wrong with how you look, Aemond!” you burst out. “You look fantastic. I never get tired of looking at you. I want to look at you all the fucking time. I’d hang life-sized portraits of you on every wall in my apartment in Kansas City. That’s how much I enjoy looking at you.”

He thinks you’re joking, he thinks you’re trying to make him feel better. You can’t stop him from thinking these things. And yet still, as he turns away, he is smiling: just a whisper of a curl at the corner of his lips, secretive, fragile.

As Comet is leaving the beach, you stop at a souvenir shop on the boardwalk to buy your keepsake for this tour destination. You settle on a pink frisbee that has I love the Jersey Shore! embossed on it in large, abrasive letters. You think your parents’ Australian cattle dogs will enjoy fetching it when you get home. Home feels so much closer—both literally and figuratively—than it did just a few weeks ago.

Criston is browsing through the t-shirts. “Hey, what size is your mom, Aegon? Medium?”

“How the hell would I know? Probably.” He holds up a pair of red, white, and blue bikini bottoms that say Firecracker across the ass. “You think my dad would mind if you sent her these?”

Criston is blushing. “Aegon, stop.”

“You could get her a bikini top too. Oh look, that one over there is red, it matches. And it says MILF across the tits. So that’s pertinent.”

“Stop!” Criston cries, distressed, and flees the store.

Halfway through the hour-long drive back to the hotel, Aegon insists that Criston stop the Escalades so he can get a hoagie from a Wawa. Aegon has never had a hoagie before. He says he cannot truly experience America without one.

At the ordering counter, Jace—slightly less bruised and swollen today, and thus in better spirits—taunts Aegon: “Are you sure you need all that bread? You’re going to be wearing a muumuu on stage by the time we get to the Midwest.”

“You know, just because you said that, now I’m going to get two hoagies…”

On the television mounted inside the Wawa, CNN is reporting on a group of tornadoes that just struck Wichita. And it occurs to you that tornadoes don’t have trajectories to calculate like hurricanes or airplanes or comets; they are climatological sharks. They strike quickly, indiscriminately, and then they’re gone again. They aren’t named. They aren’t enshrined. They don’t even have a belly to cut open and retrieve pieces of your loved ones from. If they take someone, they’re just gone.

While the rest of the band is in line to order their food, and Aemond is scrutinizing the dried fruit and nuts selection, you sneak through the other aisles.

It’s time. I have to find out eventually. I have to know.

You pluck a pregnancy test—cute, pink, nausea-inducing—off a rack, purchase it with truly impressive speed at the checkout counter, and race to the bathroom. It’s surprisingly difficult to piss on a tiny stick of doom, especially when your primary hand is in a splint and only partially useable. Eventually, you manage. You put the cap back on the pregnancy test, set it on top of the toilet paper dispenser, and stare at the metal door of the stall. The Wawa speakers are playing The Fray’s Over My Head.

It won’t be positive. It can’t be positive.

You think of pregnancy test commercials you’ve seen: happy couples rejoicing, happy single women getting negatives. How are you supposed to react to bad news? Nobody ever tells you. Do you scream, sob, beg for forgiveness, schedule an appointment at Planned Parenthood? Do you kick the bathroom stall door down in mindless feminine fury? Do you throw yourself off a balcony?

There’s no way it will be positive. It was one time. Just one goddamn time.

And who knows if that will ever happen again with Aemond. This does not improve your mood.

You pick up the pregnancy test. It is unequivocally positive.

You shove it into the small rectangular trashcan for pads and tampons, things you won’t be needing in the immediate future. You get dressed, leave the stall, go to the sink and wash your hands. Then you grip the cool, slick, white porcelain and gaze at yourself in the mirror under nowhere-to-hide florescent lights. What do you feel? Everything, nothing, things you can’t name yet. You’re a raw nerve, you’re completely numb.

The bathroom door swings open. Shelby enters. She squares up with great purpose. Your eyes roll to her, slowly, with no tolerance left, not a drop of it. “Stay away from Aemond,” she demands.

“Make me.”

She is in disbelief. “I’m sorry, what?”

You turn all the way towards her. “Fucking make me, Shelby.”

“I knew you wanted him,” she says, she seethes. “I saw you in those paparazzi photos from Reykjavik and I knew you were already twisting your claws into him.”

You hold up your hands to show her; your thoughts are fuzzy, dazed, without inhibition. “I have no claws whatsoever. If I did, you’d know about it. Believe me. You’d be able to look down and watch your heart beating through the gashes.”

“You don’t belong here. Some Midwestern farm girl running around in flip flops and Cookie Monster pajama pants? You’re trash. You’re a user. You’re a nobody. And if you’re trying to steal a taken man, then you’re a whore too.”

“I’ve been called worse things by better people.”

“I can make them hate you,” Shelby says indignantly. “Comet. The world.”

“Good luck with that, Malibu Barbie. Nobody even knows I exist.”

“Stay away from Aemond,” she says again, trembling with her futile bleach-blond rage. “We’re meant to be together. We have so much history.”

“And yet no future.” You smile sweetly, breeze past her, step on one of her perfectly pedicured feet with a thoroughly unpretentious flip flop. By the time you return to them, the band is almost ready to leave Wawa.

You’re not hungry, but Aegon coaxes you into taking a few bites from his hoagie. You’re not able to focus on what people are saying, but you hear Aemond mention that he wishes Comet had time to visit a planetarium in some nearby town called Toms River. You think about what it would be like to lie side by side with him under the stars, under the sky where comets appear again after vanishing for centuries. You wonder if there’s anyplace where you and Aemond could ever be truthful with each other.

At night you can’t sleep. There is no shortage of reasons why. You wander from your bed to the gold-carpet hallway to the vending machines, where you stare brainlessly at the options. Am I supposed to not be drinking caffein? Did I get any Vitamin D today? How much sugar is too much? You buy a bottle of apple juice—surely a safe bet—and head back to your suite.

As you walk by Aemond and Shelby’s door, your steps slow. Some nights you can hear them in there arguing: Shelby reiterating all the reasons why they’re perfect for each other, clearly a rebuttal to an accusation you weren’t privy to. Some nights you hear muffled casual conversation or episodes of Cosmos. Some nights you hear nothing at all. Some nights your imagination colors in the gaps before you can stop it: his hands on her, his mouth on her, things you know you have no right to dread and yet you do. But tonight, Shelby is momentarily removed from the scene. You can hear the distant pattering of the shower, and then Aemond alone in the living room gathering up plates and glasses. He’s singing something very quietly, so quietly it takes you a while to recognize it. It’s not even a Comet Donati song. It’s Through The Dark.

You sit down in the empty hallway, your back to his door. And you lean your head against it as you listen to Aemond singing softly to himself, doubt sinking into you the same way that trapped blood fills a bruise: Maybe it wasn’t as good for him as it was for me. Maybe he doesn’t talk to me because he doesn’t want to. Maybe I don’t belong here anymore. Maybe I’ve invented a history that we don’t really share. Maybe he didn’t mean it when he said he loves me.

“What am I going to do?” you whisper, scalding tears brimming in your eyes, shivering hands settling on your belly. In a few months, you’ll be showing. “What the hell am I going to do?”

#aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #Aegon Targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #Aegon II Targaryen #Aegon Targaryen II x reader #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #Aegon x you #aegon x y/n

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alicenthightowercore · 1 month

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𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧/𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

(This is just my opinion feel free to disagree but please be respectful!)

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Now in the modern day I feel like royalty wouldn’t be such a big thing for the Targaryen’s so like yeah they might have the biggest business that runs Westeros and it’s seven cities but no throne would be involved so basically her and her younger siblings would not really be rivals at all, she actually is quite fond of all four of them and has her own fashion line/ or I do see her building up her own business but I see Rhaenyra Targaryen the best dressed woman in Westeros since she was a child being a huge fashion icon and designer, now in modern day she of course would neither need Viserys to choose her husband so evidently I see her meeting Harwin when she has a drunken run in with the police when she is 19 and he takes her home instead of going down to the station so we have that, they get married a few years later and have exactly 6 kids, yup six with Jace, Luke, Joff, Aegon, Viserys, and Visenya. Now I see Rhaenyra being a cool mom like allowing the kids to have friends over she would provide the best snacks and order food, clothing wise I see her dressed in wine and crimson reds, black, and I see her in maroon/dark purples, she feels comfortable in pantsuits mostly she also enjoys braiding her silver long hair extravagantly and she is totally a sip on wine and charcuterie board girlie, she also owns this cute cat named Syrax who is spoiled and lazy but serves like her owner.

Aegon Targaryen

Now Aegon is nothing like in the show (because I say so!) but he is a little immature and he cannot be trusted with his adult money at all, like he will spend it all. Definitely has a man cave and his house/apartment gives off Ken’s mojo dojo casa energy, I don’t see much of a paternal bone in his body but he is great with the kids! (In his own way) and no incest here it is not normalized in the modern world(or at all but anyways) everything he wears is definitely brand named and he is a shoe head I purely believe that, drank a lot in college but went to rehab and got better, hasn’t touched a drink in forever, got himself a golden retriever rescue which he named Sunfyre. He has never had a serious relationship, he hasn’t tried to either so I believe in him somewhat.

Helaena Targaryen

She is like a modern Stevie Nicks/fairy aesthetic like girlie, she is also a single mom to three (no man deserves this perfect girl :( she definitely is a cool momma, she owns a doggy named Dreamfyre, Jaehaerys got his own pup which he named Shykros and Jaehaera is a little different and got a small lizard (Helaena is all for a bigger reptile but Haerys opposed and Alicent said she would no longer visit if a huge reptile was in their home) and Maelor got a kitten of his own (I cannot think of a name he would give it) I see hel wearing lots of blues and yellows, whites even and she definitely wears crystal rings/ jewelry in general, she also loves to use different colored eyeshadows and liner and it just gives her an ethereal look, definitely is her thing and all of Westeros tries it because of her<3 she loves insects and has cute little insect decor in her home like cute little embroided pieces and paintings, loves going to cute cafe’s and bakeries with her babies and taking nice pictures🩵 and def uses the blue heart emoji the most. Definitely closest to Rhaenyra and Aemond (also Daeron maybe) definitely owns her own little book/crystal shop where she sells all the best books, candles, trinkets, anything to do with crystals, knitted scarfs that are so cute, needle work and knitting supplies and it definitely gives off cottage/fairy/insect core

Aemond Targaryen

Definitely has a hair care routine, I said it, also all his clothing is dark colored, dark reds and greens, loads of black clothing and grey clothing too, definitely wears a good ol sneaker (Converse/Vans) mostly the classic black and white ones, owns doc martins for sure, was the top of his classes all throughout high-school, college, and university, wears rings and chains but not excessively, knows how to style himself correctly, will either be covered in tattoos or have discreet ones no in between! Definitely runs one of the fam businesses and that’s when Viserys sees all the potential he has. He has this dark kinda aura to him and also is very serious but a complete gentleman, he did lose his eye and yes to Luke but I headcannon that they played with the family heirloom dagger and when Luke was swinging it he sliced Aemond, the family kinda separated but Rhaenyra paid for all medical costs and even wanted to pay for a prosthetic eye (she did) it took a while for the family to go back to normal but it did happen. Definitely goes to the sept (equivalent to a church) with Alicent so she doesn’t go alone or feel alone but he isn’t too close with the faith anymore. I see him owning a Doberman or Great Dane named Vhagar. Adores his nieces, Visenya and Jaehaera are his biggest prides.

Daeron Targaryen

He is def the youngest like in his teen years, is a genius academically and socially can be a little clueless but he still gets it mostly, owns a beautiful dog named Tessarion. On the school soccer team for sure and he definitely has a job in retail with friends, definitely loves video games and would walk into the kitchen with his headset and controller in hand to get chips while Alicent tells him to wait until after dinner, has a entire closet dedicated to hoodies of all colors/brands. Closest with Hel, mommas boy 100%.

Alicent Hightower

Isn’t a sibling but she is mother! Now modern wise she isn’t as intense as in the show, obviously she doesn’t hate Rhaenyra either and no they were not friends she actually was a few (very few) years older than her when she married Viserys, she hates her husband though, her frontal lobe wasn’t even developed when she married him but she formed an unlikely alliance with Rhae, she is religious but not as much as in the show, she you know wears the seven pointed star and visits the septs, definitely is a queen at hosting events and holidays. Great at sowing and alternating clothes, does fundraisers and huge donations to charities also does charity for the sept, MILF! Oh I’m sorry what who said that 😏, is a fashion icon and dresses in greens/blacks/ even reds. Has the best hair in Westeros! And she wasn’t fond of animals but made a friend in Balerion the dog Viserys has but doesn’t take care of, he rests at her feet while she sews/reads, Also speaking of reading she loves classic literature, sips wine while she cooks and does yoga and meditation you cannot convince me that she doesn’t.

So these are pretty much headcannons I have for the modern Targ/towers and I will do a part two for Hels kids and Rhae’s kids including Baela and Rhaena, hope you all enjoyed this little blurb I put together 💗

@madame-fear a little first work 💗

#modern house of the dragon #modern au #rhaenyra targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #aemond targaryen #daeron targaryen #alicent hightower #hotd #house of the dragon

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lovelykhaleesiii · 8 months

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Guurll I saw your requests are open and 1. I LOVE YOUR STUFF (esp. Aemond related but I sort of became an Aegon girlie thx to u). and 2. I love me some Aemond angst so here's my idea, I know is not original and probably there is something similar out there but hey, it is original in my head and I'm sure your talented hands will turn it into a bomb as always :)) - Aemond is married to this badass, sarcastic but super loving woman who loved him from the first glance and would do anything for him. Problem is, the war came, he left for Harrenhal and while he's away she finds out she pregnant; but what she also finds is about his whereabouts with Alys and she literally turns crazy heartbroken and angry, loses the child (if you're not ok with this please leave it out) but still informs her family they need to support him and this is how he survives the "dance". Aemond finds out about the shit he caused and feels shitty to say the least. He comes back home, his wife doesn't want to have anything to do with him and he tries to make amends and put the pieces back together. So basically angst lvl 9000 with slight fluff at the end. Please feel free to play with this as you see fit and remember I just gave you my heart for giving me the chance to send this in!!:X:X

The Spoils of Lies

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x fem!Wife!Reader, Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers [implied]

WORDS: 1,863.

WARNINGS: mentions of adultery, mentions of pregnancy/miscarriage, mentions of grief/mourning, brief reference to suicidal thoughts.

A/N - ugh I am a sucker for angst, nonnie!!! this concept makes me so wild for Aemond, cause he’s always presenting himself as a dutiful, loyal being. but he fucked up big time here 👀 also thank you x my agenda is to make people feral over both Targ boys! and thank you for the kind words nonnie, hope I did your request justice ♥️

If there was an earthly possibility you could rewind the clock, turn back time itself with your bare hands, to a moment you were the happiest, you would in a heartbeat. A moment in time where you found yourself in the warm, familiar embrace of your devoted husband, Aemond Targaryen, the intense feeling of your heart being full of sheer affection and love.

Although, many would agree, mixed with the fate of the Targaryens, good things could never truly last… And that was no exception to your marriage with the Prince Regent.

Aemond made no hesitation in deciding to fight the resistance against his elder brother’s throne, often declaring and meeting such treachery, punishable by death. With much inevitability, Aemond would be absent, gone for months on end, away from your company with nothing but lengthy distance separating you both.

And much to your luck, a few months prior to Aemond having to leave, the Gods had blessed you dearly with the heartfelt news that you were with child... Aemond had always been eager to start his own family, especially after being betrothed to you.

"Our child shall be blessed with his or her father's resilience and its mother's grace and wit... Rest assured, my love, I shall return for the birth. What kind of a father would I be to miss the birth of their firstborn, let alone not be present to hold you?"

Aemond had you strategically relocated and confined under secure protection of some desolate keep in the Reach, not even your relatives being aware of your whereabouts.

Yet as the arduous days lingered on, the small talk of warfare that would often waft into your listening ear, began to dissolve with soft wisps of a young Prince taking the favour of some woman began to stir. Initially, you presumed the Prince in discussion could practically be anyone… Prince Daemon, Prince Jacerys, mayhaps even Prince Daeron. Aemond’s involvement was the least of your concern, that was until someone had mentioned in conjunction to such gossip, that the woman in reference, had resided in Harrenhal.

Harrenhal, where Aemond himself, as far as you had been informed, was his current whereabouts, where he was supposed to find himself undertaking decree over the hostage traitors.

Such rumours, the vile accusations [or so you had naively convinced yourself to believe] had spread to the concerned ears of your immediate relatives. Immediately you were determined to set the record straight, sending ravens with letters, adamant on reassuring your relatives, that your solid stance as well as theirs was to remain faithful to Aemond and the succession of his elder.

"Do not to indulge in the horrendous lies, spread about by the foes, themselves."

Little did you know, your words would come to haunt you with the terrible truth, and consequences with it...

"Just tell me the truth of it, Aemond. You need not deny what others have confirmed."

Sighing, Aemond shook his head incessantly, looking down at his shuffling feet against the solid concrete, leaning himself defeatedly over the creaking, wooden chair.

"Just have the decency to speak the truth!" Infuriated and exhausted, one hand resting over the slight curve of your once prominent, rounded belly, now aching with a dull pain, the other slamming against the oak desk of some private, council chamber.

"I-I... I cannot."

The swell of hot tears begin to cloud your clear vision, as your face grimaces in a fusion of rage, sorrow and grief... As the gossip began to churn from whispers to outright concern, many lords and ladies in calling, had reluctantly granted your persistent questioning with their own testimonies. Each testimony, aligned with the other, and you spared yourself knowing any further beyond the truth that Aemond had bedded a strange woman, by the name Alys... That he had fallen for her, sparring her from death, only to remain by her side, than yours...

You found yourself, constantly enraged and stricken with the raw agony of heartache, clutching at your breast, and another at your belly, where your once growing babe was protected inside. Constant tears falling across your cheek, as you struggled to breath, incompetent to find rest. Your body grew weaker without the slumber, your appetite diminished or repressed, you could not say, yet you found yourself scarcely replenished. That was until the dreadful night, you felt a hot ooze, pooling from between your inner thighs. Hiking your modest gown up, only to find your fingers glazed with a crimson red, a sharp lightening of pain shooting from your stomach towards your bloodied entrance.

"Th-The baby-"

That night was a gruesome one indeed, that only ended with greater devastation. You did not think your heart could take any more anguish, hoping that the torturous labour would end your own meaningless life in the process. Yet, the Gods willing, you found yourself awake by dawn. With only having spent a day to recover and recuperate, you made the sole decision to seek Aemond out for yourself. Against the wise advice of the maesters and your ladies, they had succumbed to your wishes, only implying they arrange the travels for you, as means to lessen the burden.

During the journey, you found yourself soaked in your own thoughts, with moments of silence and numbness in between, to spare you from the hurt. In time, you had safely arrived, only to be met with Aemond's shock and false excitement.

Sparing no time for him to devise a plan, you spat of what you knew, with Aemond harshly ushering you to where you stood now.

"Ahh- So the husband who spoke of honour and duty, seems to have his tongue tied, just as a coward would incline to denial..."

"Y/N- m-my love, ñ-ñuha ōños [my light]-" Aemond's blatant stutter on his low words, was a sight you had never witnessed before, plucking at your heartstrings.

"Sh-She is a renowned witch. One that had deceived me so. I-I did what I did, not out of love but of craft... Deceit. M-My true love, Y/N-"

He strides over to you with a swiftness that caught you off-guard, too late to back away in defence. His calloused hand reaches over, gripping your soft palm tightly, his thumb stroking your skin.

"It has always been you, ābrazȳrys [wife]. I need you to believe me, just this once, even if it is against the world, I ask too much of you, I know."

"A-Aem please, you have no idea-"

"You came all this way in your condition to see me, to hear the truth... This is my truth, Y/N."

Aemond promptly fell to his knees, tugging your arm towards him, you weakly tried to resist, yet failed to pull away. His defined lips instinctively kissed over your tender skin, trailing up your arm ever so slowly, sending chills to coarse through your spine.

"Aem-"

"Please Y/N... I wouldn't dare to live with myself if it meant you alone in the world, you alone hating me for the troubles I have done untoward you and our precious babe."

The babe... Your mind caught in a haste with Aemond's overwhelming presence, drifted from the fact you were no longer with child.

"I-I lost the babe, Aem... Last night. I-I bled-"

Halting in his affections, Aemond's viable eye remained fixated onto your stomach, as your hand instinctively planted itself against the silk fabric, rubbing at your empty womb. Silence drowned the room, only the faint depth of Aemond's staggering, dense breath could be heard.

"A-Aemond-" You breathlessly whimper, pulling your hand away from his loosened grip, as your fingers reassuringly comb through his delicate, neat strands.

"Y-You lost the babe... W-Was it because of- Me?"

You took a few sparing seconds to decipher whether to respond truthfully or to sugar-coat your response. In the moment of hearing the cold, hard truth, you wanted nothing more than to rid yourself free of Aemond and his cruelty. At one point in your trek, you felt the slightest temptation to disappear, bribing the driver to take the wrong turn only to cease your existence in Aemond's life altogether. Although considering the rawness of the situation, the truth was what you came for, and was what you intended to speak of.

"Th-The maesters believe, it was the-ugh- strain of the spoils of the war. They believe that I-I was under great stress, the babe simply could not cope."

Aemond's handsome face fell towards the floor, the swaying of his hair in motion to the shaking of his head, in utter disbelief. The stinging tears once more existent, streaked across your flustered face.

No further words echoed through Aemond, nor could you endorse the courage in yourself to speak. His lean arms snaked around your waist firmly, pulling your feeble frame closer towards him, burying his face against you.

Although muffled, you could discern the sobbing cries of Aemond's pain, triggering your own mournful cries once more. A few minutes passed, until he could gather himself, persistently pleading his apology to you, over and over again.

"It is all my fault. I-I had neglected you for far too long, failing my duty to devote myself to you, Y/N as a husband and as a father. I failed to uphold the vows I spoke of to you. Because of my weak mind, I killed our child."

The brutality in his words, his whimpering tone, and shaken hands as you released his embrace, cupping his wet cheeks, as you leaned towards him.

"You did not kill our child, Aem... The Gods can be cruel, just as they can be merciful... I, too, can be merciless. I could ask that you bid me free from the clutches of duty as your wife. And yet... I can be just as forgiving-"

"Tell me the truth of it, Aemond... Do you wish to keep me as your wife? To never again leave me to ponder and suffer in the whirlpool of vicious lies and gossip."

Aemond's doeful eye eagerly gazes up towards, a fleeting shimmer of yearning glistened across his blackened pupil.

"Yes, yes, of course, ābrazȳrys [wife]. You bless me once again with your everlasting kindness. A kindness that I am undeserving of. Ride with me on dragon-back. I want to go home, I want to be with you now."

"And what of the witch? What if she tempts you again? I cannot bear to go through this again, Aemond. Spare me that."

Proudly standing once more to his sturdy feet, his fingers now interlocked with yours lovingly.

"I shall have her head, if it pleases you my dearest. Punishment by death on the account that she con a royal Prince into adultery."

The familiar, stern tone that would adorn your ears like sweet honey to your lips, finally returned, subtly easing the ache in your heart. Earning a faint, warm smile scorned across your pretty face, Aemond lowered his head towards your height, planting a soft kiss across your forehead.

"I promised my sword to you, I promised my love to you, I promised my life to you. I intend to keep those promises till the end of my days."

general taglist [bold means I could NOT tag you] - @evenstaris @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @hightowhxre @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1

Aemond taglist - @megatardisbaby @harrypotteranna23-blog

credit for dividers - @/firefly-graphics

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen angst #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd imagines #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction

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pearlsinmyhair · 7 months

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emma lannister.

- the fawn. the lioness. the green whore. the dragon’s keeper.

“you should be careful, brother. she not only has the beauty of a doe, but also the teeth of a lion. and i dare say that she is not afraid to use them.”

“i have always wished for a sister. my mother was never one for comfort, and i think that you may be the balm that my poor brother requires. he has been burned before, em. he will not so easily be vulnerable once more.”

“the prince will never marry a lord’s bastard.”

“let these be your claws, sister. soon, you will need to use them.”

𓆱

“and how would you have me, raqiarzy? on my knees and clinging to your skirts, or over you demanding that you let me have you?”

her thumb traces the line of his bottom lip, pressing against the center so that his mouth parts.

her voice is soft, merely a breath.

“kneel.”

#— the fawn and the dragon 𓆱 #bro these two-#my need to make dangerous men submit #where are my aemond girlies at #team green? you’ll have to wait and see #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen smut #house of the dragon #moodboard #aesthetics

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nakedcows · 1 year

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Hello! I gotta request. I love Aemond as many of the girlies do. But I never find fics for the plus size girls. I’m a firm believer that Aemond would like a plus size woman. When you have a moment of time I’d love to see a plus size reader x Aemond type fic. Of course I’d be here for some spice too. I’d just really like to see more representation ☺️ thank you for your time and I hope you have a wonderful day!

A/N: I'm terribly sorry for the delay. I had a draft ready that didn't save so my inspiration took a big hit. I haven't thought about it before, but now that you say it I do think Aemond would lean more toward plus sized women. I can't explain why i just feel like it falls inline with his character. Thank you for your request!!

summary: Aemond gifts Y/n new clothes that inspire her to take the lead tonight

warnings: smut p n v, slight degrading (not of the reader), body shaming (it's not very much don't worry), sub Aemond

Word count 1.4k

Y/n was entranced by the stranger staring back at her in the mirror. The woman standing in her mirror resembled the fair ladies from books she had read as a girl. Ones where brave knights fight to the death and love-struck monarchs conquer kingdoms for the chance to embrace their true love.

The emerald green dress she wore had no sleeves and hung off her shoulders. Y/n was not used to dressing in such a manner she had become accustomed to frumpy, loose fitted clothing that hid her figure. Y/n’s mother had insisted that despite the high ranking of their house, it was imperative to hide the plump figure she had inherited from her to guarantee proposals from the lords of the court. However, her dear Aemond had thought otherwise. He began to court Y/n and questioned why a lady of her rank wore such ill-fitting clothing. After Y/n had confided in Aemond about her mother's advice, he disposed of her dresses and commissioned a new wardrobe of custom-made dresses with matching jewelry for his love. Y/n admired her newfound figure and how her bodice hugged her thick waist instead of hanging loosely. Layers of skirt gracefully laid against her wide hips complimented with embroidery. The mousy-looking girl had disappeared under hair tied in intricate braids decorated with rare jewels and a beauteous dress accentuating her curved figure. Y/n always felt as though she was meant to be invisible, to blend into the background unnoticed and unmentioned unless she was needed. But now, with her full body glittering in the open free to be seen, she felt confident.

“You are enchanting, my love,” Aemond said. He had briefly left for Y/n to dress and retrieve the final piece to her ensemble. Aemond stood behind her, unable to break his gaze from her captivating, newfound appearance.

Aemond delicately clasped a sapphire necklace cut from the same gem in his eye.

“What do you think, dear heart?” he asked as his hands drifted from Y/n’s neck to her shoulders

“I think it’s... perfect,” she said, gliding her hands under her plump chest. “I look perfect.” Y/n smiled brightly at her reflection. The rush of finally recognizing the glowing beauty in her mirror was the same modestly dressed woman that she saw a few hours ago. Y/n felt invincible at this moment she could do anything, say anything and the surefooted woman in her mirror would protect her from fear and persecution with a glance. She turned to Aemond with a new vigor. It was an unfamiliar feeling that bubbled in her core and climbed up to her chest. Aemond had always taken the lead. He led when they held hands when they kissed, and he led when they were intimate. But tonight, she would take command. Y/n grabbed the back of Aemond’s head greedily, pulling him flush against her body for a languid kiss. Aemond grinned into the kiss, stroking her rounded hips, causing the sensation in her core to swell. Y/n slowly pulled from him. Her whole body felt as though someone had set aflame her from the inside.

“You promised me once that you would do anything for me. I need only ask. Is that still true? Y/n asked, meeting his eyes.

“Of course, my dear,” the fingers on his neck glided into his hair to stroke his scalp.

“Then get on your knees for me,” Y/n’s light stroking turned into a tight grip as she yanked Aemond’s head back by his hair. Aemond breath hitched from the sudden tension on his scalp. Y/n had never done this before yet as he prostrated himself before her the hand in his hair leading him to kneel, he felt the blood rushing to his cock.

“What do you wish of me Y/n?”

“Hmm I don’t think using my name suits you very well my dear,” she said smirking.

“Oh?”

“No, you are a proper gentleman are you not? Then you should refer to me like one. I think ‘My lady’ will do for now, don’t you?” Aemond felt his breeches tighten as she leaned in and paused just before their lips met.

“Answer me Aemond.”

“Yes, my lady,” Y/n closed the gap between them, devouring his lips. Aemond could hear his heart pounding as his member began to throb. He was used to being in control. There was safety in control letting that part of him slip for even a second led to disaster. Aemond craved rest for someone to ease that unmoving tension in his mind and giving his power to Y/n would do just that.

“Good boy, strip and lay on the bed for me,” she said releasing his hair. Aemond stood from his spot on the floor in favor of removing his doublet and breeches before laying on the bed desperate to obey. Aemond felt his length harden as Y/n waltzed up to the bed and slowly skipped out of her sleeves pulling her bodice down, exposing her full breast and removed her small clothes, leaving her the remainder of her dress on. His red tip now peaked out from the protection of its fleshy folds at the sight. His shy elegant lady turned dominating temptress. Aemond reached down to stroke himself but was met with a quick slap.

“Proper gentlemen don’t touch themselves, Aemond. It is quite unseemly,” she said, climbing onto the bed to straddle him.

“Y-Yes my lady.”

“You know improper gentlemen believe they are owed the pleasure they crave-” Y/n pulled her skirt up, revealing thick plush thighs coated in slick from her dripping mound, causing Aemond’s breath to quicken and his cock to throb. “But a proper gentleman asks for his desires, doesn’t he, Aemond? Why don’t you ask me for what it is you desire my dear?” Y/n lowered herself a bit allowing Aemond’s tip to just barely graze her entrance. Aemond gasped, trying to hold himself together. Whenever he had coupled with Y/n, Aemond would take her hips and impale her with his length whenever he felt the urge, yet at this moment doing such a thing without her explicit permission felt as though he would be committing an unforgivable sin of the highest caliber.

“Please my lady, use my cock.” Aemond said, bringing his hands up and sinking his fingers into her soft hips.

“Hmm I don’t know. You don’t seem to want me enough. Perhaps I should stop,” she said slowly lowering her skirt. The gentle throbbing of Aemonds cock developed into torturous ache.

“No, my lady, please I need you. Please let me fill your cunny. I need it. I’m throbbing for you. I need to fill you around me my lady,” Y/n grinned and lifted her skirt once more.

“There you go sweet boy begging for me like a proper gentleman,” Y/n dropped onto his cock taking him all at once. Normally Y/n would ask Aemond to be slow and gentle with her, but here and now, consumed by her newfound vigor, she didn’t want to be gentle. She didn’t want to be delicate. She wanted to take everything for herself. Y/n sank, allowing Aemond to bottom out. He could feel her cunt constrict around his cock as if she wanted to meld him into her insides. Her folds would only briefly release him from their tight grip before clenching around him once again. Y/n could feel Aemond’s cock pulsating inside her. The tip of his cock pressed against the spongy back of her cunt. Y/n rocked her hips, enthralled by how the sensation of absolute control enhanced her pleasure. Aemond felt as though he was unraveling every time Y/n’ hips dropped to meet his. Aemond was consumed with an unrelenting craving that devoured his entire being. He needed her. He needed more.

“Faster my lady! Please, I need more of you!”

“Good boy asking so nicely for his lady,” Y/n sped up, bouncing on Aemond’s cock quicker, the heat in her core building to a peak ready to snap at any moment. Y/n reached for Aemond’s hands. She pressed his left hand against her pearl and held onto his right one. Aemond rolled small circles on Y/n’s pearl already covered in her slick and tangled his fingers with hers. Adding pressure to the sensitive bud when their hips met each other.

“I’m going to cum. Are you ready, Aemond?” she said leaning down, losing herself in his violet eye.

“Yes please, I need to feel you cum around me my lady!” she couldn’t hold on any longer. Squeezing Aemonds hand Y/n fell apart as her orgasm flooded across her body, causing her legs to shake and her body to fall limp against Aemond. The pleasure of taking Aemond as she pleased pushed Y/n’s high to another plane of existence. One where she was everything and nothing all at once. Unburdened. Unshackled. Untouched. Aemond felt himself burst inside of Y/n his back arching. He had never reached a peak like this before. He could feel tingling all throughout his body that turned into blissful burning reaching to the tips of his toes. They laid together for a moment, their heavy breathing filling the heady air. Y/n sat up a bit and placed a gentle kiss on Aemond’s temple still damp from the excitement.

“Did I do well for you, my lady?”

“You were the perfect gentleman.”

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#aemond targaryen x plus sized! reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #plus sized reader #chubby reader #fanfiction requests #request answered #requested #dom reader #submisive aemond #sub aemond targaryen

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visxenyax · 10 months

Text

-𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖀𝖓𝖈𝖑𝖊

Synopsis: Aemond has been sent to find his granddaughter, in the middle of the night! Warning: Incest; possessive;(soft) brat kink; SMUT; NSFW ---------------------------------------------- It was the middle of the night and along the path that led to the village of Westrose, there was Aemond who with his black steed with thick hair, were traveling that road in search of his niece, who was no longer at the castle for just over a few hours. Finally the young prince wearing a robe with a hood came to the village, tethered his steed to the side of the village entrance warm, because of the illuminations and people dancing, getting drunk, gambling and you could even glimpse, of couples in the middle of a sexual act;

he wasted no time when the young man was harassed by two prostitutes, a male who promised him divine experiences and the woman who told him that if he went with her, she would take him to see the seven gods!

<<Let me pass!>> he said in a cold voice and his temper was also icy, on the other hand it was his nature to always be icy and cold! The prostitutes were embittered, but on the other hand they were used to having similar behaviors from people; without remorse Aemond resumed his search for his niece; she was renowned for being a fairly open person, not very disciplined, who loved the freedom of the world, and hated being a princess locked up 24/7 inside a luxurious palace. As he went further and further, the number of people increased; continuing at this pace, he arrived at the square where there was a large wooden slab where belly dancers danced on it

Bodies with abundant and not abundant curves, which with their movements could enchant anyone, those curves and sinuous and sensual movements, lust but also the joy in expressing oneself by dancing transpired from them, a dance full of sensuality but also of happiness and joy . In the middle of the slab it was possible to notice a mane with long white hair, so long that it reached up to his bottom, it seemed made of shiny silk, although it was visually splendid and soft. "There she is," thought Aemond.

In his rough way, Aemond waded into the fray and forcefully took his niece's arm and dragged her away from the slab; the girl didn't seem to react at first, but when she turned around and saw who it was and what was going on, she became furious and was trying to wriggle out of his grip in every way, looking like a wild young filly. <<Let me go, uncle! I told you to let go of this fucking grip!>>she yelled, but he paid no attention

"Do you know what the fuck time it is?! it's time to stop doing your usual little girly shit and act like a princess, and you can't come here at this hour!>>Aemond's head whipped around towards her, and his face was full of anger, his eyebrows were furrowed, while his one eye was wide open, you didn't need the other eye to cause concern, that alone was enough; only from that could his anger be seen, through his glacial eye <<You are angry?>> Visenya looked down, she was scared and sorry for his behavior, he didn't like it when his uncle scared him so, she always felt uncomfortable almost disappointed in his presence when he behaved like this… Aemond didn't answer and turned away, still yanking his niece towards the exit that wasn't very close to them. Visenya's arm started to ache... <<Aemond…let go, you're hurting me, I won't run away, I promise>> said Visenya Without doubting Aemond aware of the too much force he had put on the girl's arm, I immediately loosened my grip, but it was too loose that Visenya escaped from his clutches. ''Holy sh-'' With a skilful shot he chased his niece, it wasn't easy to catch her, the young woman was rather plump but had muscles in her legs, which allowed her to have a fairly fast run.

the race was slowly becoming more and more exhausting, Visenya was trudging so to the first barn she saw, she darted into it, hiding behind a giant accumulation of pairs; lying down on a bed also made of the same material as the accumulation of pairs.

exhausted by running, she lay dead weight on it, hoping not to be found by her uncle. Aemond couldn't find her anymore, for the first time a feeling of panic hid inside him; thinking about how many punishments he would have had if he hadn't found her. Or to the millions of problems that her mysterious disappearance would cause, the people loved her, and would like her to become the future queen, for this Aemond must find her at all costs, for the kingdom.

without thinking he entered the barn in which his niece had entered, the place gave off her perfume

<<I know you're here, Visenya, show yourself!>> He was calling her back, even though he was looking for her everywhere, inside that place. He finally reached the place where Visenya was hidden, and there he could see the candor and sensuality of his niece...

her green, almond-shaped eyes looking at him with that innocent look, her heart-shaped mouth, half open with surprise at having been found; her curvy body, her slender legs....

An intense heat slowly built inside Aemond

<<Visenya, get up...and come- let's go!>>

Visenya shook her head as she pulled back

The young man kneeling in front of her was surprised by her audacity and the sensation she was experiencing; enjoying the moment he threw his head back, while being caressed by the young woman, he gave out soft moans, he wanted to keep himself composed even in that intimate moment, he didn't want to sin of virilityAemond was more and more fascinated, his member felt it, he felt he was going crazy... the tissue that trapped him was becoming more and more tight and annoying.. ''Fuck..'' even her thoughts were reeling with lust Aemond closed his eyes inhaling all the air he could, letting it out two minutes later, he had to calm down, but he felt the young girl caressing the inside of his thigh "What are you doing, brat- Visenya's hands were climbing more and more, until they reached Aemond's covered linguine... <<If you don't stop, the fire will burn you>>Aemond said <<Eh..then burn me, under this pair, let's create hell inside this barn>> she answered longing for Aemond. Aemond quickly lowered himself joining his lips on those of the young woman, in a hungry kiss, he was in need of her attention, that attention he had craved since time immemorial, his member was bursting with the desire he had for his Visenya, always the defined as hers even if she was unaware, wherever she went, she had her icy shadow, watching her, longing for her, protecting her. the kiss grew more and more fierce, adding their tongues from both sides, a kiss that became red-hot; Aemond wanted her and without thinking twice, he took both sides of the corset she was holding and forcefully split the corset, ripping the dress underneath; revealing the curves of her young, soft curves, almost milky white skin; her body in Aemond's eyes was perfect, her small breasts were grabbed and licked by the young man; the small nipple of the left breast was meticulously licked by his long and wet tongue. Making the girl moan, her repeated moans were like choirs of angels to Aemond... Visenya's hands were helping her uncle strip off the clothes he was wearing, leaving him shortly thereafter naked; his body was lean and muscular, but not too much, he wasn't excessively full of scars, but these little accessories made a bad impression on him, made him a fascinating man in the eyes of the girl. The hands that were previously busy stripping him were now busy on the young man's modest member, caressing and giving him pleasure. The young man kneeling in front of her was surprised by her audacity and the sensation she was experiencing; enjoying the moment he threw his head back, while being caressed by the young woman, he gave out soft moans, he wanted to keep himself composed even in that intimate moment, he didn't want to sin of virility

Aemond's hips started moving towards the girl, he wanted to feel more pleasure.

<<I want to hear you, Aemond, come to me>>

The young man didn't have to repeat it, he grabbed the girl's legs and dragged her upwards, bringing her close to his virility, eager. He entered her with such slowness as to send her to the gallows, he wanted to make every inch of himself felt inside her; the young woman was moaning, her moans were driving Aemond crazy and from there the inferno lit up, Aemond began to give decisive and repeated jabs, the young woman's body was slammed back and forth, their pleasure was increasing greatly , Aemond's composure had become nothing, his soft moans were making themselves heard, a chorus of moans could be heard inside that barn. Movements of hips more and more animalistic was giving, the young man felt his heart explode from the pleasure that the girl's flesh gave him. More and more he wanted the girl, he loved the young man's member inside her, he loved how he was giving it to her Aemond and Visenya were almost at their climax, the two mouths that had parted, reunited, as his hands returned to her small breasts, squeezing and releasing, moving it from side to side, as the movements of boy they became less and less until the last jab she gave him was so decisive and dry that it made the young girl's eyes widen, making her gasp.... Aemond's orgasm poured out onto the pair that was next to her body; while Visenya's climax was heard by a scream of pleasure… ----------------------------------------- The bodies lay side by side, sleeping, and weary from the sexual intercourse they've just had.

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#aemond fanfiction #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aegon targaryen #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #smut #house of the dragon #hotd aemond #hotd imagine #yn #visenya targaryen #queen visenya #aemond x visenya #image #oneshot #x reader

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good4olivia · 2 years

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modern!aegon in love with aemond's girl part 2

warnings: uhh this one ain't for the aemond girlies lol, creepy aegon again but not as bad lol, slight nsfw, that's all i can think of, maybe the first one was better idk

Aegon had no reason to be upstairs, after he moved back in after dropping out of college he was living in the basement. But you were upstairs. All the fucking time, the Targaryen mansion was obviously much nicer than your shitty studio apartment.

He had no reason to be upstairs but he was, sitting in one of the spare rooms. Like a creep cause he knew you were in the shower. Even better, he knew Aemond was downstairs talking with his mother so you were alone. He could picture you naked and wet, not having to filter his brother out from those images.

The spare room was perfect as when he peered out it, he could see you leave the bathroom but you didn’t notice him. All too soon, you were closing the door on Aemond’s room to change. He fisted his cock at the thoughts of you, as he did all the time. Each time proved more frustrating as all he wanted you and his hand was never going to be enough.

Sure, Aemond knew his brother had feelings for you. He just didn’t thought maybe it was a crush, one that would blow over.

It wasn’t till Christmas he realised how wrong he was. Christmas with the Targaryens was well, basically like probably how the Kardashians would do it. Just over the top everything. You always loved Christmas but it was simple with your family. Christmas with Aemond was like out of a movie.

It took 3 hours just to do the gift exchange cause of how many there were. Of course, you had gotten Halena and Alicent a few little things, and they got you some cute little presents too.

You got Aegon a nice hydro flask because you hated his plastic water bottle habit. He laughed when he read the note, ‘now you don’t have an excuse anymore lol’. Alicent couldn’t believe her eyes, her son was laughing, a proper laugh that reached his eyes.

It was fine, until you opened your gift from Aegon. Aemond would’ve been fine if Aegon had gotten you a gift card or something but that’s not what Aegon did. He got you a necklace. A beautiful necklace with a a small dragon figurine. “I know how much you love dragons and I saw, I just knew it would look beautiful on you. May I?” Aegon said, walking over to where you were siting with Aemond.

You thanked him graciously for the gift, exclaiming it was too much but Aegon brushed you off and fastened the chain around you neck. You couldn’t help the shiver that erupted as his hands lingered on your neck. It felt like a such a private moment that everyone in the room was well, basically that monkey side eye meme.

Side note: Aemond got your AirPods Maxs for Christmas. Sorry just had to mention that cause I would love to be spoiled by rich boy Aemond.

After the gifts were done, Aemond dragged Aegon into a private space. “What the fuck was that?”

“What?”

“You got my girlfriend a very expensive necklace. That’s not a gift you get your brothers girlfriend, you know that right?”

“She’s not just your girlfriend to me, she’s my friend.”

“Then get her a fucking gift card!”

“She deserves more than that. The necklace looks so pretty on her.” Aegon got so dreamy eyed when he said, Aemond was just like that tiktok sound “bitch wtf”

“Are you in love with her?”

“So what if I am? She’s beautiful, smart, funny. And she listens to me, and makes me feel like I could do anything I wanted too.”

“She’s my girl, Aegon.”

“Well I can’t just take the necklace back.”

“No, but you’re not gonna see her anymore.”

Aemond tried to get you stop hanging out with Aegon as much, whenever you mentioned plans with him, he’d tag along or insist you cancel. It was pissing Aegon the fuck off, if he couldn’t have you the way he wanted why couldn’t he at least be in your life? In his eyes, Aemond should be thanking him that he hasn’t tried to kiss you, hasn’t tried to confess his feelings for you.

Alicent had grown aware between the growing tension between the two brothers (more so than usual.) It didn’t take her long to figure out what was going on. She tried to talk to Aegon, encourage him to move on. Find another girl. Aegon dismissed the idea initially. Until he found a girl that looked close enough to you. Same hair, colour eyes. Sure, she didn’t laugh the same or make him feel the way you do but she’ll do. For now.

You were very happy that Aegon had a new girlfriend, you became quick friends with her and often invited her when you went out with Halena. This made Aegon more annoyed, if you friends with his girlfriend you’d have even more reservations to be with him. If only you knew he had to bite his lip to keep from calling out your name when he was fucking his girlfriend.

It was his four months with this girl when he heard you and Aemond were ‘on a break’ whatever the fuck that means, Aegon didn’t care. He raced over to your apartment.

“Aegon? What are you doing here?”

“I… I heard about you and Aemond. Wanted to see if you were okay.” He rocked nervously back and forth on his ankles.

“Oh. Yeah, come in.” You let him through, asked him if he wanted anything and when he declined you sat on the lounge with him. “I don’t know, Aemond and I have been together for over a year and we basically spent every day together so I suggested he move in here. He just freaked out, said he had to focus on school. Said he’s not moving out till he’s done school and is working for your father, I told him hey that’s okay I was just asking. But then he went on about space and time apart and bullshit like that so.”

Aegon couldn’t believe his luck, “He’s a fucking idiot.”

You laughed at that, “Yeah maybe he is. Just sucks though cause he said that this isn’t forever but what? Am I supposed to just fucking wait for him?”

“No.” This was it. Aegon could kiss you, he was going to kiss you. Then he was going to fuck you, then you’d be his. And when Aemond finally realised how much he messed up, it was going to be too late. You were already his. Just when he was going to lean in, his phone went off.

“Do you have to get that?”

Aegon looked down at the messages pouring in from his girlfriend, shit he was supposed to meet her at the movies now. He turned the phone on silent and slipped it back in his pocket, “No, there’s no where else I have to be but right here.” He moved some loose hair of yours behind your ear, caressing the side of your face afterwards. “You’re so beautiful.”

You could sense what was about to happen, you started leaning in as he did. Your lips were so soft, it was everything Aegon had dreamed it would be. When you broke apart, you whispered his name. You meant it was a warning that you couldn’t go further but Aegon was too gone to take it as anything more than an invitation, he moved his lips back on yours, pushing you down on your back, kissing your neck, hands roaming all over your body. He moaned in your mouth when his hands found all your curves.

“Aegon.” You tried to push him off you but again he just saw this as you touching his chest. “Aegon, we have to stop. Please.” You managed to sit up right again and straighten out your clothes.

Aegon took a deep breath, “What’s the problem?”

“I don’t know whats going on with Aemond and I and you have a girlfriend!”

“Listen to me, [name.] I’ve been in love with you for so long now and I’ve had to watch you with my brother and he- he doesn’t deserve you. If he did, he wouldn’t have let you go. He doesn’t want you.” He paused and cupped your face with one of his hands, “I want you. I’ll always want you.”

You leaned into his touch, finally letting yourself feel for Aegon what you’ve kept bottled up all these times. He started kissing you again and you let him. “Go and put on the necklace I gave you beautiful.” He wanted the necklace to hang off your back the first time he took you - and every other time after that.

Aegon knew he could die a happy man now that he finally knew what it was like to be inside of you, to hold you. He had no idea how his brother could ever give it up but that wasn’t his problem anymore, he had you.

You told Aegon that Aemond couldn’t know about you two. At first it annoyed Aegon, he wanted to show you off. He wanted to see his brother face when he walked in with you hand in hand.

But he found it much more fun to be in a secret relationship, he would say he was out with the guys and he loved that he could tell Aemond had his suspicions but couldn’t know for sure.

You never took off the necklace now, before with Aemond you only wore it when he wasn’t around. It always put him in a sour mood but it made Aegon so proud when you wore it around your neck.

Alicent couldn’t place the sudden change in her eldest son’s attitude. The excessive weed smoking she pretended she hadn’t noticed has gone down, Aegon had gotten a full time job at a warehouse. No, he wasn’t going back to college but at least he wasn’t spending his days playing video games in the basements. If only she knew it was all because he wanted to be a better man for you.

tags : @polireader @caramelcandescence

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader

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marthawrites · 1 year

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A Game of Chase

Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 5.7k+

Can be read as a stand alone, but reads best as pt 2 to Pretty Girl

About: You and your best friend go out to a local event. While there, Aemond, surprisingly, makes an appearance. With quick wit you pretend like it's your first time meeting. Equally quick and curious, he plays along. A game of chase ends up with some unexpected aftershocks.

Includes: About half plot and porn. Explicit sexual content! Rough!Aemond with themes of jealousy, possessiveness, and obsession. Sexual/tension, fingering, blowjob, p in v, and a sweet ending.

Note: Hello lovely reader! I had to return to this AU - just had to! One day I will learn to not be a wordy bitch but today is not that day. Reader is nondescript and implied to be 21+ due to alcohol consumption. As always, it is my highest hope that you enjoy this story! ♥

The city below sparked with life in every corner and lane. You leaned on the balcony's railing and looked over the last remains of sunset: spilled watercolors across a slowly dimming sky. As the last rays of sun disappeared, spring's chill swirled through the air making you wish you wore a jacket over your black evening dress.

"Christ. If we're out here any longer my nipples are gonna jab through this dress," your best friend, Rebecca, said with a noticeable shiver. "Shit, girl! Let's go inside." She hooked an arm through yours and turned to guide you both inside where it was much warmer. She looked gorgeous tonight in a mauve dress, silver heels, and silver jewelry. It all accented the lovely hue of her hair and skin; strands of hair loose to frame her classic face. Her seemingly effortless femininity always had you jealous. She was much more "girly girl" than you, and you relied on her often.

"No leather jackets and no jeans! And oh my God none of your combat boots! This is a formal event. Not one of your creepy bonfire circles with gas station beer." Rebecca had told you earlier with a dramatic roll of her eyes, humor clear on her face. "Who knows. Maybe you'll find someone to put your last hook up to shame," she winked.

There was no way you weren't going to tell her about Aemond. Except, much to her dismay, you didn't tell her tell her; just the bare bones of it. You met a guy through work, hit it off, and ended up getting laid after he took you out.

She wanted the deets. You were keeping your mouth shut. She hated you.

You didn't even mention his name! With it being unique you knew she'd do some serious digging – and you already did. Local cryptids had a bigger digital footprint than him. Considering the day and age, maybe it should have been a red flag… Bec wouldn't let you live that down.

"Will you shut up about that?" You laughed. "Okay okay. I'll skip my favorite jacket and boots too. Only, and only, because I just got a fresh pedi. You can take my lipstick and eyeliner out of my cold dead hands though," you threatened.

"Those are your trademarks and we both know it. Besides, you look hot with it. Black dress and… black heels too. Your strappy ones!" You let her pick your outfit. When it was time to leave you looked good.

Bec was the only person who could play with you like a human barbie. You two went through high school together – and all the awkwardness that brought – and even college. You'd been through thick and thin and you loved her more than anyone else. You two even used each other to learn how to kiss. A truly fun and silly experience in hindsight.

This event happened twice a year. Music was huge in the area. More specifically, classic music. The university had one of the best programs in the country and was widely respected for it. At a young age your love for the violin blossomed into something truly spectacular. While it fell to the back burner during college, it remained a cherished hobby. Bec's skill was her voice. It earned her lead soprano. She was ethereal. Listening to her in the choir – whether part of the group, doing a solo, or singing with any of the other leads – was something to behold.

"I'm so glad you were able to come out tonight. It just wouldn't be the same without you," you told her as you both walked away from the bar with drinks in hand.

"Trust. I wouldn't miss it. Hubs can handle things for one night," she laughed even as her eyes rolled in feigned annoyance. She smirked and sipped her beverage.

Everyone seemed to be dressed in their finest. Dresses, suits, and glittering jewelry sparkled beneath the ornate lighting. Various perfumes and colognes hung in the air to create an atmosphere of intimacy. Some of the attendees looked young enough to have just graduated high school while others were grayed and wrinkled with time. The common thread of everyone was their love for music. It was truly a treat.

"I'm constantly shocked at how young the freshmen look every year. Look at them. Babies!" You exclaimed, tilting your head in the direction of a small group of friends who probably couldn't even buy alcohol yet. It prompted you to your drink; an accidental gulp instead of a sip.

In the theme of the event, music played over the speakers which seemed to bring everyone closer.

You two made your way to a bar table by the facade window. The soft lighting and twinkling accents brought out a pink in both of your cheeks that only fine liquor could coax.

"I wish you'd tell me more about your mystery man! Honestly I'm starting to think it was that cute coworker of yours who I like to make eyes at. He's a blusher! You know you could tell me if it was him, right?" She teased you easily.

You gasped. "Oh, wow! You truly have so little faith in me? I wouldn't hook up with your boyfriend," you laughed, unable to keep your mock shock up for long. "You know, it's starting to be more fun holding this over your head than actually giving you all the dirty details." You chased the thin straw of your drink, flashing her a tauntingly playful expression.

She'd just opened her mouth to retort when something else caught her attention. "Oh my God no way," she slammed her free hand atop the table in surprise. "I didn't think he'd come! Here I thought he was way too cool and too busy to make an appearance."

You snorted a laugh as Bec started waving an arm to beckon him over. "Another boyfriend? Sheesh." You teased. She was happily married and you only liked to flick her shit.

"Hey! Yeah, you! I'm so glad you came. Come over here and meet my girl. Y/N, this is Aemond. Aemond, this is Y/N."

Holy shit. Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

Bec kept talking, explaining how she knew both of you. You, her best friend since high school. Him, a piano enthusiast who'd taken the university's classes multiple times purely for pleasure. Her voice droned. You heard none of it. Not with Aemond standing there, hand in one of his pockets, drink in the other, looking like that.

Was it even legal for a man to look so fucking good? He looked absolutely stunning. The three-piece suit he donned had to be specially tailored for him because there was no way a regular suit could fit him like that. Black, charcoal, and deep green; it made his naturally silver-white hair and fair skin all the more stark. The subtle pinstripes of his pants and coat elongated his already tall frame, and the tip of his pointed shoes were in a single direction: you.

With Bec introducing, you had fleeting seconds to decide how you'd react to this. "Aemond," you said his name like it was the first time you'd tested it on your tongue. "Nice to meet you.” You sipped to hide smirking lips. Quiet mischief danced behind your eyes. ‘Play with me,’ they said. ‘You feeling it?’ they taunted.

“Hmm,” Aemond hummed while looking over you like he might have recognized you from somewhere. “I thought perhaps we had a class together. But, I don’t think so. Those aren’t pianist hands,” he said, tiny dimples betraying his restrained smirk.

“Ha!” Bec all but snorted. “No. No no no. She does not. She’s a ranger of our lovely national park and she plays the fiddle for Bigfoot.”

Aemond blinked, taken back.

“What the hell, Bec!” You blushed, embarrassment waving up in you like a tide. “You can’t just go telling people that all willy-nilly!” Despite the embarrassment, you laughed, as did Rebecca, and some of the palpable tension between you and Aemond melted. Perhaps she’d done you two tricksters more of a favor than you realized.

“This is Bigfoot country, is it not? I’m into cryptids,” Aemond replied smoothly. “Wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it tonight. But, now I’m glad I did,” he added in that same tone, taking an extra moment to glance over you appreciatively. “Becca’s hard to miss, but it was you who called me over here from across the floor.”

You arched a brow at his forwardness. “Wow. Uhm… I didn’t notice you at all,” you quipped cheekily before taking the last swill of your beverage.

Bec rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, Aemond. You’re gonna have to try harder than that. My girl here isn’t quite so easy.”

A genuine smile flashed across his features to brighten his eye. “Right. I’ll have to try harder for that one,” he said amusingly.

“Well. I feel a second one calling my name. Catch you later, Becs,” you said before turning, doing your absolute best (and somehow succeeding) to not flick another glance to the Targaryen tech giant who stood tall and wonderfully imposing next to your best friend. Would he still smell like clean laundry as he did the last time you two were together? Or would he perhaps carry the faintest aromas of shared perfumes, cigarette smoke, and cool night spring air? You dared not glance over your shoulder. You couldn’t be certain, but you swore his gaze trailed after you until you disappeared into the crowd.

An hour passed and you didn’t see either of them. The crowd was growing looser; people mingled like old friends. Karaoke replaced the overhead music and with it brought a fresh batch of excitement and silliness. The entire vibe of the place slowly shifted and you found yourself happily chatting with strangers like they were long lost college, or even high school, friends.

It was during that occasion you finally caught sight of him again. You were buzzed – happy – talking to a dark haired man with a dazzling smile. Each time he did his entire face lit up and sent the corners of his eyes crinkling. He was playing the charm game very well. If you didn’t already have secret plans to leave with Aemond, he very well might have talked you out of your pretty black dress. Aemond didn’t know that, of course, and when you could still see him at the edge of your peripheral you knew the little game just went up a notch.

Another hour passed in the blink of an eye. Bec had to leave – turns out her hubs couldn’t handle everything on his own for a night. The dark-haired man, while attractive and sweet, wasn’t what you had in mind. Once you finally managed to slide away from him you sat at the bar. You’d been standing most of the night and your feet were starting to ache in the heels you rarely wore. The bartender handed you your final drink for the night. You sat alone. Relaxed. Content to people watch as the event resembled more of a high-end bar at this hour.

Again, from the corner of your eye, you saw Aemond linger just there. Just at the edge of your vision. Playing. Teasing – a silent stalk. However, you pretended like you didn’t. You slowly traced the rim of your glass, attention elsewhere. With one leg crossed over the other you leisurely bounced your foot at the ankle, the heel of your shoe tapping against the heel of your foot. Quiet. Confident. Even if Aemond hadn't already known you he would have been drawn to you. It was the tiny knowing smirk at the outermost edge of your mouth that really called to him. ‘I see you,’ it said. ‘What are you going to do?’ it purred.

“Is this seat taken?” Aemond’s smooth voice came from beside you.

With a shake of your head you answered, “it wasn’t. But I think it is now.” Your pretty eyes lingered over him and you just now noticed the three headed dragon tassel he wore on his collar. The buttons of his cuffs were the same three headed dragon. Half of his hair was pulled back and secured into a bun at the back of his head, and you wanted nothing more than to loosen it and let the strands fall over your hand.

“Good,” he all but purred, leaning in a little closer than was truly necessary. “Hm… I don’t know what it is about you, pretty girl, but there’s something about you that keeps pulling me in.”

“Bold of you to say to someone you’ve just met,” you replied through a laugh, giving him a sly side glance from beneath your lashes.

“Perhaps,” he said quickly, leaning on the bar as he stood between you and the empty stool at your side. “But, I think you’ve been eyeing me all night too. Unable to truly lose track of me in this crowd,” his voice was a low rumble and it sent a shudder of excitement all up and down your spine.

“What makes you think that? This is the first time I’ve seen you since Bec introduced us. Honestly, I thought you left.”

He chuffed amusedly. “Sure, okay,” he started. “Is that why you can’t quite look me in the eyes? Or why you let that man paw all over you once you knew I was there? Or… why you only came here once it was empty and I was there?” He tilted his head slightly, just slight, as he spoke; smug condescendence angled his jaw.

It took everything you had to steady the excitement in your voice. “You’re very observant, Aemond,” his name dripped like honey from your tongue. “What do you plan to do with all those observations, hm?”

“Lots,” he answered lowly, triumphantly. “Let’s get out of here.”

Giddiness bubbled up from your core. Before you could stop yourself, you answered, “no. I don’t think so.” The change of his expression filled you with victory. This was your game and you were still playing by your own rules even if that meant making them up as you went. “Here is my offer, Mr. Targaryen. I’m leaving. You will give me your number and if I’m feeling up to it, I’ll text you my address.” The pupil of his good eye expanded; black swallowing violet. You wanted to cheer. He wasn’t expecting this, you thought. “Take it or leave it. If you leave it… I have another number to fall back on.”

“Give me your phone,” he said, posture and jaw tight. You did. He tapped his thumbs a few times on the screen before handing it back.

As soon as you had your phone back you stood. “That’s what I thought,” you told him softly, smugly, not giving him a chance to reply before walking towards the exit.

Game over. You won.

Truthfully you would have left with him immediately, but your house was a mess and you weren't going to invite him over to this. It took perhaps twenty minutes to give the entry way, living room, and kitchen a quick clean sweep. From there, it took maybe half the time to shove everything out of place in your bedroom in your closet. You’d properly tidy later. But now? No. The only thing on your mind was the look on Aemond’s face when you laid out your terms for the night.

You texted him your address and nothing else. Now, it was your turn to wait.

Barely ten minutes passed before a knock sounded at your door. Peeking out from behind a curtain you saw it was Aemond. A secret smile plastered on your face and you wondered what he’d been doing for the last half hour. It took at least fifteen minutes to get to the event hall, so he must have already been out driving in the general direction. Either that, or, he broke every traffic rule to get to you in record time. You opened the door only to be shoved back inside, door slamming closed behind both of you. A sound between a gasp and strangled moan broke from you beneath his kiss as his hands were all all over you at once; sliding, groping, pressing.

“Did you have fun with your little game?” He asked hot against your mouth. You were trapped between the back of your couch and his looming form. The furniture was the first thing to get in the way of your eager bodies.

Your breath shuddered, chest rising and falling above the black neckline of your dress. “Aemond,” you managed to whisper hoarsely. Nothing else formed on your tongue before it was against Aemond’s for a second time.

“I could have had that entire fucking hall dismissed in an instant. You know that, right?” You didn’t ask how or why because you didn’t fucking care. Not now. Not with his mouth on yours, and his hands squeezing your hips and waist, his thigh between your legs. “And then you force me to stalk you around the crowd. Watch you flirt so easily with other men. Watch weaker men stare after you like sniveling piglets.” His teeth sunk into your neck until you yelped, body squirming against his.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered, head buzzing with a hundred different things all at once. Heat flooded your core. Thrill webbed throughout all your senses until you were keenly aware of even the tips of your fingers, toes, and ears. He bit again, softer this time, making his way down the length of your neck to your collarbone. “I didn’t think you’d play along for as long as you did,” you simpered, hands rubbing up the sides of his smooth face until your fingers were tangled in his silken hair.

Both his hands pressed up your ribs until the weight of your breasts sat upon them. You couldn’t see from your angle, but he was biting and sucking little hickeys all down your skin. “Do you think that dark-haired man would have tried as hard as he did… pathetic, really… if you were already marked by my teeth, hm?” As if to make his point even clearer, he drew in a mouthful of your soft cleavage and worked it until you yelped, forcefully pulling his head back with a wet pop. A dark bruise was already forming; the deepest one yet.

“What the hell? You’re fucking crazy,” you moaned, breathlessly looking down at him, arousal turning your blood to fire. “Is that what this is about? Me flirting with that guy?” Your face bloomed with heat.

“If I knew you were going to be there you’d have been on my arm the whole night. Fun as it was, pretty girl, I wanted to gouge the eyes out of every man who looked at you for too long.” He was hard inside his pants, painfully trapped inside the confines of the fine material.

Aemond didn’t strike you as the possessive type. It shocked you. Even scared you a little. “Holy shit, Aem,” you said, trying to catch your breath from the assault of his hands, mouth, and intentions. “I just thought we were having fun. With you only being here for a visit I didn’t think it was anything serious, ya know? Fuck.” Your hands fell from his hair to instead push yours back.

“At first I thought so too,” he replied, voice and body language softer now. “I was immediately drawn to you. As soon as you opened the door at your ranger cabin in your dorky uniform...,” he kissed you again, gentle and easy. He felt you melt into and against him. “Distance doesn’t matter to me. In another time my family would be kings,” he smirked, holding your face between his hands to read it.

“If you are a king or a prince –” you teased, playfully mocking the old timey titles, “ – then let me be your queen or your princess.” Your hands trailed down the sides of his biceps, across the front of his chest, down the plane of his abdomen. His intensity could surely frighten other women away, but you found yourself drawn to it. A fire burned beneath his skin and you wanted nothing more than to feel its heat against your own.

Aemond read you well, eyes squinting down at you as you traced and caressed over his clothed form. Something in his gaze shifted, then. A game of his own, you recognized.

His turn.

“Would he have been able to excite you like this?” Your dress had bunched up high around your thighs and he took full advantage of it. With his question he trailed the tips of his fingers over the front of your clothed cunt. Your warmth tingled his fingertips. “Could he have gotten this pussy so wet?” He asked, slipping his touch beneath the front of your panties to your bare folds. “Hm?” He inquired, the pads of two easily sliding up your slit and to your clit where he rubbed small, firm circles. You were soaked.

You jolted, legs tightening. “Aem…,” you warbled, back arching. Your body was desperate for him. One of your hands lowered to the wrist he was using to tease you, eyes looking up at him in a silent plea. “No,” you answered. “He couldn’t.” You squeezed your hand around his wrist, then, urging his fingers to slide into you.

A satisfied growl rumbled in his throat at the combination of your admission and grip. “I didn’t think so…,” he cooed, following your touch as he pushed a long slender finger into your body. “I missed this pussy,” he admitted, bending his head to catch your pleased sigh in a kiss. He swirled and pressed along your walls, reveling in the way you felt around him and the muffled sounds you made.

By now your alcohol buzz was gone and you were entirely drunk on Aemond. He spun you in a whirlwind and you were at his mercy. It was when he pushed a second finger into you that you broke the kiss, unable to hold back the moan he pulled from you. “They feel so good…,” Aemond-drunk and pleasure-drunk; the night was just beginning.

“There,” he said as your eyes fluttered and struggled to stay even half open. “Cum on these fingers so we can take this pretty dress off.” He pumped both in and out of you with added fervor, now, relishing just how fucking wet you were. There was no denying or hiding the sloppy little sounds that came from between your thighs. Those, mixed with your continued pleasured whimpers, made for a delicious melody that made Aemond’s cock throb.

“O-oh..! Right there, just like that! Please…,” you whispered as if in prayer. Your hand squeezed tighter around his wrist as he fucked his fingers into you at that same wonderful angle and pace. Even without your pleas he could tell you were close. Your cunt squeezed around him a little tighter, hips squirming, grinding down on his hand for added pressure. You dipped your head into his chest, hips rolling with his pace, and it was when he squeezed a third inside you that you absolutely lost it. Orgasm washed over you in lovely waves of bliss. You trembled; walls clamped around him rhythmically. You panted. Blissed out and ready for another.

As soon as you came down from your natural high Aemond helped you out of your clothes. Dress, bra, panties. They were all tossed aside somewhere in your living room.

Then, it was your turn to help him out of his own clothing. “Fuck, you have beautiful tits,” he said as he stood in front of you in only his briefs. He bent down to lick and kiss over them appreciatively, holding the soft mounds in his hands.

You giggled at the tickling sensation it gave your sensitive skin. “My room is down this way,” you said with a tilt of your head, taking his hand and leading him through the kitchen, down a short hallway, and into your room. It was only illuminated by an essential oil diffuser which glowed with a soft pink. It steadily misted with a heady mix of oils.

Once there it was your turn to have your hands all over him. You trailed along every bit of him that you could. From his shoulders, to his arms, across the patch of hair along the center of his chest, and down his lean abdomen, until your fingers hooked beneath the hem of his briefs. You pushed him further into your room until the backs of his legs hit the outside of your bed.

Sitting on the edge he pulled you to him by your waist, coaxing you to stand between his parted legs. He unabashedly bit into the meat of your hip. One of his hands reached behind you to squeeze your asscheek, giving it a firm smack.

You jumped at the combination, goosebumps racing to the top of your skin. "My turn to make you feel good…," you grinned, tugging the bun at the back of his head so he was forced to look up at you. "How dare you look so fucking good in a suit. It's really not even fair. Pinstripes, really? And your three headed dragons? It should be me who is green with jealousy over all the women who were checking you out."

Whether you were merely teasing or being wholly serious, Aemond didn't care. You had taken control of the flow once again. He let you have it, let you hold onto the reins if only for a moment. He loved seeing you like this. The faintest hint of pink shone in his cheeks at your compliment.

Releasing his hair you sunk down to your knees. You kissed the flat of his abdomen, beneath his navel, nipping the skin there as your hands pulled the front of his briefs down. He groaned in relief when his cock finally sprang free. Too long had it been solid and trapped; the generous size of him aching to be released for longer than he cared to admit. "So big…," you praised, idly stroking him as you looked up at him.

Seeing you so eager on your knees snapped something in him, and any chance of playing nice broke as soon as your warm tongue swiped along the underside of his shaft. "That's right," he muttered through a pleased groan. "It's like you forgot how fucking good this cock made you feel. Making me play along with your silly game," he tutted, seizing a handful of your hair in his fist. "Parading around like you weren't already mine…," his voice dark, dangerous. "You need to be reminded, pretty girl. Of whose you are, and of how good only my cock can make you feel."

Your belly flipped at the change of his demeanor. The way his eye pulled you into the void of its blackness. You looked up at him like the little doe you were. With his help, and in a single shared motion, you raked his undergarment down his legs to throw it aside. His hand was still knotted in your hair and, using that, he pulled your mouth to his cock until he hit your gag reflex.

Instantly you choked. He fucking groaned as your throat constricted around him. Saliva pooled in your mouth. Your hands gripped over his thighs, fingernails digging into the lean muscle there. He lifted your head up only to do it once more; slower, more deliberate, savoring the sensation of your mouth around him for the first time. And a third time, too. After a moment both his hands lifted your head off him, smiling softly. It wasn't what you expected. It was the gentlest he'd been since arriving. "Too much? Or are you okay?"

It was the sincerity in which he spoke that made you want to slap him, kiss him, and jump on him. All at once. Instead of any of those, you laughed. You wiped away some smeared mascara from under your eyes and nodded, unable to stop laughing. "Surprising, yeah. But, I'm okay. Thanks for checking."

He smirked. That asshole. "Good," he replied, leaning back on one hand while spreading his legs wider apart. "You don't have to be easy with me."

You didn't have anything to say, simply scooted closer into him and looked up at him with those big doe eyes smeared with the night's makeup. You took him in your mouth once again – on your own terms this time. His hand rested lightly at the back of your head in an attempt to keep your hair from falling in your face. You sucked more of him in, then pulled back, plunging forward once again to swallow yet even more of his length.

A truly delectable groan rumbled out from Aemond's throat. He couldn't help it. Your mouth felt so fucking good. He looked down at you, glaring, while a pleasured grin spread across his face; the black of his eye making it all the more lecherous. "Fuck. 'M not gonna last long if you keep doing that."

"Good," you shot back in the same manner of his. "You deserve to cum for playing my silly little game." You didn't go easy on him. Lewd glugs and hot pants filled your room; his hisses and gasps accented the depravity. Saliva drooled helplessly from your mouth and made it all the more sloppy. When your hand moved to cup and massage along his balls you were surprised to feel those already coated in your saliva.

"I'm close… gonna be good and swallow me whole?" He moaned, length somehow getting even fucking harder if that was even possible.

You weren't stopping to say anything back. Your other hand gripped onto whatever wasn't in your mouth and stroked along him firmly, still rolling his sack in your other. He took that as a yes.

The would-be Targaryen prince erupted down your throat with a string of muttered curses and praises. His lean body flexed and shuddered, toes twitching and curling as he rode the waves of climax. His hand had never clenched your hair again, yet it fell heavily like it was tired from holding a fist. "Christ, woman," he breathed, glowing.

You stood and wiped the back of your hand across your mouth. "Yeah," you replied dreamily as you plopped onto your back atop the bed; grinning like the sloppy blowjob gave you as much pleasure as it did him. Or, perhaps it was merely pride.

Both of you stayed like that for a minute – catching your breath. He rolled over. Those slim hips fit easily between your thighs as his hands planted heavily beside your head. A sly grin graced his chiseled features.

"You're already hard again?"

"Can't help it, pretty girl. You're too sexy," he answered, lining himself up with your eager opening. He wasted little time in pushing into you, hissing at the sensation. "God you're so fucking wet from sucking me off."

The stretch of your body around his girth stole your breath. He stilled to let your walls accommodate his size. "You're right. How could I have forgotten how good this cock makes me feel?" You whined up at him, spine arching beneath him tantalizingly. You were more than slick enough for his intrusion, and now you were full. Absolutely full of him. Slowly, he pulled out. Easily, he pushed back in. Your breath turned ragged and quick, lovely pressure building in your core until it moaned out of your red-smeared lips. "Shit, yes," you whimpered, nails digging into his back.

Leaning up, Aemond grabbed both of your ankles in a single hand and threw them over a shoulder. The new angle sent him railing toward your belly button. His cockhead dragged against that deep, deliciously sensitive spot, over and over, your pussy hot and perfect for his ravaging. "Taking me sooo well…," he praised between slapping skin and your cries of bliss. The palm of his free hand pushed down and splayed wide over your low belly; claiming and intensifying your pleasure.

The added pressure sent fire blazing through your senses. Orgasm consumed you quickly and harshly, and you squeezed the sheets in tight fists as he fucked you through it. The edge of your vision blurred with ecstasy.

"Fuck, yes," Aemond panted, sweat glistening on his brow. "Feel so fuckin' good squeezing me like that." His length harded like iron yet again, balls tightening in preparation for a second release. His pace grew sloppier as he chased his high.

"Fill me up, Aem," you cooed up at him, nodding fervently. "Do it, fill me up." Your voice broke off into syllables and mutters, eyes desperate.

Hearing that was all he needed. He twitched inside you, spilling ropes of his seed deep and shallow alike inside your greedy cunt. Finally, with his firm chest heaving, he let go of your ankles and eased out of you. He flopped onto his back beside you, grinning like a fool. "Alright, babe, you're on water and cleaning duty this time."

You giggled. Actually giggled. "In a minute." You laid on your side and cuddled against him, laying your head on his chest – his heart thumping powerfully below your cheek. A contented silence settled over both of you. He stroked your hair, and you his torso. Once his pulse calmed you leaned up and smiled at him. "That was seriously amazing, the fuck?" you said with a satisfied blush. On your dresser was a pile of clean washcloths you forgot to put away. You used one on yourself and tossed another to Aemond. "Be right back." You put on a new t-shirt and underwear before leaving.

When you came back with water and snacks, Aemond was already browsing through your Netflix. "It's all murder docs and shitty reality tv," he teased.

"Oh shut up," you retorted, rolling your eyes. "Here I brought you snacks and you're talking shit."

"Thanks," he said appreciatively. When you laid by him it was his turn to cuddle into you.

Eventually you decided on a horror movie neither of you had seen but agreed looked either really good or hilariously bad.

He stayed the night, and there may or may not have been a third round before sleep finally settled over your pleasantly exhausted bodies.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider a follow and reblog as I have plans to create and share more writings ♥

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presidenthades · 5 months

Text

Once again, I am doing a series of my behind-the-scenes thoughts for The Golds while I do light edits for formatting, typos, and continuity. Here’s Chapter 10!

For this chapter’s title, I chose the final lyric of “The Song of the Seven”: they see you, little children. The lyric is supposed to mean that the gods are always watching over you. In this fic, Jace and Aegon (and all the Targkids) are constantly being watched by their family, the court, and the realm because they are royal heirs. Although Jace and Aegon are adults by Westerosi standards, they’re still quite young—and now they have a child of their own to protect and watch over.

Aegon mentions in Chapter 6 that Jace hasn’t ugly-cried since she was 7, and now here’s the story! I discussed in previous commentaries how Rhaenyra and Laenor were trying for a son but after Joff was born, they called it quits. Since Joff was born sickly, Rhaenyra was distracted with that for several months. Once Joff was healthy, Rhaenyra decided to tell Jace on her seventh nameday—since seven is a special number in Westeros—about officially being her heir.

Prior to that, Jace is a normal, girly-girl child who’s only worried about games and such. She’s still well-behaved and responsible, but just in the “I need to make sure Luce brushes her teeth” sense rather than the “I have the weight of the realm on my shoulders” sense.

Laenor was like a Disney dad to Jace and Luce. He loved them but was often away living his own life, and when he came back he lavished them with presents to try to make up for it. Jace is careful with the dolls he gives her not only because she’s naturally a careful person, but also because they remind her of her father while he’s away. And to Laenor’s credit, he knows his daughters well enough that he can pick good presents for them. He notices that the dolls never last long in Luce’s hands so he gets less fragile stuff, while for Jace he buys delicate and expensive dolls because he knows she’ll appreciate them. I imagine he picks dolls wearing the clothes and hairstyles of whatever place he’s visiting, so Jace can use the dolls to learn what gowns are fashionable in Lorath or wherever.

Aegon is the eldest Targkid and he’s very important to Jace, so she gives a lot of weight to what he says. And Aegon has said a lot about how it sucks to be the heir and he’s glad he doesn’t have to do it. Now he’s regretting his big mouth 🥲.

Aegon was bad about carrying around handkerchiefs when he was younger, but he was always willing to sacrifice his sleeve if Jace needed it.

Aegon did indeed steal back Jace’s dolls from a 5-year-old, and I’m sure Luce bit him at least once (and yelled for Aemond to come hit Aegon). But once Luce realized how distraught Jace was about the dolls, she was willing to give them up. And Jace is very good about sharing, so Luce knows she can play with them whenever she wants.

Aegon doesn’t understand magic but he fully appreciates Joff’s help during the birth. If she hadn’t gone berserk in the middle of the night, she would have become his new favorite person after Jace and Cheeseball.

Is there symbolism in Aegon undoing his son’s swaddling and telling him “be free”?? Yeah probably.

Aegon was so worried about his influence being bad on the baby, but now he’s so proud and daydreaming about Cheeseball being a troublemaker like himself!

“I won’t be like my father. I’ll be better than him.” Foreshadowing for the rest of the chapter and Aegon’s arc in future fics? Yes it is! Also me pulling in some themes from Greek mythology, where sons becoming more powerful than their fathers is a common trope (Kronos vs his father Ouranos, Zeus vs his father Kronos, Zeus taking great pains to thwart his hypothetical son by his first wife Metis from being born so that son can never overthrow him).

Aegon’s little speech to Cheeseball is basically what Aegon wishes somebody had told him growing up. People called Aegon the future king and had high expectations for him. Aegon can’t stop other people from thinking and saying what they want to think and say, but he can make sure his son knows he has more value than his status as heir.

I’m not 100% sure but I think Aemond was voluntold to transport the egg, and Aemond is secretly pleased by the responsibility. Even though Aemond is awkward around his nephew, he does care about Elenar and he doesn’t want his nephew to grow up dragonless like himself. Aemond is concerned by the seeming imperfection of the egg (just as how he thinks his missing eye is an imperfection), but in the end, that “flaw” is a unique feature that makes the hatchling very special.

I enjoyed writing the juxtaposition of a serious conversation about politics and battle while Aegon is trying to help a baby pass gas 😂. Babies operate on their own timeline, they’re not waiting for the adults to finish speaking. If they need to fart, they need to fart.

Aegon would have been bloodthirsty toward the Tyroshi and Tyrosh in general, but he’s been busy taking care of Jace and then the baby. He prioritized giving attention to his family, and now that he has bandwidth to think about other things, a lot of that initial bloodthirst has died down because…well, Aegon is pretty happy with life right now. Jace is safe and happy, Elenar is safe and happy, so Aegon is content (and it helps that he’s seen what Daemon is doing in the Black Cells). But when Viserys disrupts that happiness, it kickstarts Aegon into action.

Aemond has been thinking a lot about how to avoid marrying Cassandra. His preference would be eloping with Luce, but she has hesitations because she knows his pride will likely lead to the marriage souring. Since he can’t talk her into that right now, he has to think of alternatives. If he remains in Westeros, Viserys could order lords and knights to send Aemond back to KL, which means Aemond would basically have to go rogue with Vhagar. Aemond could go traveling around Essos like many second sons, but that would make him look irresponsible. So he lands on the Stepstones option, which takes him physically far from Viserys’s reach and still allows him to fulfill his duties as a prince and dragonrider. Also, Aegon and Aemond left the Stepstones rather hastily so they could attend Jace and Aegon’s wedding. They arranged a deal with Racallio to make peace, but it ended up being a bandaid solution because Racallio is having trouble now. Aemond likes finishing what he started, so he also has that incentive to return to the Stepstones.

Aegon and Aemond aren’t the kind of guys to have a lot of heart-to-hearts, but Aegon still knows him really well. They aren’t friends, but they’re definitely brothers.

Luce fending off suitors from her island palace while Aemond is away = Penelope and Odysseus vibes, except our Penelope is NOT waiting for 20 years and she has a dragon that can take her places.

In Episode 9, Aemond stopped Aegon from running away from his duty. Here, Aegon is helping Aemond run away from his. Who would’ve thought Aemond would be the one shunning his duty? 🤪

Aegon has learned from his past mistakes. In Chapters 3 and 4, he forgot to communicate with Jace what he was doing, but now he makes sure to keep her apprised of his shenanigans.

Cheeseball being happiest while naked is another trait he shares with his father 😂. Both times when we’re introduced to Aegon (Ep 6 and Ep 8), he’s butt naked. He just seems really chill about casual nudity.

Aegon has been projecting dialogue and thoughts unto Cheeseball ever since he was in the womb, but honestly Aegon is probably accurate 99% of the time what his son is thinking and feeling.

Several months ago I saw a guy waiting in line at a fast-casual restaurant with a newborn, and he just started doing squats to soothe the baby. Hence, Aegon doing squats with Cheeseball and totally not caring that the entire court is watching him.

The Baratheons might be power-hungry, but they are genuinely mourning Floris. Most of them, at least. Cassandra is kinda heartless in F&B, so I could see her excitement about marrying a prince outweighing her grief. She’s done her homework about what (or whom) Aemond likes in the hopes that’ll make him like her better. Unfortunately, her efforts to evoke Luce spur him to flee the country instead 🥲.

Cregan is like twice Aegon’s size, but Aegon is still willing to fight him for hurting Jace’s feelings.

Deep down Viserys knew Jace and Aegon would NOT be happy about the fostering arrangement, and that’s why he didn’t say anything about it until they were at a public event where they can’t make a scene. But Aegon did make a scene, and that’ll be a cue for a lot of courtiers that there might be a schism among the Targs.

Viserys’s dragon dream is different than his show canon one (seeing his son wear the Conqueror’s crown), and what he sees gives him a greater sense of urgency re: the prophecy of the PTWP. He thinks it’s really important that the Targs forge a stronger bond with the Starks ASAP, so he’s speeding up the timeline for a fostering. Ironically, if Viserys set the fostering for age 7 like most, Jace and Aegon probably would’ve been unhappy but more accepting since it’s a normal arrangement. But yeah, this was really bad news for two new parents who just experienced a harrowing birth, and Jace’s emotions especially are still all over the place.

Viserys invoking being Aegon’s father when he’s done a shitty job of it 🫠.

To be fair to Cregan, he doesn’t really want to take Elenar as a ward at all, but like he said, it’s hard to say no to the king. And fostering a future king is supposed to be a huge honor.

In F&B, Baela gets dealt a crappy hand after the Dance. She marries Alyn Velaryon to avoid a worse marriage, but Alyn ends up being a serial cheater 😑. In this verse, with so many other Targ girls ahead of her in the succession for the throne and Driftmark, Baela has the option to not marry at all, especially if she goes the Queensguard route (Daemon would let her, and everyone is still thinking about Jace’s abduction so a sworn shield seems like an excellent idea to most people). But Jace knows Baela is reacting very emotionally right now and she didn’t want to entrap Baela in a lifelong oath she might regret later. For now though, it’s a good path for Baela so she can maintain her independence and stay near her family. Girl just needs to make sure not to enter any rebound relationships…

BTW if Daemon had an enemies list, he probably took the Targbros off but put Cregan on it instead because of the Baela situation.

Now we have a mirror scene of Aegon’s convo with Otto in Chapter 2! In Chapter 2, Aegon leaves the convo determined not to be involved in anything political because he wants to just focus on Jace. Now, Aegon realizes he has to be involved in politics if he wants to achieve what he and Jace want.

Otto truly isn’t happy with the fostering arrangement. The Starks aren’t happy with the Targs right now, and someone cynical might worry how Elenar is treated while he’s far away (he probably can’t even write a letter at age 4 to tell anyone what’s happening). As a prince and heir, Elenar would be accompanied by a household full of trusted servants and caretakers, but it isn’t the same as his own family keeping an eye on him. The North also isn’t a bastion of learning and diplomacy, so Otto is probably worried about what Elenar’s education will be like.

Since there’s so much genderbending in this verse, Targ princes are a hot commodity because there are only three of them in the current generation. Otto likes the Baratheon arrangement, but because Viserys offered Aemond as reparations, it affected how much the Crown could negotiate from the betrothal contract. And like Otto said, bad precedent: “Did the Targs wrong you? That’s ok, you’ll get a royal marriage or ward in exchange.”

I originally wanted another scene with Bethany in this fic but there wasn’t room for it. Her face is scarred very badly, and this hampers her marriage prospects (which is a lot of the value of a highborn girl in Westeros). Remaining as Jace’s LIW sends a message that Bethany is being honored rather than sent away where nobody can see her scars, and if Bethany is unable to marry, she still has a position of status and privilege at court. Bethany’s family isn’t happy about the attack at the Sept, but they’re grateful she at least survived. And since they have close ties to Alicent and Otto, they’re willing to be less grumbly than the Baratheons and Starks.

Otto gives zero credence to things like prophecy, so he is worried Viserys might be suffering a mental decline/break. This especially concerns him after Viserys has publicly declared that as king, his word is law (re: the fostering, but Otto is also thinking about Viserys keeping Rhaenyra as heir).

Otto might not care personally about the smallfolk, but he definitely appreciates the power of popular appeal, which Jace and Aegon have in spades. Otto sees that Aegon has a natural instinct for certain aspects of politics, and he’s frustrated that Aegon refuses to engage unless it’s by accident or at Jace’s behest. Otto knows what Aegon is like, so he pushes all the right buttons to trigger Aegon and motivate him to act.

A lot of Jace’s hangups about food are because of her fear of moon tea. But she wants to overcome that mental roadblock so she can continue with her life, and now moon tea is beneficial rather than harmful. She’ll probably still have some trouble with drinking it, but Aegon will be there to help her, and they’ll probably learn about/invent other contraceptive methods to double up on protection.

Aegon is willing to commit war crimes for Jace and she knows it, but she’s too lawful good to take advantage.

So many commenters were rooting for future Alyssa x Elenar! And at least one person suggested Elenar having a polygamous marriage with both Alyssa and Viserra (Daemon would love that lol). We shall see what happens! The kids are still developing their personalities.

Daemon resigned himself to Jace/Aegon a while ago, and now he’s spying a new opportunity to potentially get his blood on the throne one day 👀. Which means it behooves him to play nice with Aegon, who is understandably suspicious of Daemon being nice to him. I also think Daemon, after his growth arc in the Handbook, would like for his daughters/stepdaughters to have some semblance of happiness. And now that he’s begrudgingly admitted to himself that the Targbros aren’t so bad, he’s kind of insulted that Viserys is just handing out royal princes to any house willy-nilly.

“Much sorrow, many tears.” I haven’t seen Queen Charlotte but I have seen the memes of Charlotte going “sorrows, prayers” constantly. If you’re wondering whether there’s a connection…yes.

Viserys was 100% a snitch when he was growing up.

Joff didn’t have a real first meeting with Elenar. She passed out in the birthing room, and then she had her Exorcist moment that night. She just wants to meet her nephew without any drama 🥺.

Aegon isn’t particularly interested in magic in the first place, and he knows that way lies madness, so he decides the possible benefits of digging for more info aren’t worth the trouble. He’s had two months to let his anger settle and mull over the events. If the candle is the reason for Joff’s behavior, and if Joff is willing to put the candle aside, then he’s willing to move forward and carefully allow her interaction with Elenar as she regains his trust that she won’t act like that again.

Joff can be really sneaky about her words and actions, but she has a pretty strong personal code of conduct. If she did something wrong, she’ll own it, and if she makes a promise, she’s keeping it—which is why she’s so sneaky about it in the first place.

Viserys is not a good father, but generally it IS a father’s duty to arrange a good marriage for his daughter, which is arguably what he did for Helaena. But anyone who knows Helaena’s preferences (so definitely not Viserys) knows that she would hate a marriage taking her away from her family (and Rhaena) and forcing her to have a bunch of children.

It could be argued that it’s unwise for Viserys to wed a female dragonrider outside of the house, and this is true. But options for Helaena’s husband are limited. There are very few Targ princes in this universe. As for the other Valyrian families, the Celtigars are still kinda in disgrace from the Clement incident, and the only Velaryon men are from cadet branches like Vaemond’s sons, who have no inheritance worthy of a king’s daughter. The other option is for Helaena to remain unwed, which is her preference, but Viserys is trying to play politics 😒. At least he could address the dragon issue by declaring that none of Helaena’s children are permitted to have eggs or claim dragons—if he thinks of doing so.

Joff and Daeron are the little siblings trying desperately to keep up with their older siblings, and Aegon is NOT having it.

Before Joff and Daeron were born, Luce was the baby of the royal nursery, so she spent a lot of her early years running after the others. Then after the Driftmark funerals, Aemond and his siblings left with their parents for KL while Rhaenyra and her daughters stayed longer—only for Luce and her sisters to realize they weren’t returning home to KL but moving to Dragonstone. Then of course there was Aemond’s first trip to the Stepstones (I don’t think Luce even had a chance to say goodbye that time). Then when she was fostering at Driftmark, Aemond visited often but had to leave at the end of every visit. So Luce has developed a bit of a complex where she feels like Aemond is always going somewhere and she can’t go with him.

I realized that Aemond ended up being a very important secondary relationship for Aegon in this fic, so I wanted to make sure they got one last scene together. Daeron is also Aegon’s brother but he’s much younger, whereas Aemond has been his partner in crime for most of his life 🥲.

Aegon is actually pretty decent at planning logistics for his schemes. There’s this scene with the council, and earlier in the fic there was the raid on the warehouse, and in the Handbook I feel like he had a strong role in plotting the elopement.

“I am, as ever, your obedient son.” Aegon is so damn sassy in that moment 😭.

Viserys had put all of his children where he thought they belonged in his masterplan (kinda like how he puts all the pieces in his model of Valyria exactly where he thinks they belong), but Aegon (whom Viserys is quick to blame) has upended the board. Now Viserys is wondering if he needs to be worried about what Aegon will be up to in the future…

Is the white raven announcing the end of summer a symbol? 👀👀👀 Honestly this day is probably one for the history books. End of summer, Prince Aemond departs for the Stepstones, Aegon’s nameday, and a new dragon hatches.

The hatchling mostly resembles Sunfyre (like how Elenar mostly resembles Aegon), but with some sunrise coloring as the culmination of all the sun/morning symbolism throughout the fic. The blue eye is like a sign from the universe that even though Aemond is away, he’s still with his family in spirit 🥲.

#my writing #meta #house of the dragon meta #hotd meta #fanfic meta #aegon ii targaryen #female jacaerys velaryon #the golds

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