#Cole has been coming to visit her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

youraverageaemondsimp · 7 months

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Taste of depravity. // DARK!Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon (Cole)!Reader (Criston's daughter.)

MDNI, reader discretion is advised.

Summary: Aemond knows he shouldn't want you, especially after finding out you that were Criston's daughter, who was his father figure his entire life, yet he can't help himself but to crave the sweet taste of sinfulness.

A/N: y'all he's dark but not the usual dark, he's just psychotic(?) Idk. No noncon, but he's extremely obsessive towards her, and criston is stressed tf out. // divider credit: @cafekitsune

WARNINGS: dark!aemond, p in v sex, unprotected sex, biting, breeding kink, humiliation, dacryphilia, overstimulation, fingering, virginity loss, tiddy sucking, oral (f. receiving), face sitting, manhandling, profanity, reader is a bastard, aemond insults reader for being a bastard, he gets off of her suffering, he's insane, stressed dad criston, traumatic encounters by criston, dilemma, angst(?), fluff, reader is described to resemble criston so she has dark hair and eyes but no color is explicitly stated, + not proofread.

WC: 7k

Criston walked through the hallways of the red keep, armour clinking against each other as he walked towards a person's chamber who he swore to never involve himself with again.

Rhaenyra.

It wasn't the sudden love for her that made him do this, no, in fact he never even loved her, he had only realised after whatever happened on the ship with her.

It was guilt.

Guilt that he had stained his white cloak, guilt that he wasn't able to refuse, because the power imbalance between them was way too high, he couldn't risk it, burning all his efforts just because of refusing a princess.

He couldn't say no.

He was disgusted with himself afterwards.

He tried to pretend it was love to no avail, convincing himself that Rhaenyra didn't just use him for sexual pleasure, that he wasn't just an object or someone to discard, he believed that she loved him.

But none of that was true.

The events that followed along were obvious, she was married off to Laenor, and recently returned to the keep, pregnant with her fourth child.

It was only then Criston noticed the eldest child.

You.

He tried to think you were the same as Jacaerys and Lucerys, a rumoured bastard born to Ser Harwin Strong, Anyone can easily mistake you for his child itself, but not Criston.

The timing did not add up.

And neither did your features resemble Harwin Strong's.

Dark hair and dark eyes.

Features of him.

There was only one answer, and he wanted to be sure himself.

Which is what led him to visit Rhaenyra, something he would've never done in a thousand years to come.

He sighed heavily, knocking on the door, the guard allotted to her chamber looked at him suspiciously before announcing his presence, to say Rhaenyra was shocked is an understatement, she immediately opened the door, a hand resting on her stomach.

“Ser Criston.”

“Princess.” he greets her by bowing his head.

“Princess- I must speak with you, if you'll allow it.” his tone told her everything, and she looked around, before signalling Laenor, who was in the room, to take the boys to the training yard while she let him in.

He tried not to remember the last time, of what happened when he was with her.

“What is the issue?” she asks him, not wasting anymore time.

“Might I speak plainly, princess?” he asks, face stoic, he looks at him for a moment before nodding, and he takes a deep breath.

“Is she mine?”

Silence falls in between both of them, the way she clenches her jaw doesn't go unnoticed by him, and he clenches his teeth as he swallows thickly, bracing himself for the answer.

He already knew it.

He just needed confirmation.

“Yes.”

And that was enough to send all the waves crashing down on him, he stood there, breathing heavily, it felt as though there had been even more weight placed upon him, more than before.

He looks down, and bows.

“Thank you for your honesty, princess.” He says, “Ser Criston, please do not let this get out.” she pleads to him and he thinks for a moment. “Rest assured princess, I will not speak of this to anyone, for it will sully my reputation as it will do yours.” he says sternly and turns on his feet to leave.

His walk down to the training yard was swift, he was behind his allotted time to train the young princes due to this ordeal, yet he couldn't bring himself to care, all he could think about was you.

He stopped in his tracks down the stairs when he spotted you with your younger brothers, playing around with the wooden sword, they were clearly not training since he was their main instructor, just playing around.

He noticed how you smiled brightly, pretending to stab Jace and he fell, committing to his act of being stabbed by you, “Oh no more princess! I beg your mercy.” he played pretend, which made you giggle.

Then you heard a scoff.

You turned to see who it was, only to find your uncle, Aemond, looking at you with raised eyebrows as if he was judging you.

He was.

“Girls aren't allowed to train here.” he simply says, shifting his weight onto his right leg as he relaxes his grip on the sword before holding it placed down in front of him, leaning both his hands against it.

You furrow your brows, opening your mouth to speak up and reply to him but you are immediately cut off by Criston cole.

“Don't stand too upright my prince, you'll get knocked down.” he interferes with an advice for him, and you close your mouth before giving the wooden sword to Jacaerys.

“Ser Criston, May I stay and watch?” You ask him, eyes wide and pleading.

Normally he would refuse.

Normally.

But this situation was anything but normal.

“I already told you, girls are not allowed here–”

“Yes you may, princess.” He cuts Aemond off, and Aemond rolls his eyes while you smile widely at Criston, “But for your safety, please stand far away.” He tells you and you nod, immediately standing as far as possible.

Criston sighs before beginning the training for the boys.

It has almost become a routine for you, watching them train, Criston allowed you to stay and watch, much to everyone's surprise.

You had been hanging out with the boys, using the excuse of keeping a watch over your younger brothers as an excuse, Aemond did not like this however.

This obviously meant you were spending more time with Criston, it was fun being around him, when the boys would warm up for their training he would occasionally tell you about his achievements.

He has no idea why he's doing all of that, he could just ignore you, but he couldn't bring himself to.

It was a fine day, you were in the dragonpit with your brothers and uncles, Jace was learning new commands for his dragon, and you watched boredly, not understanding the obsession with dragons, you did not have one of your own, but you did not care.

Everything was going well, till you noticed Aemond, looking annoyed and wanting to be anywhere else but here, you obviously knew about his obsessions with wanting a dragon, it wasn't unknown.

The young prince's egg never hatched, leaving him without a dragon. You felt bad, knowing it must be tough to be the only one who has no dragon to ride, except you, but you had long given up the idea of wanting a dragon and accepted that you might not ever have one.

His public interest and the desire for always wanting a dragon so badly was what led to this moment, which altered him forever.

Aegon, Jace and Luke decided that it would be funny to mock him.

So they dressed up a pig and presented it to him, pretending it is a dragon while laughing loudly.

You did not find the situation funny at all, your brothers both laughed cruelly, along with Aegon who made the pig noises, you couldn't even bring yourself to let out an awkward chuckle, because you knew how this situation was incredibly mean.

Aemond obviously wasn't laughing, instead he stared at the pig before swallowing thickly, blinking rapidly, you remained silent, observing him. Prince Aegon left whilst mocking him, laughing along with your brothers and exiting the pit while you stayed back, and watched Aemond, who just seemed to be staring at the pig.

“Uncle? I-”

“Don't.” He cuts you off, his voice trembling, as if he was moments away from crying.

He was.

“Aemond.” You stand next to him, you watch as he shoots a glare at you, gritting his teeth.

“Are you here to rub salt on the wound?” His voice was laced with venom and hatred even though it was trembling.

“Why are you always speaking to me like that? I've never been anything but nice to you. Let me guess, you are going to assume that it was I who planned this as well?” You snap, words spilling out of your mouth before you could stop them, his eyes widened.

“I wouldn't be surprised if it was you, after all, it would be your way of getting back at me.” He shakes his head.

“I would never do that to you.” you mumble, which causes his eyebrows to raise slightly in surprise, “I know- well at least I think I do know- what it feels like to not have a dragon, mine didn't hatch either, Aemond.” you try to comfort him.

“It is just that, I simply do not care, I've accepted it.” You shrug, and he scoffs, “A true Targaryen is to have a dragon, I can understand why it wouldn't hatch for you- cause you're... plain.” He stops himself mid sentence, clearing his throat. You look down, fidgeting with your fingers as the air turns awkward, you expected Aemond to leave but he instead stays.

“I- I did not mean it that way, I simply meant that we are both different individuals, not having a dragon might not bother you, but it bothers me, it is a big deal for me, especially if even someone who is a wastrel like my brother has one.” He speaks up and you look at him, maintaining eye contact with him.

You don't know what came over you, but you suddenly grab his hands and hold them tight, “You will have a dragon one day.” you reassure him and he looks down, “You think so?” He asks and you nod, “I'm sure of it.” You smile but he doesn't return that smile.

He simply grabs your hand before turning around and leaving the dragonpit.

To say things changed between you and Aemond since that day would be an overstatement, his behaviour towards you remained the same, except this time it feels as though he is purposefully saying hurtful things, to get a reaction from you.

Is this what you get for being kind?

Yes.

But something did slightly change.

It was the way Aemond looked at you.

He might be mean, but he immediately comes to your defence when it is not him who is doing the mockery.

You learnt it when Aegon was mocking you and Aemond stepped in, defending you, same with your brothers, who would sometimes crack jokes that would be way too over the line, only to have Aemond shut them down.

You had mixed feelings about this.

It was a normal training day, you watched as Criston trained the boys, deciding to focus more on Aegon and Aemond instead of Jace and Luke, but it didn't matter since they were also learning along.

Until a certain presence had come in.

Harwin Strong.

You watched the interaction happen, the air became intense as Criston felt insulted, not wishing to take any criticism from someone from city watch.

Then they fought, Harwin threw punches at Cristons face until he was stopped by the guards, “You act as if you're any better, your attention towards the princess is also quite the unique thing.” Is what Harwin slowly said on top of him, but everyone was too scared and focused on the fight to stop to even care.

Things started to go downhill from then onwards.

Aemond and you have gotten slightly closer and things seemed to be less intense between you both, that was until your mother whisked you and your siblings away to dragonstone.

Criston was devastated, angry but he couldn't do anything about it, nor stop it.

Until driftmark.

He got to see you again, you stood there beside rhaenyra and your siblings watching as the funeral progressed, and clearly understanding the venomous words Vaemond aimed at your family.

Criston fought the urge to leave Alicents side and instead spend it with you, he wants to be closer to you, he wants you to remember him, maybe one day you'll even find out that he is your father, and when you do, he doesn't want you to be disappointed in him.

He made many plans, that if everything went well then your family would visit the keep often.

Of course until Lucerys took Aemond's eye.

He knew the drift between both sides of the family was clearer than ever, especially after Alicent lunged at Rhaenyra in anger with a knife.

Aemond did his best to interfere.

To everyone's surprise, when you came to realise what happened, you immediately sped to Aemond's side, and looked at his face before wincing at the raw sight, he was holding his mother before he turned and his gaze fell upon you.

Your lips trembled slightly as you looked at him softly and with pity, but he didn't return anything back, not even a scowl.

And that would be your last interaction with Aemond, or anyone on that side of that family at all.

Up until years later.

Many years have passed, and Criston tried to forget about everything, but he couldn't. Instead, as the years went by, he grew more worried but curious, he wondered if you'd grown into a woman, he wondered if you look even more like him now.

Luckily all his questions would be answered when he found out that your family would be returning to the keep, as Vaemond had made a petition against Lucerys.

Aemond was far too excited to see you too again, he remembers taking nothing but pleasure in the expressions you'd make when he'd be mean to you, they were forever etched into his memory.

Since the incident from the driftmark, Aemond grew into a much more calculated yet even more mean of a person, his words would be laced towards venom against the ones he despised, dripping ever so sweetly from his tongue.

Your arrival was anticipated by both the men patiently.

And day had arrived just like they hoped, you stepped into the walls of the red keep once again, yet everything seemed to lose its familiarity with the family sigils being replaced to that of the seven.

You did not come across both of them till the next day, until you went into the training yard with your brothers, you watched as they reminisced and smiled, you looked over the spot you always stood whenever you would watch them train, the spot looking smaller since you've grown in height.

However you felt the stares of the people prod at your back and you looked at them to see all of them whispering about your and your siblings obviously non valyrian features.

You try not to let it get to you, and distract Luke from the judgemental gazes, considering how he's already been feeling insecure due to the petition.

That was until you heard a noise in the background, and watched as the people gathered in a shape resembling a circle, you quickly patted Jace and Luke and gestured to them to come with you to watch what was going on.

You immediately spotted the familiar face of Ser Criston Cole, making a wide smile appear on your face as you watched him sway his weapon against who you weren't sure was Aegon or Aemond as the back was turned.

Ser Criston hasn't changed since the last time you saw him, you watch as he swung his weapon towards the Prince, and he countered that attack and blocked it with his sword, causing Criston to withdraw his weapon and take the Prince's previous spot, which lead to the Prince now facing you.

You immediately recognized him the moment you spotted that eyepatch, sitting snugly over his left eye.

Aemond.

Something about seeing him like that made heat travel down your body, is this what they call desire? You swallow thickly. He has indeed grown into a very handsome man, the loss of his did nothing but elevate his looks even further.

The trial match soon came to an end, with Aemond's blade pointing towards Criston's collarbones.

“Well done my Prince, you'll be winning tourneys in no time.” Criston praises, “I don't give a shit about tourneys.” Aemond answers while regulating his breathing, his grip loosens on the sword as his eye lands on you and your siblings, “Nephews,” the sword in his hand is spun slightly as he lowers it, “'Have you come to train?” he asks and that's when Criston's attention turns towards you and his eyes widens.

Jace's throat tightens as he tries to form a reply, not expecting Aemond to be this well trained over the years.

“Niece.” Aemond addresses you next and you look at him, “It has been a while.” He comments, his eye scanning your figure from toe to head, before his lips twitch, forming into a smirk.

“It has, Aem— Uncle.” you reply, cutting yourself off before you spoke his name.

“Princess.” Criston greets you and you smile, “Ser Criston, It is a pleasure to see you again.” you tell him and he nods, giving you a tight lipped smile. He's noticed how you resemble him even more now, which makes him happy but also fear.

“OPEN THE GATES!” you hear a distant voice yell and watch as the gates open.

Vaemond Velaryon enters the premises with guards around him, the chatter and everything falls to silence as the only noise now that can be heard are the footsteps of the guards as they accompany him.

The way he looks at Luke doesn't go unnoticed, causing already shaken up Luke to shiver further in fear, but you hold his hand, reassuring him.

You travel to your chambers patiently and prepare yourselves for the court hearing that would likely be held in a few hours, you sit down and pace around the chambers that were given to you when you had arrived here.

You hear the sound of a stone sliding in your chambers and you turn around to see none other than your uncle aemond emerging from behind a tapestry in the chamber.

“Aemond? What are you doing here? You shouldn't enter a lady's room like that.” You question him, calling him by his name instead of uncle like you did earlier.

He makes his way over to you, his presence was intimidating as he looked over to you. “Pardon my rudeness but how can I contain myself when my niece, who I haven't seen for the past few years appears in front of me?” He quirks up an eyebrow, his eye scans your figure once again, but this time, his gaze lingering more on your breasts before he meets your eyes once again.

“Especially when she's all grown?”

“When the object of both my desire and ire is right in front of me, how can I not?” His hands rest on your hips, and your mouth falls open.

“You are being inappropriate-” You protest.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you did not feel something when you first saw me.”

Fuck.

You thought you covered it well.

“What? Did I catch the cat in the act?” He mocks you and you glare at him, one of his hands travels to your cheek, tilting your head upwards before he descends his lips on your own.

You're shocked at what he's doing, but you don't protest, your mind becomes hazy as he continues kissing you, lips moving against yours in a rhythm, he swipes his tongue against your bottom lip, asking for entrance and to your own surprise, you allow him to by slightly parting your lips open.

The kiss elevates further from there, his tongue fighting against yours as you kiss him back, your hands grip his shoulders as leverage while his own grab your waist pulling you close, it gets rougher, hungrier but more passionate.

He pulls away for air looking at you while breathing heavily, you hold him by the face and pull him into a kiss again and he returns it immediately.

Your head spins as Aemond walks you backward until your back comes in contact with a wall, his grip tightens on you further, he pins your hands above your head as pulls away, and you look at him with pleading eyes, your lips swollen from the kiss.

“Fuck, you're so fucking beautiful for a bastard.” He comments and you frown, “Everyone knows, they just don't say it in front of you.” He says meanly, “I could have your tongue for that.” You threaten him but he smirks, “Hmm? Really?” He mockingly questions and you try to glare at him, but it doesn't seem much threatening.

His free hand hikes your skirts up, and travels upwards to your cunt, you gasp when you feel his cool fingers press up against your clit, then travel slightly downwards where your wetness was beginning to leak from.

“Don't fucking tell me you're getting wet all because I called you a bastard?” He questions, and you try to deny it but your body betrays you by making you clench your thighs together in arousal, he chuckles meanly and you bite your lip to try and fight the humiliation you are feeling.

“You seem to like it when I'm fucking mean to you, don't you? Seriously, you're getting wet from this.” You heave when you feel him pinch your clit, pulling on it meanly, causing you to squirm.

“Yes, yes you fucking do.” He growls.

“Aemond-” You choke out his name and he replies with a hum, “Hm?” He peppers kisses against your neck as you try to form sentences but you cannot seem to do so because of the way his fingers are rubbing small circles onto your clitoris.

“We s-shouldn't— it's unseemly of us oh–? ahh—! fuck.” You throw your head back against the wall when you feel him insert a finger into your awaiting entrance, He slowly moves it in and out, he lets go of your hands which were pinned to the wall, causing them to immediately fall on his shoulders in an attempt to balance yourself.

His free hand trails down to your bodice, he pulls the material down, freeing your breasts, he mutters a curse before peppering kisses to the flesh, and biting harshly which chokes out a whine from your throat. He pulls away and watches as the shape of his teeth get imprinted into the flesh of your breast, marking you.

His mouth then descends onto your nipple, you let out a loud and a lewd moan when you feel his finger curl up and hit the sweet spot inside of you while simultaneously his tongue flicks and plays with your bud.

He inserts another finger inside slowly, stretching you on them and your grip on his shoulder tightens, nails digging into the material of his clothes.

“Are you a maiden?” He asks you suddenly, pulling away from your nipple and you look at him for a second, processing what he said before nodding shyly, which causes him to smirk. “No wonder why you are clenching around my fingers so tightly, Relax.”

He speeds up his pace, hitting the sweet spot over and over again, you clench your eyes shut when you feel a type of tightening begin to form into your lower abdomen.

“Open your eyes.” He commands, you obey and look him directly in the eye, “Good, I want you to look at me when you peak.” He kisses your cheek, and as if right on cue, your orgasm hits you like a sudden storm.

Everything around you feels hot as the pleasure ripples through your entire being, making you moan his name out loud.

He slowly pumps his fingers in and out, letting you ride your orgasm out before placing a kiss to your lips and pulling his fingers out, letting your skirts fall back to place again, and puts the same fingers in his mouth, licking up the evidence of your essence, a satisfactory hum leaves his mouth.

Before he could advance any further, there is a knock on your chamber door, before he watches it slightly open, quick on his feet, he swiftly leaves your chambers through the secret passageway, and you try to fix your clothing, pulling up the material back up to your breasts and patting down your hair.

You watch as the knight enters your chamber and bows to you, “Princess, the court session is about to take place, your presence has been requested.” he tells you and nods, clearing your throat, “I shall be there.” He bows his head before leaving the room and you quickly fix up your appearances before leaving your chambers.

Heart racing at the thought that you both would've been caught if you hadn't reacted quickly.

Aemond, in an attempt to move to his chambers quickly, accidentally took the wrong route and ended up on the path to the small council room, which he figured out when he heard the voices of his mother and Ser criston.

“What do you mean by this criston?” He was about to turn back but halts when he hears his mother talk. “I have noticed your attention on the eldest daughter of rhaenyra, are you infatuated with her?” Alicent asks plainly, voice laced with concern. “No- my queen, she-” Aemond hears Criston sigh, “I suppose I cannot hide it any longer.” This makes Aemond grit his teeth, did Criston actually like you? He couldn't let Criston have you.

“She is my daughter.”

“What?”

What?

Aemond's eye widens as he hears those words leave his mouth, and Alicent is shocked as well. “How long have you known this for?” Alicent questions, “For many years, few months before driftmark.” He tells her, “I apologise my queen, I should've told you it immediately but- I was concerned for her safety.” He confesses and bows his head in shame.

“All is forgiven Ser Criston, Was this from the time you had laid with rhaenyra?” She continues to ask and he nods, “I am glad it is just that, because I plan to betroth Aemond to her, and with what you've just revealed to me, I think I can confidently go through with this.” She tells Criston of her plans, and this satisfies Aemond very much, but there is the fact that he cannot look at you the same anymore, for you were the daughter of someone who was his father figure his entire life.

Besides, he wondered what would Cristons reaction be if he found out what Aemond actually did to you mere moments ago.

“Prince Aemond? Your grace, I do not question your decision, but they don't seem very close, from what I remember, he had always seemed quite rude towards her.” Criston speaks up, he tries not to show the distaste for the choice as he has no say in this, because he cannot rightfully claim you as his daughter. “They will make up eventually, they're both grown ups now, I'm sure they'd put their childish quarrels aside.” Alicent answers him, Criston bites his lip, preventing himself from saying anything. “Besides, she is next in line to the throne, I know there will be complications if we crowned aegon, so we'll retreat and let Rhaenyra rule, after that, Y/N will ascend, at first I was reluctant to have a bastard on the throne, but I changed my mind after your confession.” Alicent reveals her true motives to him which makes Criston internally punch himself for revealing that, he still thinks Aemond isn't the right man for you.

“It is not uncommon knowing that after their marriage- she will eventually give birth to Aemond's children, his heirs, our blood, and they will definitely inherit the throne right after her, putting our blood on the throne.” Criston nods as he listens to Alicent speak.

They fall silent for a bit thinking through it.

“My Queen, the court session is starting.” A guard comes inside the council to inform her, Aemond immediately goes back to his room before cleaning and composing himself and then making his way to the throne room.

The court session was progressing, with Vaemond backing up his reasons to sign a petition against Lucerys, and everyone in court listened intently.

But Aemond's attention is somewhere else, on you, who is currently squirming under his gaze, trying to avoid it, this makes Aemond smirk a little, with all he had overheard from his mother, he could only think of one thing.

You bearing his heirs.

How amazing you'd look with your stomach swollen, carrying his seed deep inside you, this thought alone makes his cock ache.

It was one boring session, until Viserys arrived, and knowing Vaemond had nothing to lose anymore, considering he already lost, he chose to direct vile insults towards you, your brothers and your mother, which led to Vaemond's head partially being cut off by Daemon.

This shocked everyone and Viserys fell weakly onto the chair.

“And one more final— hh. thing.” He wheezes out, “The queen- has proposed a. be- be-brothal between Aemond and Y/N, w-w-which. i. hh accept, it is a perfect way to reunite our drifted houses.” He manages to get the words out. Your gaze turns towards Aemond whose smile just got bigger and you look away immediately blush creeping up your cheeks, frankly, all you could think about was his fingers inside you.

Viserys ends up having a coughing fit, which causes Alicent to panic and scream for the maesters.

Viserys doesn't seem to have left more than a few moons to survive, so they plan a wedding in one moons time, to have the king witness it before he dies, and also so that Rhaenyra can't go back and change her decision.

Dinner that night went peacefully, with Aemond right beside you, Aemond was too focused on you to the point he didn't notice how Lucerys chuckled when the pig had come in, you did, so you shot him a stern but warning gaze, which made him shut up.

You were back in your chambers again, the maids undid your hair, letting it fall freely and got you ready into your bed clothes, you decided to sit by the fire and read a book when you heard the familiar sound of a stone sliding again.

You lifted your head and found Aemond, also in his bed clothes who was coming towards where you sat, “What are you reading?” He asks and before you can close the book, he snatches it from you and views it.

“A caution for young girls?” The name alone is enough to make blush creep up your cheeks, “If I remember correctly, isn't this book forbidden?” He teases and you get up from your seat and grab the book from his hand, turning away from him before placing it on the table.

“What do you want?” You ask, not bothering to turn back.

His arms snake around your waist and wrapping them around it, he nuzzles his nose into the back of your neck and places kisses on it, “I think you know what I want very well.” He mutters, still kissing your neck.

“I'm afraid I don't.” You try to play clueless, not wanting to react to what he's saying but all of that comes crumbling down when he gropes your breast before squeezing it tightly. “Don't you?” He questions and turns you to make you face him.

His hand moves to your cheek, “You want me to remind you? Where we left off?” He asks and you stare into his eye, not speaking anything, trying to deny him. That doesn't last long when he presses his lips against yours, and once again you're kissing him back, he is just so addictive.

He suddenly pulls away, and throws you over his shoulder, catching you off guard and makes his way towards your bed before throwing you on it, causing you to bounce slightly.

“I cannot hold back anymore.” He hovers over your form, trying to contain himself, “Don't.” that one singular word leaving his mouth was enough to break his restraint, and before you know it, he's on top of you kissing your face, neck, breasts as he paws at your nightgown, trying to remove it off you.

Frustrated, he tears it off your body, ripping it into shreds before throwing the fallen pieces away.

Your body is in full view to him now, you feel so vulnerable yet aroused, you rub your thighs together to soothe the ache forming in between them. “Spread them.” He speaks and you're confused until you realise he means your legs, you feel ashamed to do so. “Did you not hear me? Spread those fucking legs.” His voice becomes impatient now, causing you to spread your legs.

You lay there, humiliation poking every inch of your body as he remains silent, staring at your cunt, you shiver when you feel the cold breeze hit your core, and then suddenly Aemond moves swiftly, giving you not enough time to realise what he was doing.

“Wha—” your question is cut off short when you feel his warm mouth on your sex, making you shriek in surprise when his tongue laps at your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves up and down, “Seven fucking hells, you taste divine.” he mutters against your cunt before devouring it once more, his tongue prods at your entrance, before entering inside you, whenever he moved, his nose would bump against your clit causing stimulation.

He suddenly pulls away and lays down next to you before pulling you on top of him, you end up straddling his waist and lay your arms on his chest as support. “Sit on my face.” He demands, “But-”

“Did I fucking stutter? Sit. On. My. Face.” He growls and cuts you off, making you shiver and you obey him changing positions to where your cunt is hovering right above his mouth, his warm breath hitting it.

He grabs your thighs harshly, annoyed at your reluctance and pushes your cunt into his mouth before lapping at it like a man starved, you throw your head back at the pleasure.

You move your hips unknowingly to aid your building pleasure, and it is when he nips at your clit that you feel your peak coursing through your lower body, you choke out a moan of his name.

He once again changes position by laying you on your back and moving up a little, his lips meet yours again, and you wince at the tangy taste of your own juices.

Aemond pulls away, “Gosh, I can't believe a bastard like you has me fucking cunt struck.” He whispers in your ear, “D-don't call me that.” you tell him, “But you seemed to to fucking like it earlier.” You stay quiet to that, not wanting to admit it.

“I know of your tastes my lovely niece, do you even know who your father is?” He asks and you shake your head no, “It's Ser Criston Cole.” He tells you and you look at him shocked, “I overheard him talking to my mother earlier, how does it feel? Lady Cole?” and you remain quiet.

Ser Criston Cole was your father?

It all made sense now.

“But enough of that, your attention should be on me.” He grabs you by your cheeks, squeezing them, “My dirty little whore of a bastard, with a cunt so divine that it puts gods to shame.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself, letting me do all of this to you, do you have no dignity? you're crumbling the moment I try to do something.” He says meanly and tears prick at the corner of your eyes, it wasn't anything new, he had always been this way, ever since he was young, you knew this was humiliating, you knew this was insulting, seven hells, you're even almost crying at his words, yet you can't help but get wet at everything he's saying.

“You're mine, you have always been mine, got it? mine to mock, push you around, fuck, breed and do whatever as I please.” He growls, you lay there and nod, “Gods, it feels so good to be so mean to you, I hate to admit it, but I love seeing you cry.” He wipes the tear that has escaped your eye with his thumb before putting the very same thumb into his mouth and tasting it.

He pushes you further up the bed, before he sits back, he undoes his breeches, and pulls it off along with his tunic, leaving him bare just like you, and you swore that the gods favoured him much more than others, his body seemed as if it was sculpted and moulded personally by the smith himself.

He spreads your legs wide before placing himself between them, his cock rubbing against your folds, “Do you want my cock so bad? Your cunt is fucking weeping for it.” He questions and you nod, “Use your words.” He orders you, and you swallow, “I want your cock.” You speak slowly.

“Beg for it.” He smirks when he sees your eyes widen, and you take a deep breath, trying to form words, he taps your clit with his cock causing you to squirm, “Please-” You managed to choke out. “Please what?”

“Please—! Please I want your cock inside me so fucking badly.” You say, and that is enough for Aemond before he positions his tip at your entrance. “This is going to hurt okay?” He tells you, and you nod.

And gods did it hurt.

His cock was too big, the stretch was unbearably painful, yet Aemond was patient, pushing in slowly and slowly until he was fully sheathed, it took him every grain of control to not start ramming into you like a wild beast, especially the way your cunt was clenching around him, he breathed heavily, letting you relax and adjust to him.

“I'm going to move, stop me if it's too painful.” He tells you and you stare at him, “I thought you found joy in my pain.” you mutter which makes him chuckle, “I do, but even i have my limits, and this is where I draw the line.” He tells you, which makes you smile, “You can move now, Uncle.” you tease and he grits his teeth before drawing his hips back and thrusting into you harshly, you wince as the first few thrusts cause you slight pain, until you relax and eventually get used to it, and slowly get pleasure from it.

But this pace wasn't enough.

“Faster- Aemond–” You heave out as your body jerks up and down beneath, and just like you pleaded, he swiftly increases the speed. “You're a filthy fucking bastard, you know that?” Aemond sneers at you, grabbing you by the cheeks as he brutally thrusts into you. “Answer me.” he groans into your ear and you nod, earning a light slap from him on your cheeks, “With words.” he growls.

“Yes, I- know!” you moan when you feel the tip of his cock hit the sweet spot, hands gripping the linen sheets tightly as he bullies your hole. “And who does this filthy bastard belong to?” He asks, sickeningly sweet, hands leaving your cheek to grip at your breast, twirling your nipple in between his thumb and index finger.

“Y-You.” You gasp when you feel his hand trail down to your cunt and press up against your bundle of nerves before rubbing small and gentle circles on it, elevating your pleasure. “Good girl, you're so good for me, aren't you? Good for your uncle, you'll let me breed you right?”

“Hmm–! Yes! I'll let you breed me– oh fuck right there– yes–” You throw your head back against the bed as you feel him hitting and ramming into your sweet spot again and again and before you know it, your peak is ripped through you brutally, causing you to clench around his cock, making him moan loudly.

“Fuck-” and with a gasp, Aemond finishes inside you, his hot spend coating your inner walls, creating a warm feeling, he slowly rides his orgasm out, staying in until his cock begins to soften.

“You'll look so beautiful with my children, your breasts will swell with milk, and I'll indulge myself in them, because you're mine, you belong to me and I shall do as I please with you, and you'll let me right?” He asks and you nod, “Such a fucking pretty bastard, and my soon to be wife.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

He pulls you into his arms and you both fall asleep, too tired to even clean up because of the eventful day.

A month later.

To say Criston was disappointed would be an understatement, he didn't hate Aemond, but he didn't like him to the point where he would watch his only child, that too who he cannot claim openly, be wedded off to him.

But at least you look happy and content with him.

After the vows were said and you were officially declared as Aemond's wife, Criston left the scene not being able to control his emotions, he stood at the very same place where he almost took his life, gazing up into the sky, “Ser Criston?” He heard your voice and immediately turned to you, “Princess.” He bows, “You can drop the formalities.” You tell him with a smile and he looks at you questioningly, “Fathers shouldn't be formal with their daughters after all.” You explain and his eye widens before he looks around to see if anyone heard that.

“You- know it?” He chokes, not being able to hold back his tears anymore. You nod “Aemond told me.” You tell him, and he immediately hugs you and you return the hug, “I am sorry, I failed you, but I had my own reasons, even then, I still apologise, I wish I had been there for you more.” He cries and you pull away from the hug, “It is fine, I can understand.” you reassure him and he smiles at you.

Everything seemed to have ended happily.

Though there was that one thought which Criston had that was immediately forgotten when you pulled him back to the wedding.

How did Aemond even come to know of it?

— ! ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

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so-sures-blog · 4 months

Text

Icebound

icebound definition: surrounded, obstructed, or covered by ice.

In which Zane uses his element against the Overlord to save the city and his friends. Because it wasn’t about numbers, it was about family.

❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️

It is the end, and Zane knows it.

The Overlord is conquering Ninjago City, webs of gold stringing across buildings like Christmas lights and tying up his friends like flies. They struggle, but it is useless under the might of the Overlord.

Zane flips out of the way of a golden band reaching to ensnare him and lands on a roof. All of his friends are tied up, and only Zane is free. He knows what he has to do. He is the only one who can.

“Support me, friends. For one last time.”

He takes a running leap off the ledge, and Jay flips midair so his feet plant squarely on top of his. Then Cole, Lloyd, Kai, Sensei Garmadon, and Wu.

He soars, flying straight at the Overlord, and grabs onto his golden fangs.

Immediately, he feels its power, and its agony. Pain rips into every crevice of his body; his jolts rattle and shake and his wires spark under his skin.

“Let my friends go!” Zane shouts.

“Go where, Doomed Ninja?” The Overlord sneers. Its eyes, red and hateful, glare into him.

Zane writhes under the immense pain and power. His body cannot handle it, he knows, and he feels himself falling apart under it.

“The Golden Weapons are too powerful for you to behold. Your survival chance is low.”

But Zane isn’t trying to hold them. He’s trying to destroy them.

He thinks of his brothers. He thinks of PIXAL. He thinks of his father. He thinks of an old man with long white hair as pure as snow and ice blue eyes that visited him a long time ago, who had come and left as quickly as winter did and had breathed that power into him because he saw him worthy of it.

“This … isn’t about numbers … It's about family!”

The golden webs holding the Ninja fall and they escape. He can hear them screaming, telling him to let go, and he thanks them for that. Wu and Garmadon grab onto them and yank them back, away from the oncoming destruction.

His core — his heart — started reaching critical mass. Frost began creeping upon the Overlord’s fangs. Something blue and blinding in his heart freezes under his power, and Zane embraces it. It's his power. His choice.

“I am a Nindroid. And Ninja never quit. Go Ninja … go!”

He is the Master of Ice. He was built to protect those who cannot protect themselves. He stands for peace, freedom, and courage in the face of all who threaten Ninjago.

Frostbite burns his skin away; jolt and wires freeze under the cold; until he is left completely bare.

The last glimpse they get of Zane is him surrounded by a blizzard of his own making, bright and beautiful like a supernova. Burning blue and white with the terrible brilliance of his own determined choice.

Zane died; not as a machine, not as a human, not as a tool of anyone or anything — but as himself. Zane died to save the ones he loves.

And woke up as something completely different.

❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️

PIXAL climbs her way up the steep cliff side, careful to place her foot in secure crevices in case she slipped and fell from the icy mountain. Heavy snow blinded her vision as the blizzard whipped around her, but she kept her pace steady and sure.

It had been months since she had left Ninjago City and began her search. Months since Zane’s death and memorial. PIXAL knew, logically, that she should be back there, properly mourning him. But she could not.

He had never given up on her, not when she was under the Overlord’s control or when she was struggling with the newness of emotions.

And that meant she could never give up on him.

When she had first met Zane, she became more than a machine meant to function. He was vital to her, and she was a part of him.

She carried half his heart, and against all logical explanations, she knew he was still alive.

She did not tell the Ninja of her suspicions: the immediate aftermath of Zane’s loss had been devastating. She’d watched as the team fractured, splitting at the seams as they all fled their separate ways, too heartsore and dizzy with grief to do much otherwise. She did not tell Cyrus Borg where she was going either, for she knew if he begged her to stay, she would.

If she had told them she had seen a snowy wraith emerge from the destruction of the frozen, apocalyptic atmosphere on the rooftop, she would have been told she had imagined it due to her grief.

And while she was grieving, she was not imagining it. She is a Nindroid, and she did not have an imagination. PIXAL was built to observe, to analyze, to collect data and gather information. She built theories and hypothesized, not assumed.

So she followed the signs. She kept track of all weather anomalies that happened across Ninjago — sudden snowstorms, cold drops in temperatures that swept through small villages and towns. It led her all across the country until it ended here, with her climbing up the frozen, snow-peaked mountain.

Finally, PIXAL arrived at her destination.

The Ice Temple.

Slowly, she makes her way towards it. Her sensors indicate the temperature dropping the closer she gets. For a normal human, they would have already gotten frostbite without the proper equipment and numb with it, but PIXAL was made of metal. The cold did not bother her.

She peers into the glacial architecture, but does not enter. Or more like, she is unable to. It feels as if there is some sort of force of winter that is keeping her at bay.

“Zane?” Hope finds its way into the desperation of her voice. Freezing winds whip her hair out of its ponytail and against the purple circuits on her cheeks, but she barely notices. “Is that you?”

There’s nothing except for the howling wind, then her eyes catch movement. Slowly, almost like a ghost, a figure starts to come closer, making a shape against the blizzard.

If PIXAL had lungs, all the air would have rushed out of them.

A being made of pure winter floated in front of her. Formed of ice and frost and molded by the wind, it stood there and looked at her. Opaque ice carved the face that has been imprinted in her memory drives, the one she had traveled across the entire world to see again.

It was frozen, and beautiful, and Zane.

Inside her neural drive, alarms were blaring into her system, flashing behind her eyes. Warning: Severe weather alert. Temperature reaching sub-zero levels. Retreat into a warmer climate —

PIXAL shut off the notifications.

“Hello,” she says. Zane does not move. She dares a step closer. “Do you recognize me?”

He says nothing, so PIXAL continues on. It feels like their roles were reversed when they first met: she, the one struck speechless by the other’s beauty. Him, stoic to it all.

“I’m PIXAL, the Primary Interactive X-ternal Assistant Lifeform. I’m a … friend. I came searching for you to bring you home. There are things about you that you don’t understand. That you have yet to discover. I am here to help you remember.”

Zane is quiet, but she senses that he is listening. Something glowing in her chest aches.

“It is alright if you don’t remember me,” PIXAL says. She cannot cry, but is she would she could. She is still new to emotions, and many are overwhelming her: joy and grief and something fierce and pure deep in her heart. “I remember you. And we are still compatible.”

Zane tilts his head and drifts closer. The snow slows its fall, the wind stopping altogether. Snowflakes gently coat her hair. Now that he is closer, she can see the differences that make him unlike the old Zane: he doesn’t have the one dimple on the right side of his cheek, or the small beauty mark on his collarbone, or the tiny scar on his index finger from his shuriken.

But he is still Zane, even as an icy spirit.

She held out a hand. “Your brothers miss you very much. Will you come back with me, Zane?”

He is silent, staring at her. Unlike before, it is impossible to know what he is thinking. She gazes up at him, imploring. His eyes have no irises or pupils, so she is simply staring up at pinpricks of pure blue light.

Slowly, his hand reaches out of her.

BANG!

A loud sound echoes across the ice, and out of nowhere chains of Vengestone come flying out and capture him.

Fear slams into her. “Zane!” PIXAL cries.

Ice races out from his body and across the chains as Zane struggles, but no matter what, he can’t break them.

PIXAL whips around to face the assailant.

A man in his thirties, wrapped in a thick parka to prevent the cold and wearing a red mask. He has shoulder-length brown hair and is wearing a dyed red straw hat, and under it she can see he is hiding an eyepatch.

“What are you doing?” PIXAL shouts. Anger — an emotion she rarely feels — burns through her.

The man lowers his gun and pulls out another one before she can even blink.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Just following orders.”

Before she can question what that means, he fires. A net tangles her limbs together and brings her down against the cold snow. Before she can fight against it, electricity courses through her.

And then everything went black.

#ninjago #ninjago fic #ninjago au #ninjago seabound #reboot au #ninjago pixane #zane julien #pixal borg #ninjago ronin #ninjago overlord #kai smith #jay walker #cole brookstone #lloyd garmadon #ninjago wu #ninjago garmadon

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starogeorgina · 27 days

Text

𝐊𝐞𝐩𝐚

Paring: Daemon Targaryen × reader, Harwin Strong x reader, Criston Cole x reader

Warnings: Swearing, smut, child birth

1.03

You blink away unshed tears as you stare up at Ser Harwin; the look on his face was earth-shattering. No traces of anger or bitterness could be detected on his handsome face; the softness in his eyes made you feel nothing but guilt. You should never have believed the rumors, given into your husband's taunting or gone near Criston Cole.

You’re unaware that you’re crying until Harwin wipes them away with the pads of his thumb. “Prince Daemon told me your news; congratulations, princess.” He leans forward and kisses your forehead, and in a quiet voice, he says, “He also told me what he said to you. I wish I’d known sooner.”

Ser Harwin wasn’t a fool; he knew his beloved princess’s outburst of believing the rumors surrounding him and Princess Rhaenyra being true hadn’t come from thin air, but he had no idea Daemon was the one behind it. The Targaryen prince thrived in chaos, but after causing so much damage, the knight was grateful to be away from the keep for some time; otherwise, he might have done something to get himself executed.

“Do you forgive me?”

Harwin sighs, “There’s nothing to forgive. It was a misunderstanding.”

Pouting, you shake your head. “I should never have doubted you... henujagon īlva, valzȳrys.” (Leave us, husband.)

You wait until you hear Daemon leave; he didn’t need to be involved in your conversation, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist if he was within earshot. You take Harwin’s large hand in yours and say, “I love my husband; he’s the other half of me. Targaryens are made to burn together, but I love you too. I don’t know how to explain it; it’s a different kind of love. Since I was a girl, I always knew I’d marry Daemon, regardless of how I felt, but I chose to be with you. You make me feel safe and—”

“What is it you’re trying to tell me?” Harwin wipes away another fallen tear. “I’ve memorized each time you’ve confessed your love to me, which is how I know something is wrong. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I don’t know whose baby this is. I forgot to drink moon tea after the last time we lay together.”

His blue eyes fill with tears. “Prince Daemon will be the father.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your heart aches a little when Harwin hugs you; he was a good man. A far better person than you, Daemon, or Criston. He wasn’t selfish, violent, or entitled. You only wish you’d never questioned his loyalty to begin with.

“There’s something else I need to tell you.”

—

As the months passed, your body changed, and the gorgeous gowns you had made could no longer hide how large your bump had gotten. Rhaenyra often thought you were carrying more than one baby when your bump first started to swell, but now you were convinced she was right.

Daemon smooths his hand gently over the fabric of your dress, feeling the baby kick beneath. You were comfortable laying on your left side with multiple pillows fluffed around you to keep you in that position. Your husband lay behind you with his face nuzzling into the side of your neck.

“Have you spoken much with Ser Harwin?”

“No,” you say, feeling your lip tremble slightly. “Perhaps it is for the best; the less he is near during my pregnancy, the less people will talk.”

Daemon kisses your cheek. “The baby could look exactly like us, and the Greens would still gossip. I suspect the same will happen with Rhaenyra as soon as she has an heir.”

Your sister and her husband, Ser Laenor, had gone to visit various houses in the realm on behalf of your father, who was too ill to travel the distance himself. Although they had gone on dragonback, a large number of knights, including Ser Harwin, had been sent to protect them. When you confessed your antics with Cole to Ser Harwin, he was mad for a while but insisted he still wanted to be with you; he just needed some time.

“And what if the baby doesn’t look like us?” You knew no matter what, you’d love and protect your child fiercely, but you needed reassurance from Daemon. “I’ve been beyond foolish; I’ve given them the opportunity to make my child’s life miserable before they are even born.”

“I will cut out the tongues of anyone who dares question the legitimacy of our child. Any baby you have will be an extension of you; it would be impossible for me not to love them.” He rubs his hand along your stomach again. “This is my son or daughter growing inside you. Nothing anyone says will change that.”

—

“Princess, it’s time to push again.”

“I can’t! I can’t!” You sob, clutching onto the bed sheets tightly. The pain was overwhelming; you were convinced this is what dying felt like.

“Push!”

The midwives help guide you through the last few pushes until your daughter finally enters the room. She is placed on your chest, and you sob with happiness, “She’s perfect—oh fuck.”

Your daughter is quickly carried away to be cleaned up as the midwife pushes your legs open again. “Time to do this second time, princess.”

—

Daemon hums while gently rocking your daughter Daella to sleep, while your son Gaemon suckles at your breast. They were only a few hours old, but it already felt like you'd spent a lifetime loving them.

“Perhaps when you are feeling up to it, we can pick dragon eggs for the baby’s.”

You smile and say, “That would be nice.”

With Syrax having laid another clutch of dragon eggs, you were on your way to the dragon pit to pick one while being accompanied by your husband and sworn protector, but before you could leave the courtyard, your waters broke. Ser Harwin immediately picked you up and carried you back to your chambers, while Daemon sent for the maester and midwives.

“There, there,” Daemon says before gently placing your daughter into the crib next to your bed.

You smile down at her. Daella shares your pale complexion; her silver hair and the shade of her purple eyes were an exact match for yours. Gaemon got almost all his features from you, like his sister; his skin was pale and his hair silver, except his eyes were a dark brown.

“I think he’s had his feed,” you say when Gaemon stops feeding and his eyelids slowly start to close.

Daemon takes him from your arms so you can readjust your nightgown. He kisses the baby on the forehead. “They really are perfect.”

—

Sitting underneath the weirwood tree, she smiles as Daella attempts to walk along one of the thick roots sticking out of the ground, with your loyal knight Ser Harwin right behind her, ready to catch her the second she slips. Gaemon lays back, his head resting against your legs, as you read a story about dragons out loud. Both eggs had hatched in the cradle, and your children were now getting to the age where they understood how powerful and magical dragons are.

“Careful, princess,” Harwin says softly. “Slow down before you fall.”

Daella grins up at the knight before jumping onto a different root. It wouldn’t be long before curiosity got the better of her, and she attempted to climb the tree.

When screeching comes from the distance, Gaemon points to the sky and says, “Mama, look! It’s kepa!”

You look up and see the Blood Wyrm flying in the direction of the dragonpit. Daemon always made a point of returning from dragon riding before supper time so he could dine with his family. When you lower your gaze from the sky, you are met with the cold gaze of Ser Criston Cole. You often notice the knight observing your son and daughter from a distance, but he makes no attempt to interact with them.

Although Cole would never admit it, you had a feeling he would risk his life for them just as Daemon and Harwin would.

—

Harwin takes one of the pebbled nipples into his mouth while you lean over him, your hands pressing against his chest. Daemon kisses the back of your neck, occasionally nipping at your sensitive skin with his teeth as he thrusts into you from behind. Over time, the three of you had come to an agreement that when the time came and you wished to have another baby, you and Harwin couldn’t fuck as you normally would, eliminating any chances of him getting you pregnant since you wouldn’t be drinking moon tea. But you still wanted to be intimate with Harwin, and your ever-devoted husband came up with an idea.

Daemon’s voice is cocky as he says, “So, Ser Harwin, how do you feel about our princess taking what she wants from us at the same time?”

Harwin grins. “Do you think you could take both of us?”

“Yes, I want you both.”

“Greedy girl!” Daemon smacks your ass.

Your heart races with anticipation at the thought of having both of them inside you at the same time. You're used to making love to them both, but this would feel different—more intimate, more primal. Harwin and Daemon had mutual respect for one another, but they mainly bonded over how much they loved your little family.

Your husband chuckles softly, his warm breath caressing your ear. “You’ll get what you desire, my love. I’ve bet you’ve thought about this plenty of times before, haven’t you?”

Feeling your cheeks heat up, you nod.

A princess is desperate to feel her husband and lover fill her up at the same time.

Daemon slowly withdraws his shaft from your cunny, leaving you aching for more. He sits down on the bed beside Harwin, but before you have the chance to move over to his lap, the knight hooks his hands under your thighs and pulls you up until you are hovering over his face. Not wasting time, Harwin starts flicking at your sensitive clit with his tongue.

Daemon smirks as he listens to your whine. He had already ‘prepared’ both your holes before Harwin joined you in the bedchamber. After coming apart on Harwin’s lips, Daemon gently pulls the small cock-shaped object from your anus, then pulls you onto his lap so you are facing him, and slides his cock into your cunny again.

He leans back and pulls you down with him, gripping your shoulders and spreading them while Harwin readjusts himself behind you. The thought of having them both causes your clitoral area to throb, “Please.”

Harwin guides his thick cock to where you’re aching for him. With a gentle nudge, he pushes past your resistance and enters your tight hole. You gasp as he fills you completely. The sensation of having them both inside you is foreign and exhilarating. Harwin begins to rock his hips gently, slowly pulling them out before pushing them back in again, while Daemon thrusts upwards at a harsher pace.

“How does it feel? Daemon asks, pinching your nipple between his fingers. “Good as you imagined?”

“So, so good.”

Your mind becomes hazy with pleasure when one of them starts rubbing fast circles on your clit. You come apart, squeezing both of them tightly. Harwin shoots his seed inside you, then Daemon follows shortly after, coating your cunny in his seed, which he will hopefully take.

The knight slowly pulls you out, then brushes your sweaty hair out of your face and kisses you deeply. Daemon smirks, “Take your time catching your breath, my good knight, as we will be here all night.”

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runningfrom2am · 4 months

Text

cold nights // part seventeen

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.8k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness (r has a panic attack), she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: this is the tea guys get ready for a LOADED chapter. also,, i apologize.

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

Coryo wants to ask you who that guy was- why he made you so instantly uncomfortable, and he wants to, but he's cut off before he can get a word out by someone shouting your name. You tense under his hold, freezing on the spot. Then your name comes again, and as Coryo turns to see the face of whoever it is, he was met with the very same blonde boy just a few feet away.

"Hey, leavin' already?" He asks, tilting his head at you as you turn. He doesn't even spare a glance in Coryo's direction. "Didn't even say hello."

"Oh, well, I'm just... not feeling well." You reply, dropping Coryo's hand in favour of shielding yourself around your waist.

"Oh, that's a shame. Can I walk you home?" He offers.

"I've got it, actually." Coryo answers stiffly, straightening his shoulders as he takes in the boy's attire. Blue slacks, a white T-shirt, and a buzzcut. He's a peacekeeper.

The boy looks him up and down, a smirk forming on his lips. "This is your mentor. Saw him on TV with you, I didn't realise that was a... permanent arrangement."

"Coriolanus just came to visit. He's a good friend." You say quietly, hardly to be heard over the Covey band playing in the background.

"Oh! A friend. Of course." He laughs, speaking to you, but his eyes are locked with Coryo's; unafraid, taunting. "And here I was thinking you had a type."

"Y/N has never mentioned you." Coryo states, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep himself from throwing a punch. "Who are you, exactly?"

"Right! Sorry, I'm Cole." The blonde boy replies.

Coryo could laugh. Clearly, he was local. "Should I take a blind guess at where your father works, Cole?"

His jaw tenses in response, but then he laughs. "Yeah, yeah. You'd probably be right." He reaches up, running his hand over his jaw. "You know, if Y/N isn't up to giving you a tour, maybe I could take you out in the woods and show you where your father was murdered. How does that sound, Snow?"

You look up at your friend, eyes wide. Coryo doesn't know what to say or do, but he looks pissed. "Cole, enough." You state, trying to steady the shake in your voice. "That was cruel and you know it."

"Oh, was it? Sorry." He apologizes, but he's looking past you at a seething Coriolanus. He can only hear his heartbeat in his ears, and he wants nothing more than to beat this guy to a pulp right where he stands.

"Coryo, let's just go, please..." He can suddenly hear your voice, and feel your hands against his chest, trying to urge him out the door.

"Yeah, you two head out." Cole chuckles, lifting one hand in a wave. "I'll give you some advice though, bud, you're not getting anything from her by walking her home. I've been down that road and jeez- it's really not worth it."

Coryo didn't care anymore if you were trying to get him out; he steps past you and is throwing a fist right into Cole's nose before you could make a move to stop him. Bringing up his father was one thing, saying something so disgusting about you was totally another. Coriolanus would not look past that and be a pacifist right now- even if that's what you wanted.

You stumble back with a gasp, hands flying up to cover your mouth. You stand frozen as Coryo knocks him down, laying punch after punch onto a boy you once thought of as a friend.

Hit. After. Hit.

You couldn't see his eyes. You weren't sure why you were looking. Deep down, you knew you wouldn't like what you saw.

You back up. Back, back, back until your head hits the wall and you can't keep going. You didn't realize you were breathing so fast until you started to get dizzy. People are shouting, a crowd is forming. Too many people, too much screaming- the music has stopped, and you watch from outside your body as Sejanus wraps his arms around Coriolanus's waist and yanks him back so he's standing upright again.

He wipes his bloodied mouth on his wrist, then promptly pushes his hair back out of his eyes as he spits the blood in his mouth down on Cole as he lies on the ground. Time is moving so slowly that you're not even sure he's moving. Is he dead?

Your eyes flit back up to Coriolanus again, and his eyes catch yours. You try to take a step back again, but the wall is still there. Shades of red cloud the edges of your vision, and you're stuck making eye contact with him. Frozen, and terrified.

"No- no, no Y/N, wait-" He starts to speak to you. You wonder if you're dreaming. If this was another nightmare- worse than the others. It was personal. "Y/N- hey, don't look at me like that. Come on, don't look at me like that. Talk to me." He's saying, pleading with you, and you can only read his lips as tears fall quick and heavy from your eyes.

He takes one step with empty but bloodied hands held out in front of him, and you're running. It's the worst kind of deja vu. You don't know where to go- you can't go outside. He knows where you live, where your family lives, and it's too long of a walk to be able to make it. He would catch you if you tried to run home alone.

You're trying to sprint through a crowd of drunk people, many of whom are fighting as well now, and you almost don't even notice when you take a hit to the side of the head with someone's elbow as you try and get to the back room. You don't have time to care. You look back over your shoulder, shoving your way through as quickly as you can. He's following you. You can see his blonde hair in the semi-cleared path you made for yourself.

You can't look back, you have to look forward as you dart down the dark hallway, praying that the Covey's makeshift dressing room has a lock on the door. You didn't even realize you were screaming until you slammed the door behind you, scrambling for the lock and sliding the rusty metal shut as you barricaded the door with your body.

"Y/N! Y/N, wait!" Coryo shouts, shoving his way through the crowd behind you. You can't hear him, even when he catches your eyes. That same fear behind them made his gut twist.

He only just clears the crowd behind you when someone is standing right in his path, grabbing his shoulders and shoving him back. Lucy Gray. She wasn't strong, but she needed to be. "What have you done!" She's shouting right in his face, pushing him back again, but it does little to move him. "Why would you do that in front of her?! Get out of here! Now!"

"No, no, Lucy Gray I need to-"

"Coriolanus Snow if you don't get away from her right now I swear to god I-"

"No, you don't understand I-"

"I understand damn fine, thank you!" She huffs. "Sejanus, go get Lennox."

He didn't even clock that Sejanus was holding onto him, keeping him from getting any closer to you even though you were locked behind that door he could see just feet away. He could hear you screaming, sobbing, and he only wanted to help.

"Okay, yeah. I will." Sejanus says, turning his grip onto Coryo's arm. "Come on, you gotta go."

He had seen Sejanus angry before, but it was never directed at him. "Sejanus, please, I have to help her, I can't go through this again I really-"

"You can help her by leaving."

Coryo's heart sinks in his chest, but he lets Sejanus pull him away, and he stares hopelessly back over his shoulder at the door as Lucy Gray knocks on it, talking to you through the metal barrier protecting you from him.

"Y/N/N, hey, it's me. It's Lucy Gray. You gotta let me in, sweetheart. Come on, open up." She's trying to stay calm as she knocks on the door, repeatedly trying the handle on it. "I'm alone, I promise you're safe, Y/N/N. Open the door, please."

You can hear her, but everything besides your broken sobs sounds distant as you're curled up against the opposite wall. There's not enough air in the world right now to keep you conscious- there must not be a window back here. You force yourself back onto your feet, stumbling as you try to stand up and you can hardly see. It's hot.

You look up, there's no vents. The ceiling is too high. Somehow, that makes you feel more claustrophobic.

You make your way over to the door, your palms against it and feeling soft knocks coming from the other side.

"Lucy Gray?" You sniff, unsure now that it was even her voice that you heard.

"Yes, sweetheart. It's just me, can you let me in, please?"

You take three deep breaths.

"Y/N/N?"

With a shaky hand, you reach up and slide the lock open.

She tries the handle again, looking back over her shoulder when it cracks open this time.

You step back quickly as the door is slowly pushed open, almost falling back with the urge to run. You hardly remember why you would open the door.

"Hey, hey, just me." Your best friend says, quickly closing the door again and locking it behind herself.

She eyes you carefully, and your arms are wrapped tightly around your midsection. You don't look like yourself- eyes wide with nothing more than terror behind them, like you're physically holding yourself together and it's not really working as your chest rises and falls so fast she can almost see your muscles straining to keep up. She wants nothing more than to pull you into her arms and tell you it's okay, but she's not sure touching you would be wise. "You okay, Hun?"

You look at her with tear-filled eyes, shaking your head.

"That's okay." She nods at you, understanding and filled with worry. "Do you want to sit? I'll get you some water and we can talk, okay?"

You nod, swallowing over the dryness you didn't even notice in your throat left over from all the screaming and crying. If you didn't know better, you would have thought you swallowed a full box of cotton.

Lucy Gray nods, double checking the door is locked before going over to her bag in the corner and grabbing a water bottle. You watch her the whole way and her calmness slightly soothes you, just enough to sit down at the bench and table beside you.

Lucy Gray isn't scared. You're safe here. You have to remind yourself over and over that you're safe now.

"Your brother is on his way." She assures you, sitting down across the bench from you and holding out the water she just opened for you.

"Okay." You say quietly, taking it and just holding it in your lap. You try and take a deep breath, your head falling back as you shut your eyes, trying to force the fear to leave your body.

"There you go, good. Keep breathing." You hear her tell you and you swallow again. "Can you talk to me? Tell me what happened. No one can hurt you here, I promise."

"Coryo, go home." Sejanus instructs him, turning him in the opposite direction, as if he couldn't do it himself. He had absolutely zero interest in going back to that cold empty house they had borrowed for the month.

Especially after what he had done to you. Again.

He promptly turns back around in the street. "No, I'm coming with you."

Sejanus sighs, rubbing his hands down his face. "I don't have time for this-"

"I agree. Let's go get him."

"Don't you get it?" Sejanus laughs bitterly, eyes wide with exasperation as he shakes his head. "Don't you know what you've done to her?"

"Of course I get it!" Coryo shouts in response. "I've ruined everything! I know that!"

Sejanus opens his mouth to speak, quickly shutting it again.

"I'm killing her! I'm killing her and I can hardly breathe right now and I need her to know I didn't mean to scare her and the only way I can show her that is helping her now. That's the mistake I made last time, and I won't do it again. I won't." He shakes his head, reaching up and pushing his hair back out of his eyes.

"She talked to me, on the last night I saw her. She screamed, and cried, just like that," He gestures vaguely toward the building you're still trapped inside, "and she asked if that's who I was and I couldn't tell her no. She asked if I regretted it and I do, more than anything, and I'm pretty sure she's the only damn reason why and she doesn't know that!"

"I can't lose her." He adds after a moment of the two boys just staring at each other. "Not again, Sejanus. I'm scared of who I'll be without her."

Sejanus shakes his head slightly, looking up at the stars as he takes a deep breath. He was mad at Coryo for scaring you, but he was his friend, and if this is how he wanted to help, he couldn't bring himself to push him away after he was sure that Coryo had never been so honest in his life.

"Okay. Let's go."

There are still lights on in the house when Sejanus knocks on the door. Coryo is standing at his side, chest tight. Your brother already didn't like him- he knew this wouldn't go well at all, but he couldn't walk away from you now. If it was your brother you needed, he would get him for you.

The door opens and they're lucky to see that it was Lennox who answered.

"Where's my sister?" He asks immediately, noting that you weren't with them.

"Something happened, and Lucy Gray asked us to come get you." Sejanus answers, and Coryo's breath hitches as your brother's eyes lock on him.

"What did you do?" He spits, and for a moment Coryo wonders how you could even be related.

He feels himself go pale. "I'm sorry, I really am..."

"Pa!" Your brother shouts back into the house, not giving him the chance to explain further. "We gotta go get Y/N/N, somethin' happened to her."

"What?" Your dad's voice comes next, panicked and frantic as he hurries to the door, not even bothering to grab a coat as he and his son push past the boys on the porch.

Coryo hadn't had the chance to meet him yet, and the fact that this is his first impression makes him feel ill.

"What happened, is she hurt?" He asks, stalking quickly down the front path and they follow hastily after.

"She's not hurt." Sejanus assures him quickly.

"She, uhm, maybe..." Coryo says, embarrassingly non-confident. Everyone looks at him. "She caught an elbow to the head, I couldn't stop it. I'm sorry."

"You're Coriolanus?" Your dad says, turning to look at him only briefly.

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you for coming to get us." He replies, nodding to him. "You did the right thing."

Coryo has to ignore the glares Lennox is shooting into him. He must be the only one who knows.

"We didn't know it would be unsafe for her, but we should have. I apologize." Sejanus says, and your father slightly shakes his head.

"She's got a smart head on her shoulders. She wouldn't've gone if she thought something would happen. Can't blame anyone." He replies. "There's no guidebook on how to live with this stuff."

"I have a good idea of what not to do." Lennox cuts in, and Coryo catches him staring at his bruised knuckles. He quickly tucks his hands into his pockets.

Peacekeepers had cleared out the Hob by the time they got back. Coryo recognizes the other kids in Lucy Gray's band as they stand outside, presumably waiting for her to come out. She was still with you, maybe that was a good thing.

"Tam Amber, is Lucy Gray with her?" Your father asks the boy, who nods in response.

"They won't let you in here, but go try the back door. Goes straight to our room, that's where I saw her go."

"Thanks, Son." Your father nods, lips pursed together as he pats his shoulder and quickly brushes past, rounding the side of the building.

Coryo tries to follow, but Lennox stops him abruptly with a hand on his chest. "You better go."

"Listen, I, I don't know what she told you, but-"

"She told me everything I need to know about you." He says, looking back over his shoulder at his dad knocking on the door, ear pressed to it as he calls out for you and Lucy Gray. "And I know that you being here will just make it worse. So go."

Coryo nods, running a hand down his face. "Listen, I get it, I do, but I can't lose her again. I can't. I have to explain-"

"No, no." Lennox cuts him off. Coryo is sick of people cutting him off. "Can't you just let her be happy? We're doing everything we can to convince her she's still alive- that she's safe and it was hard enough already before you showed up. Literally every night she has nightmares about you, because she trusted you. Completely. You've been here less than a day and you hurt her all over again- I can't just stand by and let that happen."

"I did it because that guy said something horrible about her- I just, I couldn't let him get away with that!" Coryo protests, scared that no one would actually give him a chance. "Last time I didn't get to talk to her and I think that's what she needs."

"Oh, you think that? That's spectacular. She'll be cured!" Lennox laughs dryly, rolling his eyes. "We don't need you to fix her. I really don't have time for this, Coryo."

He practically spits the nickname at him, laced with venom as he turns on his heel to go to the door.

Coryo groans, running his hands down his face again as he watches the door open for your brother and father.

"It's like," You take a deep, shaky breath, squeezing the water bottle you're holding in your lap. "It's like he is a different person, Lucy Gray. Do you get it now? Did you see?"

"I believe you. I always have." She nods, looking into your eyes. "I saw it, but..." She sighs, breaking eye contact with you. "I don't think he's a vicious person, Y/N. And I don't think you think that either."

You chew your lip, shaking your head as your eyes fall to the floor.

"Can I give you my opinion?" Lucy Gray asks after a moment, reaching out to hold your hand.

"Truth is truth to the end of reckoning." You say plainly, nodding and gripping onto her hand.

"There's no reckoning, love, okay? I'm your friend first and foremost. I want to help you, and I will always be honest with you." She assures you before continuing. "But I think... I think he's just a normal boy. Boys get in fights all the time-"

"Lucy Gray you didn't see it."

Your best friend is calm, despite you interrupting her. You never did that, but she knows better than to fault you for it now. "Okay, alright. What didn't I see?"

Your hair falls into your eyes as you shake your head, and you quickly push it back with your free hand to look at her. "His eyes."

"His eyes, okay... What about them?"

"He gets... It's scary. Like he wants to do it. Like he enjoys hurting people and, and-" Just recalling it makes your heart rate increase.

"Okay. I believe you." She nods, placing her other hand on yours. "But I think this is more about you than him, sweetheart."

Lucy Gray can see the confusion that knits itself into your creased brow. "It was a scary, traumatic time for you, and I think you're still recovering and that's okay. You may never be the same and that's okay. But I don't think he'd hurt you. I really don't. I think he's a good person."

"I want to think that..." You sniff, shaking your head. "but just as easily that could have been me in the arena. And just as easily that could have been you out there, or, or..." Your train of thought dissipates. "I just mean it doesn't seem that anything is stopping him."

"I don't think it could have been you. He cares about you. You told me that, remember?" She smiles softly. "I think it was inconsiderate of him to act that way out there, but I think you were just reliving something you shouldn't have to. The games can make anyone do bad things."

"Maybe..." You mutter, second-guessing yourself now. You didn't even see his eyes tonight, not until he was looking at you and begging you to listen when you couldn't. He looked just as scared as you, as soon as he realized what he had done.

"Are you sure you saw that today?" Lucy Gray's question shocks you, but it's exactly what you were thinking. "His eyes, I mean. Did you see it again or did you just expect to after last time?"

You jump at the rapid knocking on the back door. Lucy Gray stands up, making her way over to it. You hear muffled voices for a few moments before Lucy Gray returns. "It's your family, I'm going to let them in, okay?" She pats your leg and you nod, and she smiles at you reassuringly before walking away.

You hear the door creak open and you stand up, brushing off the front of your dress and turning to face them as your father and Lennox rush in.

"Honey, are you okay?" Your father asks, quickly gathering you into a hug and you nod, biting back more tears.

"Fine just fine." You whisper. "I'm sorry you had to come all this way..."

Lucy Gray catches a glimpse of Sejanus and Coryo standing outside as she lets your family in, looking back at them talking to you when she slips out. She gently closes the door behind herself and walks up to them. "I thought I told you to go home."

"I know, I know, but-" Coryo looks between her and the door. He sighs, deciding to give up on defending himself. "Is she okay?"

Lucy Gray looks at him, arms crossed over her chest as his hair falls in his eyes and he doesn't immediately fix it, more concerned about you than anything else. "You need to cut your hair." She states plainly.

He's confused, opening his mouth to argue when she speaks again. "You need to cut your hair so she can see your eyes. She'll feel safer with you then." She turns on her heel, nodding to Sejanus before heading back for the door. "When we get her out of there you better be gone- she can't see either of you tonight." She pauses, hand on the handle. "But yes, she'll be okay."

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl , @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie , @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @scorpiolystoned , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

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a-butterfly1 · 1 year

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==✦NINJAGO AU MASTERPOST✦==

This is an AU I've been working on, I will actually work on it on writting ( on AO3 ) instead of making a comic/manga because I tend to procastinate when it comes to drawing panels ( if you have been keeping up with other pojects of mine you would know this), hopefully I will keep this updated.

==❤︎CHARACTER INFORMATION❤︎==

Lloyd Montgomery Garmadon

Age- 1000+ (immortal) Height: 5'8 (1,73m)

Lloyd has lived many years, of course, now he's immortal, he doesn't have much of a choice but to continue living on. He was many things throughout his life: a bratty child, a son, a master, a hero and now he's nothing more than a myth, while still a part of ninjago history many actually question if he ever really existed or not. He ostracized himself from society for a reason, after all,- it's painfull to make relationships when they are so short lived. He is considered a god by many, but he denies that being the case, maybe the embodiment of the balance between good and evil but he wont try to call himself anything more. Lloyd now lives with the spirits of his family with the occasional visits from Morro and Garmadon, his father.

==꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦꒦︶︶꒷꒦==

Jay Walker

Age- 1000+ (spirit) Died at 115 Height: 5'10 (1,78m) Status: Nya's husband

He was a man of the spotlight, he shined brithly- TV shows, TheyTube channels, he was knowed worldwide. Not that he minds the retirement, he lived his life; he had two beautiful twins with the love of his life, Nya. He died happy, even if he was the last one to die, 3 years after Nya had passed. His last years were spent with Lloyd. In his many years in the Ninja team, he's come to realise he doesn't exactly have the same type of strengh like the others so he created a different weapon one that creates iron alloy strings, that resemble spider webs. He also practiced racing with his wife in his free time and created all kinds of machines and weapons which ranged from house equipment to ninja tech, like mechs, weapons and transport.

==꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦꒦︶︶꒷꒦==

Kai Smith

Age- 1000+ (spirit) Died at 95 Height: 6'2 (1,88m) Status: Skylor's husband and Nya's bio brother

Kai was a little bit of an influencer in his younger years, but as the years went by he settled more into being a family man with his wife Skylor and his little girl. How did he become a spirit? Well it was his idea; well his plan was to become immortal like Lloyd but he was intersected by Morro, so he opted for the second best option: giving his powers to Lloyd, so even if he was dead he would be with Lloyd through his power; what wasn't part of the plan was he actually becoming part of Lloyd as a spirit, not that he is complaining, he got what he wanted in the end; and since he was the one that piched the idea to the ninja, he just involved them all into the mad plan- one that Lloyd was unaware of. He trully is a mad man, no one, and I mean, no ONE, puts themselves between him and his family, the last person who did so, is no longer amoung us, the last thing they saw was Kai becoming a demonic ball of flames.

==꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦꒦︶︶꒷꒦==

Nya Smith Walker

Age- 1000+ (spirit) Died at 112 Height: 6'0 (1,83m) Status: Jay's wife and Kai's bio sister

Nya, famous racer, only had to step down from the hobbie/carrer when she got into a small accident, while she wasn't gravelly wounded that was enough for her to be proibited from competitive racing. From that day on she still raced but became more of an idol than a racer per say. She ended up working on engineer projects, solo or with Jay, mostly out of boredom. Now, since she is dead, she has more free time than ever, and uses it to learn and explore every digital corner of the internet, catching a few criminals in the way. Many say she is mystical and her strengh is as crushing as the waves in a storm can be, yet calm and relaxing as the days in the beach, others, like the Ninja themselves just see her as they're beloved sister.

==꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦꒦︶︶꒷꒦==

Cole Brookestone

Age- 1000+ (spirit) Died at 87 Height: 6'8 (2,03m) Status: Vania's husband

Cole, King of the Kingdom of Shintaro, Husband of Queen Vania, father of the prince of Shintaro, and our beloved cake lover, sadlly passed away early, well earlier than his siblings at least, the unknowed illness that had taken the life of his mother had decided to claim another. Cole fell gravelly ill, bedridden in his late stages of life. Bedridden in the castle, he invited Lloyd over for most possibly a final goodbye, although he didn't think that Lloyd would stay around the whole time it wasn't completly unexpected, right there he was the first one to execute Kai's plan, and the first to discover the side effects of the plan; from then on he was part of Lloyd and made sure to let the others know of the end result.

==꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦꒦︶︶꒷꒦==

Zane Julien

Age- 1000+ (nindroid) Height: 7'0 (2,13m) Status: P.I.X.A.L's husband

Caretaker of the rest of the Ninja team and their children, especially since those little kids sure liked uncle Lloyd a whole lot and would visit constently. He stayed with Lloyd in the monastery alongside P.I.X.A.L and Morro (who visits soo much he pretty much lives there, has a room and everything). Him and Lloyd share house chores, and Zane is in charge of looking at news around ninjago, to ensure it's safety, as well as helping in some researches since Lloyd is only one person and can only intake soo much information at a time. He is the only one that hasn't partaken in Kai's plan, since there is literally no reason to, Zane obviously doesn't die of old age, one may claim that he could possible get rusty and need repairs at some point but Lloyd and P.I.X.A.L are always around is any issue is to come.

==✿ADDITIONAL INFORMATION✿==

The Ninja team, many years after most of the team's death, has move the location of the monestary far away from the main ninjago island, and instead now lives in a far away island that Lloyd created west of Ninjago city, around the middle of Ninjago and the dark island (thats has been sealed away by Lloyd). The reason for that change is because of something rather strange, it's not just to ensure Lloyd's ever soo wished isolation but also because a merchant had attented to buy the place, with the intention of turning the monestary into a tourist attraction. Lloyd got a bit peeved and decided to pick up the mountain where the monestary was on top of and relocated it;

The only reason the Jay was living with Lloyd in his last moments, was because he genuenly belived he would miss the mark to execute Kai's plan, because he belives himself to be quite clumsy and distracted; either way he didn't miss it and now is with the rest of the team (which is a way to say that he can now torment the Ninja forever);

Lloyd has a cute nickname for all the Ninja's kids, and spoiled them to no end (he is the fun uncle who takes everyone to Disneyland), he calls Kai's daugther "munchkadee", Jay and Nya's twins has "Starlight" and "Moonlight" for the girl and boy respectively, and Cole's son is "Duckling";

the age diference of the Ninja are, from youngest to oldest: Lloyd - Nya - Jay - Kai - Cole - Zane ( to say, with maybe the idea of the 1 season, Lloyd (8->15) - Nya (15) - Jay (16) - Kai (17) - Cole (18) - Zane (30-40? he is old);

(conceivable for change) As of right now, Lloyd's power is one that could rival gods, the source of said power is something OP is still considering but the possible main reason might be related to "source dragons", has to why the other Ninja's had powers even after having kids is related to Lloyd giving them an artifact that has their specific element embodied into them (the artifacts are not phisical and can only be visualised when the Ninja have already passed, the artifact will most likely have the form of a card); (the reason of this possible change is the development of the plot of "Dragons Rising").

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arcielee · 1 year

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The Past and the Pending

Summary: Aemond will find you and bring you the fuck back to Westeros. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Modern!FemReader Word Count: 3790 Warnings: Smutty smut, possessive Aemond (you know you love it, I do too, no judgement) dubcon, oral (female receiving), fingering, p in v, all the goodies. Author's Note: We are coming to the end of this depravity and there is one last part after this. I cannot express enough thanks to @f4ll-for-you for all of her help! I literally posted, “Hey, this is my first ever Reader Insert attempt, does anyone wanna read it?” And she was the only one willing and the friendship that has blossomed has absolutely changed me for the better as a writer. Thank you from the bottom of my heart ♥ lēkia - brother Tags (kindred spirits): @glitterandgoldfinds @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @fan-goddess @welcometothelioncage @hueanhdang @sahvlren @heavenly1927 @missusnora @lemonivall (I have never had a taglist before, but if you are bold it is because Tumblr has betrayed me and it will not allow me to tag you, I’m so sorry) Series: Call It Dreaming

Prince Aemond Targaryen was a quiet force that would sweep through the Red Keep, his dark presence engulfing every room he entered into. His temperament would be described as obsessional, almost consuming, whenever his meticulous mind was set on something or someone. His traits and his drive would have been admirable in a firstborn son, but instead he learned early on his fate was predetermined, understanding that his title would forever be superseded by the fact he was only a second son.

On the night he returned from Storm’s End, he came to realize that his power dynamic had shifted. Aemond was ushered away into the small council chamber, not even able to change from his clothes that hung heavy from the rain. He saw the change in the expressions around the table, the disappointment in both his grandsire and mother’s expressions, but Aegon did not share their concerns and found optimism within his err, boldly stating how his brother had, “the true blood of the dragon.”

Aemond was grateful his brother stood at his side with the new alias Kinslayer tacking onto his legacy and, in return, he devoted himself to serve his king, no matter the personal opinion on his drunken addled reign.

He was a formidable ally to Aegon, quick to push his grandsire and his self-serving counsel aside, while suggesting for Daeron to return to the Red Keep at once, which would allow Tessarion to be added on the battlefront.

Aemond then turned his focus to the retaliation he knew would come from his sister, pouring over tomes and books to scrutinize battles past and best predict the impending. It did not prepare for the attempt made, but the gods showed favor as Daeron happened to be visiting with his mother when two brutes slipped into her quarters by one of the many ingresses that lined the castle walls. The prince’s yells were quick to bring the attention of Ser Criston Cole and together they were able to subdue the would-be assassins.

The two men with the monikers Blood and Cheese were beaten until they were unrecognizable, until the needed confession spilled from their broken teeth and bloody lips: that they had been sent by Daemon.

An eye for an eye, a son for a son.

The outrage for the attempt on the little Targaryen princes allowed the uproar needed amongst the seven realms to capture and bring Rhaenyra and their uncle to trial. They were convicted and their execution was a show for the smallfolk, thus ceasing any more murmurs of who Viserys had wished to be his heir.

This led to present day, with the seven realms now under the unquestionable rule of his brother, King Aegon II, who proved to be an insipid drunk with access to the royal funds, which was used to throw extravagant revelries that allowed him to wag his cock at every woman within Westeros.

Yes, he was the king and he was kin, but Aegon was still insufferable.

His brother’s incessant celebrations left Aemond numb to their victory, with an emptiness that replaced the consuming vengeance he had felt since that fateful night on Driftmark. He always assumed when it had been rightfully served, that a sense of peace would take over but instead he found a gnawing want for something more.

“You need a woman, lēkia,” Aegon had told him with a giggle.

In that regard, Aemond had an insatiable appetite but only once it had been awakened. The last woman he took to bed was when they first claimed Harrenhal and slaughtered every Strong within, save for a bastard who served as a wetnurse.

Their chemistry was explosive, burning bold and passionate until the inevitable end of the wick. Alys spoke often of her purpose, stating the gods have given her a new destiny to fulfill, whereas Aemond was respectful of the old gods and the new, but found he often preferred the process of coming to a conclusion with thorough research, as opposed to an unseen deity’s say-so.

When he told her this, she clucked her tongue and touched his cheek. “My prince, I know your destiny and you just need to find her.”

Instead, Aemond returned to the Red Keep and fell into the mundane routine of small council meetings, training with Ser Criston, and riding Vhagar. The only time he felt a sense of purpose was backside the massive she-dragon, allowing her freedom to soar over the seven realms and trusting the gentle pull of the reins and a word utterance would return them to King’s Landing.

To return to nothing.

He had always preferred seclusion, but it wore on him as of late. His sister was busy with the twins and her new babe, a young princeling named Maelor, while his mother was devoted to breathing down Aegon’s neck and upholding his royal reputation. Daeron found his purpose within the Citadel and was forging his chains and Ser Criston allowed time to train with him, but he was dedicated to the shadows cast by his mother and brother.

So when his day’s tasks were done, he would retreat to his room and allow himself to remove his eyepatch and the façade it held, choose a book from his growing collection and seat himself in front of the fire to read.

This was how you found him.

His agitation was apparent by the rush of color to his cheeks; he could not fathom how you managed to enter without him realizing. He watched as you made a soft noise of surprise, your backside was to him and he knew, from what you wore, that Aegon had picked some whore from the Streets of Silk and slipped her in.

His tone was sharp when he questioned what you were doing and he saw you jump. Aemond was in a sour mood and he knew he was projecting, but his temper flared and he glided across the room to take hold of you by the throat, though he was careful with his hold.

What he had not expected was the beauty that seemed to glow from you, your look so exquisite and unlike anything he had seen before within Westeros. The embarrassment of you seeing him so intimately tightened his expression and you returned his look with an unabashed regard that held no tremor of fear, but your eyes seemed to brim with a sort of adoration.

His gaze rolled over your shapely legs that peered below the hem of your queer clothing and the gnaw of lust began to form in the pit of his stomach. He watched with rapt attention when you removed that flimsy piece of clothing to show the small clothes that fit with your figure with the most delicious flattery to your curves.

His passion had been awakened; he had to taste you, he had to touch you.

His fingers trailed your skin, soft like silk to his touch, and your scent warm and subtle. Your body fit so well against him and the noises that spilled from your kiss swollen lips was a sound he always wished to hear. The moment he finally sheathed himself inside your wet warmth, you mewled so pitifully and he shuddered from how your cunt molded so perfectly around his cock. Aemond struggled to pace himself, but your tightness clutched so sinfully and he swore the world anew when he spilled inside you.

Aemond pulled you beneath the covers, unwilling to have you return from wherever his brother dragged you from. He loved curling against your soft backside and how you felt pressed against his chest; there was pleasure from watching you sleep, with the subtle rise and fall of your bare chest with your every breath, while cradling his arm between your breasts.

He regretted falling asleep, for when he awoke you were gone and all that remained was the queer clothing you had arrived in, your fragrance still lingering on the thin fabric.

Aemond went to find his brother and confront him about you, only to learn that Aegon had been bedridden since late the day prior with stomach pains. “You swear you have not left this bedchamber, lēkia,” he questioned.

“Speak softer,” Aegon moaned, dark circles that amplified the purple of his eyes. “I swear to you I did not leave my room for anything last night, save the bucket.”

But if she was not his, where did she come from?

He called for Ser Erryk and together they searched every brothel within the city, questioning every madam and giving the description of your beauty. There was no lead and they tried to entice him with what they had available, but Aemond did not want the touch of anyone but you and you alone.

You had become his new sense of purpose, consuming his every thought.

It was weeks before he saw you again; there was the familiar soft gasp falling from your lips and you were back, flesh and blood, in his bedchambers. His temper flared and you were coy with your reply. There was the question that had tormented him for weeks, “Where are you from?”

“I cannot say.”

He wished for an answer, but his body betrayed him and the ache he felt only began to subside once he grabbed onto you, feeling your soft flesh and enveloped in your warm aroma. He pulled you close, appreciative of the black, simple dress that complimented the curves of your body; your nipples peaked beneath the fabric and your body arched, the soft flesh of your ass pressing into his crotch.

You were intoxicating and he was mournful with his words, “I imagine you will leave me again.”

“I will need to,” you replied, your eyes doleful. “But I will stay as long as I am able to.”

As long as I am able to.

Your words remained with him, a soft echo in his mind as he returned to the monotonous tasks of his every day. They rolled away and one night, in the quiet of his bedchamber, he laid back and stared at his canopy above his bed. His gaze held nothing, but beneath his pillow he held a grip of his dagger, the fabric of your shirt touching his knuckles.

He ached for your touch, the clothing left behind had lost your smell, and he mourned that he did not hold onto you, refusing to allow you to return from wherever you had come from.

Aemond did not remember falling asleep, but he felt the shift at the edge of his bed and the realization he was not alone in his room. He had an automated response, only to fully awaken once he saw the hold he had around your neck and your wide eyes.

The passion remained the same and how perfect your body was against his own. A sense of ataraxia washed over him with you wrapped in his arms, a comforting calm until he felt your body tense every so slight. “What is it?” He was quick to ask, wanting to resolve whatever vexed you in this intimate moment.

You turned to face him, your eyes glassy and the tip of your nose red with your words, “I only wish I was able to stay longer with you.”

Morning came and his bed was empty again, but he now understood what must be done. He returned to Harrehal and sought out Alys. When he entered the throne room, he looked up at her and she wore a wicked smile on her painted lips, but her focus was on the mortar in her hand. “What do you seek, my prince?” She asked with the lilt of her Riverland accent.

“Who,” he replied, his gaze watchful as her hands continued the motion in front of her. There was a collection of mason jars, marble bowls brimming with herbs from all over Westeros, and the wispy smoke of sage hung heavy in the air.

Alys lifted her kohl smeared eyes, a twinkle to the blue that bore into him. “You finally found her,” her tone was playful, almost teasing. “You know that I need something of hers to locate.”

He handed over your vintage shirt.

“The White Duke,” she grinned. “Is this dear to her?”

“I hope so,” he answered.

She tsked and took just a shred of the fabric, dropping it onto the marble slate in front of her before sprinkling a powder on top. A flame sparked and it reflected in her eyes. “Fate is peculiar,” she began, her tone still teasing. “She is not of this world, my prince.”

Aemond remembered your reply, I cannot say, and he asks, “Am I able to get to her? Would I be able to bring her back here?” He swallowed. “She has visited me before.”

“Yes, I am aware,” Alys continues. “I can create an access that will allow you to retrieve your destiny, as well as a potion that you must give her so she can return with you, with whatever she carries.” Her eyes focused on him, her lips drawn into a thin line. “We cannot traipse back and forth this plane of existence, my prince. I can give you two days, but after that the portal will be closed so on one else can cross.”

She paused for a moment. “This, of course, will cost you, my prince.”

But no cost could compare to the opportunity to see you again. Aemond returned that evening and noticed a chalk symbol on the cobblestone. Alys handed him a small vial with a soft purple glow emanating from the glass. “This is what she must take to be able to cross over and stay within Wetseros,” she instructed. “Where you arrive will be the same way you must return.”

He nodded, his jaw clenched.

“I will close this portal in two days, whether you return or not,” she repeated and she gave him a kiss. “Good luck, my prince.”

Aemond Targaryen found himself in your room.

Where he stood was a soft, iridescent glow beneath where he stood and it faded away. A purple lucent light remained, casting from your bedside and allowing enough light for him to look around. It was apparent the space was intimately yours, an almost chaotic cleanliness and your fragrance touched everything. He noticed a velvet chair with clothes folded on top and to his right, by the door, were your shoes neatly lined up. Aemond bent over and removed his boots, placing them alongside.

He saw a shelf that stretched from the ceiling to the floor, littered with literature and small trinkets; on the wall were pieces of artwork that hung. His gaze then fell towards the bed where you were sleeping; you were wearing a thin, white tank top and the blanket was halfway down your hips, your lips slightly open with the soft breaths of your slumber.

There was the curl of his lips as Aemond took slow steps around your bedside, his eye taking in your relaxed form in the sheer top, and he reached to gently pull the quilt back further to show the black cotton underwear that hung on your hips. His hand reached out to you, his fingertips pressing into your soft skin and his touch elicited a sleepy moan from your lips, your nipples pebbling in response.

He felt the tightness in his trousers and he pulled back to remove his tunic before moving to climb into your bed, pressing closer, his nose trailing from your collarbone to the curve of your neck, his mouth opened slightly as he took in your smell.

You shift beneath him with a sigh, goosebumps spreading over the skin that shows, and he was quick to place his palm to cover your mouth; your eyes widen and it takes a moment to recognize it was Aemond Targaryen, bare chested and pressing up against you. He relaxes his grip and your hands move to touch his face, your fingers soft on his jawline, “Aemond-?” Your voice is a harsh whisper and he moves forward to take your mouth with his own.

You moan into the kiss as his tongue massages against your own, shifting himself to move on top of you and brace his elbows on each side of you, caging you in. You move to open your legs and cradle him against your hips, your hands tangling in his silver hair.

His lips move downwards, tracing your jawline to your neck and kissing your chest. He shifts his weight to one side, reaching to grab your neckline with one hand and pulling to allow your breast to spill. His hot mouth suckles and bites into your soft flesh and you moan louder, grinding your hips upwards for friction.

You see the curl of his lips as he reaches for your stretched neckline and tears it down the center. “Hey,” you push to your elbows, your voice low. “I would have taken it off if you just asked.”

“I do not ask for what is mine,” he replies and pushes you back into a bed with a kiss that removes the air from your lungs and all thoughts from your mind until all you can think is the sensation of his lips trailing lower, his kisses sprinkled over your chest, your breasts, your ribs and lower.

You lift your hips and peel off your underwear that is soaked with your anticipation; Aemond moves to your center with a greedy lick of your silky folds, the sensation sending shivers throughout and your clit blossoms in response. “Vok,” Perfect, he praises into your cunt and you shiver again with his Valyrian.

You feel his slender finger curl into you, a tentative touch to your velvety walls until you clench in response. He hums his satisfaction before adding a second finger for a come hither motion to massage that spot within you; you mewl pitifully and bring your hand to your mouth to smother your noise.

He pulls back to look at you and you are quick to whisper, “I have roommates,” he probably does not know what the fuck that is, “I live with others here, they have their own rooms… I-I don’t want them to hear me.”

“I do not fucking care,” he growls and he dips lower until his mouth is on your cunt. You gasp at the simultaneous ministrations of his mouth and his fingers within you; your thighs begin to shake and you nearly cry when he quickens his motion, the pleasure crashing over you and your cunt clenching desperately around his fingers as he coaxes you through your orgasm.

There is a wet squelch when he pulls his hand back and you weakly look, face flushed, as he brings his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean, his grin wicked. “As sweet as last night,” he says and he moves to unlace his trousers before returning to nestle in the cradle of your hips.

Your eyes are glazed and you sigh with the pressure of his chest to your own, his hard and warm and still somehow molds so perfectly against you; he moves his hips and you feel his cock pressing against your slick slit, tantalizing your swollen lips. “Aemond, please,” you beg, your nails biting into his toned shoulders.

He reaches his hand to line himself with your entrance, the gentle thrusts of his hips to fill you and you moan at the stretch of your walls as his cock sheaths into you. He begins to rock against you, hitting deeper within, and the soft pants of pleasure spill from your lips with his every thrust.

Aemond leans forward, his mouth finding yours with a gentle kiss that does not match to the powerful pace of his hips. “Wait,” you breathe and he pauses, his expression curious as you push him back and he follows you lead to lay back onto your bed.

You take care to prop your pillows behind his back and his gaze watches as you climb on top, your touch gentle to guide his tip between your wet folds. He reaches to grip into the softness of your hips, lifting to ease the entirety of his length into you; your head tilts back with a cockdrunk grin to your lips and you slowly begin to rock against his hips, while Aemond presses to meet your motion.

You look down at the prince and his gaze is intense in return, one sapphire eye and one lavender eye that bore through you. The lighting of the room gives him an ethereal beauty and your eyes admire how the shadows spread across the rivets of his chest and abdomen when he flexes to meet you with the motion of his hips. His silken hair spills on both sides, a contrast to your dark sheets, like a silver halo for this deity clenched between your thighs.

“Aemond,” your voice is so low, but he is rapt to your attention. “Jenigon nykēla.”

Touch me.

He releases one hand and reaches between your thighs, his thumb gentle with his touch until the slick on your cunt coats his tip. He finds your pearl and moves in circles to match the rhythm of his hips, his touch igniting the passion that coils in the pit of your stomach. Your nails bite into his chest, leaving creases of red crescent moons on his pale skin; you bite your bottom lip, quickening the movement of your hips.

Aemond returns your passion, rutting upwards until your breath hitches and your velvety walls begin to clench around him, coaxing his own release with a guttural groan from the back of his throat; his arm pushes himself upright and the other moves to slip around your waist, burying his face in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, soaking in your scent.

He falls back and pulls you with him, his arms wrapping around you and you nestle against his chest; your smile is unable to leave your face as you press a kiss to his chest, moving to press your lips to his neck. He hums, his cheeks dimpling with a closed lip smile, and you whisper, “Aemond, how did you find me?” Your voice is soft. “This has to be a dream.”

He hums again, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “I will tell you everything in the morning,” he promises, nestling with you beneath the quilts on your bed.

Your fingers trace the hard planes of his abdomen, the softest touch to test if he was really there. But in the morning you will be gone, you don’t say and, instead, his steady breathing lulls you to sleep.

#the past and the pending #Aemond Targaryen x Modern!FemReader #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x modern!reader #hotd fanfic #aemond smut #thanks for reading #and thanks for all the love #♥

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withwritersblock · 3 months

Text

The Fall of Home

~The Fall of Home by Los Campesinos!~

Author's Note: idk honestly it's mostly word vomit ngl Italics are flashbacks Summary: Nate wins the cup and needs his childhood best friend to celebrate with him Warnings: Swearing, implied smut, shouting Word Count: 3,990 Nathan Mackinnon x fm!reader

She sat on the couch watching the dying minutes of the Stanley Cup finals. She watched Nate push Gabe towards the bench, her heart beating hard against her chest. It was t0o close. Not enough to feel as though they had done it. The Avalanche jersey covering her frame had Mackinnon on the back. It was Nate’s old jersey from his first few years in the league before the Avs switched to their new ones.

Her childhood best friend had done it as the last ten seconds of the game the puck was in the Avs offensive zone.

It was like watching in slow motion as she watched the bench itch with anticipation as the clock winded down from five seconds. The buzzer goes off and the entire team throws their gear everywhere as they cheer and scatter on the ice. Her hands cover her mouth as her eyes well up in tears.

It had been his dream since the second Nate realized what hockey was. She watched him pretend to lift the cup on the lake behind his house countless times. Now in mere minutes she would get to see it done in real life. Except it is on her TV.

Her fiance smiled widely as he hugged her side. “The cups coming back to Scotia!” Daniel mumbled as he kissed the side of her cheek. She smiled politely as she stared at the screen seeing Nate on the screen.

Daniel didn’t know that Nate and herself grew up next door to each other or that he was her first kiss. Or the first person he called after he got drafted first overall. Or the fact that they act like they're in a relationship every time they see each other again. Cuddling, kissing, dinner with each other’s parents.

And sex. A lot of it.

Except Nate hasn’t been home in two years. His family has gone and visited him in Colorado instead. She visited him once in Denver and stayed with him, in the same bed. Except nothing happened between them because of Daniel. Daniel entered her life during a difficult time. It was two months before COVID really went rampant. They went COVID crazy and moved in together right when the lockdown happened. His idea.

Nate stayed in Colorado, despite many of his teammates using the time to visit and stay with their families. But she had Daniel. She didn’t need Nate.

Except she still missed him as the months progressed and the further they had time apart it was as if the feelings she had for him were getting less and less suppressed. But he had a new life, new people, new and better successes. Hell. He just won the Stanley Cup.

She even had a new life. Sure, it was still in the same community she grew up in but she had Daniel and a life that she’s supposed to be happy about.

“Are you crying?” Daniel questioned, a small furrow in his eyebrows. She shifted her gaze towards him for a brief second as she blinked rapidly. She looked back towards the screen to see Nate get handed the cup.

“Cole Harbour, you got another cup!” the announcer shouted as Nate shook the cup in the air with a wide smile on his features. She hasn’t seen him smile so wide since he was drafted.

“It’s just-look at ‘em,” she was referring to Nate.

“Yeah, they’d deserved it from the beginning,” Daniel said as he stood up from the couch to get another beer.

She watched as Nate handed it off to Jack Johnson, a player who’s waited over a thousand games to achieve this. She tilted her head back as she wiped the tear that fell onto her cheek.

~~~

It had been several hours later and multiple Instagram story reels that have kept her up as she watched the team celebrate. She remained on the couch, a glass of wine in her hand. Her phone screen lit up with a call coming from Nate. She furrowed her eyebrows harshly as his contact photo popped on the screen. It was a picture of them back in his Halifax days. He was kissing her cheek, sweaty and still in his jersey.

Pulling the phone to her ear, it was loud on his end of the phone. “Y/N!” Nate shouted, “I need you in Denv-ver, when I get there tomorrow!” he shouted. He sounded blacked out. She smiled to herself, happy to hear his voice. His voice was practically gone but it was still amazing to hear. “I need to see you, we’ve got to-to celebrate,” he slurred.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” she said laughing, “Enjoy your night Nathan,” she said, getting ready to hang up.

“Wait! Wait,” he chuckled, “I’m sorry you couldn’t come to Tampa, I wanted you here so bad,” he explained, the words taking forever to leave his lips. “Bu-but you’ve got a fi-fiance,”

Her features scrunched together as his voice was rasped as he was fighting hard to get the words out. “What does Daniel have to do with-”

“Because-” he hiccuped, “Because he has you and I don’t,” he let out. Her eyes widened as the words left his lips. Her stomach began to do flips as the words played in her mind on repeat.

“Because he has you and I don’t,”

“Oh dude, come on! Give me the phone, Nate! Give it to me. We said no drunk calling!” Erik’s voice rang out on Nate’s end of the phone. “Sorry, Y/N. He’ll call tomorrow when he’s sober!” Erik’s voice was closer to the phone as he spoke.

“Oh okay,” she mumbled as the phone call ended. Her hand began to shake as she pulled the phone from her ear. What the hell did he mean by that?

It was hard to take anything he said seriously because he was drunk, he probably won’t even remember calling her. She brought her wine glass to her lips as she drank it all in one swig.

She lifted her gaze from her lap to the sound of loud footsteps coming from her hallway. “Baby, we’ve gotta get up early for that thing with your parents tomorrow. Remember? Come get some sleep,” Daniel said, his voice groggy from probably just waking up.

She met his eye, praying for an ounce of butterflies or a feeling in her chest that told her he was the one. Or the spark that everyone talks about when you meet your soulmate. But nothing came out of it. She took a deep breath as she nodded, “Yeah, I’ll-” she cleared her throat, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“So, things are pretty serious with him,” Nate mumbled as he messed with his fingernails, avoiding her gaze. She hummed as a reply as she avoided meeting his gaze.

She was laying in his king sized bed in his apartment in Denver, contemplating on why she decided staying with him was better than a hotel. Because all she wanted to do right now was kiss him. It’s been three hundred and forty three days since she last kissed him and she missed the feeling of his lips on hers.

“Why didn’t he come with you to visit me?” he asked, turning his gaze to her trying to read her features. She pulled her lips between her teeth as her eyes widened slightly. She took a sharp breath before looking towards him, her eyes landed on his bright blue eyes. His eyes were slightly swollen as he was recovering from a broken nose still from a few weeks back.

“He doesn’t know that we’re friends,” the last word difficult to leave her lips, “He just thinks that I’m on a trip with friends to Denver to see a few games,” she explained. Nate fought off a smirk on his lips as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

“How’s your mom keeping that secret? If I remember correctly all our childhood photos together are all over the living room,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

She chuckled as she inched towards him, slightly. “My brother decided to have four kids in the span of three years. So she replaced all of our photos with my niece and nephews.”

Nate let out a huff of air as he shook his head, “I don’t envy him. Triplets, right?” he asked and she nodded.

“They’re adorable, but a handful,” she muttered.

She met his gaze as she took a deep breath. He smiled softly as he adjusted the pillow under his head. “Is he a Penguins fan or Avs fan?” Nate asked, referring to Daniel. It was common in their small community to be either a Pittsburgh Penguins fan for Sydney or a Colorado Avalanche fan for Nate.

She scrunched her features together and Nate’s hand hit his chest like a fake dagger. “You couldn’t find an Avs fan to date?”

She rolled her eyes playfully as she laid onto her back, forcing her gaze to the ceiling. “You should get some sleep,” she muttered.

Nate laid facing her still, admiring every detail about her. The way her hair laid across his pillow. The curve of her lips and the flutter of her eyelashes. “Y/N,” he let out barely above a whisper, his heart racing. She turned her head to meet his gaze. His eyes trail from her eyes to her lips. Needing to kiss her but he couldn’t. Nate was not one to make moves on someone else’s girlfriend.

But this was Y/N. She was everything he’s ever wanted. Even down to the fake wedding they had when they were nine, it was the first time they kissed. They were nine, kisses at that age barely count but it was the first of many.

She met his gaze, pursing her lips forward slightly as she watched his eyes flicker between her lips and her eyes. “He’s lucky to have you,” he let out finally. She smiled softly, “But I’ll beat the shit out of him if he hurts you,”

“You would knock him out with one punch, he’s not very strong,” she muttered as he chuckled.

The next morning she was woken up by Daniel shoving her awake, “Wake up,” he mumbled as he began pacing in their bedroom. She rubbed her hand across her eyes as she was adjusting to the sudden touch to her body. “What the fuck is this?” he asked, shoving his phone into her face, she pulled her hand away as she stared towards the Facebook post that her mom shared early this morning.

It was hard to read as his hands were shaking, “What-”

“What the fuck is this?” he asked again, dropping his phone onto her chest. She furrowed her eyebrows as she looked over the Facebook post.

The caption said From the lake behind our houses to the big stage! Our family couldn’t be more proud. Can’t wait to see the cup in your hands this time! #GoAvsGo #NateDogg

She cringed at the wording but her breath caught in her throat as she saw the collection of photos she added. Each photo shows Nate with her family. Majority of them with Nate and Y/N cuddling cozy and even one of them with him kissing her cheek. “Daniel, I can explain,” she said as she began to stand up from the bed.

“How fucking long were you going to keep this a secret?” he accused as she dropped his phone onto the mattress. Her mouth opened as she tried to find words to say. There was nothing to say. “I mean his contact photo in your phone is him kissing you!”

“Wait, you went through my phone?” she countered as she looked at her phone in his hands.

“No, he called you and I saw the picture. I mean, is the jersey you wore last night his? Like off of his fucking back?”

“I never wanted to lie or keep it from you. What was I supposed to say? Oh by the way, my best friend growing up is now this super famous athlete, I never see anymore.” she expressed.

“He’s not your best friend, all these fucking pictures your mom posted is you two looking coupley. This one is from a year ago when you were in Denver, I mean what the actual fuck. Have you been cheating on me?”

“What no! Will you stop shouting and sit down and have a conversation?” she countered. He shook his head while taking a deep breath. He reluctantly sat down beside her on the bed, refusing to meet her eye.

There was silence for a moment, “Nate and I grew up beside each other. We were born four months apart, our parents are best friends. He was my first friend. We had a weird relationship,” she hesitantly looked towards him, he was still fuming. “We were never in a romantic relationship but,” she let out a huff of air, “Sometimes it felt like we were?”

“I haven’t seen him since the last time I was in Denver, and nothing happened between us. He knows about you and Nate would never even try anything,” she explained. He shook his head.

“So what? You guys have had sex?” he questioned. Her mouth clamped open and shut and he groaned. “I can’t believe you’ve kept this from me!”

“He’s my past, Daniel, he doesn’t matter!”

“But he was a huge part of it! And clearly still is! He’s called you like four times!” he let out as he stood up from the bed. “And you know what, I don’t want to be with someone who keeps such a massive part of their life secret. I’ll move my stuff out by tomorrow,” he expressed, furious. He took a hold of his phone and stormed out of the bedroom.

“Daniel!?” she called out. She let out a huff of air before switching her gaze to her phone that was now lying on the floor.

“You look at those fucking photos and tell me how to feel!” Daniel shouted again. “I can’t compete!” he said before he left.

She tried to feel something for Daniel leaving. Her body was stiff as her mind was racing with thoughts of Nate. Instead of Daniel. She was wrong. He does matter. He always has and despite all of the time apart, he was still so important to her.

~one week later~

She laid in the bed that she once shared with Daniel. He moved out the next day from the apartment after several more fights regarding Nate. He took the ring from her finger and threw it out of the window. Y/N knows she should’ve told Daniel about Nate. It was easier having him be a celebrity in her life than someone she loved. Someone she loved in more ways than one.

She’s spoken to Nate every day since they won. He would call twice. Once in the morning to recap the drunken things he would say well into the night. His drinking slowed down as the weeks progressed but he’s been celebrating every day since. Each night he would call and beg her to come see him in Denver. Every night she would consider it until she would realize he was too drunk to remember. She’d always leave it out the next day they’d talk.

She laid naked beside him as she traced her manicured finger along his chest. Tracing each line of his muscle, each outline. His hand fluttered his fingertips along her skin. He would trace his index finger from the base of her neck in a zig zag to her lower back.

“When do you go back to Denver?” she questioned barely above a whisper. He took a few seconds to reply as he continued the pattern on her back.

“Tuesday,” he let out, shifting his gaze from the ceiling to her. She lifted her head to look down towards him. She leaned down and pressed her lips against his softly. He lifted his other hand from his side and rested it onto her cheek. “This might be the last time I’m back here for a while,” he let out as he stroked his thumb across her skin.

She raised her eyebrows teasing as she pecked his lips, “Let’s make the most of it then,” she muttered between kisses. He smirked into the kiss.

It was sensual and slow, something they’ve perfected over the years as if they know exactly what the other person wanted. Nate pulled away from her lips, resting his forehead against hers. “I’ve missed you a lot,” he said as his hand on her cheek moved to the base of her neck. She opened her eyes to meet his gaze. Her cheeks heated up as she smiled.

“Me too,” she mumbled as he leaned towards her, kissing her.

She shook her head as her phone began to vibrate beside her, she lifted her phone up to see Nate was calling her. She took a deep breath as she put the phone to her ear. “Hi,” she mumbled.

“Come to Denver,” Nate said simply. His voice groggy as if he hasn’t spoken much yet. Pulling her head back against the pillow, she scrunched her features together.

“What?”

“I know you and Daniel broke up, I don’t know why you won’t tell me about it. But all I know is that I’ve been trying to see you because my dream has just happened and I want my best friend to be with me. The other half of this conversation can’t happen over the phone, so please come to Denver. Don’t make me wait till I bring the Cup home, please,” he let out as if he’s rehearsed it.

She was stunned. Her eyes blinked slowly as she swallowed hard. “How’d you know about Daniel?” she asked, ignoring the rest for now.

“Y/N, our mother’s still live next to each other and they talk a lot. Come to Denver, I’ll book your flight. I just really need to see you,”

“Okay,” she let out faster than how her mind could process anything.

“How fast can you get to the airport? I want to give you enough time to pack and get ready,”

~~~

She was walking through the airport in Denver trying to find Nate. It took about thirty minutes for her to find him sitting near the passenger pick up doors. He lifted his head, as if he could sense she was close to him.

She stopped as she saw him stand slowly from his seat, shoving his phone into his pocket. He was glowing. It’s been over a year since she last saw him in person but her entire skin began tingly when she saw him as every moment between them played in her mind like a flipbook.

Every kiss. Every intimate moment. Every conversation. Hockey games she wore his jersey to. Her graduation from university he flew from Denver to see. Their very first kiss at nine years old, their fake wedding.

She walked towards him and he began walking towards her. Once they met, she let go of her suitcase and her carry-on bag and jumped into his arms as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist as he squeezed her tightly against his chest. He took a sharp breath, breathing in her floral perfume. Her hand rested on the base of his neck, running her fingers through the small pieces of his hair.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he muttered into her ear before she slowly pulled away from him, his hands remaining on her hips.

“I just spent way too many hours on two airplanes, don’t lie to me,” she muttered as she met his eyes. They were brighter as well as his smile. He was happier than he’s ever been.

“Still beautiful,” he mumbled as he pulled her against his chest again.

~~~

It had been a few hours since she got to Nate’s apartment. She had showered and got rid of the airport smell from her body and they were now sitting on his couch watching an action movie he had picked out. They were quiet but there was a looming tension between them.

“What happened with Daniel?” Nate asked, keeping his gaze on the screen, trying to avoid looking towards her. She dropped her gaze to her lap, the conversation they’ve been avoiding.

“The day after you guys won the cup, my mom had posted something on Facebook,” she said as she let out a huff of air.

“I saw, it was nice,” he mumbled, Y/N fought off a smile.

“He felt blindsided because he didn’t know that we knew each other. Or knew each other that well and you had called a few times before I woke up and he saw my contact photo for you,” she paused again.

“He claimed I was cheating on him with you and he thought when I visited you in Denver that I cheated on him with you. He then threw my engagement ring out of the window and stormed out. Stayed with my mom that night so he could get his stuff out of my apartment,”

“What the fuck? He threw your ring out of the window? That’s a dickhead move,” he said while shaking his head.

“I mean, not telling him about us was a dickhead move too, Nate,”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell him,” Nate muttered, shifting his gaze to her. She tilted her head to the side as her lips fell into a pout as her eyes lowered to his lips before she met his gaze again.

“What did you mean when you said ‘he has you and I don’t’?” she asked him. His eyes widened as he pressed his lips together.

“You remembered that?” he asked. She nodded. “I’ve always thought one day we’d end up together, married with like four kids or something. I always thought one day I could convince you to move to Denver with me. Or after I retired we’d start a life together. But you started dating Daniel. I realized I waited too long. And I was going to go back to Halifax during those first months of COVID. But you were with Daniel, I couldn’t be around you and him. So I stayed in Denver.”

“And then he proposed and I lost my chance. I lost my chance because I wasn’t going to make a move on you when you were with him. So, I thought that if we stayed apart, I stopped visiting home, these feelings would just go away. It’s worse, Y/N.” he muttered as he scooted closer to her, forcing their faces to be near inches apart.

“I think sappy romantic stuff is bullshit. But Y/N, you’re my soulmate. I’m in love with you, have been in love with you long before I even knew what love meant,” he rested his hand on her cheek, “At fucking nine years old, I knew who I wanted to marry and seventeen years later I still know who I want to marry. It’s always been you.”

She delicately rested her hand on his chest as she smiled, “I can’t believe you did that math so fast,” she teased. He rolled his eyes playfully.

“Shut up,” he muttered before he pressed his lips against hers urgently. She returned the kiss quickly as she climbed onto his lap, straddling him as her hands were holding his cheeks.

“I was scared,” she muttered as she pulled away, “I was scared that you’d become this famous athlete and forget about me. So I pulled away,” she mumbled before pecking his lips. “I’m in love with you too.”

He smiled as he kissed her again. “Best fucking year,” he let out.

#nathan mackinnon #nathan mackinnon x reader #nathan mackinnon imagines #nhl imagines #nhl #nhl x reader #nhl fic #hockey #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagines #cale makar #cale makar imagines

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lee-laurent · 19 hours

Text

Summer Boy Pt. 2 - Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn and Elwyn find themselves caught in a web of lies as they attempt to hide their feelings from their friends. Luke, however, still wants the girl and he's willing to overlook his morals to get her.

Content: angst, fluff, (sort of) unrequited love, mentions of sex, slut-shaming, panic attacks, luke being an ass

Part 1

notes: ok ok, you guys are amazing! i could never expect my first post to do that well! (also if you haven't seen my about me post, english is NOT my first language!! so spelling errors and stuff i try catch but i'm learning :)) i had a lot of ppl ask for a part 2, which is awesome cause i was planning on doing it regardless of how much attention the first part got! i haven't written in years, like since high school so this is me attempting to get back into it :D thank you again everyone, much love! - lee

p.s. ppl that asked for part 2 are tagged at the end :))

Quinn was infatuated with Elwyn. Everything she did was perfect in his eyes. Even when she'd get a little too drunk and trip over herself, he still thought she was graceful. If he wasn't in love with her already, then he definitely was now. And he wanted to shout him from the rooftops, he wanted everyone on the lake to know how much he loved Elwyn... however there was a small issue: his brothers.

Jack and Elwyn had been friends their entire lives. They were attached at the hip. Twin flames. Growing up adults always said they'd end up married, which both of them thought was disgusting. Sure, they'd been each others' first kiss, but after "learning" how to make out together they decided it wasn't meant to be. They could never see each other in a romantic light. Although Jack could never be with Elwyn, he had made it clear that his brothers couldn't either. Elwyn had been off limits since they were ten and Quinn gave her a puck at one of his games.

Luke. Where to start with Luke? Luke hadn't found Elwyn cute until she came to visit in Jersey after he signed. She'd walked into Jack's apartment, a smile on her face and he thought he'd died and gone to heaven. When did Elwyn get... hot? She'd always just been his older brother's best friend. Sure, he knew of the crush his eldest brother harboured, but he was positive Quinn would never act on it. Plus, she lived closer to Luke. If he could convince Jack, maybe he'd have a chance. A chance he was still begging for.

"Come on, Jack. Let me take her on one date!" Luke pleaded, following his brother around the pool table.

"No. You're my brother and I love you, but El can do way better."

"I- I'm not going to break her heart, Jack. One date."

"Maybe she doesn't want to date you," Jack shrugged, lining up his shot.

"Okay, then she'll reject me and I can move on. But we all saw her when we played beer pong."

"Don't be cocky, Rusty. El is a touchy drunk, always has been."

"So I can ask her on a date?"

"No."

Luke groaned, throwing his arms up in frustration.

"Who's he not asking out?" Quinn asked, leaning against the door frame.

"Elwyn."

Quinn choked on his spit, "You want to ask out, Winnie?"

"Yeah! You've seen her. She's a smokeshow."

"Ew. Don't talk about El like that," Jack grimaced.

"I mean have you seen her ti-"

"Luke! Ew! Dude."

"Shut up, Jack. If she wasn't your best friend, you'd also think she's hot."

Quinn remained silent, watching the scene unfold. He felt gross listening to Luke talk about Elwyn like that. He'd be the first to admit she was fine as hell, but hearing someone else say it felt wrong. The two younger brothers continued to bicker about the attractiveness of the girl, when Quinn finally piped up.

"Are you letting him?"

"Letting him what?" Jack's brow furrowed.

"Ask her out."

"Hell no! Winnie is off limits for brothers."

"So if I asked her out?" Trevor smirked, joining the three brothers.

"No. That applies to friends and teammates too."

"Lame," Trevor whined, leaving to find Cole.

Jack rolled his eyes, "Anyway. No one is asking out Elwyn. She doesn't even like hockey boys."

Quinn felt his heartdrop. She doesn't like hockey boys? Was she just stringing him along cause she was horny? He thought she liked him, though she'd never explicitly said it, he thought the moments they'd shared were proof enough.

Elwyn was humming along to the song playing from her phone, while she attempted to do her hair. A knock came from the door behind her, leading to press pause on the melodies of Chappell Roan.

"Come in!"

"You don't like hockey boys?"

"Huh?" She swiveled around on her chair to face the boy in her doorway. There stood a sheepish looking Quinn, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I said, 'you don't like hockey boys?'"

"Who told you that?"

"Jack."

"Oh, um, I mean... they're not normally my type."

"So you don't like me?"

"Quinn, I didn't say that. Don't twist my words," she sighed, turning back towards the mirror.

"But you haven't said otherwise."

"Neither have you."

Quinn sighed, quietly shutting the door behind him. He stood behind her and pressed a kiss to her exposed shoulder, wrapping his arms around her.

"Elwyn, I like you. I like you a lot."

She pursed her lips and nodded, leaning back into his chest.

"I like you too, Quinn."

"Is this the part where we have the best sex of our lives?" he smirked, earning a gasp and slap to his peck.

"Quinn!"

"Sorry, sorry. So... later?"

"Get out!" she giggled, pushing him away.

Fifteen minutes later, El left her room, running straight into someone's chest.

"Oof."

"Hey, Ellie."

"Oh, hey, Luke," she smiled, stepping back.

"Some of the guys and I are gonna watch a movie, if you want to join."

"Sure."

"Sick. Basement in 10?"

"Sounds good."

However, when she got down to the basement, there were no spots left. The guys had taken up the couch and all the chairs, even the floor was occupied. El looked around awkwardly, noticing the lack of both Quinn and Jack, who she was told went to the grocery store.

"Here," Luke smiled, scooting over slightly. She responded with a tight-lipped smile, sitting "next" to him. It was more like she was sitting on him. El could've sworn she heard Ethan snicker when she sat down.

The movie the boys at chosen was terrifying. Elwyn could normally do scary movies, but this one was getting to her. She jumped as the villain appeared on screen again. Luke wrapped his arm around her waist, giving her a squeeze.

"You okay?"

"Hm? Yeah, I'm good," she smiled politely.

Another jumpscare and Elwyn had fallen completely onto Luke's lap. She wasn't upset about it though, it was comforting in the moment. Dylan had taken notice of the position that Luke was in and elbowed Mark and Ethan. They all "discreetly" turned to look at the two, who looked rather comfortable. Elwyn jumped again, hiding her face in Luke's neck.

"This movie is terrifying," she whispered.

"It's ok, Winnie. I've got you."

It was in that moment that she realized the position she was in. Fully cuddled up on Luke's lap, one of his hands on her waist, the other on her thigh. What would Quinn think if he walked in right now? What would Jack think?

"I need to use the bathroom," she scrambled to get off of Luke.

"Oh, we can pause the movie."

"No, it's okay. I'll, uh, I'll be back."

She ran up the stairs, locking herself in Jack's ensuite. What was she doing? She couldn't let Luke get any ideas. She really liked Quinn. But oh my god, what would Jack think? Would he kick her out? Surely, he'd murder her before his brothers. They were his family, she was replaceable. Maybe she should end things with Quinn. Tell him it wasn't worth the strain it would cause on their relationships with Jack. But then again she'd already done things with him, would Jack even forgive her for that?

"Oh my god. I can't breathe," she gasped, splashing cold water on her face.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Her mind was running a thousand miles an hour. She had to stop seeing Quinn. Maybe she could just avoid him. Jack was more important. She had too. The more she thought about it, the more difficult it became to breathe.

She sat down on the floor, trying her breathing exercise again.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Finally she felt her heartbeat slow and her breathing return to normal. She wasn't going to let boys ruin her trip with her best friend. Nope. Plan: Avoid Quinn Hughes at All Costs, starts now!

"What did I do?" Quinn mumbled as he watched Elwyn interact with Jack. She hadn't even shot him a smile when he walked in the door from shopping, she'd gone straight to Jack. They were giggling amongst themselves while they cut up fruit for dinner.

She looked just as happy as she had this morning, but now she was pretending he didn't exist. He brushed her shoulder as he walked past her and she flinched, scooting closer to Jack.

As the night progressed, it became more obvious to the boy that she was ignoring him. She hadn't even looked his way once all night. Too busy keeping up with Jack, following him around like a lost puppy. He even tried shooting her a text, which was ultimately left on read.

Q: Hey, is everything okay? You seem off tonight.

Nothing.

It wasn't until she was closing her bedroom door to get changed that he caught a moment alone with her. She shrieked when her door opened, clutching her shirt to chest.

"Oh my god! Have you ever heard of knocking? I'm getting changed!"

"Why have you been ignoring me?"

Elwyn rolled her eyes, turning her back to him. so she could continue getting changed.

"Winnie?"

She exhaled loudly.

"Elwyn?"

"Maybe I just don't want to talk to you, Quinn."

"But- what did I do?"

"I'm trying to get ready for bed."

"El, just talk to me. Please. I thought we were getting somewhere."

She could hear the sadness and disappointment dripping from his words. It made her want to cry, knowing it was her fault he was feeling that way.

"I'd like to go to sleep now."

"El," he reached forward, grabbing her wrist and spinning her to face him. "What is going on? If I did something, I'm sorry."

"We can't, Quinn."

"Wha- we can't what?"

"We can't do this. We can't be together. Fling or not. It's not fair to Jack."

"Not fair to Jack? You shutting me out, isn't fair to me! Not everything revolves around Jack! You're an adult, he doesn't get to make decisions for you!" Quinn seethed, his face heating up.

"Don't yell at me."

"Don't yell at you?! Then don't be Jack's mindless little minion, Elwyn! Jesus fucking Christ!"

"I- I'm not," she whispered, blinking away tears.

"Yeah, well you sure fucking act like you are," he left, slamming the door behind him.

"What was that?!" she heard Jack yell.

"The wind!" Quinn lied, storming off to his room.

Elwyn couldn't hold back her tears anymore, sliding to the floor. She sobbed, covering her mouth with her hand to muffle the sound. How could he say that to her? She thought she was doing the right thing. She never imagined it could've gone that poorly.

Quinn couldn't sleep, he was too angry. Why did Elwyn let Jack dictate her life? She could be with whoever she wanted, she was a grown woman. So what if Jack was mad at them for a day? He'd get over it. If he could just get her to realize that he was there for her, no matter what happened-

A knock at the door broke him from his thoughts. Elwyn quietly opened and shut the door, sitting herself on the edge of his bed.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have ignored you. I thought I was doing what was right."

"I shouldn't have yelled at you, El. But you have to communicate with me. You can't just shut me out, especially if you want to make this work."

"But what about Jack?"

"Elwyn. He loves you. You're his best friend. He'll get over it. I promise."

"I hate lying to him."

"Keeping a secret isn't lying."

"I just-"

"Come here," he opened his arms, Elwyn climbing into the bed next to him. He kissed her slowly. He wanted to show her how much he cared about her. Loved her even. She ran a hand through his hair, giggling when he nipped at her bottom lip.

"Think we can stay quiet?" she whispered.

"Easily."

"Quinn! Wake up! The boys wanna go out on the boat! And have you seen El? Jack said she isn't in her-" Luke stopped dead in his tracks. A bare back faced him, the sheets barely covering her waist. "Holy shit."

Luke ran down the stairs, taking his place at the table.

"You okay, Rusty? Looks like you've seen a ghost," Trevor joked.

"Hm? Yep. All good. Great even."

"Okay? Did you wake up Quinn?"

"Um... yeah. Yeah. He'll be down soon."

"Did you find El? I'm getting worried," Jack mentioned, sitting next to his brother.

"I-"

"Morning!" Elwyn smiled.

"There you are! You weren't in your room, I was worried," Jack hugged her.

"Yeah, fell asleep in the basement watching TV. Was having trouble falling asleep."

"All good! Glad you're okay. Is Quinn awake up there?"

Luke watched something flicker in her eyes at the mention of Quinn.

"Yep, he's just brushing his teeth."

As if on cue, Quinn came thumping down the stiars. A smile plastered on his face. Luke felt sick. It seemed that Quinn had finally gotten his dream girl, but at the expense of both of his brothers' feelings.

"Sorry, guys. Didn't sleep well," Quinn explained, grabbing some cereal.

"That's funny. Neither did Elwyn," Luke smirked.

"Oh. Funny coincidece," El shrugged, eyes darting everywhere but at the youngest Hughes.

"Must've been something in the air last night," he continued.

El furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. What was Luke going on about? Surely he didn't know that she'd slept with Quinn last night? Quinn had assured her they'd been silent. They even put a pillow behind the headboard like teenagers hiding from their parents.

"So... boat day?" Quinn offered, feeling the growing tension in the kitchen

"Yes!" Jack cheered, "Come on, El. I'll help you with your sunscreen."

"Coming," she followed after him, shooting a concerned look at Quinn, who just shrugged in response.

"So, Quinn... anything you want to share with the class?" Luke asked.

"Um? No?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah?"

"Positive? Nothing you want to share about Elwyn?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't pretend you don't know."

"Luke, I don't know what you're implying."

"So, why was Elwyn naked in your bed this morning when I went to wake you up?"

"She wasn't," Quinn replied quickly, maybe too quickly.

"I know Elwyn when I see her, Quinn."

"Luke, I didn't sleep with Elwyn."

"You slept with Elwyn?" Jack's voice joined the conversation and suddenly you could hear a pin drop.

"I-"

"You slept with Elwyn?" Jack repeated, his voice increasing in volume.

"No, I know your rules, Jack."

"He's lying! I saw her in his bed this morning! That's why you couldn't find her!"

"Shut up, Luke!" Quinn sneered.

"No, please continue, Luke. I'd love to know what else Quinn is hiding from me."

"That's it, I think. I just saw her in his bed when I went to wake him up. Looking less than dressed."

"Jack, I don't know what he's talking about," Quinn pleaded.

"Bullshit! I-"

"Why's everyone yelling?" Elwyn's voice was soft compared to the rest of the conversation. Her nails were dug into her palms, surely leaving behind little crescent shaped indents. Worry filled her eyes.

"El..." Quinn breathed.

"Care to explain yourself, Elwyn?" Jack snapped.

"I'm confused."

"Don't act all innocent now when you were spreading your fucking legs for my brother last night!"

"I-"

"You what? Are acting like a slut?! Then yeah, you're right."

"I'm not a slut," her bottom lip quivered. Quinn was quick to get in front of her, feeling the sudden need to protect her from his brother's vicious words.

"She's not a slut, Jack. You don't control her."

Jack was at a loss for words. Quinn was right he didn't control her, but he could still be pissed at his brother.

"Fine, I don't control, Elwyn. She's a grown woman. But you, Quinn, you- you broke my rules! You took advantage of her!"

"How did I 'take at advantage of her'?" he air quoted.

"You-you..."

"You have no argument here, Jack. And you, Luke... what gives you the right to tell him? When you were trying to get with Elwyn too?"

"I'M NOT AN OBJECT!" her outburst made everyone jump, "Stop talking about me like I'm not standing right here! God! You're acting like children! Quinn, give me your car keys?"

"What? Why?"

"I'm going home."

"You're-"

"El, no. Please," Jack pleaded.

"You just called me a slut! You think I want to stay here with you? Ha! You are crazy."

"Babe, please."

"Don't 'babe' me, Quintin. Give me your keys," she demanded, reaching her hand out.

"No. You're angry. You shouldn't drive like this."

"Fine. I'll fucking walk home!" she threw her arms up, storming out the front door.

The group of boys stood around the kitchen staring at the Hughes brothers. Were they not going to go after her? Apologize? Boat day definitely wasn't happening.

It was getting dark out, Quinn and Jack were beyond worried. Jack was pacing the living room, his head snapping to the door every time there was a noise outside. Quinn was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, sending text after text to El. No answers. Luke and their friends were in the back, drinking and pretending all was well.

"Should we go looking for her?" Jack asked.

"I think that'd just scare her off."

"But what if someone snatches her off the street? It's getting dark out. She's been gone all day, Quinn."

"She'll come back."

"Stop pretending like you know her better than I do just because you slept with her! I know my best friend."

"Jack, can we not fight right now? We have more important things to worry about."

Jack just sighed. He was worried about El, but her sleeping with Quinn was still in the background of all his thoughts.

"Can I just ask why? Like was it to rub it in my face? To get back at me for something?"

"It has nothing to do with you, Jack. It's about Elwyn. I really like El. I've liked El since we were kids. And she finally showed me that she feels the same way. I'm- I'm happy with her."

"She- you love her, don't you?"

"It's too soon to say that."

"Quinn..."

"Yeah... I do. I... I do."

"Shit. She probably hates me."

"I mean, you did slut-shame your best friend."

"Right."

"If we're giong to blame anyone for this mess though, I think we blame Luke. El and I were going to tell you. But Luke kind of jumped the gun."

"Really? You were going to tell me?"

"Yeah, I mean last night... we talked about it."

"I guess that makes me feel a bit better."

Quinn was about to apologize, but the front door creaked open. A sniffle and the sound of shoes hitting the ground made Quinn jump up.

"El?"

She just stared at them, arms crossed over her chest.

"El. I'm so sorry," Jack wrapped his arms around her, but she didn't reciprocate the hug.

"That's nice. Are you done calling me a whore?"

"I didn't mean it, El. I was mad. It was heat of the moment."

"Yeah, well, I don't fucking appreciate it."

"Do- d'you think you can forgive me?"

"Yes, Jack. I'll forgive you," she chuckled.

El finally hugged him back, pressing a kiss to his cheek. She turned her attention to Quinn, who awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

"Hi, El."

"Quinn."

"I'll give you guys some space," Jack shot them finger guns, walking out backwards.

"El, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel like an object. You're not an object. You're... you're Elwyn. And I- I love you."

"You love me?"

"Yeah, I do. I love you."

She bit back her smile, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered.

"Of course." Their lips met in a sweet, languid kiss. "I love you too, Quinn Hughes."

And their lips met again, smiles on their faces breaking it, ending in a fit of giggles. They finally had each other.

Tags:

@h0e4fictionalme-n @toasttt11 @homestylehughes @laheyxlover @dontknowhockey

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #luke hughes #jack hughes #nhl fic #nhl imagine

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huramuna · 3 months

Text

banshee's lament - chapter 8.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

wordcount: 4.7k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

i've been planning this chapter for months now, i hope you all enjoy! there is a surprise in this chapter 👀

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, talk of chronic pain and illness

story playlist

It was slowly nearing half a year since Shera and Cregan arrived at King’s Landing– she still hadn’t gotten used to the heat but she had finally, somehow, begun to adjust to the people, the looks, the whispers and sneers.

She, albeit slowly, was losing care in such things. She had been spending more and more time with the people she cared about– the ones who made her happy. She still visited Helaena and the children once a day and sometimes would even stay overnight and giggle under the covers with the princess like they would when they were children.

Her mornings started by watching Aemond spar with Ser Cole. She didn’t hide from it anymore– as she felt… somewhat liberated from showing her eye to him. She couldn’t exactly explain, to herself, much less anyone else, why she felt warmer than usual when watching him clash swords with his mentor. Sweat dripping from his face, the little sneer he plastered on when he was particularly concentrating. It felt like butterflies were trapped in her stomach, beating against her skin to get out. It was unfamiliar at first, the feeling– but now it’s become a recognized acquaintance, even if she couldn’t exactly name it.

Aemond, as well, had taken it upon himself to make more effort to spend time with Shera. His days before she returned to King’s Landing were very structured, very planned and scheduled. He would wake up, spar with Cole from morning light until lunch with his mother, then back to sparring until early evening when he would wind down by reading in his chambers, eat dinner, and then go to bed. ‘Going to bed’ didn’t really indicate sleeping, however. He didn’t need much of it to function and found the dreams (and nightmares, to his chagrin) that came with sleep uncouth– so he laid, usually for hours, until his mind drifted into the lightest of sleep cycles. He valued organization and repetition– impromptu changes to such a rigid routine were unwelcome.

Except for Shera– a very impromptu change to his life on her own. Mayhaps unwelcome at first, his outward antagonistic behavior to her was improper and came from a place of, surprisingly, regret. Regret and self-loathing. Usually, he attributed the feeling of self-pity and self flagellation in association with his brother, who was in all rights, a pathetic example of a man (but still his brother and wouldn’t tolerate such talk about him from anyone else) but when Shera came back, walking down that hall– she had looked so small, like she was a fragile heirloom on the verge of breaking at any moment. She could hardly walk without guidance and hid herself.

When his mother said she was returning, as vague as it was, he felt some sort of resentment bubbling up in his gut. What gave her the right to return now? He fully expected her to be the epitome of a Northern lady, hardy and strong, unyielding. The letters ‘she’ (unbeknownst to him at the time, the words were fabrications of Cregan) sent after Driftmark, painted the picture of someone who was fine, who was well adjusted, who didn’t have to go through moons and moons of relearning how to be a person. The image of Shera he had concocted into his mind, and onto paper– an icy woman with fiery hair who would come to blows with someone rather than shed a tear– was not what he saw.

No, what he had seen in that hall, who he had seen– he didn’t recognize her. Then, seeing the small curl of copper hair, the fur stole, the wolf. It struck him like a bolt of lightning, spurring every cell in his body into action, setting them on fire. Blood pumped in his ears and he could hardly hear her (whispering voice aside).

She was broken. Harsh, yes– but it was true. She was a shell, behest to the terrible experience they both suffered.

Regret flooded through him. She was this way because of him, because he dragged her along in the middle of the night to watch him claim Vhagar.

I should have killed them. I should have killed them.

And he retreated from her. He hardly remembers his words to her after she came out from his mother’s chambers– they felt vile in his mouth, like spewing venom. The primal part of him, the dragon, was unruly and restless.

He couldn’t stop lashing out at her–

But what did he really feel?

He fucking missed her. He missed her more than he could ever profess. He wouldn’t admit it outloud, of course, he had to maintain some form of self-preservation.

After their night in her room, after seeing her eye– there was a shift. They spent more time together and she became a fixture of his schedule.

Wake up, spar with Cole and have Shera watch him until noon, they would lunch together three days out of the week with Helaena. He cut his afternoon sparring in half and spent that time with Shera. At first it was awkward, but they melded into one another like their youth quickly.

She begged him to teach her how to draw, to help strengthen her eyesight.

“It… it hurts to focus.” she sniffed, looking up at him. She didn’t wear her veil when they were alone, which he made sure they were when they were drawing. Her blind eye was red rimmed slightly, twitching.

He had set up a vase on a small table for her to draw– it was a simple clay vase with a depiction of two nightingales in flight. They had just moved on from plain objects to something a bit more detailed, albeit only by a little bit.

“Don’t strain, Shera. Just… look at it normally. It’s blurry in some places, right?”

“… yes.”

“Okay. You looked at it up close for a good five minutes. Do you remember what was on the side?”

“The… the nightingale imprint.”

“You can see it in your mind, but it’s not clear to the eye. Use your memory to fill in the blanks.”

“Aemond— this… this is just a test of memory. How is this helping my eyes?”

“Trust me.”

She started off shaky, her first slew of sketches no better than his were when he had first started, but she fell into it quickly. She developed her own style, straying from the charcoal that Aemond used exclusively, and opted for more colorful tools– she had woad paste pastels imported from Dorne. They would sit and depict the same thing and come out with completely different results.

It was so easy to forget that she was betrothed to another. That she was to leave soon.

That she was to be his nephew’s wife. His nephew who didn’t give a shit about her. His nephew who was there. Did no one else think it a bit sick that she was to be the wife of someone who took a part in her mutilation?

Was he the only sane one?

He sighed softly as they finished up their drawings for the day. They had been sketching the coastline of Blackwater Bay– Shera went with a color scheme of blue and green and sparse spots of orange and yellow.

He stuck to his monochromatic charcoal.

“Rhaenyra’s name day gala is… in a fortnight, right?” Shera hummed, using her foot to pet Moongeist, who was at her feet.

“Mm,” Aemond responded, flicking some errant charcoal powder from his doublet. “A mummer’s farce, if you ask me.”

“... I don’t care much for events– but at least… your mother and sister are getting along,” she tilted her head as she wiped her hands off.

Rhaenyra and Alicent had been working together to plan the event and were in high spirits. They were frequently seen chatting lightheartedly.

“Half-sister,” Aemond clarifies, giving her a pointed look.

“Half-sister,” Shera says, brows raised. “I suppose it is a send off, too– since…” her voice trails off slightly, not really wanting to talk about her impending wedding to Jacaerys. She hasn’t spoken much to her betrothed as she didn’t feel the need to– she let him run around with her brother and do what he liked. She imagined it wouldn’t be much different when they were married.

An uneasy silence settled over them. There were many words on the tips of their tongues that they just couldn’t say– it would make it real.

“Shera-,”

“Aemond-,”

They spoke at the same time, standing up simultaneously. Moongeist made a warbling chuff sound that sounded like a laugh.

He must be sick of our antics.

“I should get back to my chambers– before dinner. Cregan wants to… eat with me, for some reason.” she shrugged her shoulders.

“Hm,” Aemond hummed in his usual manner.

—

Shera sat across from Cregan, leg crossed over the other as she fed Moongeist scraps under the table.

“What did you want to speak about?” she broke the silence, glancing up at him. She had put her veil back on– to her dismay, as she had come to like not having it on… around Aemond, at least.

“Do I need a reason to want to dine with my sister?” he asked, clenching his jaw slightly.

“... no,” she mumbled, flicking her nails against one another. “But you don’t usually dine with me.”

He chewed on his piece of mutton slowly, regarding her. “I’m leaving, Shera. I need to go back North.”

“Why?” she blurts out, a bit more emotionally than she wanted to. She and Cregan didn’t have a great relationship, but they were… siblings. There was familiarity.

“I’ve stayed too long already, there is a keep to run, things to do, Shera,” he narrowed his gaze. “Will you be alright… alone?”

Her lip caught between her teeth. “... I suppose so.” she and Cregan had their moments– she thought he was a huge idiot most of the time, but that was her brother. She had been by his side for the last ten years and he nursed her back to some semblance of health when she returned from Driftmark. No matter the choices he made, the ones he made for her– they were all one another had, really.

Her chest ached slightly that he would be going back North and leaving her here. She wouldn’t be alone, per say, but… her blood would be so far away.

“Will you… attend the wedding?” she asked then, drawing little circles on the table with the tip of her nail.

“Yes, I’ll return to Dragonstone for it.”

“Dragonstone?” Shera looked up, slightly alarmed. “I thought the wedding would be in King’s Landing?”

Cregan stopped chewing, suddenly looking sheepish. It was unbecoming of him. “I… yes,” he cleared his throat. “Jacaerys said that after his mother’s name day gala, they will move back to Dragonstone.”

Why does no one tell me anything? “Hm.” she grumbled, sounding much like Aemond– she’s picked up on his little mannerisms and made them her own, it seemed.

“You will be going with them and will be wed soon after.”

She made another noncommittal noise, scraping the remains of her plate to the floor. She’d lost her appetite.

She would be alone sooner than she thought.

—

Returning from a luncheon with Helaena, a few days after Cregan’s departure, she discarded her veil right away as soon as the door was closed behind her.

She waved her hand in front of her face, despairing in the heat of the South. Moongeist agreed, his tongue lolling out in a pant as he lapped at a small tub of water at the foot of the bed.

“It’s too hot for us here, dovey,” she whimpered, wiping sweat from her brow, beginning to strip the various layers of clothing she had on— she did have somewhere to be later in the day, but she would simply have to redress. “I hope Dragonstone is more breezy, lest we melt.”

The layers flew off of her, pooling upon the floor like a puddle of dark ichor. It likely didn’t help that she only wished to wear dark colors, attracting the heat of the sun to her poor constitution. Her cheeks flushed red with the errant warmth and she wondered if this was how those with Targaryen blood felt all of the time— constantly huffing, puffing, warm and sweating. It was terrible.

Finally in nothing but her shift and underclothes, she walked to the bed, hand reached out to peel back the blanket when something shiny caught her eye.

Investigating further, she found a small velvety box, opened to reveal a silver choker, inlaid with three sapphires. Blinking profusely, Shera carefully pried the piece out of its holdings and inspected it. It was, to say the least, flawless. It matched her silver earrings that she always wore almost down to the exact detail, the engravings even the same— long, flowing tendrils into the metal, outlining the gems like garlands. Pearls hung from the bottom of each sapphire. Her thumb roved over the center sapphire, the largest one and the most prominent. It was cool to the touch.

Gently placing the choker down, she dismantled the box looking for a note or any indication of who might have left it. She guessed it to be Jace— did he intend for her to wear it to the gala? She would have to find a garment to match.

Shera descended to her wardrobe, rummaging through until she landed on something that would go swimmingly with her new necklace. It was a dress she hadn’t worn at all, and had been tailored for her shortly before leaving Winterfell. It was a silver and blue dress with intricate embroidery akin to that of a Godswood, but the leaves were a cool toned blue rather than red. She had a pearl-laden head garment, imbued with a silken veil and ringed headdress of sorts, with silver moons hanging down on each side.

Curious.

–

“You… must stay outside, lovey,” Shera murmured to Moongeist. She had received a missive– unclear from who, but either Alicent and Rhaenyra– that they would prefer if her wolf was not in attendance to the gala. She wanted to cry, leaving him outside of the ballroom. Contrary to popular belief, she didn’t really command her companion– their relationship, as impenetrable as others may see it, was the culmination of years of hard work and trust. They were so attuned to each other, Moongeist knowing when she was pushing herself too far, when she was in distress, and when he needed to step into a situation. He was, on all accounts, very polite and well-mannered – for a wolf. He had never bitten anyone who didn’t deserve it. His good conduct thus far and impeccable record was apparently not enough for him to be admitted to the event. He whined as Shera snuffed into his fur, murmuring soft nothings into it. “I’ll return as soon as I can,” she whispered. “I’ll come get you when everyone leaves and you shall have all the scraps you’d like.”

Tearing herself from him, he sat dutifully outside of the glass door that led from the gardens into the ballroom. She willed herself not to cry, not to cry.

She was unsteady on her own feet, hoping to find someone familiar to steady herself on. The last option of familiarity presented itself first. Jacaerys spotted her right away, putting a hand on her waist. “Shera,” he smiled warmly. “You look… wonderful tonight. Mother is going to be so happy to see you in attendance.”

“Jacaerys,” she responded, willing a smile on her face. He was better than no one. She steadied herself by putting a hand on his shoulder. His eyes, usually sparkling with mirth, were a bit dim. He seemed… forlorn. “We don’t have such lavish events like this much– up North… apart from feasts. There usually isn’t much dancing.”

He swallowed, his brow furrowing minutely. “May I interest you in a dance, then?”

“Mm,” she hummed as they descended to the dance floor. She thought about her dance with Helaena and Aemond on the night of her betrothal dinner– it all felt so far away now. She tilted her head slightly as they danced. Jace’s head was looking to the door, as if he was waiting for someone. “As annoying as he is– I miss him as well.”

Jace looked slightly bewildered. “Pardon?”

“I may only be able to see from one eye, but I’m not completely blind,” Shera murmured. “You’ll see him again.”

The prince softened slightly, nodding his head. He was grateful for the words.

They danced a bit more and mingled, more so Jacaerys talking to people and stringing Shera along. Somehow, through it all, she became separated from him, walking on her own through the throngs of people. The heat, even with her less thick layers than usual, was stifling– from all of the bodies.

She suddenly felt… panicked, like when she was lost in the tunnels that one evening. “Excuse me,” she whispered hurriedly as she pushed through people, who didn’t even seem to see her there. “Pardon m–”

Her voice was cut off by a strong arm pulling her around her waist. Her anxiety damped right away as the familiar smell of sandalwood and leather took over her senses. Aemond looked down at her. “Lost again?” he was wearing a black and deep purple button-up doublet, with a long overcoat. It had a flared collar. He looked nice– it wasn’t much different color wise to his usual garb, but it absolutely wasn’t something he would spar in. He was even without his sword– but a brush of Shera’s hand near his waist revealed he did have his dagger strapped to his belt.

“... mayhaps.”

“And where is your guide? It is unlike your dog to abandon his post.”

“He wasn’t invited to the gala,” Shera frowned.

“And you’ve… been left alone?”

“Jacaerys was–”

Aemond held up his hand. “You don’t need to tell me any more,” he rolled his one eye. “He wouldn’t be able to keep track of you if you were the size of a dragon.”

They fell into an easy sway– he was much more relaxed than he was when they first danced. But Shera couldn’t shake what her brother had said– they… Rhaenyra and her brood, which included Shera now, would be leaving a few days after the gala. She hadn’t told Aemond, she didn’t know how.

“You’re worried,” he tilted her chin up to him so their gazes could meet. “I can feel your unease from here.”

“... I…” her mouth felt dry, her hand clutching his inner elbow shakily. “We’re leaving.”

Aemond stayed silent.

“Jacaerys and I… are to be wed upon Dragonstone– and we are to leave… in a few days.”

Aemond still declined to speak.

“Aemond,” she pressed her thumb into his skin.

“You can’t leave again,” he stated. He did not ask, nor plead. He stated it, as if it was a definitive fact. “I won’t let you.” the same moment of rage she had seen before was there, bubbling under the surface. A vein in his neck bulged out and she could feel the control he was trying to keep over himself, over the situation. He gripped her face with both hands now, boring into her with a surprising and sudden placid smile.

–

With a hand over her swollen belly, Rhaenyra scanned the crowd. It’d been so long since she properly enjoyed an event. The planning of it with Alicent had been… more fun than she thought it’d be, and the two women quickly fell back into a rapport, akin to when they were girls together.

It felt right.

Her eyes eventually fell upon two familiar faces— Shera, her veil pulled back slightly by Rhaenyra’s half-brother, Aemond. His hand gripped her face softly, but with intensity as the two locked gazes, lips pursed, brows furrowed, clearly in a heated conversation. It took Rhaenyra all but five seconds to be teleported back to her own wedding to Laenor, all those years ago, where she and Daemon had been in the exact same position— where she had dared Daemon to cleave through her father’s men, steal her away to Dragonstone and make her his wife.

Fuck.

–

“They think you are tame and controlled— but I can see it, the blood welling and boiling just under the surface of your skin. You’re hardly holding it together,” she whispered harshly. “Do you not think I’ve tried to devise everything I could… to stay? To stop any of this?”

“Quell me, then. Let me take you to marriage and let me cut your lip, taste your blood in the ways of old. Dampen my molten blood. I’ll do it in an instant, under the heart tree, in the molten halls of the Dragonmont– anywhere,” his nail pressed into her cheek, angling her head upward to look directly at him. No escape from madness, look me in the eye, he seemed to taunt silently.

It was overwhelming. She was overwhelmed with the warmth in her stomach, the butterflies she felt– they bursted into ash, searing into her like a brand. Shera felt the world around her chill, her extremities cold. “A-Aemond,” she croaked, her hand grasping at his shoulder with all of her might, but it’d only came through as a light tug. “A-Aem—“

Coldness spread through her, her vision fading to white. Then she was warm, extremely so— like she was on fire, panting and spewing hot breaths from her open maw.

Blinking her eyes— she was outside, her heavy wisps fogging the glass pane on the door. Wait. She had full vision, not just the one. It felt odd, so wrong for her to be able to see all around her like she was whole and normal.

Why was she outside? Just let me in, Godsdammit, let me in! She growled low, hands coming up to scratch at the wood and glass, nails digging into it. Her nails were longer than normal and much sharper, a deep black in color.

She wanted in, in, in, in— her hands, no— her paws and claws shredded at the door, eyes peering into the crowd. They were gathered around, shifting slightly to let her see what was going on—

They were gathered around her, eyes rolled back in her head as she laid limp in Aemond’s arms. She saw Jacaerys storming over, already hurling accusations towards Aemond.

No, no, he didn’t do this, stop! She screamed, barking and howling, her teeth biting into the wood and beginning to rip it apart, splintering and cracking the glass.

Shera watched in horror as Jacaerys unsheathed his sword. Aemond was still holding her, loathing to give her up—

Stop, stop, stopstopstop! She bursted through the weakened door, glass and all, feeling it tear at her fur and skin. Patrons gasped around her as she mulled through them towards the center, snapping and snarling.

“Moongeist, calm down!” Jacaerys said, his eyes wide in surprise as she sat between him and Aemond.

So she was Moongeist— that is why it felt so familiar. She, no, they drew their lips back in a growl, hackles raised. Back off, back off, back off! They screamed, snapping at anyone who got too close.

‘That wolf has gone mad!’

‘Is that the prince’s intended?’

‘Yes, but not the prince that’s holding her.’

‘How wanton.’

They panted heavily, still feeling a deep rage within them. Everyone was too close, too close– the sounds of the gala drowned out as they looked to the upper windows of the ballroom. A familiar sight to behold– the cream colored blur and siren’s song of a voice.

A beige and cream colored barn owl sat atop the eave of the window, staring down at them with wide eyes.

‘Now you know, dear Shera.’

–

Shera awoke later, still cold as ice. She was back in her own body but still felt the remnants of itching fervor from being in Moongeist– not ‘in’, it had a word. Warg. She heard children’s tales about it, how a man can enter the mind of a beast and become one with it.

She glanced around the room. Aemond was pacing– she was in… her chambers. Jaw clenched, she sat up from the settee with surprising vigor.

“Shera–” Aemond sputtered, stopping his pacing.

“Hush, come with me,” she grabbed his wrist and strung him along, feeling more lively than she had in ages. Moongeist padded alongside them, hugging to her leg just in case.

She led them down to the weirwood, not letting go of her grip on him.

“You cannot lie to me, Aemond Targaryen, not here. Do you see that?” she gestures to the face etched in the bark of the Great Oak– staring back at the two of them.

How silly they must look.

“Do… not… lie to me,” Shera pleaded. She approached him, her hand skimming the edge of his jaw. He was so warm, always so warm– he permeated through the cold she always felt. “You can lie to everyone else. Keep… those walls up and don’t let anyone in. But not… not to me. Never to me,” she was trembling with the weight of what she was asking, her fingers drumming against his skin. “Did you mean it? Did… you mean it? You want me here with you?”

He stilled her by covering her hand with his own. “I wouldn’t–,” Aemond murmured, his free hand coming up to unhook his eyepatch. Her breath hitched as he discarded it. The moonlight caught the concaves of the gem first, expanding over the flecks of blue, all shades of it.

A sapphire.

She palmed the matching stones on her mysteriously gifted choker. “You… you… your eye…” Shera stumbled slightly, her knees wobbling beneath her.

Aemond held her upright with one arm, slung around her waist. “Hm?” he asked in return, a playful lilt to his voice– something only reserved for her.

“It’s… it’s blue!” she squeaked, pulling his face closer to her, observing with the same scrutiny that she had when they were sketching together. “And… and…” she kept babbling, tugging at her gifted choker. “And this? You… you git! You… cad! Oh, you’re incorrigible.” her words were inflammatory in nature but she… was laughing– as much as she could anyways. It was a quiet giggle, like the soft trill of a small bell.

It made Aemond chuckle in return. The two of them soon devolved into a fit of joviality. “I quite like you in blue, Shera. In my color,” he leaned down to whisper in the shell of her ear. “I had to let Jacaerys know… exactly…” he punctuated each word as his hand made a home on her jaw, inching closer to her lips. “... where and to whom,” his thumb pulled down her bottom lip. “You belong.”

Every nerve in her body was on fire. She’s never felt so warm, so hot in her life. Is this what it felt like to be a Targaryen? Gods, it was fucking stifling.

“And… to be clear,” he continued. “You belong here. With me.”

Her mouth parted, she was barely breathing. She… she wanted… she wanted to kiss him. She wanted him, more than anything she’d wanted before. She was mad; this was mad. Even on shaking legs, she pushed herself on her tippy-toes, pressing their lips together.

She felt… elated. More than elated, it felt like she was flying, skimming the clouds like a dragon, wings spread… free.

Aemond melted into her right away, pulling her closer as they melded together. His tongue swiped against her lower lip as he caressed her so softly, so gently– more gentle than she could ever imagine him being.

This was the first time she ever took something– something she wanted, and she got it. It was selfish, she knew– selfish and dangerous and reckless and just… hers. This was hers. He was hers. “Mine,” she whispered as they caught their respectful breaths. “If… I’m yours, then… you are mine, right?” she clarified, a bit less confident than her previous possessive declaration. “Quite right, little wolf.” he hummed, pressing another kiss to her temple.

In a brazen show of exuberance, she captured his lips once more.

Things were forgotten. Namely, everything that wasn’t them in this moment. Their individual turmoils, their shared despair. All notions of her mysterious collapse, Aemond’s scuffle with Jacaerys, Shera’s impending marriage to the said prince, tensions rising between two sides of a family–

This was for them.

The only time that either of them had taken anything for themselves in the last ten years.

a/n: ART IN THIS CHAPTER BY @lonelymagpies who, as always, was LOVELY to work with! they captured the scene perfectly.

124 notes · View notes

coppoladelrey · 2 years

Text

His Darling Wife

Summary: When Aemond’s lover threatens your family, you flee from your husband.

Aemond x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Violence, angst.

Tag List: @aemonds-war-crime

Masterlist

You’ve been married to the Targaryen Prince for almost a year now, you’re from a smaller House in the Reach, you have three brothers, and you are the youngest. Your mother is from Pentos, her family has a fortune so now your family has a lot of influence in Westeros. When your father told you that the King and Queen wanted you to marry their youngest son you didn't know what to think. But you and Aemond were able to become fast friends and with time, to love each other.

Even with the love you feel for one another you haven’t been able to conceive, that wasn’t entirely true, you had two pregnancies that ended in short of a month, and the Maester told you that it would take a while to fall pregnant again. But he was wrong because you were now pregnant a third time. You decided not to tell the Maester or Aemond for that matter.

“My love.” Aemond spoke coming to your chambers, you were getting ready for dinner with the Queen and Princess Heleana, you adored their company and they did yours.

“Where were you, my prince?” You turned to look at Aemond, you loved calling him ‘your prince’, and he loved hearing you say it.

“My brother has requested something of me, he and Heleana are to be married and he wants me to get the best wine in all of Essos, to give her as a gift.” You looked at Aemond incredulously.

“Aegon asked you to do that?” You snickered, there wasn’t a single bone in Aegon’s body to make him so considerate.

“It was a strange phenomenon, I was talking to my brother but I could only hear my mother.” You got up from the chair you were sitting, happy with your appearance. You came closer to Aemond and put your hand on his face, he leaned into your touch.

“Then you should go, anything to make your sister happy.” Aemond smiled at your statement, he loved the fact that you loved his sister.

“I’ll return in a fortnight, maybe less.” It was his turn to kiss you and it always took your breath away, you thanked the gods every day for having Aemond as your husband.

“Come back to me, my love.” Aemond caressed your face, he never tired to look at your beauty.

“I always do.” He left your chambers and you went to meet with the Queen and the Princess.

It didn't take long to get to the Queen’s chambers, you were wearing a green dress that the Queen gifted you, it was so pretty and comfortable. Ser Criston Cole opened the doors for you, and Heleana was the first to see you, she ran to you and hugged you tightly, and you hugged her back.

“I missed you, Y/N.” She mused, you smiled at her sweetness.

“We’ve seen each other at breakfast, Heleana.”

“Still too long, come sit.” The princess dragged you and you sat down in front of Queen Alicent, even knowing that she likes you and even pushed for your marriage with Aemond, she still intimidated you, she was the Queen after all.

“How are you, Y/N? Are you excited about your mother’s visit?” Alicent reached your hand and squeezed gently, with a genuine smile on her face.

“Very, I miss her dearly.” One of your brothers was on the Kinguards as well so your mother was able to come to Kings Landing more times throughout the year.

“At what time does she arrive?” Healena inquired, she also really liked your mother. Your mother shared her fascination with spiders, the same as the Princess.

“She won’t be long, I believe at dawn.” You smiled at the Princess’ reaction, she was clapping excitingly.

The dinner was nice, you and the Queen talked about many different subjects while Heleana was playing with her animals. After a couple of hours, you retired to your chambers, you knew the nights without Aemond would be long, sleeping without him made you restless. But you were able to sleep, not well but you did. The first rays of sunshine were peeking through your window, you heard the servants entering your chambers, this part of the morning was your favourite, especially with your mother coming.

You were ready for the day when the Maester came into your chambers, it was unusual for him to appear in your chambers, but you saw a scroll in his hand.

“A raven came for you in the night, my Princess.” He bowed and gave the scroll to you.

“Thank you, Maester.” He left you with the servants after that.

You thought that the message would be from your mother, the raven probably got lost but when you opened the scroll your heart sank.

“I am your husband’s mistress, his one true love. Whispers came to me, that you try to take him away from me. Know this, you shall produce no heirs if you take him away from me, I already took two, a witch’s word is a promise.

Alys Rivers.”

You couldn’t believe what you were reading, Aemond has a mistress and she was the one that ended your pregnancies. Your head was spinning, you didn't know what to do.

“Fetch me my Lady Mother, please.” The servants felt the urgency in your voice and obliged.

Your family in Pentos, many centuries ago was almost wiped out due to witches your mother told you many stories as well as your grandfather, your family always said ‘Don’t have dealings with witches.’ You were afraid, you were crying, and you could not lose this son as well.

In five minutes your mother was in your chambers, it felt like an eternity. Once the doors were opened you ran towards her and cried.

“My sweet daughter, you scare me. What happened to leave you in such a state?” Your mother knows you to be strong, she’s never seen you so desperate, so sad, it was heartbreaking for a mother.

“Mother, Aemond has a mistress.” Your mother snickered, you knew what she felt about mistresses.

“Never mind that, they all do. The most important thing is to make sure that your husband only has eyes for you.” Your mother started stroking your hair, being from a completely different culture, your mother talked to you extensively about how to please your husband, how not to just lay there, to participate in the act.

“Mother, she’s a witch.” Your mother froze, you gave her the message that the Maester delivered to you this morning.

“She already took two of my sons, I won’t let her take this one as well.” You started crying again, now your mother truly understood the gravity of the situation.

“Does anyone know that you are with child?” You knew that look, she was planning something, and you shook your head. “Good, I haven’t seen your husband. He’s not here?” She inquired.

“No, Healena is to marry Aegon, he went to buy her a present.” You replied through tears, your hand went to your belly, you needed to protect your unborn son.

“You are going to your grandpapa’s castle, at dusk go to the dockyard and your brother will guide you to the boat.” Her plan made sense, word would reach Aemond’s mistress and she would leave you and your family alone.

“What about Aemond? He will try to find me.” Your mother gave you a spine-chilling look.

“If his mistress feels so emboldened to write these threats, she has a Prince to defend her.” Her words held so much contempt, you remember Aemond saying that he never wished to be married but you changed his views. “He might be like his uncle, I knew the Lady he married, it wasn’t an accident.” Her words made you so afraid of Aemond, you were never afraid of him, not even on your wedding night.

“Mother…” You wanted to defend Aemond, but you didn't find the words.

“I’ll tell Alicent that you don’t feel well, wait for your brother.” With that she left, taking the note with her.

You were thinking about your marriage with Aemond up to this point, he gave you no indication that he disliked you, quite the contrary.

“Please be gentle, Aemond.” He could barely hear your words, you were shaking from the fear of a man seeing you naked for the first time and from the anticipation.

“I will never hurt you, wife.” His lips found yours, he was nothing but tender that night.

The emotions from this morning made you sleep all day, you were woken up by a faint knock on your door, and when you opened you saw your brother.

“Are you alright, sister? Mother told me everything.” Robert was the brother you were the closest, to due to age as well as him being in Kings Landing with you.

“We must go.” Robert gave you a cloak and guided you to the dockyards, you were scared of getting caught, if someone found out that your brother was trying to take you away, only the seven knows what would be done to him.

But everything went well, you arrived at your family’s boat and it would be a long journey to your grandfather’s castle in Pentos.

_________________________________________

At the castle, the Queen and Princess Heleana were worried about you, but your mother assured them that all you needed was rest. They thought nothing of it because they knew how excited you were to see your mother. Princess Heleana was so happy to see your mother’s collection of spiders, she brought it just for the Princess to see.

It took two days for Alicent to become too worried to finally visit your chambers, she did not talk to your mother, and she started to have a feeling that your mother hiding something. So Alicent went to your chambers, she gasped when she didn't find you. She quickly alerted the Kingsguard and in a matter of minutes, everyone in the castle knew.

“Princess Y/N is missing, go through the city and find her.” She commanded all of the soldiers and the Kingsguards. Alicent was so worried about you, she also alerted your mother, your mother gave a great performance, and the Queen didn't suspect your mother.

The search went on for days, but there was no sign of you. Alicent was in a panicked state, she sent a raven to her son but it mustn’t reach him in time. That’s she heard Vhagar’s roar, she had to tell Aemond what happened, Alicent was dreading it.

“Mother, why the long faces and all of this commotion I see?” Aemond was ecstatic to be home again, he couldn’t wait to be in his wife’s warm embrace.

“Aemond…” Alicent had no idea how to tell her son that you were missing, his darling wife. He saw his mother crying and tensed up. His mother never cried.

“What is wrong, Mother.” He was imagining the worst.

“It’s Y/N, she disappeared. A search has been going on, no one has seen her, her mother, or her brother. We are assuming the worst.” He could not believe his mother’s words, it was a cruel prank that you and his mother were pulling.

“Which is?” His face was unreadable, hiding his inner turmoil very well.

“Rumours had started but I shut them off quickly, that Y/N ran away with a lover.” Aemond scoffed at those rumours, they didn't know you. “Or that she died.” When those words left his mother’s lips he left.

“Aemond!” His mother yelled, but he needed to see your mother.

Aemond went straight to your mother’s chambers, he found Robert and your mother talking.

“Prince Aemond.” Both your mother and Robert curtsied him.

“Where is Y/N?” Your husband simply asked, he knew that if you left your mother would know something about it.

“I do not know, Y/N told me she wasn’t feeling well and she was gone.” Robert didn't look at the Prince, who hummed.

Aemond left without saying another word.

“What are you giggling about?” Aemond was in bed with you, he dedicated at least one day to staying in bed with you.

“My mother is planning something and she needs my help.” You looked at Aemond, he loved your smile, and he would give anything to see it every day of his life.

“Should I be worried about your mother’s scheming?” Aemond kissed your shoulder, he didn't wear his eye patch with you anymore.

“Only if you are the one that she’s scheming against, my Prince.” Aemond kissed you and laid you in bed again.

Aemond took Vhagar and decided to look for you himself, he’s not gonna stop until he finds you.

In Pentos - Months Later

It was hard for you to walk now, your son was due any day. You missed Aemond every single day despite your mother’s words, she was still in Kings Landing, and she was sending ravens every fortnight.

“My sweet granddaughter, you shouldn’t be walking.” Your grandfather, Iliryo found you.

“If I stay in my chambers, I will slowly go insane, grandpapa.” He kissed your forehead, he has been throwing banquets to celebrate the arrival of his great-grandson almost every day.

“Do not strain yourself, my first great-grandson will be born soon.”

In Kings Landing

Aemond couldn’t find you, but he never lost hope. He started spying on your mother and your brother. He started to doubt them once he found out your father wasn’t coming, you were his favourite if you were in true danger he would’ve been here. Aemond started intercepting all of your mother’s ravens, most of them were to your father, nothing mentioning you.

But one day he was lucky, he intercepted the right one, it read:

“How happy I am, I will be there for the happiest occasion. I wonder what his name will be, you must tell me once we see each other.”

Aemond was furious, your mother was hiding his wife from him. He decided to confront your mother at once. He ran towards your mother’s chambers, he found the servants putting her clothes away.

“Leaving, my dear mother? Your daughter hasn’t been found yet unless there is something I do not know.” The servants were nervous, they were intimidated by Aemond. “Leave us.” He declares, the servants do not need to be told twice.

“I left my house unattended for too long, as much as it pains me I must leave.” Your mother wasn’t scared of Aemond, not even a little bit.

“Yes, for the happiest occasion.” Aemond raises the message meant for you. “I wonder what that would be?” Your mother snatched the message from his fingers.

“The fact that you are a Prince does not give you the right to read my messages.” Your mother knew that he could do whatever he wanted, but it doesn’t make it right.

“Where is my wife, Lysanne?” He didn't have any patience anymore, he needed to find you.

“You’ll never know, declare her dead and you shall be free to marry again.” Aemond was taken aback by his mother-in-law’s antics.

“I love my wife, I would never want another.” He was being truthful, but your mother didn't believe the Prince.

Your mother retrieved the message that Alys Rivers sent to you.

“For some reason, I do not believe your words.” Your mother said before handing Aemond the message. Aemond read the message and left without saying anything.

In Pentos - Weeks Later

The pain started the same day that your mother arrived, your son was coming. The castle in a few minutes was in a frenzy, the midwives were rushing to your side and your mother was comforting you. The pain is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, you knew childbirth was difficult but this was something completely different.

“There’s two of them.” The midwife announced the first one was almost here. It gave you the strength to push once more.

You heard the cries, tears were running down your cheeks.

“A boy.” Your mother announced. She brought the baby to you, he looked just like Aemond you thought.

Your mother started tending to your son, while your second baby wanted to come out as well. The second came out much quicker, but just as painful. Your mother wrapped blue silk around your son’s arm, to distinguish him from his brother.

“Another son, my Lady.” The midwife hands you the second baby, you couldn't be happier, you have two healthy sons, twins.

The only thing that would make it better was having your Aemond to meet his sons, but you couldn’t that witch would take them away. Your mother didn't share any news about Aemond, she didn't want to make you sad. You started feeding your sons, you were so tired that you were nodding off. As soon as they finished eating, your mother put them to sleep in a cradle near you, the rest was not only deserved it was more than necessary.

__________________________________________

Six months passed and your boys were strong, you named them Maekar and Aenys. They had their father’s hair and violet eyes, it was as if they didn't come from you at all, only Aemond. You were now looking at the sea from your chambers, you missed your husband so much. You laid awake thinking about him, and unpleasant thoughts of him and that witch together. You heard what you thought to be Vhagar in a distance, but you thought it was your mind playing cruel tricks on you.

It turns out that it wasn’t your mind, it was Vhagar and she landed on the ceiling of the castle and there he was, Aemond he looked as handsome as you remembered. You started to panic, the witch was going to kill your sons.

“You must leave.” You yelled at Aemond, before he was able to get anywhere near you.

“Do not worry, my love. Nothing is going to happen.” He kept trying to hug you, you were slapping his arms away, but he wasn’t deterred. He hugged you once you gave up.

“Your mistress, she’s a witch, she killed two of our sons, she…she…” Aemond was shushing you, he’s never seen you so distressed.

“I killed her.” Aemond simply stated, you looked at him dumbfounded. “She was angry at me for ending things, no one harms my family.” As if on cue, Aenys started crying and you could see Aemond froze.

“Was that the reason you left?” He asked, you could see tears starting to form in his eye.

“I couldn’t let her harm any more of our sons.” You guided him to your chambers.

“Sons?” Aemond whispers.

“This is Maekar.” You pointed at the sleeping babe, whilst you picked up Aenys. “This is Aenys.” You handed him his youngest son, he stopped crying immediately.

“I apologise for putting you in this situation, you can come home now.” He put his forehead against yours. “I love you, my darling wife.” He expressed.

“I love you, my Prince.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond x reader #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic

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fatherforgivethem · 9 months

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The Greens in Forks, Washington….

Alicent Hightower: The mother of four quickly found herself married to the sheriff of Forks when she moved her and her kids to the states. The kids, thankfully, took a liking to Criston and the man never left their lives. She runs a tree farm and is constantly worrying about her children and her nephew Jace, even if they tell her not to. Especially her eldest, Aegon. She calms herself by tending to her trees and experimenting with new recipes from time to time.

Criston Cole: The sheriff quickly found himself head over heals for Alicent Hightower and her charming children. He’s known them since they were only little, and while they may not be his blood, they are his children. Being a sheriff is a difficult task when two of your children are constantly doings things they aren’t supposed to, and a round of murders is currently plaguing the town. Especially when your youngest son has become obsessed with solving them.

Aegon Hightower-Cole: The young man, who only just finished up at high school, is working hard to make money for college. If he can’t go, then he can make sure that his siblings do. The once baseball player let go of his dreams for a day job at an auto garage and a night shift in selling drugs to the rich kids in town. His parents, thankfully, don’t know and he’d like to keep it that way. He doubts his sister Helaena would like it either, though, he’s been known to always take her opinion of him rather seriously.

Helaena Hightower-Cole: The teen, when she’s not at the local diner, where she works as a waitress, likes to spend her time studying the bugs she finds in the woods. While the job at the diner was scary at first, she became used to the locals and enjoys her time there. She uses half of the money she makes to save, and the other half to indulge in the tools she needs in studying her insect collection. She’s always happy to get Aegon his usual when he comes into the diner and sometimes he likes to give her a book on bugs in return when she gets home.

Jace Velaryon: The young British man moved to the states not too long ago to help his aunt Alicent with the tree farm. He holds a love for plants and anything to do with nature and is more than happy to live with his four cousins and aunt and uncle. He likes to visit the cafe in the mornings and he always makes sure to drop a coffee off to his uncle Criston at the sheriffs department before heading to the tree farm. His Aunt Ali and him mostly spend their days on the farm and he’s come to love the rainy town he now calls home.

Aemond Hightower-Cole: The young teen spends most of his time at work and studying for any upcoming exam of his. He can usually be spotted at the counter of the diner, where works alongside Helaena, scribbling something down in his notebook. The whole town can agree that he makes an amazing cup of coffee and that he’s going to get into a top school once he graduates. He’s been saving the money he makes from work in several jars that he puts underneath his bed and has been applying for every scholarship he can find. He wants to make sure that his parents won’t have to pay for his education. He’s been encouraging Aegon to apply to a nearby college, but his elder brother only shrugs him off with a “maybe.” He’ll keep trying though.

Daeron Hightower-Cole: Daeron, the youngest of his family, is usually the person who comes in second when it comes to making his dads head spin (Aegon takes the gold on that one). Recently, he’s been giving his dad grey hairs by getting caught at crime scenes and selling test answers to kids at school. He’s always been interested in the cases his dad solves, but the recent ones have gotten his head all foggy with questions. The recent murders going on in town, and the mysterious kids at his school have him looking for clues in the woods late at night, and making murder boards behind his bedroom door. Something doesn’t seem right, and he’ll figure it out. He should probably take down the cups in his room before Jace complains about the mess again.

With extreme help and support from the lovely @sidraofthewildflowers 💓 thank you!!!!

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starogeorgina · 2 months

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𝐊𝐞𝐩𝐚

Paring: Daemon Targaryen × reader, Harwin Strong x reader, Criston Cole × reader

Warnings: Swearing, oral sex, fingering, titty sucking

1.02

It had been days since you left your quarters, and the feeling of isolation and loneliness was plaguing you while you got over whatever sickness you had. You spoke to Rhaenyra previously, and she assured you nothing was going on between her and Ser Harwin, that she merely invited him to her chambers so they could speak privately since he caught her in a compromising position with one of her most recent lovers, Lady Laena Velaryon. Which explains why Daemon would implicate your sister; his ego was bruised and he was mad. Lady Laena hadn’t ended their affair because she had been betrothed to another; it’s because she wants to be with Rhaenyra instead.

Although her confession made you feel ashamed for even doubting her, which was another reason you sought isolation.

You hadn’t seen your own lover or husband in just over a month. Harwin had returned to Harrenhal with his father the morning after you confronted him about why he was at your sister's quarters, and since he was vague, the questioning turned into a heated argument. And your father, King Viserys, had sent Daemon on some errand, which meant him leaving the keep.

You hear a knock at your door, and before you can call for it to be opened, someone enters your chambers. You raise a brow, seeing it’s Ser Criston instead of one of your handmaids. You hadn’t exchanged a word with the knight since you left his bedchamber after sharing a brief sexual encounter.

“Princess,” he bows.

“Ser Cristion,” you say, picking up your cup of wine and sinking down onto one of the plush red chairs. “What can I do for you?”

The knight begins to ramble some weak excuse on why he visited your private quarters when he had no business being there. You shut out his words as you focus on his gaze. The hunger in his eyes has caught your attention, as has the way he soaks up your appearance. The black dress you chose in the morning hugged your curves in all the right places, especially your breasts.

Ser Cristion didn’t come because he wanted to talk to you; he came because he wanted to fuck you.

“What is it you desire, my good knight?”

Standing tall, his eyes meet yours. “To please you, princess, That night we spent together, I focused only on my own pleasure and not on yours. I wish to rectify that.”

You don’t answer right away, deliberately leaving him hanging. When he takes a sharp breath, preparing himself for whatever you would reply, you slowly spread your legs open and bunch up your skirts, revealing your bare chest to him. Criston was a handsome man; his personality was questionable considering he was nothing more than a hypocrite, but who were you to refuse such an offer?

“You may please me with your mouth, but that is all.”

For a split second, you think Criston is going to leave when he faces the door, but instead of leaving, he locks it and then returns his gaze to you. You finish your wine as he kneels in front of you. He kisses your thigh, then moves his attention to your core and lets out an animalistic groan. Your eyes stay glued to him as he sucks on your clit, and your fingers tangle into his dark hair, keeping his mouth where it feels best.

You desperately wished it was someone you loved pleasing you, but yet here you are squirming around the tongue of a man you didn’t even care for, acting like a depraved whore.

—

The hour was late, and the sudden dip in the bed causes you to stir. Groggily, you rub your eyes, “Daemon?”

“My apologies for waking you, my love; I know the hour is late,” he shuffles closer to you in the bed. His bare chest is pressing against your back. “I was away much longer than I anticipated, if I had known—”

“I love you, Daemon Targaryen,” you whisper.

He seems taken aback by your sudden admission, and guilt swirls in your stomach. You had important information to tell him, but now wasn’t the time. Not when you were both exhausted.

“I don't deserve you, my sweet wife,” he says, pressing his lips against your bare shoulder. “But I'm never leaving your side again.”

—

“I was merely training him on how to please a woman properly.”

When neither of you could find sleep, you had a jug of wine and a platter of fresh fruit brought to your quarters. You now sit curled beside Daemon on one of the plush couches.

“Hmm, perhaps he won’t be such an insufferable cunt,” Daemon smirks before sipping on his wine. He found it rather amusing that you let Cole lick your cunny, but nothing else. “So... did you enjoy him tasting your sweet little cunt?”

“Hmm, I prefer your mouth on me.”

He pulls the thin fabric of your nightgown down low enough for your breasts to be exposed to him. Droplets of wine still linger on Daemon's lips when he takes your hardened nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around your nipple before he sucks on your flesh.

You giggle. “I’ve definitely missed you.”

Daemon moves his hand along your thigh, feeling the softness of your well-pampered skin beneath his fingers, before he reaches your wet core and sinks two fingers deep into your cunny. “I’ve missed you and your insatiable appetite. You’ve really got the tightest cunt I’ve ever felt.”

You moan at his words.

Greedily, he sucks on your breast while tapping at your clit with his thumb and speeding up his actions of sliding two fingers into your soaking core until the coil in your stomach snaps and his fingers are coated in your slick.

Smiling, you lean forward and nuzzle into his neck, his arms wrapping around you. “Hmm, I’m glad you are home; you have a task of the utmost importance to attend to valzȳrys.”

He rests his cheek against the top of your head while running his fingers through your hair. “And what would that be, ābrazȳrys?”

“You're going to need to find the perfect dragon egg to go in the cradle.”

It takes him a minute to process what you’ve just told him, then he smiles widely. “You are with child?”

You place one of his hands flat on your stomach and say, “Yes, my love, I’m with child.”

—

You nod your head and smile at the lords and ladies congratulating you. It hadn’t taken long for word of your growing family to spread around the keep. Your father was ecstatic and insisted on throwing a grand feast to celebrate, which Daemon agreed to help organize. Rhaenyra had gifted you with the finest silk dresses to accommodate a growing body and toys for the baby. And all of the attention you received was a favorable distraction from missing Harwin so much.

When you reach the doorway to the library, you tell the knight accompanying you that he doesn’t need to follow you since nobody else has access to it aside from the royal family. Spotting the book Daemon intended to read to you next, you reach out to take it, but your arm is suddenly snatched back.

A small gasp escapes your lips. “Ser Criston?”

Cristion’s grip tightens around your arm as he pulls you further away from the doorway room. With a devilish glare in his eyes, he asks, “Are you pregnant?”

“Get your hands off me.”

You have been so busy since finding out you're pregnant that you haven’t even spoken with the knight since the night he came to your quarters. An unintentional slight on your end.

“Let go of me, or I will scream.”

He looks down at your arm to see how tightly he’s squeezing it, and let's go. “Are you pregnant?” He repeats. When you don’t answer him, he takes your silence as a yes. “How far along?”

“That is none of—”

“How far along?”

Seeing the pleading look in his eyes, you sigh, “It’s been three moons since I last bled.”

His face falls.

“Criston…”

“Why?” he barks, and you immediately recoil. “Why did you need to drag me into whatever messed-up game you and the Prince are playing?”

“I will admit I made the first move that night, but you could have thrown me out. And you are the one who tried to pursue me afterwards, so don’t play innocent.”

Cristion takes a step backwards, as though he's wrestling with something internally. He breathes angrily as his eyes move up and down, taking in the slightest swell in your stomach.

You clear your throat. “I know what you're thinking. That’s how long it’s been since we... Daemon knows.”

“And he doesn’t care?”

“No. He loves me, and he will love this child. His child.”

He remains silent as you brush by him. You were a fool for ever going to Criston that night, knowing how cruel he can be and how close he is to the queen. “I wonder how the king would feel if he heard his own precious princess wasn’t sure who the father of her child was.”

You laugh. “Why don’t you share that theory, Cole? I’m sure my father, the king and husband Prince Daemon would love to hear it.”

He glares at you.

“We all need to live with the consequences of our actions, and I have done things that I’m ashamed of, but if you ever utter a threat to me or my family again, nothing will be able to save you from the wrath of my dragon. Do you understand?”

When Criston says nothing, you get the book for Daemon, and as you're leaving the library, you hear a muffled ‘spoiled cunt’ fall from the knight's lips.

—

Taking a deep breath, you pinch the bridge of your nose. Of course, there was a very slim chance that Daemon wasn’t the biological father of your baby… but there was still a chance since you forgot to drink moon tea after sleeping with both Harwin, Criston and Daemon within twenty for hours.

Entering your quarters, you immediately notice something feels different—a shift in energy. You call out, “Daemon?”

He appears within seconds, his expression hard to read. He kisses your cheek and says, “There’s someone here who wishes to speak with you.”

“Who?”

“Try as you might, you cannot hide anything from me,” he says quietly. “I sent a raven asking for his return.”

Your lips part slightly as the question of who he wrote lingers on your lips, but in seconds you turn a corner and come face to face with Harwin. Your eyes swell with tears.

He stands at attention, “princess.”

“Harwin…”

Husband - Valzȳrys

Wife - Ābrazȳrys

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wintfleur · 2 months

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🍂 ͡ ꒱ JULIETTE LECLERC PROFILE

au masterlist - everything for the AU is under #🍂 ͡ ꒱ Juliette Leclerc

𐙚 BASICS!

NAME Juliette Celeste Leclerc

BIRTHDAY November 15TH 1999

ZODIAC Scorpio

SEXUALITY bisexual

BIRTHPLACE Monte Carlo, Monaco

HEIGHT 5’7

PIERCINGS 1 in each ear, bellybutton

TATTOOS she has this one on her lower back, and this one on her left arm. She wants to get more!

FACE CLAIM Dua Lipa

LANGUAGES 100% French, 100% English, 100% Korean, 36% Spanish.

𐙚 CAREER!

PROFESSION f1 driver

TEAM Red Bull Racing

DEBUT Australia 2019

TRAINER Gabriel Guerrero

RACE ENGINEER Théo Beaufoy

MANAGER Anya DuPont

ASSISTANT Beatrice Roux

WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS 1 (2022)

SPONSORS Gucci

𐙚 FUN FACTS!

Juliette drove for Mercedes in her rookie year, she got four wins and 326 points . . . fans of course were not happy that a female was dominating her rookie year, so of course a nasty rumor was created. The rumor that spread like hot fire was that Juliette was having an inappropriate relationship with Toto Wolff.

Which was false, Toto was like a father figure to Juliette but the fans didn’t care, booing her and trending hate for her on Twitter.

Juliette drove for Redbull for the next season, and is still driving for Redbull.

Juliette is known for being one of the most influential drivers on the grid, for the range of her career.

Juliette has dropped a few albums, some singles and ep’s, she’s a model, an ambassador for Gucci, and she has a YouTube channel with over 10 million subscribers, where she posts all different kinds of content, she’s walked on runways.

The interviewers love her (besides a few) a lot of fans say she’s like seb with how she has the habit of flirting with the female interviewers.

She is quite the flirt, confident with herself

She’s a party girl, in a club or an a yacht, she loves her parties !!

A lot of people assume she’s a bitch because of her resting face, her confidence and the way she doesn’t take any shit, but she’s genuinely a sweetheart.

Besides Lewis she is the driver that has the most celebrity friends

No one is surviving eye contact with her, in the words of lando “she has a really strong gaze, very alluring — like a siren yeah”

The amount of dating rumors lando and Juliette have is insane, but they are simply just best friends !!!

She loves pomegranates and cherries, could eat them forever

She loves swimming, she loves visiting tropical places

Everyone swears she’s a mermaid/siren for her love of the water

She has stated many times that her favorite sport besides f1 is hockey.

She has been seen coming to many hockey games, even having many friends that are hockey players. (Auston Matthews, Trevor Zegras, Cole caufield and more)

She loves baking

She owns several houses all over the world

She is a major passenger princess

SHE IS THE IT GIRL

She hates coffee

She definitely loves going out and partying, but she also loves staying in.

She was such a daddy’s girl

She talks to her mom every single day

She loves and I mean loves running

No matter how hungover she is, she’s always having her morning run.

She loves and I mean loves horses !!

Her dream is to retire, buy her own ranch and just get a ton of horses to take care of and love, maybe her own vineyard.

Her most prized possession is her yacht . . . That’s crazy to say omg.

She has kept all of her relationships a secret!

She loves doing collaborations

A character she’s most like is Blair waldorf

She doesn’t have a favorite color

She’s a very strong woman, but sometimes things really get to her and she just needs space.

She has a bad habit of distancing herself from others when she’s hurt or upset

She’s been to 3 met galas

She will kick anyone’s ass in golf

‘The princess of Monaco’

She is very open about her crush on leighton meester

She’s a switch

She has a great relationship with everyone on the grid !

Her and Pierre have a love hate relationship

She has such a flirty personality, she loves making people flustered.

She’s a fantastic driver, and won’t let anyone tell her different just because she’s a girl.

She has said her grid son is ollie bearman

Yuki loves her sm! They are such a underrated duo

She loves hockey, but she’s a terrible skater

She hates drive to survive, they like to make her and max look like the villain.

She secretly can’t stand one driver on the grid.

She loves sleep sm

She’s genuinely such a family girl

She was the trouble maker of her family

She hates cold feet

Her brother’s friends have always had a crush on her and she loved teasing them about it.

She keeps her music taste a secret from the public

Lewis will always have her back no matter what, she’s his grid kid.

The public goes crazy for post race Juliette

She loves her team, she’s extremely close to all of them !!

She alternates from black to red hair a lot, but her hair is very healthy !!!

Doesn’t go anywhere without a pair of sunglasses

Macaroons are the way to her heart

A lot of people get surprised by how friendly she is

She loves game of thrones

She is not a lightweight

Is a really good dancer !! Did ballet for a long time

Low waisted pants are her best friend.

The only one who can rock Jorts

Always has red or black nails

She’s a silver girly

Her nicknames are, Julie and lettie.

Has a private Instagram ‘@/lettiesworld’

°. — taglist ( @cixrosie @toasttt11 @lovings4turn )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( so this is the introduction to juliette !! I really hope you guys like her, omg I’m so excited for this AU !!! I didn’t mention Mat and Quinn because they will have their own profile !!! Oh I’m so excited, please let me know what you guys think !!! )

©️WINTFLEUR

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perfinn · 3 months

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the heat that drives the light

aemond targaryen x tyrell!oc - part ii

wc: 4.4k

summary: aemond confronts his mother about his betrothed, but the wedding goes ahead, leaving the prince to grapple with his complicated feelings toward the tyrell girl

cw: NSFW, blind character, period typical ableism, ableism in general, for prosperity dubcon (because aemond is (allegedly) not into cecily but he still feels like he has to do his duty. but both parties consent), period typical misogyny, aegon being a creep, allusions to aemond's 13th name day

masterlist, read on ao3, divider by saradika

Cecily Tyrell had not yet reached her seventh name day when she fell ill. A visit to the Arbour struck the young Lady down with an illness that not even the finest of the citadel’s archmaesters could name. It was believed she contracted it from a passing sailor on the docks of the Arbour, explaining away the mysterious nature of the sickness. Some maesters, younger and full of ideas, suggested it had come from Qarth, the work of some warlock testing the potential of pestilence as a form of warfare in enemy lands. Others, more experienced and grounded, were sure it was only some disease that the Essosi had grown strong against, that had gone from Essos so long ago no one had thought to mention it to Westerosi sailors on their shores. It had only struck Cecily because she was so young, they had supposed.

But, regardless of anyone’s theories, there was no real answer. It was a mystery to all but the gods, Cecily’s mother had once said. Despite that no one had any real knowledge of the illness Lady Cecily’s father, Lord Martyn Tyrell, did not rest in having her treated. Cecily was his only child, and her birth had near killed his wife. He had no other heir, yes, but his determination was born from far more than the issue of succession. To lose his Cecily would be to lose half his heart.

Cecily survived, of course, and thankfully did not infect another. However, despite all the treatment her little body could handle, her vision had been taken from her. She could not see a thing but for a blur of colours, and even then only in the bright sunlight.

“I’ve come to see my mother.”

Criston Cole looks the young prince over with a carefully neutral gaze. Aemond is certain Cole knows how to read him, certain he sees the tension lacing his shoulders almost up to his ears. He does not care, though, what the knight sees.

“Cole.”

Cole appears to contemplate another moment before he nods and opens the door to the queen’s solar, announcing Aemond’s arrival.

Alicent stands to greet him, eyes following him as he stalks into the room, standing across from her. Her face, which had been a smile to greet her son, falls to a confused frown.

“Something is the matter,” she says, tone lowered inquisitively. She broaches the topic with a statement, not a question. She knows Aemond better than she knows her other children, can read him like a book at the worst of times. They’re alike, perhaps too alike.

“I’ve seen the Tyrell girl.”

Alicent closes her mouth, exhaling deeply through her nose and lowering herself to sit again. She pinches the bridge of her nose, taking a moment before looking back at her son. “You weren’t supposed to see her until the wedding.”

“I’m aware,” says Aemond, voice clipped. “And I can see why. I won’t wed her.”

“This is not up for negotiation, Aemond.”

“I’m not going to suffer this humiliation just for political gain,” he says sharply. “Just because I’ve lost half my sight-”

“I did not pick her for you because of her blindness,” Alicent says, standing back up and approaching the tense prince. “How could I do that to you? When have you known me to have anything but your best interests at heart? I chose her for you because I believe she is a fine match. She is as shrewd as she is pretty, she has a sense of humour, she has a political mind, and someday she will be the Wardeness of the South. A fine one, at that. If I had wanted an easy political alliance, I would have offered her Daeron’s hand. It would have been a lot quicker. They could have wed in Highgarden and it could be done by now. But I want for my children to be happy, Aemond.”

Aemond hums and bites back a remark about Helaena and Aegon, but he’s just rational enough to hear his mother out. It will do little good to hear her reasoning, though. Her good intentions cannot dull the blow of his embarrassment.

“I believe that the two of you can build something wonderful together,” Alicent says, taking Aemond’s arms. Her touch is gentle, a comfort, but not one Aemond wants to be given now.

Aemond can hardly unclench his jaw enough to speak in clear sentences. “Then why was she to be kept from me?”

“The decision was not mine. Lord Martyn wished for her to be kept separate from you until you meet her at the ceremony.”

Aemond shifts, an odd swell of defensiveness building in his chest. Not for her, he tells himself. For me. “He is ashamed of her?”

“Quite the opposite. He loves that girl more than anything, he is just worried. He fears there is an issue of succession, he is paranoid Cecily’s claim will be threatened.”

Sounds like someone else I know, thinks Aemond bitterly.

“He doesn't want anything to jeopardise this union, including you.”

“He was right to worry, mother,” he snaps, pulling away from her. “I will not be forced into this union. I am owed more than an invalid!”

“Aemond,” hisses Alicent. “You can hate this until the day you die, but it is happening, and you will try to be a good husband to her. We must make sacrifices for the sake of our family.”

She thinks he is being irrational, and perhaps she’s right. But he has earned the right to irrationality, has he not? He was robbed of his eye, he received no retribution, and now it is all anyone ever sees. His mother can speak all she wishes of Cecily’s attributes, it is all overshadowed by her weakness. A weakness he does not share, no matter what anyone would whisper. How much more must he sacrifice for the sake of this family?

He clenches his jaw, turning away from his mother and moving to leave the room. “You do not know me as well as you thought you did. You should have saved everyone the time and married her to Daeron.”

Despite Aemond’s week of staunch refusal and threats to fly off on dragonback and never return, the wedding goes ahead. Somehow, he’s wrestled into the Red Keep’s sept and made to await his bride.

Instead of his preferred dark green clothing, he’s been forced into a black doublet with a dark red undershirt. It makes him uncomfortable not for the feel of it – the fabric is luscious and comfortable and it fits him perfectly – but for what the colours represent. That he is a prince of House Targaryen. This he knows, of course, but it feels nothing more than a name to him. He feels that Hightower blood flows far stronger through him than any other, though he would never dare admit it aloud.

No one would understand him. No one ever has.

He fiddles with the dark red silk poking out of his sleeve, expression turned down in the scowl that’s made itself quite at home on his face, loathing the thing. He does not make a habit of fidgeting with his clothes, but his hatred for the fabric overpowers his usual composure.

(Why do you bother, Aemond? he thinks. She will not even see it.)

If his father had any say in it Aemond would surely have the Three Headed Dragon emblazoned across his damned eyepatch, just to drive the message home. Maybe his betrothed’s blindness has spared him of that, for she’d never be able to appreciate it anyway. He’s certain that this tiny mercy is all her disability will ever do for him.

When the murmuring sept falls quiet, Aemond clenches his fists by his side. He remains facing the statues of the Mother and the Father, watching the way the sun filters through stained glass and lights up the visage of the gods as his betrothed approaches him. He only turns when she is behind him, prepared to take her hand from her father.

Aemond expects to see what he’s come to expect of House Tyrell; opulence and shining silk inlaid with gems, disgusting shows of wealth for the sake of maintaining their status. He hates it, most ardently, but he finds he does not see it reflected in Cecily.

Cecily’s face is hidden by a gauzy ivory veil, embroidered with pale pink roses. Her dress is creamy white, similarly embroidered with all manner of flowers the names of which Aemond could not hope to recall. It is well made and no doubt expensive, but it is not so far into the realm of ostentation that he wishes to turn away in disgust, he would go so far as to call it… pretty.

She looks pretty, in ivory lace and the fern green maiden’s cloak that lays over her shoulders. He almost dreads to lift her veil and be so harshly reminded of the cloud over her eyes. He takes her hand, gently guiding her up the steps.

“Last one,” he murmurs, instantly cursing himself for his kindness to her when she murmurs her thanks. He does not understand himself. He understands himself even less when he hesitates before he reaches for her veil. “Your veil. May I?”

(He does not like her but he will not be a cruel husband. He will not delight in frightening her, he will take whatever care he must to be better than the husbands in his family. She is a rose most delicate, more so than any other. No matter his resentment, she will be his wife and hence shall be handled with care.)

He sees that shrewd smile behind her veil, and sees her nod. “Of course.”

Gods, her voice is sweeter than he remembers. The memories of it which have echoed in his head each night since they met do it no justice.

He takes her veil between his gloved fingers, lifting it up over her face and settling it over the crown of flowers that secure it to her hair. Her eyes are turned up to him, even if she does not see. He sees the greyish film over them and the gentle feelings are frozen, replaced once more with resentment.

If he were to turn and run now, would anyone dare to stop him?

Alas, he stays where he is and goes through the proceedings of the union as he’s expected to. Despite his ample protests, there is still a large part of him that longs to be his mother’s dutiful son.

He reaches to remove the green cloak from her shoulders, running his thumb gently over the embroidered gold trim, and replaces it with one of red and black. Black dragons dance across the fabric, and a smile dances across Cecily’s face.

With the septon’s blessing and declaration of their union, Aemond takes both her hands. He hesitates a moment as he sees Cecily close her eyes, wondering what’s going on in her head. Is she afraid? Excited? He finds her impossible to read, and he finds it’s driving him mad. Still, he leans down and presses his lips gently to hers. They’re petal soft against his but he does not let it linger.

He fears if he does he will get lost in it, in the smell of flowers on her skin and the softness of her pink lips. He will not fall to the weak man’s game of lust, no matter if she is his wife under the Seven’s eye. The sept erupts into cheers for the new couple, and Aemond does not miss the way Cecily flinches at the sudden barrage of noise.

He finds himself cursing their guests for frightening his wife, and he does not know why.

Aemond is not granted a moment to speak with Cecily until the two of them are sitting beside one another at their wedding banquet, his new wife placed on the side of his good eye.

The food is placed before them, and the first words his bride speaks to him in near-privacy are, “What have they prepared?”

Aemond taps his finger against the arm of his chair, looking between Cecily and the meal before him. “You seemed to have a keen sense of smell when last we met.”

Cecily chuckles, nodding slowly as she feels across the table for her fork. “As far as anyone but you, Flora, and myself is concerned, that meeting did not happen. But yes, I can smell things better than most, though it may only take me so far. I can smell, hm… fowl, and vegetables, and I can smell spiced honey, and of course the wine that flows from our cups.”

Aemond looks down at his plate, scowling at the sheer aptitude of her nose’s instinct. “It is honey glazed duck with stewed vegetables.”

“Ah!” Cecily delights, brightening with a smile. “It has been some time since my nose has served me this well. The Gods must smile on us today.”

Aemond scoffs. “The Gods have more important matters to tend to than what a blind girl smells for her dinner.”

“The Seven looks upon us always, lord husband, always,” she says as she begins to eat her food. Aemond scowls. She seems pious, even if she does not act as demure as a woman should. He supposes that very few women he knows do, so he shouldn’t be surprised.

Cecily does not bother him while they eat, but he watches her and sees she has not switched off. She is listening to the conversations around her, brow turned down in focus. Aemond looks away from her and to the wine in his cup, finding himself trying to do the same. He does not tune into much except half a hushed conversation between his mother and his older brother.

He hears the words “abhorrent” and “heretical” hissed from his mother, and decides the conversation is not one worth hearing. It does not surprise him to hear that said to Aegon.

When dinner is finished and their empty plates carried away, Cecily leans toward Aemond again.

“I am sorry we cannot share a dance,” she says.

Aemond looks over at her, seeing her hands are tracing once more over the embroidery of her dress. She had been doing the same when he barged into her chambers last week. Perhaps it’s a comfort for her. “I hate dancing.”

Cecily smiles at him. “I see. Lucky for us both then. Dancing with a partner is an impossibility with no vision, I can imagine halved vision only makes it an ordeal.”

“Mmm,” hums Aemond, feeling that he should be upset by her words. He hates for it to be brought up, but she’s correct. The lack of vision on one side makes dancing a near impossible task. Maybe he was wrong about her blindness offering him only one mercy. But he cannot imagine any more. “Quite.”

Her smile stays on her face, radiant despite Aemond’s cold and dismissive tone. There is a hidden, traitorous part of him that wishes to get to know her. She’s his wife, after all. Maybe it would be beneficial to them both if he made some effort to know the woman he’s supposed to love under the Gods’ doctrine. The woman he’s meant to bed. But he strikes that traitorous urge down and shoves it back into the recesses of his mind. He does not need to know a woman to perform his duty. If nothing else, Aegon is evidence of that fact.

After another moment of stubborn silence Cecily leans away, calling for her cousin Flora. “I shall go speak to our guests, lord husband. Would you like to join me?”

“No,” he says, waving his hand before remembering she can’t see it and hurriedly lowering it, as though embarrassed. “Go.”

He finally sees a hint of her enthusiasm leeched by his dismissive words, and cannot help but be satisfied by it as she stands and offers him a curtsey before turning to Flora and making her way toward where his mother and father – barely conscious of his surroundings – sit. He scowls, thinking of how strongly Cecily will smell Viserys’ rotting body.

He stiffens when another stench places itself beside him, the familiar scent of Arbour red that always seems to hang off his brother. He does not acknowledge him at first, keeping his eye on his own cup – Arbour gold, as is his own preference on the rare days he sullies himself with drink – in the hope that Aegon will see he is not interested in speaking to him.

He has, as ever, no such luck.

“Brother,” says Aegon, words slightly slurred. “You will be most happy with me today.”

“Will I?” says Aemond, setting his cup down but still not looking at him.

“Indeed. I have convinced our mother to forgo the bedding ceremony.”

This gives Aemond pause, and finally convinces him to turn his gaze to Aegon. Aegon grins.

“I knew you’d like that. You’ll still need to consummate, but I’ve done the kindness of letting you do it in private.”

“How did you manage that?”

He shrugs. “A few well placed words about the Seven and decency. Appealing to mother’s faith will get you far, you know. Do not say I’ve never done anything for you. But listen–” Aemond should have known he would want something out of this. “– I can see you do not like her. You will not wish to lay with her, and I understand. But I do not give a fuck if she’s blind, in fact–”

“Do not dare suggest what you have in mind, brother–”

“Come now! I am just being the caring big brother I have always been, Aemond. If you cannot complete the act and you wish to call me in, she’ll be none the wiser. Even if you can, I would still appreciate a turn.”

“Hold your tongue,” Aemond hisses, reaching out and grabbing Aegon by the front of his wine-stained shirt. “You dishonour my wife and your own. Does your debauchery never cease?”

“Gods, brother!” Aegon huffs, clumsily trying to smack Aemond’s hand away. “Twas only a suggestion!”

“Cecily is my wife, and if I hear you’ve touched her you will no longer have a cock to shove in whichever serving girl next takes your fancy.” His voice is low, dangerous. Aegon, though, only seems amused as he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Forgive me, I only hoped to save you from a girl you’re so clearly repulsed by,” he says, as though his intentions had been purely selfless and full of care for his brother. He is so drunk he does not realise that Aemond has never been more serious. “By all means, have the girl. But do tell me if her cunt really smells of roses.”

Aemond releases him roughly, sending the man tumbling off his chair, and stands with the intent to find his wife. He’s thankful to see her still standing before the queen and king with Flora.

He makes his way over, making his presence known to Cecily with a clearing of his throat.

“Your husband,” Flora murmurs to Cecily, and the two of them offer curtsies to the prince.

Aemond watches them for a moment before turning to his mother. “Aegon tells me you have decided there will be no bedding ceremony.”

Alicent offers her son a smile and nods. “Yes, we both agreed it was an affront to the Seven. And I am certain there will be proof enough of your consummation come the morning, won’t there?”

“With any luck, your grace,” says Cecily.

“Good,” says Aemond, not acknowledging Cecily. “Then I wish to retire with my lady wife now. It will serve as a good excuse for father to go rest as well.”

“Right,” says Alicent, moving to stand with the intent to announce their departure, no doubt.

“No need for an announcement,” he says, gesturing for her to sit back down. “We will go quietly. Lady Cecily, come.”

He holds out his arm and Flora carefully guides Cecily to take it, bidding her cousin good night and good luck.

Aemond leads Cecily up to his chambers, hesitating at the door. She has not said a word the whole way. Is she afraid, as he is? Nervous? It would be only logical. Even without the worry of lords of the realm witnessing their coupling, it is daunting for Aemond. He cannot imagine the fear it would cause in someone who has not done it before.

He opens the door, gently leading her inside by a hand on the small of her back. “I will help you find your way around until you learn it,” he tells her.

“Thank you, my lord,” she says, fiddling again with her dress. “Do you know why we’ve been allowed to do this without spectators?”

“A kindness brokered by my brother,” says Aemond, closing the door and looking to her as she stands in the middle of the room, aimless. A sting of repulsion twists in his chest. It feels all too similar to self-loathing, though he cannot know why. “I’m sure it is all we will get in lieu of a wedding gift.”

“Ah, then I must make certain to thank him,” she says, reaching back to begin undoing the lacing of her gown.

“You should not trouble yourself with Aegon’s company,” he says firmly, looking away from her as though trying not to dishonour her in a state of undress.

“Oh,” she murmurs, slipping off the dress so it pools around her ankles. She stands there in only her smallclothes. He glances up, catching sight of her as she slips her chemise from her shoulders and his breath catches in his throat. Her body, svelte but soft with a life of good food and comfort, is near bare before him. She smiles, evidently hoping he’s looking as she plays with her hands. “I hope I am pleasing to you. Will you help me to the bed?”

He watches her in silence for a moment, as though stunned by the sight of his wife almost naked. In a sense, he is. He had not expected Cecily to act quite so boldly. She is a confident woman and not demure as he is aware, but somehow he thought her nerves would get the better of her. Perhaps not being able to see his reactions helps.

Could she see, she would see a man stunned and frightened, and he finds himself thankful yet again for her blindness. He does not answer her but begins to slowly undress, first removing his gloves, then his boots, then he undoes the lacing of his doublet. As he does, he moves toward her. She perks, then stiffens, as though realising what those footsteps mean.

He shrugs the doublet off, and reaches to take her hand. The touch of her bare skin against his, for the first time, burns hotter than dragonfire.

He forces himself to lead her to the bed and watches as she sits down, shimmying up to lean against the pillows, hands settled in her lap as Aemond moves to sit down beside her. It feels wrong to be in a state of undress around a woman, even one who cannot see him. He hasn't allowed himself to be intimate with a woman since…

He pushes that thought from his mind. Hate Cecily as he does, she seems kind enough. Innocent, as he had once been. She will not laugh at him as those women did.

(Gods, he hopes she is truly as kind as she makes out to be.)

Cecily shifts closer to him, gently feeling across the soft sheets for Aemond’s hand. She turns to face him, offering him a timid smile. “I am a maiden,” she tells him. “But I will try not to be boring for you.”

“You do not have to,” Aemond mumbles, watching her hand slide over his arm and onto his chest, then down. He feels his pulse quicken, but does not stop her.

“I wish to,” she promises in a whisper. Her hand trails further down, to the waist of his trousers.

Aemond clenches his jaw and reaches for her wrist as gently as he can manage, though he’s certain she feels the slight tremble in his grip. He moves her hand away, not meeting her eyes to avoid the look on her face– she must be mocking him. She must think him a fool, a boy, an invalid, just like she is. “Let us not make this more complicated than it ought to be.”

“But, I-”

“Lay back. I will do my best to be gentle.”

He finally looks up at her and what he sees is not a mocking sneer, but only confusion. Still, she obliges him and shifts to lay down on the bed, hands folded over her stomach. Aemond’s heart pangs with something he cannot hope to understand, but he ignores it. He undoes his pants, crawling over her and not wasting any further time.

He goes as slow as he can manage to ease her into the feeling, but once he has broken her maidenhead he forces himself away from all sentimentality and care, moving instead with cold, hard duty. He does not let himself think about how she feels wrapped around his cock, soft and wet and warm and tight. He especially does not dare let himself look at her, does not dare see the expression of disappointment and upset that no doubt takes residence on her face. He cannot.

After some time he comes with a grunt, taking a few steadying breaths to keep himself under control. To lose any part of his inhibitions now would be weakness.

I am not weak, he thinks, not doing well to convince himself. Aemond Targaryen is not weak.

He pulls out after a moment and rolls over to lay beside her. Cecily says nothing, but he sees her press her palms to her eyes and take a deep inhale. She’s trying not to cry. A better husband might comfort her, but Aemond cannot bring himself to do so when he cannot even comfort himself. So Aemond rolls over and listens to his wife try to keep her breathing even, feeling weaker than he has in many years.

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