#-Hi I'm alice welcome!

[d4rk-x-w0lf-17]

the fact that kalego RAN when he saw iruma on the floor makes me wanna cry

he claims that he tries not to get close to any of his students but cherishes each and every one of them

he thought iruma was injured and went into panicked dad mode i can't

[xatsperesso]

Sleepover: Gambling edition

It all started with a knock on the door, with a lot of demon children hanging out, and with three adults diligently watching over them.

The atmosphere was kind of tense, and for good reasons at that. Lied took a glance at the adults in the room, and scooted over to where iruma was sitting.

"Hey," he whispered to Iruma, loud enough that the rest of the class will hear, but the adults on the other side of the room won't "Not that I mind or anything, but why are Kalego-sensei and Balam-sensei at the sleepover?"

--

"Why am I here again?" a very tired Kalego asked Opera who all but kidnapped him into the kids little party. He imagines Shichiro was also kidnapped by their senpai too.

"Last time Iruma held a party it got a little out of hand, so I brought you here-" Kalego snorted at that. "Brought" like he isn't here against his will "-to help me keep this one in check"

"Ah, but Sullivan-sama told me that he wanted me here to help you relax a bit , Opera-senpai" Kalego whipped his head so fast he swore he heard a crac.

"Did you just say that you willingly came here??"

--

"Well, that sucks," Lied sighed at Iruma answer. "Last time was a mistake! we didnt know that it was supposed to be diluted!"

"You knew and yet you drank it"

"Purson!"

Iruma had to agree with what Lied says. It is a bit awkward with the adults being here. There's no rowdy talking or friends daring eachother, they're all just awkwardly trying to quietly make conversation

Except for Jazz, whos's looking very thoughtfully at the adults.

"What are you thinking about, Jazz-kun?" Everyone in the room (except for Kalego-sensei and Balam-sensei, who seem to be having a very lively conversation) turned to look at Jazz.

"Well, I've been thinking," he quickly threw a glance at Kalego-sensei before moving to the centre and lowering his voice even further "isn’t it kinda unfair that the teachers get to gamble over which of us is dating, but we don't?" If anyone wasn't interested before, then they sure are now.

"I bet some of the teachers are dating each other. They all seem pretty close to each other" Allocer nodded as everyone scootched even closer to better hear each other.

"Woah woah wo-" Everyone quickly shushed Lied as to not grab their unwanted companies attention (unfortunately, several kids collectively shushing one of them is very suspicious to not watch closely)

"Sorry!" Lied whispered sheepishly "but are we seriously going to gossip about this in front of them?"

"True. We're going to need someway to distract them while the others places their bets" the second Kerori uttered the word 'bet', a very excited smile carved it's way through every demon's face (ah, purson thinks, this is what everyone felt during the music festival)

"But who knows how to distract Kalego-sensei, Balam-sensei and Opera-sensei?"

Collectively, all the young demons looked at a very not ready Iruma.

--

"They’re planning something"

"Kalego-kun, let the kids play. We're just here to make sure they don't injure themselves"

"Or drink too much, mess up the house beyond recognition and pass out leaving me to deal with thirteen teenagers having their first hangover"

"...that too"

--

"I mean, they all seem to watch me intensely whenever I use my spell to float, so maybe that?"

"Alright," Lied took the pencil and paper he asked from clara a second ago "since we all don't have money right now, and because some of you don't trust me-"

"You still haven't paid me back-"

"We're all going to write our bets down here. Do you want to write yours down before your very important mission, Soldier Iruma?"

"What?!" Azz exclaimed very loudly, and right behind him Iruma shook his head showing everyone that he doesn't want to place a bet

"How dare you suggest that Iruma-sama would participate in such cheap-"

"Do you have any bets to place, Azz?" Lied asked, handing the notebook to Azz mainly to spare his ears from one of Azz-kun's lengthy lectures

"Kalego-sensei is married to his work" Azz said with a serious face.

"Ooo! Me too, me too! I think-"

"Guys!" Ix clapped her hand to grab everyone's attention.

"Didn't Iruma want to show us the trick he's been working on?" She continued loudly, to allow the adults to clearly hear what she's saying

"Oh, yeah!" Iruma’s face lit up, as he quietly cast the spell and his body kept rising and rising, far away from hus friends so they would be out of the view of anyone who’s watching him, while Azz-kun and Sabro-kun stood below him in case he fell.

--

As Kalego watched Iruma floating further and further away from the ground, a question popped into his head.

"Why doesn't Iruma ever use his wings?"

Balam and Opera both slowly turned their heads, one looking at Kalego cautiously while the other looked exasperatedly.

"Kalego..humans don't have wings" now it was kalego's turn to slowly turn his head to his friends

"...what?"

"Yeah," all three adults jumped at a very quiet Purson appearing from nowhere "they also don't have horns or tails"

"Oh yeah," Balam looked at Purson, remembering a very embarrassing week "Purson also knows of Iruma’s nature"

Opera looked at Balam with shock. Their ears were flat against their head as he asked a question they very much feared the answer of.

"How, how many demons know?"

"Know what?" For the second time, the adults were startled this time by Gaap's appearance.

"That Iruma is an imaginary being" Purson answered

"That Iruma’s a human? I'm not sure about Azz and Clara, but I've figured it out during our first year so surely they have"

"Mhmm. By the way, why are you here and not with them?"

"Ah, right! Kerori had an idea for you, Purson!" The little demon quickly whispered to his classmate's ear before both of them went to join the rest of the class.

Kalego pinched his nose and let out a sigh as he foresaw the amount of headache this will cause him.

"We're gonna have to find out who knows of the boy's nature and who doesn't"

"How long have you two known?"

"Kalego discovered it last week, and I've known since the first year"

"...I'm going to have to relay this information to Sullivan-sama" Opera sighed as they watched Iruma descending carefully back to his friends. Sadly, they missed Iruma’s new trick. They’re going to have to ask Iruma-kun to perform it later so they can get a chance to see it.

--

"Robin-sensei and Kalego-sensei will obviously win!"

"Are you blind?! Kalego-sensei and Balam-sensei know each other since school! Plus, Robin-sensei is obviously with Orias-sensei!"

"I don't care as long as we all agree that Dali-sensei and Suzy-sensei are completely a thing"

"Are you kidding me?! There's no way Suzy-sensei would ever-"

"Hey, Iruma!" Lied waved at Iruma as he quickly floated towards Iruma "we still need more time. Do you know more ways to distract them?"

"Well, I know opera always watches anyone who plays with the hell-kitties like a hawk" Lied snorted, causing Iruma to tilt his head in confusion which Lied quickly waves away (he can’t believe anyone at this age still calls Infernal cats hell-kitties)

"I'm on it" Agares sped past them towards the two cats laying around on the fluffy carpet, adn proceeded to throw himself facedown on the floor, waiting for the cats to lay on him.

In less than a minute, Opera was watching a sleeping Agares who has two purring cats batting playfully at his hair.

"...alright, I didn't get to ask him if he want to bet or not but whatever. Do you know how else to distract them?"

"Hmm, oh! Clara, can you make chainsaws that can't actually hurt?"

"Of course! I can make them like rubber or plastic or-ooh! I can make chainsaw balloons that works!"

"Yes! Those will do great! Does anyone know how to juggle?"

"I do!" Gaap excitedly ran to them, happy that he gets to show his juggling skills

"Can you juggle chainsaws?" That seemed to make Gaap pale a little

"I-I can try?" Iruma beamed at his friend which helped soothe the poor scared boy

"Great!" Iruma took six balloon chainsaws from Clara, Gaap has never been more relieved to see a balloon, and handed three to Gaap "can you help me start them before we juggle? Oh, and let's go juggle over there"

--

"Is there anything else I need to know about Iruma?" Kalego knew that he should’ve picked up Balam's books on humans, but he was swept with correcting so many assignments that he didn't have any chance to read anything else (he should stop doubling the abnormal class's homework)

"You do know that he's a human, right sensei?" Kalego should really stop being startled by these hellions, or better yet should stop talking about Iruma all together around them (since when can these kid's sneak up on him?)

"Sabro, why do you know this?" A tired Kalego asked

"During our flying test Iruma told me that he healed the leaders leg using his blood, so I did some research on that and found out" That grabbed Opera's attention from the sleeping teens and the cats

"Pardon me, but how did Iruma get injured?"

"He went through the cutthroat valley-wait" something in the back of Kalego’s mind kept nagging at him that something's wrong

"Kalego," Balam's worried voice called him "did Iruma participate in the flying race last year?"

Ah, this is what was nagging Kalego.

"...shit"

"Kalego-IRUMA!" Everyone suddenly looked at Iruma, who was juggling chainsaws with Goemon?!

"IRUMA AND GOEMEN! LET GO OF THESE CHAINSAWS RIGHT THIS SECOND OR I SWEAR TO DELKIRA I WILL-"

--

Sure, Iruma and Gaap got lectured for thirty minutes over safety, common sense and what acceptable pranks to pull, but it was really fun juggling the balloon chainsaws. They actually brought Iruma so many memories.

And surely his classmates are all done-

"I just feel like Suzy-sensei and Raim-sensei would make such a cute couple!"

"And you're willing to bet actual money because of a feeling?"

"I bet Ifrit-sensei and Marbas-sensei are together"

"They're literally wearing wedding rings no one would bet against you on that one"

"So I'm gonna win the bet!"

"That's not how bets work, dumbass!"

"Are you sure this is what you want to bet on, Azz-kun?"

"There’s literally no one who would voluntarily put up with him"

So, they’re still not done.

But Iruma saw Jazz handing money to Purson, which puzzled him. He thought they were gonna write down their bets and hand over the money to the winners directly?

"Hey, Lied-kun," he looked over to a very sulking Lied who's playing in his ds alone on a bean bag "why are they giving money to Purson?"

"Apparently!" Lied threw his arms in the air as he huffed annoyingly "Purson is a much more trust worthy demon than I am!"

"I'll trust you with my money when you pay me back!"

"And I'll pay you back when I have money!"

"You literally bought three new games two days ago"

"Anyways," Lied turned to look at Iruma "they're still not done, so we're going to need some more time"

"Well, if I pull anymore stunts they might actually ground me, but maybe Sabro could tap dance? I saw him do it once and he's very good at it! What do you think, Sabro?"

"Sure, I don't have any bets to place anyway. A cool demon king doesn't place bets on people's love life"

Sabro walked to the centre of the room. He crossed his arms, and jumped into the air clacking his heels three times.

Everyone stopped what they were doing to look curiously at what Sabro is doing. He turned to look at his classmates and yelled at the top of his lungs "CHOOSE A SONG!"

"Gyari's new single!" A very excited Kerori screamed

Sabro smiled viciously as Iruma played the song on the room's speaker, and Sabro started dancing. He captivated everyone with his dancing, except for Purson who went around the room asking the demons what they bet on.

"Woah. He really is good" Lied exclaimed, before a very curious question popped into his mind

"Hey, Iruma, how did you learn how to juggle chainsaws?"

"I used to do it at the circus when I was young! But they insisted I use real chainsaws, I almost lost a finger that one time!" Iruma laughed at the fun memories before continuing to watch Sabro who's footwork was starting to get really intense.

Lied was left to watch Iruma in horror as he digested what was just said to him.

"...what?"

--

"He really is good at this" Balam mused as he continued watching Sabro smoothly dance to the peak of the song

"He is," Kalego commented, watching Sabro a second longer before turning to Balam "Do you know anyone else who knows about Iruma?"

"I know of Iruma’s nature, if that's what you mean, sensei" Kalego closed his eyes and took a deep breath, because really, he should have expected this. At this point it'd be better if he asked who doesn't know.

"And how, pray tell, do you know?" He turned to look at Caim, the fourth person to admit that he knows that Iruma is a human (after this is all done he's gonna have a talk with Iruma this is truly getting ridiculous)

"I was having a chat with Jazz's familiar and he told me that Jazz has been stressing over what to do with such sensitive information" at this point Balam is just trying his hardest not to laugh at Kalego's tired face. He does feel sorry for Opera though. They don't seem to be taking all of this information too well.

"And how does Jazz know??" It's getting too hard not to laugh at Kalego. He shouldn’t laugh at his friend's suffering, but it's just so funny.

"Iruma accidently told him at the last slumber party when he drank too much relax juice"

"Told me what?"

"That he's a human"

"Ah, yeah that. I'm cool with that and all but he told me when he was drunk, you know?"

Opera is just looking sadly at the ground. All this time they've been going under tye assumption that only they, the chairman and Bachiko know of Iruma’s origins. Are they really fit to be called Iruma’s bodyguard if they can't keep track of who knows his most intimate secret?

"By the way, sensei wants to know who else knows"

"Knows what?" Allocer asked Caim curiously, much to Kalego’s chargin

"That Iruma’s a human" and with each kid coming closer, curious as to why their classmates are surrounding their teachers

"Wait, didn't we agree that we won't talk about this until Iruma tells us himself?" Kalego felt his patience running thin

"Talk about what?" Until he just snapped

"Alright!" His voice boomed across the room, startling all the younglings in the room (serves them right for almost stopping his heart multiple times)

"How many of you brats know of Iruma’s nature?!" He screamed at the twelve demons in front of him, and to his annoyance, Balam's amusement, and Opera's Alarm, almost all the kids raised their arm, save for two very confused demon's and one mortified human.

"Iruma-chi's nature?" Clara asked, feeling very left out as she saw that almost all her friends knew something about Iruma that she doesn't.

"Excuse me, but what do you mean by this statment, Kalego-sensei?" Azz felt embarrassment as he asked this question, because almost everyone knows what sensei means except for him! And it's a question about Iruma-sama! How does he not know?

"You know, that Iruma’s a human" Gaap said, unaware of the dumbfounded looks Azz and Clara are throwing him, nor the fact that Iruma’s near tears "I apologise, Iruma-kun, for not informing you that we know sooner, but we thought it'd be better if we waited until you trusted us enough with this information"

"...what?" Azz and Clara asked very, very quietly as everyone in the room slowly realized that Azz and Clara, tha two demons that are glued to Iruma at the hip, are the only ones who don't know.

"Huh?!" Poor stunned Iruma doesn't know how to deal with the fact that all of his classmates mow know of his identity.

He really doesn't knows what to do now?

--

Deep in the castle, Sullivan sits alone in his room contemplating whether it'd be better to let the youth have fun on their own or if he can go and join them.

He really wants to have a slumber party with Iruma, it's not fair that Opera and his friends get to be there and he doesn't! So not fair!

[thevalicemultiverse]

“Hi, welcome to the grocery store! Do you have a store card?”

“I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!!!”

“…what?”

“WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!” *kaboom*

"Whoa -- shit, okay, I'm guessing that wasn't supposed to happen," Marty says, staring at the scattered remains of the automaton.

"No, not at all -- are you all right?" Victor asks the grocery worker. "Goodness, suddenly my confession to Alice looks completely normal..."

[vividxpages]

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ The Great War – Jacaerys Velaryon x f!Reader PART 1 ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

PART 2 + PART 3

words: 1700

summary: Jace and you are lovers, but stand on opposite sides of the war, not allowed to see each other anymore. But love always finds a way. (inspired by “The Great War” by Taylor Swift)

warnings: angst, reader is Alicents's daughter, the Greens being a bad family, hurt/comfort!, kissing

a/n: help, I'm obsessed with this boy and every song starts to sound like a possible fic idea for him!!!

𓆩♡𓆪

All that bloodshed, crimson clover Uh-huh, sweet dream was over My hand was the one you reached for All throughout the Great War

Sometimes, you could only breathe above the clouds.

Up here on your dragon’s back, the trouble you left behind underneath you did not matter anymore. You thought of the castle that slowly poisoned you from the inside, the dark nights where you thought you were completely alone in the world with no comfort in reach but the memories you carried with yourself.

Once there had been laughter at the dinner table, the halls filled with the family you had not seen in months. Now, you only saw your brothers and your mother together in one room during council. You shuddered at the memory of today’s meeting, snuggling deeper into the saddle and closer to the dragon who kept you safe in the sky.

(“Maybe we should send our dear sister.” Your brother Aegon had proposed at some frustrating point of an endless council, taking a deep swig from the wine glass in front of him.

You had simply stared at him, silent. No one was really listening to you anyway and you were past the point of turning to your mother pleadingly. She was just as silent, always frowning, always doing nothing. “What do you mean, Aegon?”

“We can weaken them from the inside.” He had spoken to the others then, who at least looked so confused as you had felt. “Send them my little precious sister who a certain bastard son always had a weak spot for. I don’t see the problem if you kill him while you’re fuck-“

Your chair had screeched over the floor and fell down with a loud thud on the stone floor. You had clenched your hands into fists as you stood, fury in your eyes.

“Aegon, stop with such nonsense.” Alicent had said quietly, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. You fled.)

You welcomed the tears on your cheeks like an old friend, letting them cool your skin as you stirred your dragon through the sky, opting to just turn right and never come back to Westeros.

But oh, how your heart still clung to them.

The family up north in the realm, the family you had lost forever in the middle of his conflict.

Suddenly, you felt your dragon tense and directed your attention to the west, where a shape of a big shadow flickered through the clouds. Your mind began to race with what you’d do if Aemond had followed you, always being damned to bring you back when you had strayed too far away from Kings Landing.

But this shadow was not big enough to be Vhagar.

And those dark curls did not belong to your brother.

You gasped as your dragon let out a recognizing screech, lunging forwards through the clouds until you and the other rider could almost touch at how close your beasts were.

Time seemed to slow down as they flew past each other, teasingly snapping at each other’s necks with the joy of being reunited, but there was no doubt. As you raced through the skies, you looked into your Jace’s eyes.

You let out a broken gasp and quickly looked over your shoulder, but he and Vermax were already out of reach, descending down beneath the clouds. And suddenly, you knew where he was going. You spurned your dragon on, the wind cutting into your skin as you raced after them, faster and faster until you let your dragon spread its wings for a quick landing by the beach Jacaerys had chosen.

Only the silver moonlight illuminated the shore by the cliffs, void of any other soul who could witness the forbidden reunion between the two of you. If you had been in company, Jacaerys would’ve already been dead or held captive.

But you were alone, for the first time in months.

You slid down your dragon’s back, nearly blind by the need to reach him, to throw yourself into his arms like you had dreamed so often.

When you had seen each other for the last time, there had not been a war yet.

And Luke had been still alive.

(You had cried for hours when Aemond had returned, blood still drying on Vhagar’s massive teeth. You had begged your mother to write a letter, just a simple letter to Jace, but everything at court had still been too fragile to do anything but be in shock over what had happened up there. It had nearly driven you mad, to know that somewhere Jace was suffering the loss of his little brother and there was nothing you could do to comfort him.)

Now, he was right there in front of you, leaving Vermax behind him and running towards you on the wet sand by the water. You broke out into a sprint as well, a disbelieving laugh that was anything but amused leaving your tight throat as his features became more and more clear to you.

You crashed together like two waves.

The embrace was nearly violent as his arms slung themselves around you, lifting you up and pressing you into him. There was no strength in your bones anymore and if Jace wouldn’t have held you so tightly, you would’ve crashed onto the ground, shattering into a million pieces.

Only Jace was holding you together right now.

He was everything you had been missing in those terrible weeks. He smelled like sea and wind and smoke and your hands shook as you combed through his wet curls, your tear-streaked face securely hidden in his neck.

You never wanted to let go of him and it seemed like the feeling was mutual.

“Gods- my love…” He mumbled into your ear and you let out a choked sob as you held each other. It was like he could not decide where he wanted to touch you first. His hands drifted over you restlessly, up and down your spine, holding onto you as if you could disappear again at any moment.

“How did you find me?” You asked breathlessly, your bottom lip still trembling dangerously as you caressed his cheeks, needing to refamiliarize yourself with the feel of his skin on yours.

He swallowed thickly, unshed tears glistening in his beautiful years. “I remembered the route you liked to take when you needed to stop thinking. And it’s cloudy today. No one saw me coming. I’ve been waiting for a cloudy night like this for weeks-“

His voice broke and you pulled him closer again, shudders of pain and longing and relief to be with him going through you in an endless loop. How much had changed since the last time you had seen eye to eye: Your father had always said you’d make a good match back then and now Jace had one brother less and you were a captive in your own home.

“I missed you so much.” You whispered, resting your head on his shoulder as you both looked out on the ocean. “I- oh Jace, I tried to write, I wanted to send you a letter, but- I wasn’t allowed. I couldn’t help you and-“

“It’s okay.” He said, but it sounded lifeless, void. “It’s not your fault. I wished I could’ve been there for you too. I know how much you loved Luke.”

Gods, you wanted to cry and never stop again. Even now, Jace was trying to be strong for you, as he had always been.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I love you.” He told you and cupped your cheek, looking deeply and longingly into your eyes. “I missed you every second we’ve been apart. Have you been treated well? Have Aegon and Aemond-“

“I love you too. I want to come with you.” You interrupted him fiery and he shuddered at the insane idea of it, the consequences unimaginable and likely deadly for one of you. “Please, please, let me come with you, I can’t stay a single day there, my mother is not the same anymore and- my brothers have been horrible with the things they want to do to Rhaenyra and you.”

He shushed you gently, drawing his arms tighter around you and swaying you back and forth. “I’ll find a way. I’m not letting you stay there alone for much longer, my love. It makes me sick to think about you being alone in Kings Landing, believe me, but…mother says it’s not safe, not yet-“

“I won’t cause your family any trouble, I promise-“

“It’s not us we’re fearing for.” He smiled sadly at you. “It’s you. I won’t summon your brother’s anger on you. I’d rather take it on myself, but- we need to be a little more patient, okay?”

You could see how much effort those words cost him and you had no doubt if it was his choice to make, he’d take you with him to Dragonstone and never look back. You watched his throat bump with tension, his jaw set, his lips pressed together tightly.

A sudden small smile danced over your face. “So you only came to me tonight because you wanted to see me?”

His eyes were dark with longing, with wanton he could not give in to, not tonight. “My love...I needed to see you.” His thumb lovingly brushed over your cheek, the pad of it briefly touching your lips.

There was so much you wanted to say, so many things you needed to tell him and hear from him, but in this short moment you were only a girl and he was a boy. Your boy.

 He met you right in the middle, delicately holding your face between his hands as your lips met, desperately kissing you as his taste exploded in your mouth once again. He kissed you drunk, enveloping all your senses until all you felt was him. His lips were dry and salty from the long flight over the clouds and along the coast, your runny noses sliding against each other, but it was perfect.

Your heart was mended with every little sigh into your mouth, his long lashes brushing over your cheeks, your hands tangling in his hair…

You thought that maybe, in another lifetime, the two of you could’ve been able to stop the war.

Another part of you knew that you always had been damned, cursed.

You blinked into the starless grey sky above you as Jace began to ravish your neck with wet kisses and you thought of the old saying passed on from generation to generation.

Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin.

On which side would yours land if you ever lost him?

On which would his land when it finally sank in that he could never have you?

[landograndprix]

╰┈➤ ❝ desire us • l.n c.l ❞ i

part two

➪ life changed after you decided to go through it as a single woman, offering your daughter the best life she deserves, focusing on work, friends and family but damn, that guy.

➪ life is good and so is your 'friendship' with lando

➪ mom!reader x dad!Charles x lando

➪ book two is here & im so so sorry it took so long :( this takes place 2/3 years after desire. I kept the taglist from the first part of this series but let me know if you don't want to be tagged anymore. Comments and feedback are welcome <3 **I fucked up with Shangai gp and Suzuka, please pretend you never saw that 😭

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y/nusername

📍 Monte-Carlo, Monaco

liked by manon_roux, charles_leclerc and 578,982 others

y/nusername meeting manon's mini 👶🏻

tagged manon_roux

view all 1,212 comments

norrizz welcome to the world manon's mini! <3

milliexoxo he's here! Will drop by soon 💙

↳ manon_roux still in florida with your boy?

milliexoxo yessss ☺

logansargeant what's his name, logan?

manon_roux boy you wish :')

logiebear still not over the fact logan is a part of this silly ass friend group 😂

norry4 congrats to Manon & Alice 🍼

joris__trouche bienvenue petit garçon 💙 (welcome baby boy)

landooooo zoe would make a great big sister 👀

↳ carlandooo bet lando would love to volunteer 👀

landooooo lando give y/n a 2nd baby pls 😭

norrisgp what the actual fuck is wrong with you guys?

landonorris thanks for the nephew 💙

landonorris his name's lando right?

↳ alicedidier 🖕

landonorris classy

yukisan MANON HAD A BABY?!

↳ landoscar girl her and her wife have a whole football team already 💀

yukisan WIFE?!

charles_leclerc bébé, tu es déjà tellement aimé 👶🏻💙 (baby boy, you're so loved already)

leclerc_16 all these men in the comments having massive baby fever lmao

charlos16 I personally think Charles and y/n should give zoe a sibling

↳ norry4 leave them alone jfc

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y/nusername

📍 Australia

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 462,781 others

y/nusername straya 🇦🇺

view all 1,222 comments

oscarpiastri would've given you a tour if you'd told me you were here

↳ y/nusername I've been here before, I know my way around :')

oscarpiastri I guess what i'm trying to ask is; do you want to hang out?

y/nusername no, I only want to hang out with lily

oscarpiastri that's fair and totally understandable

landoscar I love them your honor 😭

norrizz just two girlie girls living their best lives 🥺

charles_leclerc c'est définitivement ta fille 😂 (definitely the your daughter)

↳ arthur_leclerc deux divas (two divas)

y/nusername tu devrais peut-être te regarder dans le miroir une seconde ;) (maybe you should look in the mirror for a second)

joris__trouche trois divas dont Arthur 😂 (three divas including Arthur)

y/nusername fais-en quatre parce que tu es le plus grand de tous 🤣 (make that four because you are the biggest one of them all)

norry4 can't wait to see your pretty face on TV again <3

milliexoxo thanks for the invite..

↳ y/nusername you're welcome 😘

logansarge mom abandoning her child again lol

hamilt44n pls continue to humble Danica this season 😂

sharl16 I'm counting 3 adorable koalas in this post 🐨

landonorris do you want to build a snowman?

↳ y/nusername no

landonorris oh ☹️

y/nlando please y'all still so cute :(

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y/nusername

liked by manon_roux, oscarpiastri and 413,678 other

y/nusername osc & co.

tagged: milliexoxo, oscarpiastri, landonorris

view all 1,319 comments

mrsnorris interesting

oscarpiastri knew I was being watched

norrisfour in the mclaren garage again? Interesting indeed 👀

↳ bott_ass she was in Oscar's side of the garage, calm your tits

norrizz yall need to chill out, she's with mclaren, ferrari and williams most of the time. She's friends with their drivers. Give it a break.

logansarge what the hell millie, a mclaren hoodie?! 😭

↳ milliexoxo I'm sorry, it was the first thing I found in y/n her suitcase!

landoscar it's alright bestie, we know it's your favorite team <3

milliexoxo don't tell my bf :(

charlos16 dinner with lando you say?

maxfnorris where's zoë?

↳ sharl16 she's got a dad too yknow?

maxfnorris I never see them together

sharl16 then you need a pair of glasses cause youre blind as shit, Charles loves to show off his daughter 💀

landonorris starting to feel you're a bit obsessed with osc

↳ y/nusername just a bit?

landonorris a bit too much

manon_roux same 🥰

y/nusername yeah, don't you just want to pinch his cheeks and ruffle his hair?

manon_roux i just want to kidnap him and put him in my basement

oscarpiastri this is getting weird now, should I be worried?

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y/nusername posted to their story

manon_roux replied to your story

manon_roux

What are you doing in London?

I mean I know why you're in London but want to see if you're going to be secretive about it again 😂

y/nusername

?

manon_roux

No shame in visiting the people you'll call your in laws in a couple of months 😉

y/nusername

Don't you have a newborn to look after?

manon_roux

He's taking a nap

If he let's me, I'll have 20-30 minutes to annoy you

Are you staying at his place?

y/nusername

I hope Noah keeps you up at night

manon_roux

He's got a one bedroom flat, right?

y/nusername

He's got a couch

manon_roux

lol and who's sleeping on it? You?

He's not letting you sleep on his couch and you're not letting him sleep on the couch either

y/nusername

People can sleep in the same bed without anything going on

We did it before

manon_roux

we never dated nor do we still have feelings for each other

y/nusername

I'm glad you know how I feel

manon_roux

Bubs you're an open book to me, it's written all over your face

Even your baby daddy is trying to get you two back together

y/nusername

what?

manon_roux

oh c'mon charles is trying so damn hard to get you and lando back together, don't play dumb with me 😂

you meeting up with mum and dad norris? 🥰

y/nusername

You've been hanging out with millie too much

manon_roux

and you've been hanging out with my wife too much because why are you ignoring my questions?

y/nusername

Suck my nonexistent dick babes

manon_roux

I tried for years babes but turns out your into British goblins :(

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Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @softboystarkey @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @harrysdimple05 @minkyungseoki @pretty-little-bunny382728 @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @severewobblerlightdragon @cherry-piee @namgification @mycenterfold @devineendevers @celestialend @jsjcue @d3kstar @themislovesf1 @geehsf @mehrmonga @gentlemonsterworld

Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10 @bored-brunette2 @i83andrew @mcmuppet @justdreamersdream

Desire taglist; @fangirl-dot-cm @sainzluvrr @writingworlds @chezmardybum @lewisvinga @xjval @fanficweasley @rockyhayzkid @aundercover @thecubanator2 @minchedchilli @crimeshowjunkie @alisoncasey21 @eeviepepi08 @shamelesspotatos @sleepybrokenmelle @leireggsworld @janeholt3 @iamahalicinationn @dessxoxsworld @kapsylia @22yuki @dark-night-sky-99 @sheslikeacurse @nerdreader @norwayxo @sunny44 @honeymoonelvis47

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch

Chapter One: My Dream

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Let's celebrate the first episode of season 2 with a new story! I'm publishing this before the show airs, so let's say a tentative prayer in case the first episode is Blood & Cheese. Thank you for reading! (⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡

Chapter Warnings: sexism (it's a patriarchal feudalistic society), brief descriptions of childbirth and death related to it, Alicent being delulu.

When Viserys Targaryen's wife, Aemma of House Arryn, had failed pregnancy after failed pregnancy, a girl was a welcomed result. It proved not only to Aemma herself and her King Husband that she could produce a child but to the realm that there was hope for a son, a much-preferred result.

“My dreams, my dreams! What has become of their sweetness? What indeed has become of my youth?” - Eugene Onegin by Alexander Pushkin

If a daughter were to be born seconds before a brother, it did not matter. He was the heir. If she was born decades before a boy, it did not matter. He was the heir. Or so the realm believed until the reign of Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Son of Baelon and Alyssa Targaryen, Grandson to the Old King Jaehaerys.

Queen Consort Aemma Arryn died in pursuit of something she could not control, screaming, wailing, begging her husband not to cut her open, but he did not listen, for the birth of a son was more important than the life of a woman.

The infant Baelon Targaryen died a day later, leaving King Viserys a widower with only a daughter with the same fair skin and hair as the woman he murdered. The woman who laid slain on her birthing bed, bright blue irises now glassy, blood pooling from her womb, was given a Targaryen funeral along with the Heir for a Day, as her good brother called him, her last surviving child whispering, “dragon fire” through tears, with the encouragement of the same man who lusted after her and the throne.

The result of a mother’s and son’s death gave way to grief and anger. Viserys, blinded by the insults levied against his dead child, broke centuries of tradition and named Westeros’ first female heir Rhaenyra Targaryen.

Daemon Targaryen was furious at the abuse of being cast aside for a girl of ten and four and took to Dragonstone, the rightful seat of the Iron Throne's successor, with his whore, Lady Misery, an enslaved Lysene sold into the sex trade that became the Prince's favorite mistress.

Daemon did not hate his niece. He loved his family far more than anyone believed, so he surrendered when the Realm's Delight flew on her dragon to confront her uncle.

Less than a year later, not nearly long enough to mourn the death of two people, Viserys Targaryen married Alicent of House Hightower, daughter of the Hand and dearest friend to his daughter. The King saw the union as an act of fortunate duty and desire instead of love. On that much, the young Alicent Hightower could agree. Perhaps, he thought, it was a way to ensure his daughter would always have her closest Lady around, but Viserys was a fool . He could not see past his blinding grief and selfish lust that he tore the two girls apart.

Rhaenyra Targaryen's mother was a girl her age, a girl she longed to have to accompany her on Syrax, explore the East, and eat cake, but that was never meant to be. The Gods provided as quickly as they took, and her lifelong confidant viewed her with such hate and distaste that Rhaenyra soon began to consider her the same.

“Stepdaughter,” Alicent called her at the Princess's wedding feast to Ser Laenor of House Velaryon. Her voice laced with enough venom, and her dress so green you would mistake her for a snake. This gave Rhaenyra a sickening feeling in her gut, which soon hardened into one of cool indifference.

And that was how they lived.

Silent and icy indifference as Queen Alicent walked through the Targaryen halls of the Red Keep in Hightower Green, birthing the King his first surviving sons and second daughter.

However, there was a moment of repreave in the Queen's and the Princess's glacial flippancy when her forgotten ally fell pregnant for the first time.

Alicent could not help herself from caring for her old friend during her first pregnancy. She quickly fell back into the role of her Lady, supplying Rhaenyra with food, oils, clothing, and occasionally companionship during the quarrelsome nine moons.

The Queen had almost found it within her heart to forgive Rhaenyra for her lies and false swearing beneath the Heart Tree all those years ago, and she did until the labors when she saw the brown tuft of hair atop a young babe's head.

At the time, Alicent did not have a moment to contemplate what that meant before her friend screamed, holding on so tightly to her hand that she thought it might break as the rest of the infant emerged. The babe's face was so purple and cord wrapped around their neck that Alicent nearly cried, fearing life had repeated itself. The nursemaids quickly cut the blue and pink veiny line that connected the child to its mother, turning the babe upside down and spanking it on the back until its cries rang out throughout Maegor’s Holdfast.

A girl.

There, screaming and curling their once lifeless fist, were you , the firstborn child of Rhaenyra Targaryen, only by a mere moment, finally breathing and wailing as they swaddled you in an embroidered black and red cloth, a boy soon following.

“What shall you name them, your highness?” the eldest midwife asked, nearly as out of air as Rhaenyra.

“We…” the princess breathed heavily, positioning herself in the birthing chair. “We had only thought of a boy with the help of Lord Corlys. Jacaerys,” she panted, her cheeks tinged pink, either from exertion or embarrassment from being so thoughtless. Alicent did not know.

The nurse holding Rhaenyra’s son passed him to her, all eyes lingering on that same flattened-down dark hair. “Shall we wait for the Prince, your highness?” another question, holding the unnamed girl.

“I think,” Rhaenyra groans, shifting her weight to account for the new one, “we shall be waiting for a while should my husband suddenly return from his travels.” She glanced at Alicent, watching her once closest friend pick at the skin of her nails. She grinned, a brilliant idea coming to mind as she ordered the maid to give her daughter to the Queen. 

Alicent's doe eyes widened as she accepted. She peered down at the tiny bundle before her, still crying, purple face now a deep red and full of life. The Queen did not know what came over her as she leaned, bringing the child’s blotchy forehead to her lips, inhaling the unique scent only a newborn has. She noticed the muscles around where the babe's brows should be twitching, opening her eyes to reveal a mirror of Alicent’s own looking at her.

The Queen forgot for a moment that she was not her own and that she should be alarmed that the child's eyes bore no resemblance to their parents. Yet the Queen continued to smile down at the small fidgeting bundle in her grasp, her arms wiggling themselves out of their confines to clench and unclench. The cries now became softer but still there. Sounds that used to cause Alicent great distress now soothe her uneasy soul like a salve to a wound. 

“What shall we call her, my Queen?” Rhaenyra questioned, a crooked smile on her face as Alicent broke from her revere. Her plush lips parted in surprise, looking as if a deer caught grazing alone in a field.

The Queen appeared bewildered, unprepared for such a monumental task; all faces turned to her. “I… I am unsure, Princess. I did not come prepared for such an honor.”

Rhaenyra kept the same lopsided grin on her lips, showing the tips of her white teeth. “Tis all mine. It's an honor to have the Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms name my first born daughter.”

“An honor I accept gladly,” Alicent rushed, worried that her refusal would shatter their peace.

She paused, pursing her lips in thought. Despite having three and another on the way, she had never named a child. Helaena was the closest she had ever gotten, a familiar name within the Reach but made to fit the traditional Targaryen spelling. Alicent would have something to herself, one tiny sliver of something that belonged to her, and she was unsure what to do with it. She was confident that Rhaenyra would be content with any name she chose, but she wanted it to be unique, to mean something more than just a word.

Alicent thought of her mother then—her darling mother, whom she barely had a chance to spend life with before a fever took her. A mother that her father said she looked like an extension of, and suddenly, only one name felt right.

The Queen was constantly conflicted about every choice she made, every move. From the food she ate to the clothes she wore, Alicent always worried herself over it, wondering if she had made the correct decision, but in this, she was sure. No man, woman, or God could sway her from this choice. It was right. The Queen could feel it in the marrow of her bones that it was so.

“Aelora.”

Aelora, my light.

The King came bursting moments later, a servant dressed in a crimson gown, white apron, and cap standing anxiously beside him. He immediately went straight into the room, brushing past his wife in favor of his daughter. Alicent felt a sour taste in her mouth at the notion, pulling the quiet lump tighter to her chest.

“A boy and a girl!” Viserys excitedly hollered, Rhaenyra passing Jacaerys to him. Anxiousness settled over the birthing chamber, the midwives and maids observing with worrisome eyes at the head of brown hair. “ Ah! And I see they have inherited my favorite cousin's hair.”

He held the newborn with a reverence Alicent had never seen with her own, and she stepped back into the shadows of the onlookers. She peered down, catching the babe's eyes shut and face slack, still with the fresh scent of birth. She brought you to her forehead again as she took in this brief moment of joy, nose nuzzling the infant’s as she grunted at the intrusion.

“Aelora, the Gods’ Light. My shining light,” she whispered so softly against the babe's satin-smooth skin that it drifted into the air like dust, lost in the wind. 

“Oh, and her eyes, too!” Viserys beamed, hoisting Jacaerys into the air as the wetnurses squealed in terror. “She will make a fine queen one day, and should the Gods allow it, you, a king.” Rhaenyra laughed at her father's antics, already planning the children’s marriage. She was too high on the feeling of birthing not one but two healthy babes, a boy and a girl, no less to care. Alicent's amber eyes flicked to her husband and then to your plump face, a frown pulling her lips.

Aegon had come quickly and without fuss. Though Alicent was merely a girl of ten and six when it happened, the moments leading up to it frightened her thoroughly. She worried her nails down to the quick, the pink fleshy beds exposed and bleeding whenever she would use too harsh of a grip.

She knew of what happened to Aemma Arryn, that the babe was stuck and couldn't turn to leave the womb, at least to the Maester’s belief. He gave the King a choice, not the woman who was writhing in pain as her body contracted, to either let the process play out with the chance that the child and his wife could perish or have him slice her open from hip to hip, dig through her guts and blood to pry the child out. Aemma Arryn had no voice in the matter from what she heard from the midwives, as her husband allowed a man to pull Prince Baelon straight from her womb.

Alicent did not want to face the same fate and prayed to the Mother day after day, night after night, until her knees were yellow and blue, and even then, she continued her efforts. She was alone in all this, with no one to confide in. Her father had told her to do her duty when she expressed concern. He assured her the King would allow no such thing if she did everything correctly. He offered no comfort, and Alicent longed for her dearest Princess. Her prayers were answered when that fateful day came, and the labors lasted no more than an hour.

She birthed a healthy boy with blonde hair and purple eyes, but even then, Viserys did not act the way he was now with Rhaenyra's children. A means to end all the uncertainty of an heir, her father said in words of solace. She hadn't understood what he meant then. Rhaenyra was the heir, crowned Princess of Dragonstone, and Lords swore allegiance to her across the realm. To Alicent, there was no uncertainty until there was.

Until Otto Hightower planted the rot that festered and spread in her mind that the girl she grew up alongside, the girl she spent so many days and nights with, the girl that had said she would forget her duty and fly off across the world eating nothing but cake with her friend by her side, would murder Alicent's children so they could not depose her reign.

She did not believe Rhaenyra was capable of cruelty, but then again, she had once considered her incapable of lying to her and was proven wrong.

She began to fuss as if the infant in her embrace could sense the Queen's unrest. Her delicate little face scrunched up as Alicent bounced her softly, cooing soothingly. She smiled despite her unpleasantness within, unfazed by the sudden outburst, unlike when Helaena had her fits as a child. Her daughter would have to meet her niece and nephew, along with Aegon. Aemond was too young. She wouldn't be able to keep a close eye on him.

Though he was half the size of Aegon when he was born, he had grown twice as fierce. At barely three years old, his nursemaids had to ceaselessly follow the moonlight-haired boy less than a step away lest he jump down a flight of stairs just to see if he could. Once, when Alicent dismissed the servants from Aemond's chambers as he readied for bed, she turned her back on him for a singular blink, and he opened his balcony doors and climbed over the railing to get a better view of the night sky. Alicent remembered how he kicked and screamed as she yanked him from the ledge, saying words and phrases she never knew, even at the age she was now.

“My Queen,” the wetnurse called like she had repeated herself as Alicent looked at the girl. “The young Princess needs her first feeding.” The woman held out her arms for her to hand over the fussing bundle, a calm but concerned expression on her face.

Alicent refused, curling her limbs as the babe squirmed, her cries becoming ear-piercing screams. She knew the child needed to eat but could not force her body to release the girl. It was as if her very bones denied the movement that was not keeping the hungry infant close to her. The fleeting thought that Alicent could feed the girl herself crossed her mind, but she shook it away, realizing the ludacrisy of it. It was improper for a woman of nobility to nurse their child. That's what the maids were for, the Queen told herself.

The wetnurse peered at her curiously, walking a pace closer, but Alicent stepped back as if she attempted to harm her. “The King has not held her yet,” she protested, looking towards her King-Husband in an attempt to prolong her time.

“All is well, Alicent. What kind of King refuses to let their babe grandchild eat?” he jested, tilting his head to the side playfully and exposing a gaping smile. It made Alicent want to vomit.

When she doesn't move to listen, the Queen stared at her husband like her silence could serve as a rejection of his words. Viserys sighed as Rhaenyra watched with piqued interest, wordlessly handing Jacaerys to another maid.

“Alicent, give her the child.”

She hesitated again, her brown eyes flickering to Rhaenyra when she did not offer for Alicent to stay while the maids worked. Once again, she mused bitterly, watching the infant intently as she relented. I give my dream away to you. A dream that was never indeed mine.

The Queen bowed to the Princess, congratulating her on the success as she took her leave, hand splaying over the swollen stomach of her emerald green gown. It felt too tight, the once smooth fabric now itching at her skin, the fine hairs on her arms catching between the threads.

How stupid she was to believe in Rhaenyra’s kindness. She felt like a girl again, the same girl who stood beneath the Weirwood, listening to her friend swear on her mother’s memory that she had not lain with a man, only to find out there was moontea delivered to her chambers.

A sudden kick was sent to the Queen's abdomen, halting her brisk pace as she doubled over within the pale redstone hall. Ser Criston Cole arrived moments later, helping her rise to her feet. She soothed the afflicted area with her palm, no doubt the cause being her own making. Despite the growing life inside of her, the Queen has now done it four times. Alicent believed the moment she laid her wide amber eyes on yours was the closest she had ever felt to being whole with someone in her life. It’s as if the child's very being was now a part of her, and every moment she was away, it felt as if she was missing a piece of her soul.

Rhaenyra flaunts and does as she pleases, lies, and tricks all she pleases. It made Alicent furious with a rage she had not felt for nearly a decade. Aelora will not become like her mother. The Green Queen will not allow it, even if she has to twist and shape the clay of Aelora's mind into something of her own. Aelora is her dream. She is the Gods' shining light, and Alicent will be damned if she allows Rhaenyra to blacken her glow.

Septon Eustace's Recount of Princess Aelora I Targaryen's Early Life

The young Velaryon princess, later taking her mother’s namesake, grew into a spritely and mischievous child, playing jests on her Septa and Prince Aemond with the aid of her brothers and the eldest of the Queen’s children, Prince Aegon. She did not develop into a traditional Targaryen beauty with blonde hair and violet eyes; instead, she had a golden chestnut crown with eyes to match. Many said she resembled Queen Alicent, though if anyone made the error of voicing it, they faced Princess Rhaenyra’s wrath.

Though her features were plain by Targaryen standards, the realm rejoiced in her beauty. Lords and ladies commissioned portraits of her countenance throughout the kingdom, proudly displaying a halcyon halo of red rubies adorning the top of her divine facade. The common folk coined the name “The Gods' Light” for the sweet girl. A glimpse of her was as close as one would get to the Maiden, and they cherished it whenever Princess Rhaenyra's faction made rare journeys to the Grand Sept.

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

I'm excited to write for my favorite war criminal, Visenya Incarnate, Aemond Targaryen. I'm just super happy to write Aemond smut! I'm also taking a different approach to this story because it will solely be based on the show (to the best of my ability), not the book, and will be released with the same progression. It will have accounts of the reader's life through the eyes of the Maester's. Of course, there will be some cannon divergence and whatnot, considering we're introducing a new character into the fray. This fic will also be a lot darker than what I've written in the past, including content such as childhood sexual assault and the after-effects of it, self-harm, depression, suicide, and unhealthy sibling dynamics/relationships.

This story is told from the second person's perspective. The reader only has a name for the sake of a title and the description of Strong features.

Y'all have no idea how fulfilling writing has been for me. It's given me purpose when I've felt like I had none. It's helped my mental health by giving me an outlet for self-expression and a good source of distraction from all the worries I have in life. I wish I could get paid for this!

I hope y'all will enjoy the story as much as I will writing it, and of course, thank you so much for taking the time to read this. You genuinely have no idea how much your support means to me, but I will continue to express it in the best way I know how. ♡⁠(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠)

Ps. Alicent's mom's name is unknown in the show and the book, so I'm creating a name that combines my original idea with traditional Targaryen spelling.

Pronunciation: Uh-lore-uh, Ae-lore-uh

Origin: Latin

Meaning: dream, dreamer, shining light.

Biblical Meaning: God is light, God's light.

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf

[restinslices]

Believe Me

Gwayne Hightower X Female!Reader

Word Count: 2792

Summary: Gwayne bumps into an old flame and smut ensues (from his pov)

Content Warning: Smut (so minors dni), fingering, handjob, cheating, light hair pulling, light degrading and praising, vaginal sex, public sex (I hate this but we move on😭)

Gwayne Hightower was only human, and as a show of this, he had made plenty of mistakes in his lifetime. “It is not worth the stress to beat yourself over what could have been” he'd always remind himself. “What could've been if you chose the right card, woke up earlier, listened more, aimed a little to the left, ate breakfast…”. 

The list went on and on because humans make mistakes all the time. He had vowed to himself that he would never stress over these mistakes. What good would it do? The mistake was already made. 

That's the thought process he tried to keep as he made his way inside the Sept. He was not afraid of the gods deciding to punish him for the sins he was sure he had committed, or of the building crumbling down and burying him underneath. The current war going on wasn't even on his mind. 

What was on his mind was a singular person. And as he got closer and closer to the room he knew they'd be in, the thick fog covering their face in his memories started to move to the side. 

Further. 

Further. 

His steps began to falter when he finally saw them. When he finally saw you. 

You were sitting on the bench, back to him, candles aplenty in front of you. Just as he thought about turning around and leaving, you took off your cloak and set it next to you, revealing the open back to your dress. 

You were inviting him. Discarding your defenses and showing that you were open to being around him again. Or mayhaps he was delusional. Either way, he found himself sitting on the other side of you soon enough. 

“Is that really a dress appropriate for the Sept?” he tried to joke with you as he lit a candle. If it was a different time, you would've lightly shoved him and said something like “oh fuck off” while laughing. Unfortunately, that time had been long forgotten. 

You looked over at him at once, and he wondered if for a moment you thought all this was a dream. You looked him up and down, and must've realized this was all real. “Gwayne…” how could you say his name in such a delightful way? 

The surprise from your eyes soon fell, and instead it filled with resentment. “Gwayne” you said more lifeless. “Anyone is welcome here. A common whore could come, wearing hardly any clothes and she'd be welcomed”. 

“I'm sure common whores do lots of cumming”. 

You simply rolled your eyes at him and looked in front of you. “A jest, dear friend-”

“We are not friends”. 

He had known it, but fuck did it hurt to hear. It was said so coldly and cruel, like you wanted it to sting. It definitely had, though he wouldn't show it. 

“We have not talked in some time” he said with his eyes still trained on you. How could you sit there and be so beautiful? Even with a scowl and pinched eyebrows, you looked marvelous. “When I heard my sister had summoned you here as well, I admit I was a bit surprised”. 

“Why? Alicent is in need of a friend. And I am her friend”. 

Well you really knew how to rub something in, didn't you? “I tried writing to you-”

“Years too late” 

You snapped, eyes glancing over at him. Okay, mayhaps you were right. Mayhaps he should've wrote to you sooner, but he eventually did! That had to be worth something! “Why are you here?”. 

“I thought anyone was allowed here”

“It is the gods you should be speaking to. Not I”

“It is not the gods I crave” he spoke honestly. You simply scoffed in return and looked away again, causing him to sigh. “I should have wrote to you sooner, but I did eventually. And I am here now-”

“To do your knightly duties” you said dismissively. “Not to speak with me”. 

“I can do both!” his hand found your arm and he pulled you close to him, making your legs press against each other. He could hear how your breath hitched. He could see the way your chest rose and fell as a reaction to his touch. 

His fingers inched closer to your chest. “What are you-” you began to say, but the words got caught in your throat when he wrapped his fingers around the long necklace that fell in the long V neck of your dress, right in between your breasts. 

“You've kept this?”. 

Years ago, Gwayne gifted you a necklace with a large green pendant, and while the chain was completely different, the pendant was still the same. “Did the chain break?”. 

You shook your head. “No. My husband gave me a new chain. Said gold fit better”. 

He frowned. 

Your husband. Some boring guy with brown hair, brown eyes, patches in his beard and a voice that was far too high for a man. He had no real talents or skill, besides money and luck. That's how he landed you after all. 

“It is best for both of us that you do your praying and then leave. I imagine I will not be ready to leave anytime soon”. 

The moment his hand fell from your arm, he felt cold. He forced himself to look away from you and focus on the candle in front of him. So what was he to do now? Just let you go? Go off to war and accept that he'd likely never see you again? Accept you'd hate him forever?

“No” he answered himself out loud. “No. I am to just accept that your husband messed with a gift I gave you?”. 

“I beg your pardon?” You asked in disbelief. “That is what you are focusing on? That your gift was ruined?” You scoffed again and rubbed your temples. “Selfish as always. Nevermind to ask how I feel or how I have been. No. It is just stupid jokes and being offended. Did my gift put a dent in your pocket? Here then!”. You unclipped the necklace, grabbed his hand and shoved the necklace on his palm. “Take it!”. 

His chuckle afterwards was filled with bitterness. Here he was, trying to patch things up, and you kept making it difficult. “This resentment you hold towards me is ridiculous. I took too long to write to you after your marriage, but I'm here now. And this-” he set the necklace on the table. “This is a gift I gave to you”. 

“My husband gives me plenty of gifts. I do not need anything from you”. 

As if his gifts were anything special. Probably cheap and terrible material. You deserved more than that. You deserved more than some husband that probably couldn't even make you laugh the way Gwayne had. 

“Husband this. Husband that. Does shoving him in my face excite you?”. Maybe he had no right to be angry, but he was anyway. 

“I wouldn't be able to if you vied for my hand when you had the chance!” You snapped. For once, Gwayne had no response. No witty comeback or complaint. He just watched you as you realized what you said. You huffed, grabbed your cloak and got to your feet. “Good day Gwayne”. 

You managed to make it a few feet away before he finally spoke. “I should have”. Regret had gnawed at him for years now. He let you slip away. Why? Because he wasn't sure he could be committed. Did he love you? Yes. Was he a young man that wasn't fond of becoming a husband and a father? Also yes. 

“You have to understand,” he began as he rose to his feet. “Marriage was not something I wanted at the time”. 

“And you think I did?” You asked in disbelief. “Marriage was not something I wanted either. It was forced upon me. Marriage terrified me, but I knew that if I was married to you, marriage wouldn't be that bad. You were my best friend and lover. And what did you do, Gwayne?”. He couldn't make the answer leave his lips. The words felt like they were stuck in his throat and refused to go anywhere. “You left me” you answered for him. “And once I was married, you avoided me. Then years later you decided you wanted to speak again. What were you too busy doing? Drinking and fucking whores?”. 

That made him laugh. Drinking? Maybe a little. Fucking whores? It's not like he truly wanted to. It made time pass and got an orgasm out the way, but he didn't want painted whores. He wanted you to be under him. He wanted to feel your soft skin on his fingers. He wanted to hear his name pass your sweet lips over and over again until that was all he heard. 

“I made mistakes-”

“Mistakes?!”

“I made terrible choices” he corrected. “Awful ones. But you and I both know that I have always wanted and will always want you”. Those words seem to catch you off guard, which he assumed because you didn't push him away when his hands found their way to your hips. 

His face inched closer and closer to yours until your lips just barely brushed against each other. Unbeknownst to the both of you, your hearts beat as one in that moment. Both hearts erratic but somehow managing to be erratic together. 

“I want you desperately. And I know you want me…”. 

The remaining bit of space was broken and your lips finally met. Your lips responded to each other immediately and your arms wrapped around his neck. Finally… after so long you both were able to taste each other again. 

Reality came crashing down faster than he wanted it to. 

You shoved him away, making him stumble. You breathed heavily and wiped at your lips. “Won't change what happened” he said to your displeasure. 

“You are selfish” you spoke through gritted teeth. “You are an asshole” you shoved him again. “And a liar” another shove. 

Each insult you gave was followed by shove, and instead of feeling insulted, he felt something else. 

Desire. 

That desire is what led to him grabbing you, switching your positions and pushing you onto the table where no candles were. 

Your expression was full of shock, but not disgust or fear. Good. He never wanted to frighten you. What frightened him a little bit though, was his growing erection. Something that made no sense since all you had done recently was insult him. Gods, he was way more desperate than he realized. 

“Get all your insults out” he said as his thumb traced your lower lip, “tell me how much you hate me”. 

A request you had no problem fulfilling. 

“You are a vile man. Seducing a married woman in a Sept. Is there a line you're not willing to cross?”. 

There it was. Just like that. 

He began leaving open mouth kisses down your neck, eagerly awaiting what you'd say next. 

“You are a defiler full of sin”

“I am, aren't I?”. He held you in place as he bit and sucked at a particular spot on your neck, and a small smirk formed on his face when he heard you moan in response. “It seems you enjoy my sins” he taunted. 

“I hate you. No. I despise you. Even that word can't describe how I feel for you”. 

Gwayne untied your dress strap and unbuttoned the buttons in the front, allowing him to free your breasts. 

“I loathe you”. 

“I'm sure” his words dripped in sarcasm. Loathe him yet you allow him to undress you. Loathe him, yet you allowed him to fondle your breasts, then lick and suck at one of your nipples. That's how your little game continued. You'd throw insults at him in between your gasps, and he'd lick and suck harder at each breast, showing them both proper attention. His erection pressed against his trousers, it becoming almost painful. 

You lifted your leg up in response to him twisting your nipple, and your knee brushed right against his erection. He moaned around your breast before he even realized what had happened. His own eagerness being exposed only dawned on him when he felt your palm fully press against him. 

Your other hand pulled his head back by his hair, causing a sharp but welcomed pain to burn at his roots. “I always knew you were pathetic Gwayne, but this?”, a soft breath slipped past his lips when you pressed harder against him. “You like when I insult you?”. He nodded. No point in lying. Still though, he didn't just wanna hand you all the power in your game. 

He hiked the bottom of your dress up and kept eye contact with you as his fingers pushed your undergarments to the side and made contact with your soaked cunt for the first time tonight. He watched you try to keep a stone face, but you couldn't hide the sharp inhale you did. “Seems like you've enjoyed our little game too. What does that say about you?”. 

“What does it say about you that you like being called pathetic?”. 

Gwayne chuckled. He looked you over, watching as you tried not to react to his fingers sliding in between your folds. “You're marvelous…” he said almost as if in a dream. 

You yanked on his hair again and pushed his trousers down, freeing his erection. “Is this when I say you're disgusting?” You taunted. Your hand wrapped around him and shamefully he almost came from that minor touch alone. 

“If it pleases you”. 

His middle and ring finger slowly but surely made their way inside you, all while he whispered praises in your ear. 

“You're so pretty like this”

“You're taking my fingers so well”

“Open up for me. Just like that. Good girl”. 

Your head fell on his shoulder and his fell on yours. The Sept filled with both of your noises as you both continued to pleasure each other with your hands. It was clear that that wouldn't be enough. The question was just who would bend first. 

“I've got you” he whispered before placing a gentle kiss under your ear. You lifted your head off his shoulder to meet his eyes, and while there was still lust behind them, there was clearly something more. 

Longing. 

“Do you really?” You asked. 

He answered at once, “yes. I swear to you on all the gods in every religion that I'm never leaving you again”. 

You swiped at his hands and pulled him closer to you until his tip was lined up with your entrance. “And what about my husband?”. 

Damn your husband. He'd cause an “accident” to happen if he had to. He wouldn't let a man like him keep him away from the one person who truly wanted in this whole world. “I will deal with your husband and I swear you will never be able to get rid of me. Do you believe me?”. 

He asked his question as he began to push inside you. Your answer got stuck in your throat, so instead you nodded in response. Your nod wasn't enough for him, but he'd address that later. For now, he kept whispering encouraging words to you to soothe the stretching he knew you'd feel. He kept telling you that he had you, that you were okay, that you were safe with him and always would be. 

When you finally seemed adjusted, he spoke again. “Do you believe me?”. You nodded. “Out loud”. 

“I believe you”. 

That was all he needed hear. Once he got confirmation, his lips found yours and he moved inside you. Was this an all around terrible idea? Absolutely. Was there a chance of getting caught? Yes. But neither of you could care less about that. How could that possibly be at the forefront of your minds when you were finally feeling each other in the way you both craved?

You both enjoyed each other, ultimately hitting your peaks while you were still connected, mouths swallowing each sound the other made, and foreheads pressed against each other so you could catch your breath. 

His hands cupped your face and he pressed a softer kiss to your lips. Of course there was still that sexual desire there, but he wanted more than to just fuck and be rid of you. He wanted to hold you forever. He wanted to tell you about his tales of knighthood over dinner, and hold your hand as you went on walks in the garden. 

“I swear-”

“I believe you”. 

You believed him. That was all he needed. 

For you to believe him and for you to give him another chance.

Bitch I hate this shit but I haven’t posted in awhile soooooo here we are😭😭. Also the way I forgot about that necklace-

[dr3amfyr-e]

brat. - j.v. ( w. 4.5k )

꒰ in which the boy you see every summer enrolls in the same university as you. ꒱ — modern!jacaerys velayron x reader

୨ ⎯ i cannot stress enough, football means ⚽️ not 🏈. childhood-friends-to-lovers, but you have to get through my 2000 word psychoanalysis and backstory first. light angst. mention of the death of a parent. lots and lots of talk about the velaryon-targaryen-hightower family dynamic. light make out action. reader's family is implied to be wealthy enough to have a summer home. almost everyone lives au. set in the uk, not westeros. omitted daemon rhaenyra marriage because there’s no way to to make it even semi-normal. realizing now i omitted daemon entirely erm sorry. pushing the laenor agenda bc he’s my favorite character. this is abhorently long. extreme overuse of the em-dash. uhh the perspective is wonky in a few places. will prob get a pt.2. ⎯ ୧

i had to write this twice. i'm offering this to you with shaking hands, like a peasent child begging for coins. i may write a part two because i have more to say, but i don't want to figure it out rn.

On the cold January morning that Jacaerys Velaryon-Targaryen was born, the media went into a frenzy. 

The Targaryens were old money, their fortune rooted a century back in good investments. Historically adept at finding their way into things, the empire had a string to pull in every industry. From art and law to technology and shipping, if business prospects looked good there would be a Targaryen investment.

And then there were the dogs — regal greyhounds, with long, thin bodies and sleek coats. The Targaryens bred them as far back as bloodline records went. The pups were never for sale; sometimes they were used as show dogs, and successful show dogs they were, but more often they were pets. It was a status symbol, to nonchalantly own such a coveted creature. 

The Targaryens were idolized in the public eye. They were all stunning, with sharp features and silver hair, and each member of the family seemed to possess a Midas touch. But, where Valyrian blood ran hot, so did the press. It was no surprise when magazines started to turn a profit from silver heads plastered across their glossy covers. It was the price that came with God-like aristocracy.

From editorials to gossip columns, people devoured the insider life of the untouchables. When Aemma Targaryen died, there was a four-page spread in nearly every magazine; complete with pictures and quotes. Business papers filled with opinion pieces about Rhaenyra’s inheritance claim to her family’s empire; magazines exploded with the announcement of her engagement to Laenor Velaryon, and subsequently Viserys’ marriage to Alicent Hightower, the daughter of his lawyer. 

When Jacaerys was born, reporters lined up outside of the hospital doors. There were cameras and microphones and crew trucks, and Rhaenyra hated it. It wasn’t the way she wished to welcome her child into the world — swarmed by people who didn’t know nor care for him.

Laenor had always been good at navigating the attention, and Rhaenyra was constantly grateful. So, when he pulled his gaze from the babe and steeled himself to deal with the onslaught of reporters outside, tears pricked at her eyes. Appreciation, exhaustion, adoration? She couldn’t be sure. 

Looking down at her son, she thought, he’s perfect. He had a smattering of dark hair, and he was quiet but not concerningly so. Wispy lashes fell upon his cherub cheeks, and when he eventually blinked up at her his eyes were dark. He looked nothing like her — she didn’t care. 

She refused to talk to anyone outside of her family, and had the curtains in her private room drawn. To expose her son, her heart, to the prying eyes of the bored masses with nary a care for his well-being was a nightmare. She wouldn’t have him exploited. 

At the time of Jacaerys’ birth, she and Laenor had been married for a little over a year. Laenor’s father, Corlys, managed the bulk of the import and export for Viserys’ company. Corlys was a good man, he hadn’t dreamed of marrying his son off. But Laenor and Rhaenyra were both in the same impossible situation: the wiles of youth mixed with the ever critical public. 

They had both fallen into scandalous relationships, both preyed on by paparazzi. If they married one another, it would save face for both of their families. Plus — both being the eldest and heir, this would clear the expectation of a dignified marriage. They agreed to leave each other to whatever youthful fun they wanted to have, as long as everything was discreet. 

Both the Velaryons and the Targaryens kept a summer home in Dragonstone, a private community in coastal Wales. It was the perfect place for Rhaenyra and Laenor to begin their life — far from her father, close to his parents, and out of the line of sight for any nosy journalist. 

The public eye had looked to other things by the time Lucerys was born, two years later. Again, Laenor dealt with the small gathering of reporters with the utmost grace, and Rhaenyra submitted a written statement. 

Alicent divorced Viserys that same year. 

As she watched her boys grow up, full of energy and life, Rhaenyra thought, there was no one better to parent with than her best friend — a title Laenor had rightfully earned. They hadn’t had much choice in knowing each other, and they certainly would never have chosen to be married, but he made a bearable roommate. They had things in common; they liked the same music, and the same men. They drank the same wine and frequented the same restaurants. And, they both loved their boys. 

As Jace and Luke grew up, they found the best company in each other — the school in Dragonstone was so small, though, that there were very few other options. They both played on the school’s small football team, and Jace took piano lessons while Luke learned to fence. Where Jace was driven by emotion, Luke was level-headed; where Luke was cautiously quiet, Jace spoke his mind. It was an ideal childhood, the Welsh coast was an idyllic backdrop to grow up upon, with the sea in their backyard. 

They were ten and eight when Joffrey was born, both excited for their new brother. Their mother brought him home, bundled in a soft red blanket. The boys sat on the couch beside Rhaenys and stared at him for upwards of an hour. 

Hardly a week had passed when Harwin Strong died. He was a family friend, a frequent presence in their home and life — Jace and Luke had been upset by this, of course. 

In time they came to understand the situation fully. Jacaerys first, fitting the pieces together with the evidence he found in the mirror. Neither Rhaenyra nor Laenor had dark hair, like he and his brothers. 

His matriline was uncontestable though, as he grew into himself. He possessed the same nose, jaw, brow, and high cheekbones that Rhaenyra wore. The comparisons between the two became more frequent as he grew older, and he found himself to be quite proud to look like her. 

Her attitude lived in him as well, the temperament she had been so notorious for as a girl festered in her eldest son. She had once been christened ‘The Princess of Dragonstone’ after flipping off a reporter at their summer home. Jacearys earned it for himself when he was fifteen, after loudly berating a reporter. He had been defending Luke, but no one seemed to care when they deigned him ‘The Prince of Dragonstone’. He took it with grace, claiming that he couldn’t help but be his mother’s child.

It instilled a sense of public propriety he strove to uphold. 

Rhaenyra remarried the same year — to Alicent Hightower — and moved her children from Wales to London. It took a while to adjust to the new life — Jace liked his new school, but he detested his step-brothers. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come around to the idea of living with Aemond and Aegon, who took so much pleasure in making he and his brothers miserable. 

After the first month, Jacaerys fell in brilliantly. He performed well in school, quickly being enrolled in the advanced literature and history courses. He got on well with his peers, and made a number of friends. He joined the football team and spent his Sunday afternoons learning piano concertos. 

Living in London made him a more publicly prominent figure in his family's legacy. He knew how to play his role as heir; he carried himself perfectly — confident and charming and elegant. He didn’t particularly like being in the public eye, but there was a certain sense of satisfaction when he did something to receive positive public attention. 

King’s Landing, much like where he had grown up, was a community reserved for the upper echelon. Situated in Northwest London, and surrounded by wrought iron gates, it was regal and dignified. The house had high, vaulted ceilings, large stained glass windows, and more than enough bedrooms. It rained more, Jacaerys noticed in the first month. When it had rained in Dragonstone he would watch the droplets bounce off the sea, where it lapped at the sandy bay. Here the rain splattered unceremoniously upon the pavement. 

For as wonderful as life in London had turned out, Jacaerys found himself longing for what was left behind in Dragonstone. Laenor lived there still, and while he called often and visited as much as he could, it wasn’t the same. Jace’s childhood bedroom remained, along with all of the memories in the house he grew up in. And his friends. There was an assortment of people he only saw between late May and early September; the children of the other seasonal residents. The number had dwindled in years past, with fewer of them returning for break — favouring more interesting places, like Ibiza or Rome, as they got older. 

Far too few of his childhood friends he kept in contact with, especially after the move to London. You were the exception. 

He was grateful, on days when it stormed in London, to receive a silly text or too-long voice note. It made things feel less dull — you had a way of doing that. 

He took to reading theory around the time he turned seventeen. It’s queer theory, at the suggestion of his cousin Baela, who lent him his first Judith Butler book. He finished it that weekend. 

His aunt Laena and her two daughters lived in London, and Jace found a close comrade in Baela. She played competitive tennis and listened to riot grrrl, she was much cooler than him and he knew it. Her bedroom held two massive bookshelves, and she let him pillage her collection for De Bouvier and Didion and Gay. Hours were spent lying across the floor in Laena’s house, studying, or reading, or talking. He enjoyed Baela’s company more than any of his school friends, favouring anything with her over anything with the boys from his football team. 

His youngest sister, Visenya, turned one around the same time. Baela, staying with Jacaerys while he babysat one night, inducted him into the eldest daughter club. 

“You’re so keen on driving your siblings around, and taking care of them. Plus, aren’t you your mother’s closest confidant?” She asked. 

True, Jace supposed. He was the oldest of Rhaenyra’s children, and the most responsible of his brothers and step-siblings. His mums both worked full time, they were busy but as involved as possible. Jace just did the menial things. He made Joffrey breakfast, picked Luke up after school, and watched Visenya when necessary. He didn’t mind.

Baela argued that he should mind. 

He had been a sensitive child, more so than his brothers, but it made him incredibly emotionally adept as he aged. So many boys his age prided themselves on stoicism, but that was never something Jace felt connected to. He always felt things too deeply to bottle them up — it accounted for the occasional temper that flared up when he was upset, but also how empathetic and kind he was. 

Jacearys was set to graduate with honours in the first week of May. It was three months before when college acceptance letters began to appear in the mail. He had applied to a number of places, and been accepted everywhere. The University of the Vale was where his hopes hinged though. 

Just after Valentine's Day, it showed up. The envelope was wide and stuffed full, and sealed with a wax stamp. His acceptance letter was on the very top of the stack of papers — the thick paper heavy in his hands, as he admired the blue printed border and silver flocking. 

Rhaenrya sorted through the informational packets while Jace reread the letter. Part of him couldn’t believe it was real.

He sends you a picture of the letter, and you respond in kind with one of an identical nature. 

You hadn’t planned to go to the same university, but it certainly was a happy coincidence. 

After graduation, he was beyond excited for the reprieve that Dragonstone granted. The promise of early morning hikes, and evenings spent on the beach — the once empty house, full of life and bustling with bodies. 

You were the first thing Jacaerys thought to look for when he set his bags down in the summer home. 

It was late May, and you were guaranteed to be out of school. I’ll text after I unpack, he thought, pulling clothes and books from his suitcase. 

His room in Dragonstone had once been his childhood bedroom. The walls were a warm tone of white, and the small bed was still covered with his blue and white checkered duvet. Piano scales and pictures of his brothers and friends adorn the walls. There was a soccer trophy on the back edge of his desk, something he had won when he was eleven. It was stuffy from nine months of stagnance, but familiar all the same. 

He pushed the curtains back from the window to let sunlight filter into the dusty room, gazing down at the beach, when he spotted your figure. He was quick to rush downstairs, out the backdoor, and across the stone path that leads from the patio to the beach. He greets you with a call of your name and a tight hug, sunglasses perched atop his head and linen shirt half buttoned. 

It had been a year since he’d last seen you. You had kept in touch during the school year; Jace favoured Snapchat and FaceTime, delighted with the pleasure of seeing the mundane things you were up to. There was a nearly constant text thread, and voice memos passed back and forth. But, it all paled in comparison to physical company. 

He abandoned his housekeeping duties, keen to sit on the beach and talk. And you did so for hours, about everything and nothing. He tells you about his last year of school and listens as you do the same. When the sun dipped past the treeline, he leaned back on his elbows, watching the water crest on the sand. He felt more at ease than he had in a while, enraptured by the ease of your presence. The conversation flowed, there were no awkward lulls and no pressure to talk about something dignified. It was comforting to be so close to someone who didn’t see much of his life in London — you knew the best version of him. 

Your friendship had always felt like that, from a young age. On days that smelled of sunscreen and sea salt in his mind, you would meet in the mornings and depart past dark and then do it again the next day, never tiring of each other. Your parents knew his, so you had always been welcome in his home — invited or not. You had shared a bed during sleepovers, drunk from the same cup, and fallen asleep on the couch during movie nights countless times. Quick glances and imperceptible expressions were a language you communicated in, reading each other without words. In your presence, Jace was the most comfortable.

The summer slipped away as it always did, taking long nights and leaving memories of sand and sunshine. The days were ambled away in the water, on rocky hiking paths, or in the meadow that sat a mile away from all of the homes. 

Jace had started The Hobbit before school ended — most days he found himself sprawled out in the park or on the beach, reading. He had also taken to running with his dog, Vermax, in the mornings. He relied on the serotonin boost to start the day, and with no football to play a jog was a decent alternative. 

When the summer drew to a close, the typical melancholy that befell the return to the real world wasn’t present in Jace’s mind. He presumed it had everything to do with the fact that he would see you every day now

You have one college class together — a nine a.m. medieval literature discussion. 

Clinging to familiarity in the new environment, he glued himself to your side for the first week of classes. He memorized the way to your dorm, meeting you outside every morning to walk together to your first lessons. The meandering conversation was a good start to the day, and he silently relished in your tired eyes and quiet voice, not yet used to the early schedule. 

On Friday he all but begged you to come back to his dorm after the discussion; it was your only class that day so you had given in. You hadn’t seen his living quarters yet, and he wanted to spend time with you, worried for when your schedules would fill up and you would lose room for each other. 

The discussion had been mind-numbing. You reviewed the same syllabus as the lecture, and went over the same rules and policies as every other class. With the thirty-five minutes remaining, the teaching assistant made everyone watch an incredibly monotone video about the history of medieval England. 

Jace linked his arm into yours in the hallway after class, pulling you to the doors. The cool morning air was refreshing, waking you up more as you walked across campus. His dorm building was new and modern, seventeen floors with grey siding and big windows. It was private housing, clearly expensive. 

He had a single room with an adjoining bathroom and a small common space. The walls were typical dorm white, with laminate wood flooring. Joffrey’s school photo is hung on one wall, the frame clearly decorated by the child with glitter and string. Scattered across the other walls were photographs in thin silver frames, a large world map, a clock, and a cross-stitch of a rainbow stag beetle.

Sitting on the couch, you observed the unframed photos that lay across the coffee table, inspecting a leggy grey dog as you plucked it from the pile, “Who is this?”

Jace leaned into your side, gazing at the photo, “My mum’s dog, Syrax,” He reached over you to tap the picture, “Syrax is my dog’s mum.” 

He slipped his hand into yours as you walked with him to his second class of the day.

In the third week of school, Jace asks you to attend a mixer for a pre-law society with him. He doesn't know anyone, and doesn't want to be alone at the party. You meet at his dorm at a quarter-to-six so you can walk to the event together. 

The dress-code is emi-formal, and when he opens the door to you his hair is slicked back with water and he smells like his cologne — musk, sandalwood, and amber. 

“Are your clothes pressed?” You ask, grinning at his freshly ironed slacks and the three buttons undone on his shirt. 

He rolls his eyes, locking the door behind him as he escorts you down the hallway. The walls of the elevator in his dorm are mirrored, and you laugh at him when you catch him taking pictures of himself. He makes you take one with him, and sets it as his lock screen. 

The mixer was in the dean of law’s massive house, buzzing with young people in smart outfits. Jace abandons you about fifteen minutes in, spotting a group of poli sci majors from his social psychology class. 

From his childhood spent between galas and his mother’s business meetings, Jace was good at navigating these situations. He was charming, leveling the professors with charismatic smiles and confident posture. He was good at holding an intelligent conversation, discussing theory and strategy. 

You were on the patio, watching the stars, when he found you an hour later.

His arms brushed yours as he leaned against the railing, “Sorry for leaving you,” His voice was quiet, and he stared at your profile, watching the way the moonlight illuminated your skin. 

You wave his apology off and make him buy you coffee in recompense on the way home. 

You’re stood talking together on the quadrangle a few weeks later, a cup of hot chocolate warming your mitten-less hands, when you realise just how cold it’s gotten. It's just too cold for the thin jacket that you try to sink further into, hiding from the wind that bites at your delicate skin.

Jace watches you shiver, observing your lack of appropriate attire. 

“Are you cold?” He asks, reaching out to run his hands up and down your arms, half to warm you, half to gauge how thick your jacket is. Not very. 

You nod, “I didn’t check the weather this morning.” 

He sighs with exaggerated exasperation and slides his arms around you, careful of the paper cup you held. Of course, he’s worn the right coat, and you feel the downy material of his hood against your cheek as he rubs your back to generate some warmth. You smell the cologne on his collar and the expensive shampoo he uses; he grumbled something about taking better care of yourself. 

Then, one particularly cold Friday morning he has forgotten his coat. Dressed in a hoodie, he mirrors your excuse from the week prior, smiling sheepishly — face flushed from the chilly air, dark curls blowing around his head like a halo. You take pity on him, slipping your scarf off. You loop it around his neck, tucking the ends down into the collar of his sweater, and leave him with a fond peck on the cheek; his skin is cold. 

He's appreciative, though the scarf does little against the cold wind cutting through his sweater. Still, he doesn't give the scarf back. 

With the cold, comes midterms. You’re the first person Jace asks to study. 

Your dorm room is closer to the central part of campus, and thus a shorter walk in the bitter cold. Jace brushes snow out of his hair as you unlock your door, ushering him inside. It's small. Two twin-sized beds, one on each wall, with nary enough room for two bodies between them; a desk is crammed into the small space between your bed and the window. You let him take the desk, spreading your books and notes out across your bed.

Your dorm is old, and the room has very little ventilation. Despite the frigidity outside, the room is stuffy and almost hot with both of your bodies inside. An hour into studying Jace shrugs off his heavy, knit sweater and pushes his glasses up into his hair. 

“What are you working on?” You ask, leaning forward. You’re bored, working on the same power point you started yesterday. You want to talk to him, though he doesn’t seem keen on the idea

He doesn’t look up from typing as he speaks, “Analysing The Art of War.” 

You shut your laptop, bent on distracting him, “The book?” 

He nods but doesn’t give a verbal response. 

“Who's that by?” You ask, fighting to suppress a grin

This time he does look up, glaring at you over his glasses, “Sun Tzu.” 

His tone is short, but it's amusing to annoy him so you grin, suppressing a giggle, “Sounds very interesting.” 

“What do you want?” He asks after a beat, still holding your gaze. 

You shrug, “Nothing. I’m bored,” 

The next time you study is even less productive, school work discarded on his floor in a matter of minutes. 

“We can’t be trusted to work together,” He tells you, watching as you calculate his astrological chart, geometry homework forgotten. 

You attend your first college party together in November. When you arrive at his dorm, he’s dressed much more casually than normal. 

You reach out to tug at the thin silver chain peeking out from his shirt collar, “This is fun,” You tease, giggling, “Aiming to impress tonight?”

He rolls his eyes in mock-offence, turning you around by the shoulders to shove you out of the doorframe. 

The lights in the house are dim, and they strobe slowly through different colours. It’s too dark and too bright all at once. The music is almost unbearably loud and people are packed in like sardines, it’s all incredibly overstimulating. 

When he senses your unease, Jace takes your hand, pulling you tight against your side to lead you through the throng of bodies. He’s looking for someone, but you’re unsure who, and he canvases the whole space before giving up on finding them.

The backyard of the house is quieter, but the ground still vibrates from the bass of the music. People are scattered about, smoking cigarettes and sipping from bottles of cheap beer. 

You both learn what Jell-O shots are, and make out in the bathroom back at his dorm. It’s not the first time you’d kissed each other, trying it a few times in your adolescence just to see what it was like. But this is different, tipsy and sloppy, as you giggle into his mouth. 

It's forgotten in the morning, when you wake up in his bed still dressed in your going-out clothes, head pounding.

But then it happens again, the week before finals.

You had stayed at the library far too late studying, leaving the pair of you to walk back to his dorm in the dark. It's positively frigid, cold December air whipping snow into your face. 

There are still snowflakes in your hair as you shed the thick coat you’re wearing, pulling off your gloves and hat. 

There's a bottle of wine in Jace’s freezer, left by Aegon the weekend before. It's expensive and rich and red, and Aegon would likely skin you if he found out you were drinking it — but, that's part of the fun. There's a baking show on the small television, and you’re curled into Jace’s side to steal some of the warmth from his body.

When the program lulls he brings his hand to your hair, combing through the tangled strands. You pay it little mind, leaning into his touch as you watch a contestant on-screen whip macaron batter. His fingers slide down to your jaw, turning your head so your eyes meet his. He’s studying your face, cheeks flushed from the wine or the cold. 

The attention is odd, and you giggle nervously under his gaze. His hands come to cradle your jaw as he leans towards you, nose brushing yours. The air is charged with an unusual tension, his mouth a breath away from yours. 

When he kisses you, he’s slow and gentle, his whole body angled into yours. Everything feels warm, a welcome contrast to the weather outside, and you chalk it up to the glasses of wine coursing through your bloodstream. 

It's pleasant, different from times past; this certainly doesn’t feel like an innocent, experimental kiss. It's heated, tinged with passion. He uses the placement of his hand to ease your jaw open, tongue sliding slowly into your mouth. 

There's a vibe, something you hadn’t felt before with him. It's communicated through the gentle touch of his hands, and how his breath hitches when you kiss him back with the same sort of force. 

The moment is broken by the announcement of a winner on the television. His hands slide down, resting on your shoulders, pulling your frame into his. 

You don’t talk about it afterwards. 

[necronomicorn]

Scorned Sympathy ( Aegon II Targaryen x Reader)

Fandom: House of the Dragon, Aegon II Targaryen x Fem! Hightower! Reader

Summary: Alicent Hightower's sister has always hated the King, and transversely, he has hated her back. But, that all changes after he returns from Rook's Rest.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: none? I think, I don't know, its HOTD but mostly hurt/comfort and fluff

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They say that burns are a sacred death. The death of  dragon riders, honoring them among the living, and the dead. In his history lessons, Aegon had heard it was peaceful. Yes, there was supposed to be a screaming,  agonizing pain, but as flesh burned away, it took nerve endings with it, leaving them to feel nothing, numb. 

But Aegon hadn't been so lucky, he had only wished he had died back on the battlefield, died on impact of the flames. Then he wouldn't have had to suffer through spiraling to the ground, snapping his bones, or feel his armor being peeled away after it had merged with his flesh. He wouldn't have had to sleep nearly every hour of the day, waking up only to experience excruciating pain, relearning to walk when every step made him cry out in agony. 

The once comforting walls of his bedroom had turned into a torture chamber as he was forced to his feet by the Maesters, only to hobble around the confinements of those walls, good hand gripping the cane with enough force to drive splinters in his hands and cause his knuckles to turn white.

He cried out as the Maester pushed him into another step, holding him upright as best he could. Larys Strong stood in the patch of sunlight in the room, giving him an angelic halo, ironic as it was his devilish idea to make Aegon start walking so soon, only weeks after he had returned to the Red Keep.  

"Impressive," the club-footed man says, heads turning in his direction, "But I'm afraid you must work harder."

Aegon screams as Larys reaches around his other arm, cries of pain sounding like twisted laughter as together, they move him another step. Burned tissue stretched as they did, a blinding pain seeping through his barely-healed broken leg. 

The men pause in their persistence as the large bedroom doors swing open, silver-draped guards pushing them back to reveal the figure of Y/N, the youngest Hightower daughter. Her frame was draped in a long black gown, tied around her center with a golden chain that stopped several inches above the hem of her skirts. Long copper hair draped down her back, just as her eldest sister, yet that was where the similarities stopped. 

While Alicent was looked up to, a regal Queen of the realm, her sister had all but denounced her high-blood status, working in the streets as a herbalist, giving medicine to the poor, healing wounds, and delivering children. It wasn't until Viserys had died that Alicent welcomed her into the castle, for her protection, she had explained, though no man nor woman would dare to touch the 'witch'.

"Return the King to his bed, my Lords," the woman says, striding into the room, hands folded neatly in front of her gown. 

"The King must regain his strength, my Lady, he must practice," Lord Larys calls over his shoulder, dismissing her command.

Y/N smiles curtly at his defiance, "How would you like to disfigure your other foot, Lord Layrs?"

The man stops, struggling out from underneath the King's arm, "The King-"

"The King is too busy moaning in agony to give a shit about what you think," the woman interrupts, a boldness frowned upon in the castle, "Return him to bed, and leave us. I'm sure there are whispers to attend to."

Reluctantly, the Maester carries Aegon to his bed, allowing him to fall back onto the sanction of his covers. The Maester moves to lift the King's legs, despite his protests, earning a painful cry as they hit his sheets.

Vhisrya watches as the King rolls to his untainted side, arms curled up against his chest in defeat, body trembling as whimpers escape his scarred lips. The Maester exits quickly, Lord Larys slowly following, glaring at her with every step. It is only when she hears the large doors latch shut behind the men that she makes her way over to the King's bedside. He resembled a small child more than a man, curled around himself in loosely fitted clothes, eyes squeezed shut as his body shook.

He takes a ragged breath as he senses her presence beside him, eyes opening just the slightest to glare at the black-clothed woman, "Come to finish me off, witch?"

The witch makes no remark against him, only motioning for the boy to sit upright in the bed. He does so, grunting in pain, bracing himself on his good arm as he slides up to prop his back against the headboard. 

Y/N makes note of his trembling hands, the way he still insisted on putting up a bitter front despite not being able to move even a foot without collapsing in pain. It reminded her of his father. 

Regardless, she reaches for the buttons of his nightgown, pulling them apart hastily till his chest was exposed. Blistering red wounds stretched across the expanse of his left side, charred and black in some places, while in others, the skin had been cut away in jagged marks from separating melted armor from the King's flesh. 

"What-what are you doing?" Aegon trembles, fear lacing his voice. 

The woman's eyes move from his chest, to his face. He watched as they drifted from his swollen eyelid, to the top of his head, where silvery-blonde hair parted from vibrant burns, to where his ear once was, reduced now to a small lump that opened into his eardrum. He knew it was hideous, he wouldn't lie to himself, trying to persuade his own mind that he was still the beautiful boy the kingdom worshiped. He knew that if he healed, he couldn't even be seen in a pleasure house, not even the whores wanting to be fucked by a monster such as himself.

"Your grace?"

A soft voice draws him out of his own mind, one that was nearly unrecognizable coming from the woman beside him, "I have an ointment, one that should assist in healing your burns. But, I require you to remove your sleeves."

"Can't", Aegon grunts, talking becoming an exhaustion.

"I can assist you," the woman cooes, dragging the soiled fabric down his good arm first.

Aegon whimpers as her hand moves to his burned side, gently peeling the fabric from his neck, then down his shoulder, drawing near his bicep. He could feel the fabric stick to his skin, the pus that leaked from his wounds drying, attaching itself to the coarse fabric.

"I'm going to lift your arm," the woman says, earning a series of pleading "no"'s as she does.

The prince groans in pain, feeling the blistering skin stretch, muscle burning as she peeled the fabric away from his body, letting it pool around his waist.

Y/N could see the King's murderous gaze as she finished, pulling his arm back immediately, heavy breaths filling his chest, followed by shaking exhales. 

She makes haste, placing a mortar on the nearby table, filling it with oils and herbs, grinding it till the scent fills the room, overwhelmed by lavender. The King watches as she pulls a small vial from the pocket of her dress, opening it to reveal a nearly clear, thick liquid.

"What is that?" the King asks, the filth of his mind overpowering common sense.

Y/N looks back to the burned man, unaware he was watching her, "It's dragon saliva. Something in it prevents the dragons from being burned when they breathe fire, and proves itself to assist the healing process quicker than the Maester's brew alone. It only took me so long to bring it to you as your brother won't let me near his dragon, Sunfyre has not returned from Rook's Rest, and Helaena won't speak to me as she thinks I had something to do with your son's beheading."

Her last words come out as an aggravated shout, making the boy flinch. With a deep breath, she regains herself, carrying the mortar to his bedside, black dress fanning out on the sheets beside him, "I apologize, your Grace. You all think of me as some plague here to ruin the sanction of your home, yet Alicent refuses to let me leave the castle walls."

It was strange, hearing his mother's name be used so plainly, everyone else referred to her as the Queen, even Aemond and him referred to her as  "your Grace". 

Aegon clears this throat as the woman begins to spread the paste across his chest. It burned at first, but not to the level of the Maester's concoction. Perhaps dragon saliva was the key.

"She believes you would flee to Rhaenyra, aid her conquest for the crown," he grunts, intently gazing at the greenish mixture spread across his skin.

"And she is right," Y/N states plainly, "Rhaenyra is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, and you have usurped her crown."

"I could have your head for that," Aegon jokes, a faint smile, one of the first since he had returned, spreading across his lips. 

The woman smiles back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she continues to coat his torso, " I could have already had yours."

"Why haven't you, then?"

The hand that holds the brush hesitates, as Y/N searches for an answer. In all honesty, she has had many opportunities to kill the man, yet the thought never truly crossed her mind. She takes a deep breath before continuing her strokes, "You may be a monster- the sins you have committed are so terrible that you'd burst into flames if you ever set foot in the Sept. But, I know you did not choose to be King, just as I did not choose to waste away in this castle. I do not wish to punish you for something you cannot control, you have suffered enough."

Aegon says nothing, only faint whimpers coming from his lips. His breathing stilled as the woman traced a line of ointment across his face, delicately placing it across the edge where untouched skin met charred flesh. His body jolts as she accidentally brushes over an open wound on his cheekbone, where his helmet had melted, merging itself with his flesh. Despite how careful the Maester had been when removing it, deep gashes still marred his face. 

The King yelps in pain, eyes shut as the oils burn their way through his open wound, sending a new wave of intense pain across his face. His body curls against itself, a position he found himself in more and more often these days. But rather than digging the nails of his good hand into the palm of his fist, he found a softer, more delicate hand in his , softly stroking the back of his hand with her thumb, "I'm sorry."

Aegon whimpers, the comfort of her touch calming the scarred boy. It was rare that he obtained touches like these, not even from his mother, despite how much she claimed she loved him. No, she was more focused on being Queen than being a mother.  His wife was the same way, more fascinated with her bugs than her husband, only laying with him when they were forced to produce an heir, before returning to her own quarters in solitude. He would watch Helaena with their own children, interacting with them, holding them, reading to them, only wishing that his mother had done the same. 

So Aegon welcomes the warmth of the witch, clutching her hand with the intention to never let go until his scars had healed and he could hold his head with as much dignity as a true king. "Tell me a story," Aegon whispers, distracting himself from the pain that stretched across his body with every breath.

Y/N smirks, placing the mortar between her legs so she could continue placing the ointment with his hand still clutching her own. 

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful Princess, who was locked away in a tower guarded by a fierce dragon. Her parents, the King and Queen, missed her dearly, and declared that any knight who were to rescue her from the dragon's keep, would marry the lovely Princess.

Not far from the kingdom lived a beast, alone. He was happy that way, till a power-hungry Lord wished to take the beast's land for himself. Upset, the beast made a deal with the Lord, in exchange for his land, the beast would rescue the Princess from her dragon's keep, so the Lord may marry her. True to his word, the beast saved the girl, yet as they traveled back to the Lord's castle, the beast found himself falling in love with the Princess."

Beside her, Aegon's breath slows, muscles relaxing against her grip, yet his violet eyes stay fixated on the woman. He listens to her intently, soft voice ringing through the silent room, as airy as wind blowing his curtains in the night. 

"One night," Y/N continues, brushing the ointment across his scarred forearm, "The beast sought to confront the Princess, yet when he came to her cabin, he heard vile words coming from her mouth, ones solely describing such a monster as the beast. Furious, he gave her to the Lord, returning to his swamp alone. Yet, he couldn't forget the Princess, as even if she despised him, he loved her. So, he returned to the Lord's castle the night of the wedding.

As the sun fell that night, the beast watched as the beloved Princess transformed before his eyes, to a beast herself. Cursed by a witch many years before, the Princess turned ugly, monstrous, every night, the curse only to be broken by true love's kiss.

Together, the beast and the Princess slayed the Lord, and wed that night. Yet, when she kissed the beast, her appearance remained disfigured. The Princess then realized, that love's truest form was not based in beauty, but in happiness. She returned to the swamp with her beloved beast, and the two lived happily ever after."

Vhisrya finished her story with a smile, placing the brush back in the mortar. She looks down at the King, whose eyes were shut. For a moment, she thinks he has fallen asleep, but Aegon grunts, indicating he is still conscious, "Was there a moral to that story?"

He had only thought of the question after listening to one of Jaehaerys's lessons, one of the few times he was sober while the sun was still high in the sky. It made him feel like a child himself, curled along his tutor's side as she read him tales of past Kings.

The woman beside him rolls her eyes, placing her hand atop his own, "The moral is that even though someone may appear hideous, it does not make them a beast."

A deep flush overtakes Aegon's body, understanding her words. Still, he purses his swollen lips, "What if one's insides are as hideous- as hideous as their outsides?"

"Then that is truly a monster," Y/N replies, watching as the boy's face turns to a scowl.

A few moments of silence pass before the woman lets out a heavy sigh, "The beast was known for killing villagers set foot near his swamp, yet after he rescued his bride, he never killed again. He changed, Aegon, and you can too."

A chill is sent up Aegon's spine when she says his name. Like the rest of his court, she only addressed him "your Grace", and even when she did refer to him indirectly as "King Aegon", spite laced her words, bitter as poison. In every sober moment he had believed that she had hated him, yet her presence and aid in his time of need dismissed the notion from his mind entirely. 

Not even his mother had looked at him for this long, or made conversation so kind. Aegon had seen her, several times, hovering behind the Maester's as they tended to his wounds, yet she never dared to approach him, so close to his gnarled flesh. He couldn't blame her, he knew it was hideous, and the Queen's stomach was not meant to see such obscenities. 

In all honestly, neither should Y/N, but her previous line of work made her accustomed to such sights. The King swallows thickly, pain stretching up the left side of his neck, causing him to let out a small whimper. 

He feels the woman's hand stroke through his matted hair, hair that hasn't been brushed, or even washed in days. It shamed him, that he was incapable of keeping up his own appearance, needing the hands of servants to take the place of his own in combing his hair, washing him, dressing him, feeding him. 

"Will you stay with me tonight?" he whispers, discarding the last bit of dignity he held.

Y/N looked to the boy below her. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that she had never seen before, a glisten of sadness, despair, hopelessness. "Of course."

Aegon grunts as the weight shifts on the bed as she lays beside him, on his good side, not wanting to damage him in his slumber. The tormented King watches as she discards her jewelry on the furthest bedside table before fluffing a pillow to join him in the bed. Her long hair splays across the pillow as she grasps his hand, leaving several inches between the two of them. 

"Come closer," Aegon pleads, pulling gently on her hand, as much as his muscles would allow without excruciating pain.

"I don't want to harm you," Y/N says quickly, concerned etched in her features. 

"You won't" Aegon replies, sinking into the warmth of her body pressed against his own.

His body aches from his burns, the ointment only soothing his pain so much. It was nights like this, when Aegon couldn't sleep, when his body caused him so much trouble that he trembled and moaned until the morning sun rose. But as he curled against the woman, his pain began to subdue. He knew it wasn't literal, that her presence made his hurt go away, but he wished to believe it that simple, that she was his cure.

Y/N listened to his wheezing breaths slow as she held him, hand tight in her own. She felt the King's nose bury itself against the nape of her neck, a small grunt escaping his lips. She could feel his  chest rise and fall against her own as the King falls into a dreamless slumber. 

Darkness fills the room as the final candle burns low, the witch finally closing her eyes for her own rest, holding the broken, tortured boy in her arms, keeping him safe through the night. 

[cherryredlove]

☆ summer in sunspear ☆

Modern! au Gwayne Hightower x reader SMUT

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Your flatmate and best friend Rhaenyra invites you along with her group of friends on a summer holiday to Dorne. In the group is the gorgeous Gwayne. Is it the heat or is he checking you out?

Word Count: 2.2k

Themes: SMUT, very indulgent smut, rough p in v, praise, semi-public sex, creampie, content warning of alcohol, lots of fluffy love too

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You've been looking forward to this trip for weeks, but now that it's finally here, you can't help but feel a twinge of anxiety. After all, you're flying to Sunspear in Dorne with a group of people who are practically strangers to you. Sure, your best friend and flatmate Rhaenyra Targaryen will be there, but her friends are a mix of old schoolmates, some of whom you've only met in passing. You know that, just like Rhaenyra, they're all unfairly cool and chic.

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, stuffing the last of your essentials into your suitcase, when Rhaenyra bursts into the room with a vibrant energy only she possesses. Her long silver hair is tied up in a messy bun, sunglasses perched on her nose, and a grin spreads across her face.

"Are you ready for the best holiday ever?" she asks, practically bouncing on her toes. She flops onto your bed, grabbing your hot pink bikini from the bed and wiggling her eyebrows.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you reply with a giggle. "I'm just hoping I won't be the odd one out."

"Nonsense! Everyone's going to love you. Just wait until you meet them. Criston is a riot, Alicent is a sweetie, the siblings Laena and Laenor are the life of any party. Oh, and Gwayne is coming too—Alicent's brother. You remember him, right?"

Vaguely, you think. You've seen him at a couple of Rhaenyra's gatherings. Tall, handsome, with a laid-back charming demeanour that contrasts with his sister's quieter and more reserved nature. You recall his wry smile and the way he watches the room as though he's in on a joke no one else knows. There’s something about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on.

As you make your way to the airport, Rhaenyra rambles on about her plans for the week. She’s planned for days on the beach lounging in the Dornish sun and nights out on the town drinking. Your worries slowly dissolve in the anticipation of the warmth and adventure awaiting in Dorne.

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You step out of the airport into the sultry Dornish air, feeling the sun's heat embrace you like an old friend. The group has already assembled—Criston Cole, tall and charismatic, with a smirk and brash humour; Alicent Hightower, elegant and serene, her presence calming like the ocean breeze you can already feel; Laena Velaryon, with hair as wild as the ocean, whose laughter is contagious; and her brother Laenor, who immediately makes you feel at ease with a light hug and smile.

And then there's Gwayne.

You notice him standing off to the side, leaning against the huge rental car (thank the Gods Rhaenyra is rich), a lazy smile spreading across his lips as he catches sight of you. He has an air of effortless charm, like someone who doesn't need to try too hard to make an impression—and from the way his eyes linger on you and your heart races, it's clear that he's made one on you.

“Welcome to Dorne,” he says, extending a hand to help you with your luggage. His touch is firm yet gentle, and you feel an unexpected thrill at the contact.

“Thanks,” you manage, smiling back. “It’s good to be here.”

Rhaenyra claps her hands, pulling everyone’s attention back to her. “Alright, folks! Let’s get this party started!” Criston whoops loudly, winding his arms around yours and Alicent's shoulders, walking towards the car.

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The massive beach house you’re staying in is a dream come true. Nestled on the coast with a panoramic view of the glittering sea, it has enough room for everyone, plus some. The ocean breeze filters through the open windows, carrying with it the scent of salt and orange blossoms.

Your days quickly fall into a blissful rhythm. Each morning begins with a lazy breakfast on the terrace, the laughter and chatter of your friends setting the tone for the rest of the day. Rhaenyra is the queen of leisure, leading the group in a daily swim as soon as the sun reaches its peak.

One afternoon, as you laze under the sun, you find yourself alongside Gwayne. He's reclined on a deck chair next to you, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare. The two of you have drifted into a companionable silence, occasionally exchanging thoughts about the holiday.

“Do you ever feel like you belong in a place you’ve never been to before?” he asks suddenly, turning to you. The sincerity in his voice surprises you.

You nod, considering his words. “Yeah, I do. There’s something about Dorne—it's different from anywhere else.”

Gwayne smiles, his gaze thoughtful. “I think you fit here. With us.”

The words make your heart skip a beat. You hold his gaze, the air between you charged with an unspoken understanding.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Nighttime in Dorne is a different beast altogether. The group descends upon the local beach bars, eager to get as drunk as possible on zesty cocktails.

Criston, ever the instigator, orders round after round of drinks for the group, insisting on trying every concoction on the menu. The Valyrian Blaze cocktail is bright red, spicy, and strong enough to burn as it goes down, while the Winterfell Chill is a stark contrast, with its cool minty freshness. You yourself favour the delicious Dornish wines, the Stormlands sangria taking the cake.

You find yourself next to Gwayne again, both of you leaning against the bar, both trying a drink that seems to be some unholy blend of dragonfruit and tequila. The laughter from your friends fills the air, mixing with the sound of the waves crashing in the distance and tropical music playing in the bar.

"These are dangerous," you comment, swirling the colourful drink in your glass.

Gwayne chuckles, taking a sip from his own glass. "That's the point, isn’t it? To let loose and forget about everything for a while."

His eyes lock onto yours, and the intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine.

"I suppose you're right," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the night wears on, the drinks take effect. Everyone is dancing now, the rhythmic beats of the music vibrating through the air. You join in, feeling the weight of your worries lift as you move to the rhythm, hips swaying, and sandals gliding across the floor.

At some point, Gwayne finds you on the dance floor, his movements in sync with yours. There's a magnetism between you, an undeniable pull that keeps drawing you closer. The music slows, and without missing a beat, he slips an arm around your waist, guiding you in a gentle sway.

The sun is setting as you and the group make your way back to the beach house. The day has been long, but the energy is still buzzing among your friends. As you approach the entrance, you hear Rhaenyra’s voice rise above the chatter.

"Right, everyone, it's surfing and a seafood meal out tomorrow!"

Everyone sounds out their approval, and plans are quickly made for an early morning departure. But for now, the night is still young, and you find yourself wandering the grounds outside of the beach house, needing a moment to yourself whilst the others head to bed.

Or at least you think you're alone until you hear footsteps on the sand behind you.

"Couldn't sleep?" Gwayne's voice cuts through the darkening sky, smooth and inviting. He steps into view, and even in the low light, you can see the amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Just needed some air," you admit, sighing lightly. "It's been a long day."

He nods, falling into step beside you. Wordlessly, his hand slips into yours and guides you towards the Water Gardens that lie adjacent to the beach house. Together, you walk through the gardens, the scent of jasmine and sea salt heavy in the air. There’s a tranquillity here that contrasts with the vibrant chaos of earlier, and it offers a quiet intimacy between you and Gwayne.

"These gardens are beautiful," you muse, your voice barely above a whisper.

Gwayne stops walking, turning to face you fully. "They are," he agrees, his gaze steady on yours. "But not as beautiful as you." His hand comes up to gently brush some hair from your face and rests on your blushing cheek.

The words hang between you, heavy with meaning. In the next breath, he closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that is both gentle and insistent. It’s a moment that feels like it’s been building from the instant you laid eyes on each other, a culmination of unspoken desire fuelled by the Dornish summer.

Gwayne pulls you closer, deepening the kiss, and you can feel the heat radiating from him like the sun you’ve spent all day under. His hands are firm on your back, anchoring you against him in a way that feels both possessive and tender.

Before you realize it, you're backing up toward the edge of the garden where a small, secluded pool lies hidden among the lush foliage. The water shimmers under the sunset, inviting and cool.

Gwayne breaks the kiss first, his breathing uneven, eyes searching yours for permission. There’s a question in his gaze, an unspoken invitation to take this moment further.

You answer with a nod, slipping off your purple sun dress as he unclothes, and with a shared smile, the two of you slip into the water. It’s cool against your sun-warmed skin, a welcome reprieve. The coolness tingles against the building fire between your legs.

Gwayne pulls you into him again, his lips tracing a path down your neck as you wrap your arms around him. The water laps around you, creating a rhythm that matches the steady pulse of your heart. His hands explore your body with a reverence that makes you feel cherished, desired in a way that’s almost intoxicating.

Gasping lightly, you reach beneath the water to feel his cock, hard and thick in your hands. He moans against your neck, standing on the floor of the pool, pushing you up against the pool wall. You instinctively wrap your legs around him, moaning as his hardness presses against your aching pussy.

He looks at you, asking if he can continue. You nod slightly, feeling a shiver of lust as his hands grip your ass tight and his cock nudges against your slickness. He pushes inside smoothly, holding you tightly for what feels like an age as your pussy flutters around him. He murmers sweet words into your hair, caressing you, cherishing you.

"You feel divine, you look divine, my angel, let me make you feel good." Gwayne rumbles against your lips. You nod desperately, feeling so full and loved.

He thrusts against your wetness, sending the cool shimmering water rippling. Your head lolls back, lips parted, as Gwayne bestows kiss after kiss on your tender neck and collarbone as his cock pounds your pussy hard in a measured pace.

His fingers sneak between your legs to touch your clit reverently. Gwayne circles your clit delicately, and whilst you enjoy his worship, you want more.

You kiss him, hard, and bite his lip, not hard but enough to make his eyes widen.

"Gwayne," you beg. "Fuck me, please. I need you to show me how much you want me." Your pussy weeps as his hips slam harder. He leans over you, eyes ablaze and a smirk curling across his lips. You mewl helplessly.

"My angel, I'd love nothing more." He snaps his hips, rubbing your clit more urgently now. You feel the warmth of an orgasm licking inside as his teeth brand marks across your neck. Your fingernails scratch against his muscled back as Gwayne moans.

The water ripples quicker now as he fucks you hard and fast, kissing across your cheeks and nose.

"My pretty baby," he rasps. "So good for me, pussy so good for my cock. Gonna cum, gotta make you cum my angel."

You cry out in agreement, hips bucking wildly as his fingers and cock draw out a searing orgasm from you. His head falls to your shoulders as he cums, thick white cum filling up inside you.

You both stay there for a while, kissing each other softly and stroking hands through each others hair. Gwayne's eyes are shining in the moonlight as you seal your lips under the stars.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The next morning, the pair of you are greeted with whoops and hollers from the rest of the group as you walk into the kitchen hand in hand. You bashfully smile as Gwayne proudly kisses your cheek. Criston pats him on the back in congratulations.

"I'll make you an iced coffee." Gwayne says, pecking your lips. Laena pretends to gag but throws a cheeky smile at you.

Rhaenyra sidles up next to you, offering you a brioche, looking far too smug. You roll your eyes.

"Glad you came now?" She asks, hip bumping you. You glance over at Gwayne, who is chatting with Laenor but looking at you reverently.

"Yes I am."

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

AN: the way i was kicking my own damn feet writing this. it has been a scorcher in england today (at least for me lol) so got inspired to write a summery sexy fic for darling gwayne. check out my masterlist for more modern aus and sexy fun! send requests and feedback plz love u xx 🍒

[luneaticlab]

AMORE (Chapter 1)

Pairing - CEO!Jungkook x Secretary!reader (female)

synopsis- Never in a million years you thought you'd end up with your boss, in bed.

Word count- 1.4k

IMPORTANT NOTE - Hey guys, this my first fic. I promise I'll improve. love and feedback are always welcomed.

•I do not own any of the pictures•

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

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"come again?"

hesitantly, you repeated the words you said to your bestfriend a few seconds ago "The last time i got laid was 13 months ago..?"

"Girl, are you fucking serious?" Lena, your bestfriend not-so-aggresively threw her hands in the air.

"What's wrong with it? You know i'm not the type to have one night stands and shit" you justified defensively, delicately caressing your 5 month old persian cat, fluff.

"Dude you are in your twenties, you are hot, rich and single, what's wrong with having some fun before you settle down?" all you did was roll your eyes, ready to nag her about hygiene during sex.

"Don't tell me you still have a crush on your jackass boss" alice appeared from your kitchen, a cup of hot choco keeping her hands warm.

you were taken aback, yes, you did have a crush on your not-so-jackass boss, maybe you still do, no one knows, you are too busy with work to think about that. But something about him just makes your thighs clench.

His thick thighs which you would die to sit on, his tiddies who always threaten to come out(thanks to the buttons which do not let them), and his freaking jawline which you want to hold so bad when he kisses you.

Just to be clear the chances of this happening is 0.01% .

He's the typical rich, young, hot bachelor desired by multiple women and owned by none. Somehow you always managed to keep a very professional relationship with him so far. But what's life without some thrill?

"Jeon jeongguk? go ahead , have sex with him then. A rich man is a rich man" Lena suggests as if she's telling you to pick out some roses from the neighbour's garden.

"sure, find me a now job by tomorrow then" Lena chuckles at your reponse.

"Girl, its not that hard, he's a man and he might have needs too, if you really want him on the top then maybe wear some sexy clothes at work, you guys see each other everyday"

"Yeah yeah i'll think about it" you shrugged off the topic, not wanting to discuss it further.

:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。

"fuck!" You finally found your release , turned the vibrator off, took a shower, slouched on your bed releasing a lazy sigh

Yes ,the vibrator did wonders when you got it for the first time, but you've become too used to it, you knew you needed more and by more you meant jungkook's dic-

you pushed your sinful thoughts out of the way and forced yourself to sleep.

:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:

next day , 7.39 a.m

You got out of the shower, fresh and clean. Done with the skincare and your usual makeup (nude lips are mandatory!) .you were about to pick your grey sweatshirt, Lena's words resonating in your ears.

Fuck it, it's now or never.

you put the sweatshirt right where it belonged. Took out a white tube top which covered half of your tits, wore a black trouser matching with the blazer of the same colour of the trouser. A black nano belt bag from celine completing your look. Quickly wearing your jimmy choo high heels, you stepped out of your apartment, you felt confident.

You were aware of the stares you were getting at the office, you weren't surprised, not your fault you look good with a minimum effort.

You spot your coworker Diana at the cafeteria, she waves at you , her look telling you that she's got something for you

"Hey y/n, I've completed the list of the guests we are going to invite at the company's gala, Do you mind passing it to Mr.Jeon? I got some last minute work to do." She asked holding your hand

Bingo

"Sure, why not , I was about to give him his espresso anyway." you smile at her politely before taking the file.

Quickly making your way upstairs, you fic your hair before you knock his door.

'"Come in"

"Good morning Mister Jeon, the list for the guests for our company's gala dinner has been finalized." You said as you placed his espresso and the file on his table.

He looked up to see you, "Alright, thank you y/n, I hope you didn't forget we have to go to daegu today."

You caught him stealing a glance at your chest.

"Ofcourse sir" you smiled curtly before leaving his office, swaying your hips on purpose while doing so.

Jeongguk and you had to go to Daegu today for the monthly inspection of the company's factory there.

Being Jeongguk's secretary was undeniably challenging, but the salary was enough motivation to continue doing your job.

・。゜・。・o゜・。゜・。・o゜・。゜・。・o゜

3.39 p.m

"Mister Jeon, we are ready to leave." You said as you peeked out your head from the door into his office.

He nodded while fixing his blue Ralph Lauren coat as he walked past you , you followed him behind, making sure everything is on the right place.

You looked at him from behind, good Lord he was so damn hot then you looked at yourself. You guys would make such a power couple in your opinion.

"Did you have lunch sir?" You asked knowing he might not have eaten given the fact that he absorbs himself too much in his work once he starts.

"I didn't have time to"

"I figured, I ordered chipotle for you, will you be okay with a burrito bowl ?" Jungkook liked having light meals on work days and he gets carsick easily so chipotle was the best option.

"Yes, thank you y/n i appreciate it." He said gratefully, flashing you a small smile which you could write a whole thesis on.

----------------------------------------------------------

You were driving the car and the ride was smooth, you guys talked about work related stuff. Until,

"How have you been lately, y/n?" Jeongguk asked out of nowhere.you glanced at him for a second before replying "I've been good, pretty much the same since 2 years. working on weekdays, staying at home on the weekends. Oh, and I've got a new roommate – a furry one. Adopted a cat a few months back. It's nice having someone waiting for me at home, you know?"

You have no idea why you are giving a detailed explanation instead of the typical 'I'm doing good' but it is what it is.

"Any special someone in the picture?" He asked, a hint of uncertainty laced in his voice.

You glance at him again in surprise before refocusing on the road, this guy is really picking his moments. "No special someone right now sir, how about you?" He started this.

He chuckled a little,"Not at the moment, not into relationships anyway."

well damn, at least it was worth the try.

You catch jungkook looking at you a lot of times during the ride.

"We have reached, sir." You both get out of the car and head towards the factory.

----------------------------------------------------------

7:51 p.m, Daegu.

It was pouring cats and dogs.

"I think we should book a hotel and stay there for the night". Jungkook suggested while looking up. All of the workers were leaving and driving in this crazy rain is dangerous.

"But i don't have any spare clothes."

"Should we buy them on the way?" Jungkook asked finally looking at you.

"I think we should."

----------------------------------------------------------

You guys found the nearest hotel, and went to your respective rooms.Jungkook chose a package of 1 night+ dinner because you guys didn't eat anything after lunch.

"Let us change then meet at the dinner hall yeah?" Jungkook said looking at you, your clothes were a little drenched, the droplets on your half-exposed boobs were visible and he can see your bra underneath the white tube top.

"Sure , sir"

You guys literally shoved your faces in the food because the meal was ten out of ten and ya'll were hungry as hell.

When you entered the elevator, jungkook looked at you for a second before speaking " Good day today"

You smiled at him. Damn that smile, he couldn't control himself , he brought his face closer to yours, literally a gap of 2 centimeters between. "Can I kiss you?" He asked , it came like a whisper.

"Please" You practically whimpered.

Just like that, his lips were on yours.

To be continued

[vaokses]

I worked the blade to make it deeper

Series Masterlist / General Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Nearly two years have gone by since you left with your mother for Dragonstone, and yet your absence is as sharp as the first day. Rumors spread through King's Landing about how a Tyrell knight has captured your heart, and these rumors haunt Aegon, from the Keep to the taverns, leading him, drunk and reckless, to a brothel in the Street of Silk. Not in search of comfort, or in search of some illusion of you to keep him company through the night, but in search of something else.

Word Count: 4.4k 

Warnings: 18+. Smut (slight). Prostitution. Dubious consent. Drunkenness, alcohol consumption. Voyeurism. Self-harming or self-destructive actions/thoughts. Aegon's head is not in a good place at all. Descriptions/Allusions to panic attacks. A lot of angst, just a lot of it. Hurt and no comfort. Allusions to bad BDSM practices. I write this with sub!Aegon in mind, by the way, I don't know how explicit it is in this work, but it's there, and I'm warning you in case it's not your cup of tea. If I missed any warning tags, I apologize, and please let me know.

Some AU/Setting stuff: Same universe as How long this love can hold its breath and the Pirtir series. This takes place nearly a year before the beginning of the story, around four or so months before the other Aegon PoV chapter. You don't need to read either to read this tho.

A/N: So, I couldn't get this idea out of my head. It mixes some of book!Aegon's approach to intimacy/sex because I find it really interesting. This is just a lot of angst, but his character is so fucking sad, I can't help myself. I'll write some fluff for him at some point, I promise.

Title is from "Love opened a mortal wound. In agony, I worked the blade to make it deeper." by Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz.

All of this would be easier if he could just forget, Aegon gathers. If he could just forget about you, about what he lost and what he didn’t have, then everything would be easier. The quiet of the Keep wouldn’t feel so deafening, the future ahead of him would be a tad less unbearable. 

And he wouldn’t be sneaking around like an idiot, eavesdropping on his mother and his grandsire’s conversation because he heard your name. 

“That boy will hand the Blacks the Reach if we do not step in,” Alicent argues, voice laden with worry. “His father is old, and he hasn’t inherited his judiciousness, his restraint.” 

“Lord Alisdair might still bend, once the Princess leaves Highgarden and his blood cools. Nothing makes a man as bold as a woman’s smile.” 

“Her smile, or the promise of her hand?” 

Aegon feels as if a weight had been dropped on his chest, and yet he does not even think about tearing himself away from here, about ceasing in his listening for any news of you. The closest he can get to you, nowadays. 

“No arrangements have been made yet, and if t-…” 

“My lord husband will approve if Rhaenyra asks this of him, you know this. He will wed her granddaughter to the Tyrell boy himself if it is her who asks.” 

“Has she asked?”  

A few beats of silence, the seconds before an executioner’s sword finds a neck. 

“It is a matter of time.” 

___ 

It is as natural as breathing, to Aegon, to escape the confines of the Red Keep by now, to evade his guards and sneak into the city.  

Now he sits alone -he shrunk from his usual company, he isn’t sure even why-,  nursing yet another jug of mead and chasing languidly for the welcome stupor of a stiff drink, and finds that not even here do you stop tormenting him. 

“My sister was there for the tourney in Highgarden,” A woman comments, carelessly loud as she speaks to the group of people sitting with her, a table away from Aegon’s. “She said the eldest of House Redwyne gifted the Princess a mare.” 

“As dragon food?” The man she sits on the lap of asks, prompting her to laugh. 

“I would like a mare as a gift,” One of the girls argues, at another’s scoff arguing, “What? What is wrong with that?” 

“The Princess rides Vermithor. What is a fucking horse against the second largest dragon in the world?” 

The wench that is sent to refill Aegon’s drink presses against him unnecessarily, and her hand traces over his shoulders as she moves away. He feels her gaze on him, watching raptly to see if he follows her with his own gaze, if he wishes to play along. 

He mislikes this, these games, playing pretend at seduction. It feels even more false than it already is, fucking a woman, if she likes pretending she wants something beyond the tenuous oblivion they can find in one another. 

“You gather she’s coming here anytime soon?” The man from the other table asks, diverting his attention to them -to you- once again. 

“I don’t think so. Everyone would be scurrying about in preparation. Whenever there’s something brewing up in the Keep we have more work months ahead.” 

“I hear she’ll summer in Highgarden.” One of the younger girls comments. 

The old woman’s laughter is shrill, grating. Gloating, almost. At least that is what it sounds like, to him. 

“Of course she is. Alasdair Tyrell has returned from the Shield Islands, and victorious at that. Made them swear to her cause, apparently.” 

“To Rhaenyra’s?” 

“No.” 

Silence follows the simple answer. Aegon motions for the wench to refill his drink, which she doesn’t do quickly enough. 

“Oh,” The man breathes. Short little chuckles escape his chest, and he praises, “Clever lad, eh?” 

“‘Tis quite a wedding gift, is it not?” 

Aegon takes fast, perhaps hurried, gulps from the flagon, but the mead isn’t enough to drown out their voices. 

“So she has agreed to it?” 

“She is a young girl, and he a knight who has more than proven his devotion. He doesn’t have her hand yet, but I’d bet he has her heart.” 

“So it isn’t just Vermithor she wants to ride,” The man boasts, followed by what sounds like a slap. “Ow!” 

“‘Tis the future Queen you speak of, you fool.” 

He should stop himself, but he doesn’t want to. Aegon turns to them and asks,  

“And the future wife of Lord Tyrell, no?” 

“My Prince.” One -or a few, he doesn’t really care- of them greets, and a few heads bow, but he motions their empty platitudes away. 

“It is a…a joyous thing, a betrothal. And one made for love, at that,” He smiles at them, but they don’t smile back. They look at him like he’s seen hunters look at cornered beasts, they look at him as if they’re afraid of him. “We don’t see much of those nowadays, do we?” 

“No, my Prince.” The older man agrees, still cautious. 

He isn’t an idiot, he knows that he wasn’t…that you don’t feel for him what he does for you, that you don’t think about him as often as he thinks about you. But some part of him, foolish and perhaps more than a little masochistic, still hoped the truth might be another. 

Still hoped, against hope, against reason, that you might one day return, that you might still choose him. 

“A cause for celebration then, isn’t it?” He asks, standing up and swaying slightly on his feet. Their faces are guarded, careful, and though he makes his best attempt at another smile, shameless and debauched, it seems they see through it. He pushes on, “Drinks for all! On me!” 

He plays along, he plays his part, for a while. The mead keeps flowing, and when it ceases, he switches to wine. Watered down and tasteless, but it washes away the ashes the memory of you leaves on his tongue. 

And the loud voices and cheers of the people in the tavern drown out even his thoughts for a while, but he finds that tonight the wine does not make his thoughts any easier to bear. It seems instead to make them louder, to make the ache deep in his chest sharper, worse. 

As the night goes on, his thoughts get louder and the crowd around him quieter as they return to their homes, and Aegon refuses to return to the quiet, the solitude, of the Red Keep. 

___ 

Long ago, years ago, he would come to places such as this and ask them to be soft with him, to hold him and treat him gently, to be what he imagined you would be -what he glimpsed at, what he had, for however short a while it was-, to grant him what he supposed he might have had, were you to have stayed. 

But he understood fairly quickly that it just made everything worse, that it made the absence much sharper, the emptiness gnaw at him with renewed strength; and so he started refusing them whenever they tried to offer anything gentle. They did it wrong, anyways, it just made him feel brittle and cold and alone, and he prefers the distance, and the oblivion it provides, over the hollowness that their false warmth leaves him with. 

The months and then the years went by, and you never returned, not even a glimpse of you and Vermithor on the distant skies, not even a short visit with your family, not even a fucking letter; and Aegon can no longer hold on to the fantasy that you might have wanted him, that you could have loved him. 

He gathers that it was for the better, that the illusion has shattered. It makes it easier, to find oblivion buried in some whore or another, to have his nights away from the Keep be the reprieve they ought to be. It makes it easier to make things quiet again, to lose himself when he can force his useless heart out of the way.  

But he often trips on it. His heart, that is. 

And sometimes his yearning overpowers his reason, and he finds himself searching for a shadow of you, a version of you that still wants him. Despite the ache and the absence, he still can’t bring himself to ask any of the women to pretend to care for him, to pretend to love him, anymore. 

He tells himself it is enough that they look like you when the lights are dim and wine clouds his senses, that they don’t say anything when it is your name he calls out. He tells himself it is enough to have this, and that to ask for more would be to ask to be torn open. 

But the absence remains, the hollowness remains, a void gnawing away at him, hungrier and hungrier the longer he indulges in foolish illusions, in tricks of the light.  

At his weakest, he asks them to prove to him what he already knows to be true. That you, fantasy or real, illusion or not, do not care for him, do not love him. That you, upon knowing what he has made out of himself, aware of what they will ask him to become, have come to hate him. So he asks them to hurt him, to refuse him, to turn away from him.  

He doesn’t understand why he does it, why he still chases after that when it leaves him just as empty as asking for anything else does. He doesn’t understand the part of him that finds comfort in his own ruin. 

He doesn’t understand why he comes here, why he is restless as he crosses the doors into the familiar brothel, why he feels his throat close up at the sounds and scents of this place, why his chest feels tight with something between desperation and dread as he sets out to…to do what it takes to make his thoughts stop, to make himself understand that he must forget. 

He finds the one he’s looking for fairly easily, long silver hair and deep red dress amidst a sea of heads of dark hair and half-naked bodies. Her back is turned to him, and the wine makes the sight resemble a familiar dream for a moment, and his breath catches. 

But when he reaches her and she turns to face him, the face isn’t a familiar one, the eyes are wrong, and the smile is a mockery of yours. 

He still extends a hand, wordless, to ask her to join him. 

It’s almost funny, that for all he despises his ancestry, what he has inherited; in the eyes of any of the patrons of this establishment he is but another Targaryen man, looking to get it wet only with the ones that, real or no, reflect the blood of a lost world. 

It is preferrable that they don’t know any better. He’d rather be his father’s son than the fool that yearns for a woman he cannot have. 

Aegon isn’t sure why he’s doing this, why he has come here, why tonight the wine has made the pain only sharper, more unbearable. He isn’t sure if he’s punishing himself, for being as stupid as to allow himself to hope you’d return to him; or if he’s just resigning himself to the truth that is, forcing himself to shatter with his own hands, before his very eyes, the fantasy of what could have been. 

But he wants this, he…he needs this.  

“And you,” He calls out, pointing to a well-built young man with warm eyes and chestnut hair. Quite close to a knight. Quite close to a Tyrell, even. Aegon offers him a smile, wide and lecherous. It is a lie, but it is one he himself believes, and the false merriment keeps him safe. “You will join us.” 

The man takes Aegon’s free hand, and he lets them lead him to a private room, of dim lights and of air heavy with incense. In the midst of the hanging curtains, the many candles, and the huge bed in the center of it all, Aegon feels for a moment as if he’s suffocating. 

“What can we do for you, my Prince?” The woman asks, voice low, sultry, dripping with false sweetness. 

A nauseating blend of anxiousness and dread rise within him, and though he reaches for the glass of wine on a nearby table, downing the drink in two gulps in an attempt to chase these feelings away, they linger. 

Aegon watches, numbly, as the man reaches for a pitcher and refills his cup without a word. It is welcome, almost a comfort, the weight of a full glass in his hand. 

“I…I want to watch,” Aegon admits, voice hoarse in what he absently hopes they confuse with lust. “The two of you. I want to watch the two of you.” 

There’s a chair near the bed but far enough, aimed towards it. He has the absent thought of how many must come here not for participation but for a show, and Aegon tries clinging to that small observation, amuse himself to thoughts of what others come to do in these places; but his mind, anticipating and yet dreading what is to come, lingers on the present. 

His gaze, unfocused and staring at nothing but the faint memories he wishes would leave him, cannot look at them as the man and woman undress and sit together in bed, looking at him.  

He cannot look at them, and yet he feels their gazes on him. He feels as if he were the one naked, the one on display, asked to put up a show. 

“My Prince?” The woman calls out, forcing his eyes to focus on her. 

She awaits instruction, and he finds he can’t give it. 

It is a painful reality, a mortifying truth, that he does not know how to offer softness, gentleness. Or how to receive it. Or how to witness it, even. 

In losing you, he gathers he also lost the part of him that knew of the softness of a gentle touch, that knew how not to shatter at the thought of warmth. 

And now he can’t even make this…this pretender, already a poor mimicry of you, portray your warmth, the gentleness of your affection; and Aegon cannot even witness a glimpse of the warmth and the softness that you surely now give freely to that fool on the far end of the world. 

It dawns on him then, that he has forgotten pieces of you, that he has lost part of you to time and to distance. And realization isn’t a weight dropped on his chest, or the ground giving in under his feet, no; realization is a slow pressure, a shrinking tunnel, an exhale that left him too late to realize he wouldn’t be able to inhale again. 

He grabs for the cup with shaking fingers, grips it so tight he fears it might crack, and downs the rest of the drink. But the numbness is escaping him, slipping like sand between his fingers, and the haziness has given way to something much worse, to a quickly-beating heart and thoughts chasing themselves in circles. 

And all the wine does now is make him feel as if he’s only further drowning, further losing whatever grasp he has at himself. He still drinks. 

What can he tell her? That he wishes to be hurt, punished, for his weakness, for his faults? That he wishes to see what he has lost, what he never had, what he never will have?  

That he wants for the thoughts to stop, for the pain to stop, and he only knows how to escape them with this, with sex; but the memory of you lingers too close, a knife wedged next to his heart, for him to even consider enduring another’s touch tonight? 

He tells her the truth instead, and if instead of a command it sounds like an accusation, he does not care. 

“You love him.”  

It is all the instruction he can give. He does not know what love looks like, what love feels like, so even if she doesn’t either and the act is a poor one, Aegon won’t know the difference. 

The man and woman fall easily into the parts they must play, pressing their bodies together and sharing a deep kiss, letting their hands explore each other slowly, with the pace of two people with all the time in the world, with the calm of those who have promised each other a lifetime. Aegon watches, and the nakedness of their bodies does not seem lewd, instead it betrays an intimacy, a warmth, that makes the void in his chest awaken with an oppressive sort of longing. 

Aegon’s gaze lingers on him, on the ‘knight’. He finds he cannot look away, and it isn’t jealousy that overwhelms him, or anger; instead, all that fills his him at the sight is dread, and morbid fascination.  

The man’s fingers are buried within her, his lips at her throat, and Aegon feels as if a knife were slowly embedded somewhere within his chest. With each breath, the knife digs deeper, tears further at an old wound, and yet he doesn’t look away. Instead, his breath quickens. 

And he knows it’s an act, that they’re playing at sharing a love they do not know or have, but he doesn’t know it or have it either, and sitting here he only feels more alone.  

But he cannot join them. Because you do not want him. 

After what he isn’t sure if it is a moment or an eternity, darkened gazes flicker to him, awaiting his permission, his command, to go on, with quickened breaths. Though for a moment Aegon finds himself staring back, unmoored and uncertain, he quickly recovers and stutters a response to go on with it. 

The man grunts a curse against her breasts as he enters her in one swift motion, and she sighs at the feeling, hoarse little moan rumbling past her lips as she adjusts to having him inside her. 

They start moving together, and though the sight before him is an objectively alluring one, and if nothing else he should be able to focus on the sounds leaving their lips, on the sound and scent of sex filling the room, Aegon finds himself not even slightly aroused. 

Then again, he didn’t expect to. He might enjoy pain sometimes, and perhaps even seek it, but seeing a mirror -however muddied, however imperfect- of the woman he loves making love to someone else is something out of a nightmare, not something he might enjoy stroking his cock to.  

He didn’t think it’d hurt like this, though. He feels useless tears stinging at his eyes, and his breath hitches, because he expected it to hurt, but he didn’t think it’d torture him like this. 

And yet he can’t bring himself to stop them, feels undeserving of intruding upon their -your-, however false, love. With a breathed little laugh that only further blurs the lines between the reality of two paid whores acting out what he wants and the mirages of two people on the far end of the world, the woman switches their positions, straddling him. 

Unprompted, the man sits up, mouths at her neck as she aligns his cock with her cunt again. Slowly, sensually, she starts riding him. 

Aegon sniffles, tries hiding a stuttered breath, and leans forward. What he means to sound like an order, like an instruction, is voiced instead as a plea,  

“H-…I want you to hold him, while…while you ride him. Hold him against you.” 

She does as he commands, and the sight of their embrace is enough to force Aegon to look away, flinch away from pain as sharp as a hit. He reaches for the pitcher of wine, movements hurried and jittery, and pours himself another glass, uncaring that it spills. 

He gives another order, another command. One after another. He tells the man, for he is naught but a lucky fool that doesn’t even see the fortune bestowed upon him, how to touch you, how to make you feel good, how to make you his.  

They lose themselves in each other, waiting for no further instruction, exchanging caresses and kisses and breathed moans as they move together, as one. 

Aegon feels his composure, weak and brittle as it was already, begin to crumble. His hands grip at the armrests of the chair and tears burn at his eyes. He’s trembling, but neither of them stop, because neither of you notice, because you have each other, and he does not matter. 

He shakes his head, tries thinking clearly past the daze of alcohol and grief, and reminds himself it’s them. They’re strangers, they’re pretenders. He clings to that reminder. 

And yet each whispered word that they share, each shared breath, each tender touch, it feels as if it’s mocking him, taunting him with what he cannot have, what he can only watch from afar. 

The effect of the wine and the tears spilling from his eyes blur the edges of his vision, making the already stifling room seem smaller, the air thicker. Each breath feels pulled from his lungs, his body at the command of someone else, because he still cannot look away. 

He understands better than ever why Helaena presses her palms to her ears when the crowds get too loud. He wants nothing more than to cover his ears, close his eyes, hide himself and get away. Why is he here, why is he doing this? 

He doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want to see this. He doesn’t want this to happen. And yet he can’t stop watching, why can’t he stop this? 

She’s close to the edge, he can tell, and while he needs for this to be over, he cannot stand the thought of it at the same time. 

It is unbearable, and he stands from that chair, not to approach them but to step away. The room spins around him, his balance fails him, his voice fails him. 

She clings to him, hides her face in the knight’s neck and away from Aegon’s view. She looks like you, and she sounds like you, and he lost you he lost you he lost you. 

“Tell him you love him.” The voice is his, but not really, and he hears it from far away, from somewhere beyond the panicked cadence of his breaths, from a dream in which it is your love for him that Aegon asks to hear. 

You bring your knight closer to you, hand tangling in short tresses of chestnut hair. Your mouth is close to his ear, your voice a breath, a promise Aegon knows he shouldn’t be allowed to hear,  

“I love you.” 

You shatter, and so does Aegon. 

Her cry of pleasure and the knight’s mask the horrified sob that leaves Aegon’s chest at what he has done, at what he has tainted; and in their shared ecstasy they thankfully do not see him squeeze his eyes shut and cravenly look away, face crumpled in agony. 

He stumbles back onto the chair, some absent voice in the back of his mind reminding him it is unfitting of a prince to fall on the ground, that the people cannot see him on his knees. 

He thought he’d be in control, that if he commanded them, if he was… 

His thoughts matter not, what he expected matters not. The fantasy, painful as it was, has shattered, and the jagged pieces of it dig into him like glass. 

Aegon slumps in the chair, his body exhausted and worn. He feels used, wretched, and despite the weariness consuming his very bones, his mind remains restless, agitated. 

And the silence that lingers after they are done is worse, almost. He cannot bear to look at them.

“You…you can leave,” He tells them. A breath, two, and with a rush of energy he doesn’t have, Aegon stands up instead. The movement feels uneven, exaggerated, and he grabs at the back of the chair to keep himself from falling over. With his free hand, he gestures at them to stay where they are, and corrects himself, “I-I will leave. I’m…I’m the one intruding, am I not?” 

They don’t laugh, so he does. Or he tries to, but what leaves him is this manic little sound, this choked sob. 

He moves to leave the room, but he stumbles over his own feet, and thankfully catches himself on a nearby pillar. He needs to get out. 

Everything is too much, too bright, too loud, too painful, and he cannot escape it. In his head still resonates the breathed I love you. 

Why would you say that to him? He…he’s nothing, he doesn’t… 

No, no. Aegon squeezes his eyes shut and reminds himself that it wasn’t you, it was her. The impostor, that…that poor mimicry of you.  

And he instructed her to say that. Why did he do that? 

He wanted to fill the emptiness inside him, to…to quieten it all for a few moments, he didn’t want…he didn’t want this. But the void within him grows, and it hungers, and it tears away at pieces of him, breath by breath. 

He stumbles out of the pleasure house on trembling legs, but doesn’t make it far before his labored breaths become too quick, too uneven. The air that enters his lungs hurriedly, stutteringly, over and over, still isn’t enough for him to breathe. 

Aegon staggers into a nearby alley, clawing desperately at the brick wall in an attempt to keep himself grounded, to keep himself from breaking, from falling. 

He still does, between labored breaths and memories that taste of ash, he crumbles under the weight of his disgust and his hatred at himself, at what he does, at what he failed to do; and falls onto the cold ground. 

Back against the wall of the empty alley, Aegon brings his knees to his chest, and hugs them close to himself, head bowed and eyes shut tight as he tries forgetting.  

I would love to hear your thoughts on this! My askbox is always open for questions or comments, and soon I think I'll be taking requests.

I should have waited to post this (I posted the first chapter of Pirtir today) but I couldn't help myself. This was so fun to write. I find these themes really interesting, and I want to delve into them again in the future. I have some stuff planned but they're still a bit further ahead in the posting schedule.

Thank you for reading!

[simpingland]

Love is patient.//Aegon Targaryen II x wife!reader.

Moments before the coronation, Aegon's wife recalls her first memories with the Prince. Patience was key on this journey to make things right. And this patience let love to grow easily between them.

A/N: angst, Diane's assault does not happen here because It's the only way I can write this. TGC is the loveliest person ever, im(r)o.

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

The first time you saw Aegon drunk was the first time you met him. And you knew from the start that the journey you were being forced into would not be an easy one. The prince was a little older, but a single word came out of his mouth, and you were the one who felt mature. The glory of the Targaryens, with their distinctive faces, their airs of divinity, did not show in any of Aegon's features. His mother scolded him for cutting his own hair on the very day your chariot pulled into the Red Keep. He gave you an awkward kiss on the hand and talked more to his brother Aemond than he did to you during the entire presentation dinner. The night was a disaster. You almost fell asleep in your own seat, with not a single charitable soul to speak to you.

"It's your duty," your father had told you over and over again. "You have a good chance of being queen."

"You don't need to scare her," your mother corrected him. She took your hand for the last time and said the words that were always echoing in your head. "He is a difficult man, and I understand that. But love can be many things, my dear. This love may be patience. Be patient and patient to welcome the good things with joy and to know how to overcome the bad things with peace of mind. Just...be patient."

Very few lords attended the wedding, and not even Rhaenyra and her family came to the ceremony. And you were glad to think that few were those who saw the humiliation of not receiving a single kiss from your now husband. When it was all over and the feast began, the music filled the room with joy, with Aemond and Helaena dancing, while your siblings found different partners to share the song. And all you had was Aegon beside you, who wouldn't let go of his cup for a second. From the corner of your eye, you could see that this drunkenness was unlike any you had seen before. He was faded, his eyes clear and glittering with sadness.

"Aegon," King Viserys trudged over to your seats, and you alone rose to pay him a courtesy. "Why don't you take your beautiful bride out dancing? By the gods, you'll bore her to death sitting here!"

You wanted to say you didn't have to, but contradicting the king was very wrong of you, and lying to yourself was also a bad habit. You really did want to dance, and you really did begin to die of boredom. When you looked at your groom, you saw him turn to look at you, his eyes still half closed, heavy with alcohol. Still, he stood up and offered you a hand. Your walk to the centre was full of applause.

"I warn you, I am not in my best powers of coordination, my lady," he warned you himself in a whisper.

"I hadn't noticed, my lord," you gave him a half smile, his hand dropping quite a bit into yours.

When the music began, the song was perhaps too lively for what you would have wished, and certainly for what Aegon would have wished as well. His steps were clumsy, and the rhythm of the music was too lively for what you might have wished. His steps were clumsy, and the pace was beginning to make him dizzy. He stepped over a few lords, and when he had to approach you, he would push you back by accident. Already bordering on embarrassment, you could see your parents blushing and looking at the scene with concern. And you could also see Alicent and Otto look at Aegon angrily. The old king looked confused.

"I can stop this," you whispered to him when you had him close.

"No," he replied. "I'm being a good husband."

Then he danced on. And soon what he was waiting for happened, Aegon fell to the ground. Everyone held back an exclamation, some of them hiding their laughter very badly. The prince was slumped on the floor, and before long he was vomiting up what was only wine. The sight was pitiful. One of your sisters approached you, as Ser Criston and Alicent approached Aegon. And when your sister tugged you away from the pool of wine, you broke free, moving closer to the prince who stirred slowly on the floor.

"My dear, you'll stain your dress," Alicent said.

"Let me help, Your Majesty." You replied.

With a handkerchief borrowed kindly from a nearby lord, you wiped Aegon's face and let him lean on you to slowly rise. His hands rested on your shoulders and yours on his arms. His face was red, and he seemed to regain some sense of shame.

"I think you should rest for a while," you said. He nodded.

And then Criston took over, putting the Prince's arm over his shoulder and leading him out of the room. Alicent walked behind, and as they walked away you could see Aegon turn his face to look at you. With a last glance at your family, you followed the Queen's path, straight to your husband's chambers.

"I asked only one thing of you, Aegon, just one," Alicent was saying to him on the way. She seemed to hold back quite a bit in your presence.

Criston left him sitting on the bed, and Aegon tried not to fall into it as his mother spoke to him.

"Tomorrow we will talk further." And then he turned to look at you. "I'm so sorry about this, love. I will tell the guests the bedding will be private."

"Oh, thank you, Your Majesty."

When Criston and Alicent left, they expected you to follow them as well, but you stood in the room.

"Have you not been shown to your rooms yet?" Alicent asked, quizzical.

"Yes, yes, I've located them... but I'd like to stay here a while longer. It's our wedding night, isn't it?" You sounded totally nervous but determined.

Alicent could only nod and force a smile before leaving with her knight. As the doors closed, you could hear Aegon finally collapse onto the bed.

"I wish to give you no offence... and the gods know I am the most willing man to do our duty that you will ever meet," Aegon said, and it was the sort of compliment you should learn to accept. "But tonight, I do not think I have the strength to achieve our goal," he said.

"I was not here for it, so I will take no offence."

Aegon turned his head to look at you, and he seemed much more alive than before.

"That's a pretty dress," he reached out to brush the fabric of the gown. "I'm sorry you got it stained with...my vomit."

"Don't worry, my prince. I could never wear it again."

You heard a laugh from him, which even startled you. But it was tender and unexpected, and it made you proud. Aegon repositioned himself better to give you a place on the bed and tapped his side, asking you to lie down beside him. Before you did, you picked up a tray of fruit and filled a glass of water. And before you lay down, you offered Aegon the water.

"The Maesters say that alcohol should be compensated with water." You watched as Aegon sat up so he could drink his glass without choking. And though he hesitated at first, he ended up drinking it whole and with need.

"I did not remember the taste of water..." he put the glass back in your hand. "And it's a disappointing taste."

When you finally lay down beside him, Aegon enjoyed the fruit on the tray, offering you some grapes.

"Is it always going to be like this?" You asked. He stopped chewing to look at you. "This humiliation. Are you going to be drunk every day of our lives?"

At your hurt tone, Aegon did not know what to answer, but he sounded remorseful, trying to compose an apology or some excuse. He swallowed his food before speaking.

"I have never had reason to be sober, my lady. No one has given them to me."

"Is your mother not worth it? Is your father not worth being proud of you?"

"What my father wants of me is very different from what my mother wants of me. I will never do well in their eyes."

"And at what point is it a much better option to wander around the castle blind with alcohol?"

"It's the only thing that makes me forget how useless I really am."

You couldn't help but run your hand over his face, trying to get him to look at you. His eyes were shining again, but they seemed much more alive than in the room.

"We all have our duty to do. And not all of us are good at it, but we all try."

"You seem like a person suited to this kind of life."

"I'm responsible. I like to think I am, at least. But don't you dare think that I don't wish I was somewhere else right now, with my horse and music nearby. I don't like to pour water to drunk men or stain my clothes with their vomits. But I do it because, somehow, It's now my duty. I will fulfil it for my family's name's sake. I would like to start a family and I will need your help to protect it. Just as you are going to need mine. It is what I believe is right."

You watched as Aegon nodded. He stroked your hand on his face and got out of bed to rummage through his wardrobe. You watched as he stumbled over his own mess but managed to pull out a long white shirt. He left it on the bed for you.

"This will do, so you can change into something clean." He stood expectantly.

"I already have clothes to change into in my rooms," you turned him down, but with a coy smile.

"Oh... all right," he looked disappointed. He looked sweeter than you had ever seen him, still dressed in his groom's robes. His suit was blue and gold, like his dragon Sunfyre. He went to pick up the shirt when you changed your mind, placing his hand on top of it, preventing him from pulling it away.

"Although...I don't trust my sense of direction around the castle in this darkness. Do you mind if I stay?"

"No..." You saw a soft smile appear on his lips. "Not at all... you are already my wife."

You changed in a dark corner of the room, and though Aegon said he would not spy on you, you caught a glimpse of him slyly rolling his eyes, trying to make out your figure in the gloom. The shirt made you look rather unattractive, in your opinion, but the loose hair and lack of tight fabrics made you feel so comfortable that you forgot all about your appearance. Aegon also shed the tight jacket and breeches and was left in a camisole similar to your own.

"Thank you for lifting me up in the hall..." he said after you had mocked the dreadful attire you had witnessed throughout the day. "It's not the first time I've fallen down. But it is the first time someone has helped me as tenderly as you have helped me."

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm sorry I humiliated you."

"I don't want your apology. I want you to promise me that you will try to change."

"And how can I change?" He sounded surrendered.

"With patience."

"I'm not patient, I'm afraid."

"Well, I am... I'll share some with you."

"Oh no... you're going to make an annoying wife, aren't you?" He joked, making you laugh. "You're going to ask me out dancing a lot. And I'm going to have to greet a lot of gentlemen and lie about how pretty their wives are..."

In the comfort of shirts and bed, a few hours passed as exhaustion begged you to sleep, not yet having consumed the marriage. You granted him a kiss on the lips. They were the taste of one and figs. After that night, it took you a long time to even set foot in your room.

The days passed more quietly, with Aegon showing you his favourite parts of King's Landing, trying to avoid the whorehouse, though you knew he had visited it a hundred times. You never reproached him, for since you were married, he had hardly left your side. In fact, he was the annoying husband. He asked you a thousand times to fly over Sunfyre. The only thing you insisted on was that he should not refill his wine glass during lunches and dinners. It was as simple as holding his hand fondly as he approached the decanter. The next day, you noticed that the lack of hangover manifested itself in long expeditions to which you went half-dragging. Soon, you understood what Aegon meant by his father's wishes and his mother's. Viserys enjoyed Aegon's Aegon. Viserys enjoyed the more talkative, joker, and absent side of him, the one who was a good spare heir behind Rhaenyra and her children. He barely paid him any mind, always reminiscing about his eldest daughter and his late wife. Then there was Alicent, and close behind her was Otto. The Hightower wanted in Aegon the malice that could reside in him, the malice that wanted more than to be a prince. They compared him incessantly to Rhaenyra and to Aemond, who was younger than he was, and therefore even more humiliating.

On nights when you returned from those uncomfortable dinners, Aegon would become extremely nervous, and you could not stop him from asking for a large flagon of wine. Your words did him no good, but you remembered your mother's advice. You had to welcome bad things with patience. And you watched him drink in front of the fire and asked a guard to watch him when he moved drunkenly around the castle. The next day, you helped him freshen up with a bath and get rid of the horrible headache.

On one of the nights when it happened again, you went to extreme measures before he ordered his alcohol.

"Perhaps a walk with Sunfyre will clear our heads, Aegon."

"'Our'?" He looked at you quizzically.

When you nodded, his face changed completely, and in the dead of night, he asked for his dragon to be prepared for a ride. Aegon was so pleased that he barely noticed that you were terrified. And you didn't say anything, of course, you liked seeing him so happy. Sunfyre was beautiful and quite a good boy, but that didn't take away your terror at the heights he could reach.

"Come on, wife, the tingling in the stomach is what makes it fun."

"I disagree."

As he laughed at you, he put your hands around his chest. He was quite a fit man, and over the past days and flirting, you found yourself more and more wanting to touch him and hold him close to you. Perhaps the dragon was a good idea, after all. Sunfyre led you to Kingswood, a place you mentioned you had never seen. And the whole flight was spent in places whose names Aegon made up to distract you, surprising you with the absurdity of the game. There was the odd surprise pirouette that he couldn't avoid, making you scream and squeeze him. But all in all, it was quite fun.

It was in the forest where you wandered, talking about unimportant things that kept your mind off all the crowns and iron chairs. It was that night when you consummated the marriage. You gave him the kiss that set it all on fire, the deepest kiss you had ever given each other. And he continued it with even more passion, clearly the more experienced of the two. He undresses you right there, and you undressed him as well. In the soft grass, only the moon could see you become one at last. You awoke at dawn and returned to the Red Keep with red faces and dishevelled hair.

"You're glowing," he whispered to you before he had to leave you to attend a meeting, pulling away your hair to give you a kiss on the neck.

All those memories flashed through your mind as Aegon leaned against the carriage window, on his way to be crowned King, his sister unbeknownst to their treason, his father recently dead, and war knocking at the door. They had dressed you too, and the thought of being queen made your stomach churn more than it already did.

"I'm afraid," Aegon suddenly confessed to you. "I'm not going to be good for this."

"I'm afraid too..." You took his hand. "We have to be smart, Aegon. We must protect ourselves."

"You should run while you can. I can order Ser Arryk to send you away... until all is safe again."

"No!" The thought horrified you. "I can't abandon you. We need you."

You brought your hand to your belly. You watched as Aegon's eyes widened with surprise.

"Gods..." he knelt before you, his head close to your knees, the din of the city seemed to hush inside the carriage. The light through the windows rattled on your skin, and the scene seemed like something out of Aegon's imagination.

"We must flee."

"It is too late now." Tears were falling, and your husband wiped them away, overwhelmed. "They won't let us scape this, you know that."

The carriage finally stopped, and Aegon had to bolt the door, which would only hold the guards for a second.

"Then, wife, I will do my true duty to protect our family. But as you said that day, I need your help...it is what I believe is right. Let us have hope. Never before I have felt this love for anything. Never before has anyone ever shown me as much love as you. I'll do everything in my hand to keep us safe. The only thing that matters to me is you and everything that involves you. My only friend is you."

Trying to regain your normal breathing, wiping your cheeks, you nodded as Aegon gave you a kiss on the forehead, another very soft, slow kiss on the cheek, which you couldn't help but drop your face to his touch and essence, and a kiss on the lips. Before removing the latch, he gave you a last kiss on your belly, making you giggle.

A look of complicity and a final sigh to enjoy a moment of peace before your heads held the crowns.

[n-i-m-u-e]

What if Rhaenyra had taken over the raising of her siblings

I'm going to write more detailed posts on each of these heds eventually (and possibly add more heds here)

Maybe I'm looking in the wrong area or missing something... But I'm surprised that there's almost no discussion of what would happen if Rhaenyra took over raising her younger siblings. I found literally ONE (1) fic about this and it`s shame! For example, if Alicent died giving birth to Daeron (yes, I'm willing to sacrifice her for that). And Rhaenyra, who shortly afterwards welcomed her first child and felt that incredible overwhelming rush of oxytocin love for Jace, couldn't stand looking at her dear friend's baby childrens (and to a lesser extent her younger siblings) who were left alone . It was obvious that Viserys was still Viserys and didn't really care for them. So Rhaenyra asked her father for permission to raise Aegon, Helaena, Aemond and the newborn Daeron alongside Jace and her future children. Sorry, but I'm just in love with this idea: Alicent's children receive the same amount of care, unconditional parental love and acceptance from their older sister as Rhaenyra's children (!!!)

Aegon grows quite calmly without greens pressure. He has plenty of attention but also a lot of freedom and, accordingly, doesn't try to drown out his anxiety about unwanted responsibility with alcohol and sex from a young age. But even when his adolescent interest in these things manifested itself, it is hard to imagine that his foster mother, represented by Rhaenyra, would have condemned or tabooed it. Most likely, she simply kept it under control and sent Laenor or even Harwin bc girl can dream to talk him about the birds and the bees

Helaena's prophecies will be heard. Rhaenyra spends quite a lot of time with her little sister. Because as much as she adores all her boys, it's the baby girl (long-cherished dream) who fascinates her the most way. Everyone around says that the child acts strangely for her age, but Rhaenyra doesn't see anything too disturbing in her behavior. Over time, she begins to pay more attention to what Helaena saying, and at some point she remembers Daenys the Dreamer

Aegon can make really funny and inoffensive jokes. One time at dinner, he decided to make a joke about Aemond's dragonless, and Rhaenyra looked at him with suuuuuch disappointment, that he never wanted to be the cause of her look 'like this` again

So yes, the boys never bullied Aemond because he didn't have a dragon. But Rhaenyra, who realised his need very well, supported the desire to get one. Perhaps at some point she told the family that she and Aemond would be away for a while and took him on Cyrax's back to Dragonstone, where they stayed for several weeks. But when they finally returned to the capital, Aemond was riding Vermitor.

Aegon and Helaena were not engaged and didn't get into an unhappy marriage later.

Daeron is definitely staying in King's Landing. Because there is no way Otto would have any leverage! But the main motive for Rhaenyra was the inadmissibility of the little boy being cut off from his home, and heritage. And most importantly, Daeron and Jace grew up practically like twins and could not bear to be separated even for a short time.

Aemond is this one, who is most outraged about the rumors about the ancestry of her older sister's children and takes it as a personal attack. Because… because he has very personal reasons!

At Laena's funeral, Helaena approaches her grieving cousins and hugs them one by one, and then says something to Rhaena something about ‘the morning will fix a lot of things’. No one understood at the time, but the orphaned girls were visibly comforted, and for the first time in her life, Helaena Targaryen had friends.

Aegon was going through a phase of severe pre-pubescent crash in Rhaenyra and for several months in a row he tried to challenge Laenor to a ‘death duel’ to ‘free his sister from the chains of marriage’. A few years later, when Laenor ‘died’, it was Aegon who took it the hardest of all the children.

Aemond has the better (perfect) Valyrian pronunciation and two eyes:)

to be continued...

my apologise for any mistakes, english is not my native language and I typed this in a rush at my office instead of the royalty report

[just-some-random-blogger]

Why Not Me? | 1

Part 2

Love is beautiful. Love is lovely. But lately, to you, love is a form of self-harm.

Rockstar!Gwayne Hightower x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, Modern AU, low key fix-it-fic, canon divergence, DD:DNE, body dysmorphia, body shaming, smut (cunnilingus, piv, biting, marking, licking, they're messy yall), fluff, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: THIS INCESTUOUS SHOW i changed the family tree for the sake of this fic and ive FIXED EVERYTING SHUT UP you cant do anything about it anyway ok ok ok. im half sorry it became so long. idk how many parts i wil do T_T save me. also i cross posted this on ao3 MASTERLIST/PLAYLIST

Tagging: @ceoofyearning @pendragora @worms-on-multiple-strings @barbieaemond

You can hear the live music playing from the inside your car. You take a deep breath and look at yourself on your phone before stepping out. You smile and fix your hair, "maximum slayage has been achieved."

You exit the camera app, catching the text icon when you do. You bite your lip. Your thumb itches. You open it, checking the last message you have that you've not replied to.

From Harwin: Are you at your sister's already? Can we call?

You clench your jaw and place your phone in your purse. You sling your purse on your shoulder and grab the cake on the passenger seat. You tell yourself to forget about the text as you walk towards the open gate of the white picket fence.

You smile at the garden, happy to see it in real life again and not just during video calls. You brush off your iridescent, pink dress before ringing the doorbell. As you wait, you look around the neighborhood. All the houses here were as expensive as the one next to it.

The door opens. You turn back and grin as Alicent squeals, "YOU'RE HERE!"

"I'M HERE!"

She can't help but kiss your cheek before leading you inside. You talk and walk, and the moment you set the cake down, your best friend immediately seals you into a hug, both of you squealing.

When you break away, you lift your eyes to the chandelier and point, "is that the new chandelier?"

Alicent beams and spins beneath her beloved light source, "yes! I swear to the Mother if someone fucks up my chandelier again-"

"Oh, ho, ho, ho!"

Both of you turn to the man waltzing in with horrible dance moves, "speak of the devil." Viserys walks over to you, coming in for a hug, "she returns! Alicent's been waiting on you for ages."

You share a hug while Alicent makes a face, "can you blame me? She works at the fucking edge of the world!"

You pull away and raise a hand, "okay, one, dramatic-"

"No it's not," she red haired woman crosses her arms, "you literally work next to Harrenhal."

"That is a gross simplification," you wave your hand, "and two, why don't you visit me for a change?"

"In your shitty apartment?" she makes a disgusted face, "no."

You make an offended noise and glare at Viserys, "you've turned her into a stinky bourgeoisie!"

Viserys makes a face and Alicent shakes hear head. She places a hand on your shoulder, "no babes. Your apartment is simply crappy."

You make another offended noise and shake her hand off. You turn back to her fiance, "anyway. Happy birthday, Viserys!" you motion to the box on the counter.

"Is that what I think it is?" he gasps.

You scoff for effect, "yah."

Viserys opens the box and makes a dramatic sound at the sight of the chocolate cake. He turns to Alicent, who shakes her head and sniggers. The man whisper-yells, "triple chocolate cake!!!"

You laugh. Your best friend repeats, "triple chocolate cake. Now what do we say?"

Viserys seals you into a tight hug. You squeal when he pulls you up enough for your feet to leave the floor. He groans excitedly as he puts you down, "oh, you are perfect, my dear. Thank you so much."

The overly affectionate gesture leaves you a bit awkward, but you play it off with a chuckle, "you're welcome."

Alicent clicks her tongue when Viserys swipes some frosting and licks his fingers, "Viserys. Get a plate."

"Oh, fuck, I feel like I'm in uni again," he sighs at the sweet taste, "should I grow out my hair?" He rubs the trimmed sides of his hair.

Alicent cringes, "absolutely not. You looked like a sickly lord in uni."

"But love-"

"Oh, I knew you were here."

You look over your shoulder. Your stomach drops. You shift awkwardly as Daemon walks towards you with a grin. "Figured from Alicent's squealing," he says before pulling you into a hug.

He rubs your sides and it makes you feel overly conscious. You mutter as he pulls away, "how've you been, Daemon?"

"You know me-"

"High as a fucking kite?" Viserys answers for him as he takes a slice of cake.

Daemon flips him off but smiles at you, "just dandy, love. And you?"

"Oh, you know, wet."

Alicent slaps a hand on her forehead.

Viserys snorts.

Daemon raises his brows.

You realize your mistake and backtrack, "n- no- I mean, cause- cause Riverlands!"

He snorts and your body tingles. He shakes his head and sighs, "and here I thought it was because of me."

Alicent raises her brows and takes that as a cue to leave. She pulls Viserys back, who whines because he hadn't gotten his cake yet. She slaps his arm and lies about needing to check on something.

"Did you bring someone?" Daemon asks.

Your stomach rolls at the insinuation he was interested in knowing if you had a date. You dramatically look around, "do you see anyone?"

He purses his lips and shakes his head, "well, I was hoping your sister would come around."

You stiffen. Your sister? You manage a chuckle to play off the stinging in your gut; it doesn't sting any less though. You half-smile, "Mysaria's in Lys."

He raises his brows, "still?"

You knit your brows, "still?"

"I just figured her vacation would be done by now."

You feel your eye twitch. You raise a finger, "how'd you know she's on vacation?"

Daemon simply shrugs, "I follow her on Unstagram."

A scoff spills from your lips as your brows raise, "she let you follow her?"

"Yeah," he shakes his head and furrows his brows, "why wouldn't she?"

You clench your jaw. You feel your skin crawl. It's as though your body was being stretched into oblivion. You press your lips into a tight smile and rub your belly as your agitation builds. You shake your head and shrug, "I didn't think you were that close. She's pretty private."

Daemon is supposed to say something, but then his attention is stolen by the sound from outside.

"This next song is called Breathless," followed my cheering.

His expression shifts. He throws his thumb over his shoulder, "shit. I uh... I have something-"

You nod before he can finish and Daemon effectively runs off.

Once you're alone, you let it catch up with you, the loathing, the disgust. You look around you and feel bile rise up your throat. Everything was beautiful. Everything was pristine and put together. From the color of the walls, to the furniture, even to the tiny pieces of décor.

This is Alicent's dream home. She found a man that loved her and he got her that white picket fence she's always wanted. She's living her dreams because... she's someone's dream girl.

You walk towards the mirror in the common room and stare at yourself. The makeup you spent hours on and the sundress you overindulged in now looked lack luster. Whatever convincing you did in the car has gone. You think about Alicent. You chuckle bitterly as you think of your sister, "oh, Mysaria." You were nothing but a disgusting blob, next to the statuesque her.

You grow angry at yourself when your eyes water. You pace around to calm yourself, "it's fine. I just won't eat any sweets." You force a smile at the mirror, "or carbs," you fix your hair, "I'll just have a bev. I ate already anyway."

When you no longer feel like crying, you let yourself join everyone outside.

Your eyes immediately fall at the platform and band setup across the large backyard. Viserys really went all out; there were lights, a sound system, and everything.

You try to make out the band playing. You immediately recognize Criston in his cream colored suit playing the bass, though his hair was snipped short and he had massive shades on. You knew Aemond was a guitarist but there was only a blonde with short platinum hair on the keys, and he never cut his hair, so you debated if it was really him in that leather suit jacket. But then you saw Aegon and his shaggy, jaw length hair, drumming yet again sans shirt showcasing all his tattoos and figured the other blonde had to be his brother.

Then, of course, there was Gwayne. If you couldn't recognize him by his guitar playing, or his distinct baritone, then you would by smirk and auburn hair. You sure did. There was a bit of sheen on his forehead, but even then he moved as cool as a cucumber. He looked good in his dark blue suit. I mean, they all did.

You remember Alicent talking about how excited Viserys was to have Oldtown play for his birthday, how they cleared their schedule and all. Though you weren't a close follower, you somehow felt proud of them, having watched them perform in shitty bars a couple times in university. To see them have the success they do now makes you feel honored to have been one of the few people who said they were going to make it. And judging by how people were singing along, they made it.

You were agitated by the size of the crowd. It still baffled you how many friends the Viserys had, but then your remember he's an old money businessman... and an extrovert. You rub your stomach as you search for Alicent. You spot her alone, cringing by the buffet table as she poured herself a drink. Immediately, your anxieties dissipate because of her and her unabashed dislike for her brother's music.

You walk over to her and sway your hips exaggeratedly to song. Alicent stills when she sees you, and makes a revolted sound before raising her pointer, "stop it."

"Nuh uh," you throw your hands in the air and move your hips, "it's a good song!"

Alicent rolls her eyes, which only makes you laugh.

From across the yard, Gwayne's attention is stolen. He watches how light catches in your pink skirt as you grind against his sister, much to her disgust. He smiles between lyrics, making the crowd react.

"Oh, come on, babes," you watch as your best friend chugs her drink, "you have to at least be proud of your brother."

Alicent shakes her head, "I am! I'm so glad that people like his music enough that he can perform it somewhere far away from me."

You turn to the buffet table when you catch the aroma of your favorite stew. You gulp but tell yourself you shouldn't eat. You decide to pour yourself a drink.

She catches you, "you want me to get you a plate? I ordered your favorite-"

"No," you shake your head, " 'm just thirsty."

She knits her brows, skeptical of your words as she was aware of your destructive tendencies. She decides believe your reassurance, though her gut was telling her otherwise.

She turns back to Oldtown and catches her brother looking. She shakes her head and flips him off. Gwayne chuckles, not because of her though, because you finally turn around. This entices another reaction from the crowd, which Alicent wretches over.

You sip on some punch and shoot her a look, "oh, stop being so sour, baby."

She glares and points, "you try listening to your brother and your cousins sing about the women they've shagged and tell me then if being I'm sour."

You bite your lower lip, but break into a laugh anyway, "you got me there."

Alicent's eyes widen for emphasis, "yeah. And I don't even mind it when people ask me about 'em, but I really, really don't want to know how badly you want to fuck my brother."

You laugh again, no longer holding back this time.

She laughs along. She loves seeing you this way, "you look absolutely stunnin' in your dress, by the way."

The compliment flies over your head.

"Pink is 100% your color," she says with genuine enthusiasm.

You sigh and offer a smile, "it better. This dress costs me a fucking arm."

"Well, it does," Alicent affirms, "you look like a fucking queen."

Your heart swells. Yet again, your best friend breaks into your layer of self-hatred. You nod and agree for her sake, "I really do."

The next moment, the crowd breaks into applause, signaling the end of the song. You cheer along, though you hadn't really paid attention. You turn to the stage and find Gwayne looking your way. You smile and he smirks back.

Gwayne pushes back his strapped guitar and grabs the mic, "thank you. I hope you all enjoyed our set." He shields his eyes as he looks through the crowd. He points once he spots Viserys, "happy birthday again to you, brother."

Alicent claps with the crowd. Viserys laughs as his friends shake him wildly.

"Thank you so much for your endless support, and your endless money." Gwayne chuckles before motioning, "it's been Criston, Aemond, Aegon, and-" he places a hand on his chest, "- Gwayne. We are Oldtown, and you have been a wonderful crowd."

You applaud as the band gets off the stage. They settle their instruments with their stage riders and you look back to Alicent. Before you can speak, her eyes widen as she takes a sip, "idiot in coming."

You look back where she was, brows quirking in surprise when you see her brother jogging over.

Gwayne immediately tries to snatch Alicent's drink, but as she anticipated it, she effectively dodges then chugs. He groans, "oh, thoughtful."

She manages to make a face as she gulps. Some liquid dribbles from the sides of her mouth.

"And classy," her brother's forehead wrinkles.

You chuckle at their antics and shake your head, deciding to pour the man a drink yourself.

Gwayne gives his sister an annoyed look when she sighs for effect. She wipes the corner of her mouth, "it's my drink."

"I would at least expect-" his words falter when he realizes you weren't even beside him. He cranes his neck to look at you before looking to his sister, "-you'd be willing to share after I've slaved away for your pleasure."

"Oh, I can assure you I found no pleasure in this. And have you been so out of practice 8 songs is slaving away for you?"

Gwayne chuckles but is uninterested in continuing the argument; his interest was never in his sister to begin with. He turns to you, digging his hands in his pockets, "and who might you be?"

Alicent turns between the two of you then deadpans, "seriously?"

Gwayne smirks. In his head, his sister's reaction is of being a protective friend. He's admittedly had flings with her friends before, but he's never been deterred by his baby sister's wrath.

But the truth is, that's not at all the reason why Alicent shakes her head incredulously, "my friend from college, you absolute goldfish."

He furrows his brows at Alicent.

At this point, you procure a cup of punch for Gwayne and hand it to him with a smile. He looks at you then the drink you're holding out. He takes it with a smirk, making sure your hands brush as you do. Oh, he is smitten.

None of that registers to you. You return his smirk with a genuine smile.

It doesn't register with Alicent either, which is why she complains about something else entirely. Her lips curl, "you've done it now. You've fed his ego. He's going to be insufferable."

You shake your head and laugh.

Gwayne licks his lips, laughing along, body tingling at the sweet sound of your voice. He does not look his sister at all as he replies, "I've always been insufferable."

You catch his look. Alicent rolls her eyes, "oh, thank gods he's at least self-aware."

Again, Gwayne reacts; he chuckles, but his eyes do not leave you. He shakes his head, "did you transfer after I graduated?"

You knit your brows at the notion, "no," you chuckle, "I'm actually your junior. I took Music Production at King's Landing too."

His face falls and his brows raise.

You chuckle brighter as you nod, "yeah... we were even classmates in, what, two subjects?"

Gwayne wipes his face. You laugh at his stressed expression. "No fucking kidding," he clutches his jaw. He shakes his head again, "what classes did we share?"

You press your lips together in thought, "the... one with Mr. Boldwood."

"Are you serious?" he mutters, "the one where we scored horror films?"

"Yeah," you smile, "I remember you added sound effects instead of music and Mr. Boldwood was like, yeah don't do that, it's a scoring class, not an SFX class."

Gwayne runs his hands through his auburn hair and tugs on the collar of his dress shirt. He loosens his tie as he sighs. By the Seven, how does he not remember you?

You laugh and wave him off, "it's not that big of a deal. You were always too tired to talk in class."

That was true.

"No, it is," Alicent blurts, and he agrees. "Make him feel bad for not remembering you," she shoots him a look, "I literally went to one of your concerts with her, you imbecile. The one where you forgot your guitar and we had to drive-"

"To Highgarden?" Gwayne's jaw slacks.

"Yes, to Highgarden."

Oh, he is stressed.

You feel bad, and shake your head, "to be fair, I wasn't there when she gave you your guitar. I was the one driving and didn't get out because I didn't want to get towed."

Gwayne nods. He watches how your brows quirk and how your lips curl.

You assure him once more, "it's fine. Really... and anyway-"

"Oh, you stop it," Alicent cuts you off.

You turn to her, "but it's tru-"

"No, it's not!"

"I usually just fade in the background of people's minds. I'm not very memorable."

"You are!" Alicent argues, "Gwayne's just an fucking idiot."

Gwayne points at her, "and I am completely agreement."

Before you can respond, Daemon suddenly walks into the conversation. You turn to him, seizing up as he brushes against your shoulder. You turn to your drink and step back. Daemon says, "Viserys is asking about the mixer and-"

"Did he touch the damn mixer?" Alicent says, "I told him not-"

"I told him the same thing," he raises his hands.

She groans and rolls her eyes. She raises a hand in regard before walking off, "gimme a sec."

Daemon follows her. Your eyes follow him, allowing yourself to look a while longer than you should have.

You best believe Gwayne catches it all. His lips twitch and his brows pull back in annoyance. He mutters pointedly, "so Daemon, huh?"

You turn to him, "w-what?"

He chuckles dryly at your coyness. He takes a sip before glaring at the said man, "so you have a thing for annoying cunts?"

Your face falls.

He shakes his head before tilting it, "the imbecile has no redeeming qualities. It's an anomaly why woman chase after him." He scoffs, expression growing even more bitter, "probably his money." He drinks some more punch, cringing at how sweet it was, then finally turns back to you.

He is both annoyed yet subtly amused by how affected you are by his dislike for the Targaryen rat. He sighs, "for what it's worth he, himself, thinks I'm also an annoying cunt."

You raise your brows, realizing he wasn't just saying this. Then out of nowhere, you find it incredibly stupid and downright hillarious.

Gwyane finds his expression softening at the sound of your laughter. His annoyance did not wane, but still, he smirks and brings a hand into his pocket, "switch to me instead."

You laughter dies down but it's too late, you weren't paying attention. You shake your head, "I'm sure he doesn't actually think that."

"Oh, trust me, he does."

You wipe a tear, "no way. He's actually a closeted Oldtown fan."

Gwayne laughs, loud and mocking. The taken aback giggle that leaves you is the only reason he actually starts laughing genuinely. He clutches his side and moves towards the table, "is he now?"

You watch him put his drink down, "he is! He practically ran out of the door when he heard you announce the last song."

He sniggers, "pathetic bastard," he steps closer, "but who can blame him? I quite like Breathless myself." He brushes his lips and looks you up and down, "though I much prefer someone who dances to my songs unabashedly."

You smile, unaware of him still, "oh, I'm sure you do."

Gwayne, in truth, is also unware of you, far too wrapped up in the way you smiled and how your skin glowed in this light. In his head, this conversation was going swimmingly, because when has it ever not— Which is why he says, "let's go dancing in my bedroom."

You do a double take. Your jaw drops, "I beg your pardon."

He tilts his head, "I have about a hundred records and a vinyl player. I'm sure your dress would look even prettier under my lights."

When he takes another step forward, only then do realize what's happening. His stance. His eyes. His lips. It's all coming together. It stabs into your belly and you're suddenly bleeding all over yourself.

Your breath hitches. He catches it, and causes the corner of his lips to quirk. He is pleased. "What do you say?" he leans on one leg and brings his hands in his pockets.

What do you say?

You say you were still reeling from your sobering encounter with Daemon. Of course you always knew he was a playboy and he slept around, of course you knew he would never be seriously interested in you, but realizing any sort of interest he had in the first place was because of your sister again— it doesn't hurt you any less. It hurts you more each time. The next second, you are reminded of every man who's ever shown you interest and recall what they really wanted from you.

And as your mind raced with these thoughts and the sight of Gwayne Hightower— multi-award winning Gwayne Hightower, front cover of Rogue magazine Gwayne Hightower, Oldtown hearthrob Gwayne Hightower-

"Alicent doesn't have to know," he mutters and shrugs.

Oh.

He gives a lopsided smile.

If you somehow didn't know before, you know now exactly what he wanted from you.

You turn to your feet. But Harwin...

You scoff at yourself. Who were you joking?

You feel pathetic enough for you to look up and say, "okay."

Gwayne examines your face. He notices how your expression shifted but still, his smile spreads. He reaches a hand to you and you take it without a second thought.

You walk off and you don't even bother looking for Alicent at all. Before you leave, you do encounter his cousin, Aegon. Your eyes lock as you pass each other, and so you decide to smile at him, "nice tats, Aeg."

He freezes and watches as you and Gwayne leave.

Gwayne raves as he drives, telling you about The White Walkers, how it was his favorite band and how excited he was when Oldtown got to play with them. He rambles some more before asking you about your tastes. You brush him off at first, uninterested in indulging conversation.

You shake your head, "it's not very interesting."

"I'm pretty sure I get to decide what I find interesting or not."

You watch him give you that trademark smirk of his and you want to so badly believe he wasn't just saying that to get in your pants.

You don't but you humor him, "I'm more of a jazz sort of person."

"Aha," he maneuvers the steering wheel, "so extended chords and irregular tempos get you going?"

You lean into the passenger seat and smile, "don't forget nonfunctional harmony."

His dimples deepen. He takes a turn, "so what, you're too good for The White Walkers?"

"I did not say that."

"Well," he sighs deeply, "you don't seem to want to say much so I'm going to have to make things up as I go."

You shake your head and roll your eyes at him. You look out the window and miss the way he smiles at you.

"Fine," you start, "there's an artist called Khiara. She's makes incredible music. She's Lengii, and she infuses a lot of her native sound in her music. It's stunning."

He nods, "Khiara."

"Yeah..." you give him a passing smile before looking away again, "she's great."

"I'm sure she is."

He did not mean it in a mocking way, but it comes across to you as such. You scoff and resign to watching the buildings pass.

"Are you a jazz musician by taste and profession?"

You roll your eyes at his adamance at small talk, "I'm a music teacher."

His brows quirk, "what? No way, that's-"

"Underwhelming?" you look back at him.

"Cool," he spares you a look before bringing his eyes back on the road, "you teach jazz?"

"I teach 4th graders."

"Even better," he smiles, "I couldn't teach a dog to bark even if I tried so, consider me impressed."

"Mmm. I'll add it to my CV."

He snorts.

You look out the window again, "that one rockstar is impressed by me."

He leans an elbow on the car door and brushes his lips as he chuckles. Gods, you were a dream.

When you reach his apartment, you realize just how much of a rockstar he really was. His place was huge, and he had such eccentric furnishing, from a full on display of a suit of armour, to posters of obscenely niche bands. They didn't make sense and yet they fit perfectly together. And when he said he had a hundred records in his bedroom, you think he was actually playing it down.

You both take your shoes off before entering his bedroom. Gwayne leads you by the hand and motions to his collection, "I'm sure I have something here that's jazzy enough for you."

You raise your brows at him and pull away, effectively stopping him in his tracks before he can go through his records.

His brow quirks, "what is it?"

"Did you really take me home to dance in your bedroom?"

Gwayne chuckles as you walk past him. He eyes your body as you inch towards his bed and sequentially sit by the foot. You place your hands on your knees and raise your brows at him. He licks his lips and shrugs, "did 'dancing in my bedroom' sound like an innuendo to you?"

You scoff out a chuckle and roll your eyes, "you really are an annoying cunt."

Gwayne lowers his gaze, licking his teeth. He saunters over, hands in his pockets. He stops once he is directly in front of you, "do you want me to stop?"

"Stop what?"

"Being an annoying cunt?"

"I want you to stop wasting my time," you retort, "unlike you, I work a 9-5."

He laughs, dropping his head. He raises his hands in surrender, "damn. Where did you come from? You were so smiley and sweet not even an hour ago."

You forfeit a response and simply lean back on the bed.

That wipes the smile off his face. He looks down on you, feeling his breath grow heavy at your expression. He clenches his jaw, undoes his tie, and drops to his knees.

You can't stop your lips from parting.

He rubs his hands up your shins, measuring your reaction. You simply watch as his hands disappear underneath your skirt. Your breath hitches when he squeezes your thighs. Gwayne pushes closer, and you wouldn't have minded, had he not kissed your knee.

"Wait," you reach out to his head.

Gwayne gulps as he looks up at you, eager to know where he went wrong.

"No kissing," you mutter.

He hears it, repeats it in head, then repeats it out loud, "no kissing?"

You bite your lip and stroke his cheek, "no kissing."

It takes a moment for him to realize you were being serious, and when he does, he slowly nods, repeating again, "no kissing."

You nod and straighten up. You brush your hands up his arms then proceed to unbutton his white dress shirt, "you can bite, you can lick," you lick your lips on cue, "I'll even let you spit on me—"

"Mmm, fuck."

"—but no kissing." You slip your hands into his shirt, "you good with that, Hightower?"

"Fuck," he hooks his hands behind your knees and tugs you forward. You squeak and grip his shoulders. He slots himself between your legs, "no kissing anything?"

Your breath strains when his nails drag up the inside of your thighs, trailing to your waistband. Your brush your noses together, shaking your head, "anything."

He hisses, baring his teeth. He is unbelievably compelled to kiss you. He knocks his nose into your cheek, nostrils flaring, jaw muscles feathering. He breathes against your ear, "not even here, pretty girl?"

You feel his fingers brush across your soft belly and sink past your navel. You whimper when his fingers press into your core. He tuts and bites your neck at your attempt to you close your legs, "nah, ah, ah, ah. No fair. You need to play fair with me, sweetheart."

You rest your head on his toned shoulder. You squeeze his biceps, taking a moment to relax before willingly parting your legs.

He makes a pleased sound, "good girl," he nips your earlobe, "now, say it for me. Will you play fair?"

You sigh against his trapezius as your hand clutches his neck. You lick his skin before biting and whimpering, "yes."

"Seven gods," he groans, turning to kiss you. He tilts your head back, lips nearly landing on yours, but the sight of your smeared lipstick reminds him that he can't. His mind raceswith all the things he wants to do you. He starts by smearing your lipstick with his thumb and biting your lips.

You whimper and push him by the chest.

He licks your cheek and shakes his head, "I'm not kissing you, baby."

You dig your fingers into his hair and pull him back, "annoying fucking cunt."

He laughs and pulls away. His hair is messy and your stomach drops when he swipes the lipstick on his thumb on his lower lip, "I am. Now lie down." He bunches your skirt up.

You refuse to fully lie down, wanting, no, needing to see him. His eyes stay fixed on yours as his nails bite your thighs and his teeth stake their claim. He shakes his head, nose brushing against you, "told you to lie down."

"Mmm," you comb the hair out of his face, "want to see your pretty face."

He smirks and rids you of your underwear, throwing it somewhere in the room, "we'll see."

Gwayne sinks into you, his tongue and lips lapping into your folds. He works with confidence and feasts in a way that makes you writhe. You are powerless against his finesse. Your breath strains as you fall on the bed. He grips your hips, keeping you from moving too much, and you are never not amazed at just how strong men can be, "mmm, 's what I thought."

Before you know it, all you can do is arch your back, tug his hair, and call out his name. It only inspires him to be more diligent. He basks in the power he has over you. He moans as you become increasingly frantic and curses when you come undone all over his mouth.

He allows you momentary repose as he rises from your legs. You look up at him, heart racing as he licks his lips. Fuck, he was beautiful. You wipe the sheen off his chin and feel your stomach drop when he licks your thumb.

Let it never be said that Gwayne Hightower is a talentless prick. Go say what you want about how he sings and speaks, but gods, the man can use his mouth.

It was both so quick and not quick enough until you're both naked. Gwayne has to make the conscious decision to leave bites on your skin instead of kisses, and you suppose this is the reason why he ends up trapped beneath you. You take advantage of his distraction and lose yourself as you ride him, unabashedly bouncing on his hips as your hands reveled in his toned belly. He squeezes every part of you he can get his hands on, relishing the firmness of your hips, the delicateness of your breasts, the softness of you. It was in these moments you didn't mind your build, knowing well these mortal men looked at you like a goddess.

He can't help himself and sits up to graze your skin. He leaves marks all over your throat and nips your lips every time you drive him wild with your noises. He thinks about how badly he wants you to stain his mouth with your lipstick, and in that moment, you push him back and shift your weight into his shoulders.

He curses for the nth time and brings one hand up to the base of your neck. You lean into his touch. His thumb brushes over your lips and you suck on his finger. It makes him claw at the small of your back with his other hand.

Gwayne watches the way your body quakes at the force of your actions. He commits the sight to memory as he feels his belly tighten. He pulls his thumb away with a pop and aids your movements with the thrust of his hips. You call his name out like a mantra as you feel pressure building inside you.

And then it was hot and electric. And then you felt yourself melt into a burning mess as slowly your bones turned to jelly.

You fall into his chest and catch your breath. You can feel both your hearts racing with your sweaty skin pressed together like this.

Gwayne wipes his face and brushes his hair back, mind hazy, mouth dry. Before he can bring an arm around you, you're pushing yourself up and climbing off him. He turns to your side, expecting you to lie next to him, but you make him knit his brows when you grab your dress from the floor, "where's your bathroom?"

He rolls on his belly and points, "just outside."

You cover yourself with your dress and pick up your underwear. You quickly find the bathroom and open the light. You give yourself a jumpscare when you catch reflection on the mirror.

You look like you were caught in a violent accident, with your hair messy and your lipstick in places you didn't expect. You body looked horrendous, worse under this lighting. You gulp and wonder how horny Gwyane must have been to want to take you home. You feel pathetic. You feel nasty. It's no wonder why no one's seriously interested in you. You were a disgusting fat fuck who's only point of interest is her pussy.

You wash yourself as much as you can, get dressed, and take a few deep breaths before exiting.

When you step back into his bedroom, you hear music playing. Was that-

"Khiara," Gwayne says, still sprawled on his belly, butt naked. His eyes are on his phone, "she is incredible."

You look around for your purse, wondering if it was here on in his car.

He turns to you when you do not respond, his expression dropping upon seeing you dressed. He sits up, "is something wrong?"

You spot your purse and smile to yourself, "nope. Just need to call an Ubor."

He watches you grab your purse and pull out your phone. It takes a moment for him to register what was happening. His pride is wounded, "you're not going to stay?"

"Like I said, nine to fi-"

"Tomorrow's Sunday," he leans into his thighs.

You glance at him, catching his sullen expression.

"Don't go."

You ignore the bubbling in your stomach. You chew your lip and walk towards him. He watches you intently. You rest your knee on his thigh, and he immediately straightens up to grab your hips. You take his chin and look at the mess on him, your lipstick, your slick, your spit, then whisper, "I've got things to do."

He rubs your sides, "do they do you better than me?"

Neither of you react.

You think about the convenience store you passed on the drive here. You decide you can wait for your Ubor there and pull away from him, "this was really fun, rockstar."

Gwayne huffs, lowers his gaze, and pinches the bridge of his nose, "no, wait-"

"Good night," you walk off.

He grabs his pants, "let me drive you home."

You ignore him and rush to his door, "good night."

"Wait, dammit!"

You sigh in relief once you're out his home. You forfeit the elevator and head to the stairwell. Halfway through your descent, the door above slams open, and you look up to see a frantic looking Gwayne.

"Really?! The stairs?!"

You wrap your arms around yourself, watching him runs down to you. His face is still messy. His shirt is unbuttoned, and his pants aren't zipped. He sighs, shaking his hands, "what?! what? Am I a bad driver?"

You bite your lip and shake your head.

He huffs and waves a hand, "am I a bad lover?"

Your stomach rolls. You turn to your feet, "I wouldn't know, you're not my lover-"

"Fuck- am I a bad... fuck- sexual partner!" he blurts, zipping his pants then adjusting his shoes.

"No," you chuckle guiltily, "you were... you were amazing-"

"Rate it 1 to 10," he begins to button his shirt.

You look up at him incredulously and sigh, "Gwayne, I just really want to go home."

"Then stop bruising my ego and let me take you home," he shakes his hands in frustration. You stare at each other for a moment. The look on his face makes you want to be swallowed by the ground. You go down a few steps, and Gwayne steps once before sighing. He places his hands in his pockets, "I just... I thought it was going really well."

I look up at him.

He another step forward.

Your mind races. You can't help but relive all your bad memories in this moment. The sheen on his chest tells you bad this is going to hurt if you dive into it. Gods, fucking around with someone in Oldtown? You shrug, "it was, I think."

"Then," he steps forward and grabs your shoulders, "let's at least end it on a good note." You watch him motions with his head, "and let's take the fucking lift while we're at it."

He heads for the door. You suck in a breath and simply go down.

Gwayne holds the door for you and does a double take when he sees you walking off "seriously?"

"Stairs or nothing, buddy. I need the cardio."

"Well, if it's cardio you want," he rushes after you, "I am happy to help."

You glare at him once he's beside you.

Gwayne chuckles at it, feigning a look of innocence, "I have a treadmill in my flat. I don't know what you're thinking, dirty girl." You roll your eyes, making him laugh, "well, I mean I do, you practically jumped me."

"Oh, what, like you didn't think of it."

He gasps, "I am a gentleman."

"Mmm, you must think you're cute."

"Not nearly as cute as you," he grabs your arm once you reach the next door in the stairwell, "now for the love of the Mother, let's fucking take the lift."

[drunk-person]

Day off (Modern Au) P.3

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x cousin!reader

Summary: One of the most talked about gossips among the lower class servants in Kings Landing is the fact (or not) that Aemond Targaryen got involved with his cousin Y/n Targaryen when they were both teenagers. Mainly due to the fact that at the age of 17 she was sent to Old Town overnight. Some employees claim that Aemond was caught between her legs. Some say that, like her father, she had had a horrible fight with her uncle and uncle and was sent away. And other than that none of this happened, she just became interested in the course offered at the Old Town conservatory. But now five years later, Y/n Targaryen is back, and rumors haunt those who favor them.

This chapter is a part of a main story The gossip, you can find the previous chapter, summary and general tags by accessing the link.

Summary of the chapter: The birthday party brings much more than imagined, and after a completely crazy night comes the next morning. The breakfast? Gossips!

Warnings of the chapter: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, slight codependency, no description for reader.

A/N: I hope you like the new chapter, I'm very happy and grateful for all the dear people who commented on the previous chapter, thank you very much, your comments inspire me! Comments and suggestions are welcome 💕

Word count: 7,500 k

"Good morning Kings landing, it seems that the birthday party of our dearest Cece Lanister was the event of the year. From what our columnists heard, Y/n Targaryen attended her former friend's party, but apparently she didn't stay for long Did our beloved Targaryen's time in Old Town change her that much?"

❦❦❦

The flavor of seven tea house was packed as always for breakfast. At a table further away, sitting with her cell phone in her hand and visibly impatient, was Floris Baratheon.

-I haven't been able to talk to Aemond since last night. - Floris commented in the group of friends in annoyance.

-He dropped you off at home? - Nia asked, curving her eyebrows.

-No, he disappeared in the middle of the party, I know he doesn't like this type of event, but he must have had a good reason to leave without warning. - She commented with a frown on her forehead, looking at the cell phone display while the group's friends looked at each other.

-What's it? - She asked when she saw the expressions on their faces.

-I don't know, Floris, don't you think it's strange that he disappeared in the middle of the party yesterday, right after she returned? - Pia said, slightly biting her lips in apprehension.

-She who? - Floris asked rolling her eyes.

-Y/n Targaryen.

-Time please. - She rolled her eyes even more deeply and spoke in a mocking voice. - Are you believing the gossip from the servants now?

-I don't know if it's just gossip.

-They are cousins ​​Jane. Cousins.

-Yes, just as her father is Laena Valaryon's cousin and the two are married in Pentos.

-Look, his mother assured me that this was all just malicious gossip spread by servants who have nothing better to do.

Everyone raised their eyebrows at the prospect that she had asked Aemond's mother about the matter.

-Flo I don't know, this whole story is very strange. Do you remember your school days? The two of them were always together and had those strange looks at each other. - Jane said a little unbelieving.

-Okay, that's enough. - Floris protested irritably with her friends. - Aemond doesn't have anything to do with his cousin!

-Okay, we won't say anything else. - Elyrio said, raising both hands in surrender. - But you have to admit that it is strange.

-Do you want to know? I have to go, my dad needs me at the company today. - Floris picked up her own coffee and phone from the table and left, slightly tense, and Jane thought she saw the name Alicent in the phone book on Floris' cell phone before her friend left.

-You know what people say about why she went to Old Town. - After Floris left, Elyrio continued with a mischievous smile while wagging his eyebrows. - It looks like she was sent away because his mother caught them playing doctor in his room.

-I don’t know, but from what they say he was the gynecologist. - Lion blurted out in an even more malicious voice.

-How do you know about that? - Jane asked with wide eyes.

-We can't be sure, but the Targaryens' gardener is the brother of our family's cook. - Elyrio continued the conversation excitedly. - And from what we heard her talking to the other employees…

-It's not just rumors. - Lion concluded for his brother.

-That's so low, even for you guys - Nia rolled her eyes at the two brothers with a look of disbelief. - Aemond and Floris like each other.

-Oh please, has anyone ever seen Aemond kissing Floris? - Jane rolled her eyes as she said while drinking some of her own iced tea. - Whenever he's around he has that disgusted look on his face, it looks like someone put a rotten fish under his snobbish nose.

-I think it's just his way. - Nia defended, curving her eyebrows. - The family is all kind of weird after all, what with the royal descent thing and everything.

-Helaena Targaryen is not like that, I saw her picking up trash on the beach last week. -Lion smiled when he said that, but not in the malicious way he did when he talked about Aemond and Y/n.

-Helaena doesn't count. - Jane intervened at the same moment. - The girl is sweeter than any other human being that has ever walked the earth, I don't even know if she is even human.

-Have you spoken to Aegon yet? - Elyrio asked with an incredulous look as he moved his own coffee straw with his fingertips. - He makes you think that we have returned to the time of conquest and that everyone around must obey and serve him.

-But you guys forget that Aemond wasn't always like this. - Lion dragged the conversation back to Aemond. - Which brings us to the original subject of this conversation, when we studied KLH together he was all smiles and helpful.

-But only when he was with his dear little cousin. - Elyrio shook his eyebrows mischievously as he drank more coffee, and then looked around before whispering to the others. -Jason Lanister swears that one day he saw him put his hand up her skirt in high school.

-Jai is a liar. - Nia grumbled irritably.

-Well Lin Blackwood said that he once saw a very obscene note in her locker signed with an A at the end. -Jane said while she bit her lower lip.

-Which could mean millions more people. - Nia once again refuted her friends' gossip.

-Okay, but what about that trip to Harrenhall? - Lion said looking Nia in the eyes mockingly. - That the club had a technical problem with the lights and sent everyone out and they were both red and sweaty in that corner?

-We were on a dance floor, everyone was red and sweaty.

-Nia, don't you remember how strange he was after she went to Old Town? - Jane asked, staring at her friend fixedly. - He disappeared from college for over a month and when he came back he had lost weight and wasn't talking to anyone.

-And now he just disappears without answering the night she comes back? - Elyrio concluded hastily, as if gossiping was fuel to make his soul happy.

Pia's look at this point was even more apprehensive, as if she was holding air in her lungs and was going to explode at any moment. Elyrio, realizing this, raised his eyebrows curiously as he looked at his friend.

-Pia. - He hummed her name. - You know something!

-I do not know anything. - She immediately denied it.

-Hurry up! - Lion said, pulling the chair closer to hers. - We tell you what we know, now you have to tell it too!

-It’s not exactly gossip. - She started, still biting her lip. - Or maybe it is, I don't know. But last night at Cece's party I heard two girls say that they saw Aemond leaving with Y/n and that the two seemed very close.

Everyone looked at each other in shock after hearing this.

-That doesn't prove absolutely anything. - Nia interrupted. - They are cousins, Aemond could just be giving her a ride.

-Or giving other things. - Lion said smiling while drinking his own coffee. - And from what we know he probably loves giving her rides.

-How mean you are! - Nia grumbled while biting into a pretzel.

-It's not about being mean, it's about being realistic! - Elyrio came to his brother's defense. - There is something very wrong with those two. Even you have to admit it Nia.

❦❦❦

In the Targaryen mansion Alicent paced back and forth as she poked her fingers irritably. First Aemond didn't answer her and now all the calls were going straight to voicemail. She didn't want to accept it, but this could only be the work of that poisonous viper that had entangled itself with her son without her realizing it.

The phone rang and Alicent looked at it expectantly, but the name that appeared on the screen was not what she expected.

Floris.

Alicent's heart froze even more, and with slightly shaking hands she answered the phone, trying to appear calmer than she really was.

-Good morning Mrs Targaryen. - Came the gentle voice on the other end of the line.

-Hello my dear, how can I be of service?

-Do you happen to know where Aemond is? I can't talk to him and I'm already getting worried.

Alicent could feel the irritation in Floris's voice and she knew that just like her, the younger girl might also have her own suspicions.

-Aemond isn't feeling very well. In fact, he hadn't been well since yesterday, he told me he only left home yesterday so he could accompany you. - Alicent lied with a smile on her face.

-Is he at your house?

-Yes. - She confirmed it at the same moment.

-Then I'll come by and see hi…

-No my dear, I think it's better not to. - Alicent interrupted her mid-sentence. - Aemond is sleeping, I gave him some soup and medicine. You can rest assured.

-Are you sure Mrs. Targaryen?

-Absolute. - Alicent's voice left no room for disagreement, and after saying goodbye she hung up her cell phone, even more irritated if possible.

According to Oto told Alicent, Floris Baratheon's importance to Aemond was almost immeasurable if he even wanted to have a chance of succeeding Viserys as CEO of Targaryen Inc. one day. Using the possibility of uniting the two large companies would be a huge advantage over Rhaenyra since she had married and had children with Harwin Strong.

For Alicent, this wasn't as important as making her son forget about Y/n. Her main objective with this relationship was to make Aemond stop thinking about his cousin and not wanting to return to her. He was very reluctant when introduced to Floris, and only agreed to take the initiative when Oto told him it would be great for business.

But Alicent didn't see him talk about her, she didn't see him approach her, she hadn't even seen her son touch the girl for more than a minute. And she knew who was to blame for all this, even if she was miles away.

And now Y/n had been back for less than 24 hours and Aemond had disappeared from the map. Which made Alicent think the worst, her dear son could once again be involved in sinful acts with that little snake.

And after dozens of unanswered calls, an idea flashed through Alicent's head and she quickly dialed the number of the maid who cleaned Aemond and Aegon's apartment.

-Good morning Mrs. Dancil, is my son at his apartment? - She spoke in a sweet voice, but her tone quickly soured when she heard the woman saying that Aemond didn't let her pass the doorstep in the morning.

-He was alone? - She asked in an extremely irritated voice.

-I don't know ma'am, but from what I saw he had just gotten out of the shower.

Alicent hung up the phone without asking any more questions. For the seven, she would like to understand why all her children wanted to destroy their own lives before the gods and before society. Even her sweet and dear Aemond associating with that family destroyer.

❦❦❦

The sun was high outside and entering the room strongly, with everything that had happened Aemond even thought about closing the curtains. The phone's annoying vibration woke him from his deep sleep, and the sunlight made him wake up for good. He reached down and pulled his phone out of his pants pocket and read the name on the display.

Mom.

-mmnn. - Aemond just muttered and turned off the cell phone, throwing it on the carpet, once again lost among the discarded clothes.

When he turned to the side he could see her, naked and tangled between the sheets, her hair falling wildly over her face and shoulders, the skin on her neck with bruises forming, her cheeks still red from the slap he had delivered. She still looked so beautiful sleeping, and Aemond knew he would never see a more beautiful sight in his life than that.

He knew he shouldn't be doing this, that it was wrong and the two of them shouldn't be together. And the night before Aemond had tried to resist, he really had, but it was impossible. It was one thing for her to be miles away in Old Town, it was another for her in front of him to speak in that melodious voice while she rubbed her own body against his.

And he had missed her so much, missed the moments when he could open his eyes and find her naked body next to his. And with his eyes still full of longing, Aemond took his hand to her waist, leaving soft caresses with his fingertips, going up and down from her hips to the curve of her breasts, outlining her curves with softness and adoration.

Now away from the frenzy of pleasure he paid more attention to the necklace around Y/n's neck. She continued to wear it, even after years, Aemond ran his fingers gently over the pendant, sighing at the memories that came back. Y/n's 16th birthday, the day he gave her that necklace. The day she gave herself completely to him. Aemond could never forget that moment and what he felt that night.

-Aem? - Her sleepy voice came, making him shiver.

-Hey. - He replied with his voice still hoarse from sleep, making Y/n stretch.

She raised her arms, stretching her muscles sore after the previous night, not even bothering to cover herself from Aemond's eyes. He had seen everything there was to see in her so many times, he had no reason to hide anymore.

-Still using it. - He said looking at the pendant between her breasts.

-I never took it off. - Y/n shrugged her shoulders as she took the pendant between her fingers. -It always brought me good memories.

She looked him in the eyes and Aemond felt himself shudder as he grabbed the back of her head and placed a wet kiss on his cousin's lips. Little by little he pulled her more and more into his own lap until Y/n was straddling him while they both kissed each other deeper and deeper, to the point where they almost lost their breath.

Aemond caressed every part of her body he could get his hands on. He touched everything that belonged to him. Squeezing and caressing her soft thighs and ass, going up her waist and squeezing her full breasts, only to then move his hands up to her neck and hair. It was as if Y/n would disappear at any moment, as if she were a fever dream that he needed to enjoy as much as possible before it ended.

Y/n was the same way, it was as if Aemond was water and she had been dying of thirst for a long time. She kissed him and caressed him back with the same desire and the same hunger for affection, running her fingers around her thin waist, caressing his chest, sighing with contentment when she could finally feel him against her again. Running her nails lightly down his back just like she knew he liked, and then tangling her fingers between the long strands of silver hair.

Both were drowning in each other. There was nothing else in the world at that moment, there was no family, responsibilities, scandal, companies, rumors or names to protect. Just them and the overwhelming desire they had for each other.

Aemond gently got up from the bed as he held her tightly against himself and walked towards the bathroom.

-Shower or bathtub? - Aemond spoke against her hair.

-Bathtub. - She sighed against his neck, and Aemond placed her delicately on the bathroom counter to fill the bathtub with hot water. A

After it was almost full he helped Y/n get in and sat behind her hugging her and caressing her belly, waist and breasts.

He slowly wet her hair calmly and gently, as if her hair were strands of the most precious silk, and then slowly washed it. Y/n closed her eyes in contentment, his hands against her skin and scalp, the smell of his shampoo all over the air intoxicating her.

Aemond rinsed her hair, washing away all the foam and leaving a soft kiss on the top of her head as he sighed as he smelled his own scent now completely attached to her. Y/n turned to face him and with a mischievous and sweet smile at the same time, she gently wet Aemond's hair as he closed his eyes.

She then did the same to him, but looking him in the eyes while she did it. She washed and massaged Aemond's hair with affection and devotion, caressing the locks with all the love she could while she felt herself being consumed by his gaze. Aemond felt softened, and knew that if he hadn't been sitting down he would probably fall to the floor at that moment, her soft caresses that he had missed so much leaving him floored. Y/n smiled as she rinsed his hair, feeling the soft, damp strands against her own hand.

Aemond and Y/n bathed each other with care and gentleness. As if one and the other were made of the finest and most delicate porcelain and would break at the slightest hard touch. Their fingers soaped and rinsed each other's skin, hungry for touch, hungry for affection.

And when Aemond touched Y/n in her intimacy she sighed and fell onto his chest in anticipation. He caressed her even more gently in that area, he could feel her wetness against his own fingers, he could feel how much she wanted him. The sweet and soft noises she made made his mind spin, and with a gentle thrust he entered Y/n's interior with his own cock already hard and throbbing for her.

Y/n held onto his shoulders with her head buried in the hollow of Aemond's neck, her eyes firmly pressed as she felt him inside her once again. And taking a deep breath, she moved over him, making some of the water come out of the tub, but neither of them cared. Her movements were firm and slow while Aemond held her tightly around her waist and hips, throwing her head back in ecstasy.

The two exchanged sweet, soft kisses as they moved against each other full of longing, holding each other tightly as they lost themselves in the frenzy. As the waves of pleasure passed through the body, both movements became stronger. Y/n held him tighter, just as Aemond held her, and they both looked into each other's eyes as they panted and moaned in sweet pleasure and contentment.

Y/n came first, shuddering over Aemond as she felt a wave of pleasure cross her own body and leave all her nerve endings out of control as she collapsed onto Aemond, who came soon after, feeling her cum against his cock, pressing his eyes tightly and pulling her even closer to him in a hot, breathless hug.

The two stayed there, just hugging each other, with Aemond still inside her, both missing each other, wanting to be close to each other for as long as possible, without any barrier separating them.

The water was already cold when the two got up from the tub and walked towards the bedroom again. Aemond dried Y/n's body, admiring every little detail of her, memorizing again every spot, every mark, every line.

Y/n showed off to him without any shame, feeling comfortable under her cousin's watchful and hungry gaze like she didn't feel anywhere else in the world.

And Aemond pulled her towards him again, hugging her tightly to the point that they both felt each other's hearts beating against their chests. He caressed the sides of her body with adoration, as if he needed to make sure it was all real. And when the two let go of the hug, Aemond returned to staring at her body with that same look that was a mixture of love, passion and hunger.

-As much as I love being admired by you, I'm going to need some clothes. - She said, smiling and caressing Aemond's neck with her fingertips.

-I prefer you naked. - He smiled mischievously at her who just kissed his neck.

Aemond gave Y/n a white shirt and watched with a slight smile as she got dressed, then he put on just a pair of black sweatpants and went towards her again.

-Let's eat something? - He asked smiling at Y/n who agreed instantly with a smile.

-I haven't eaten anything since before the party. - She then extended her arms to Aemond with a pout. - My legs are weak, can you carry me?

Aemond just rolled his eyes before picking her up in his arms and lifting her off the ground with ease while Y/n wrapped her legs around his waist.

When he arrived in the kitchen, he placed her on the counter and after a quick kiss on the lips, he went towards the refrigerator, but was interrupted by the incessant ringing of his own cell phone in the room.

-Just give me a minute. - He sighed to Y/n heading towards the bedroom, returning shortly after with his cell phone in one hand and Y/n's silver heels in the other. Aemond smiled and raised his eyebrows as he placed her shoes and his, which had been thrown haphazardly around the room, together on a sideboard near the door.

-Still with an obsession for organization? - She asked, pouting, mocking him.

-Ever. - Aemond approached the counter and bit her lip as he responded, making her sigh.

He looked down at his cell phone and saw hundreds of messages and missed calls, and after that it didn't take long for the doorbell to ring and Aemond looked at the door in confusion, only to remember that the cleaning lady was coming that day.

-Shit. - He went towards the door still wearing only his sweatpants and with his damp hair falling over his shoulders.

-Good morning Mr. Targaryen. - The woman spoke as she was already entering, but Aemond stopped her from going through the door.

-Your services will not be needed today, Mrs. Dancil. - Aemond spoke in a serious voice and before the woman asked questions he continued speaking. - You can take the day off, or clean Aegon's house, whatever you think is best. The woman stared at him blankly as she tried to discreetly look into the apartment through Aemond, and then left without asking any more questions.

After telling the maid to leave, Aemond called the concierge.

-I'm not for anyone today. If anyone asks, tell them that I left for now and haven't come back yet.

Y/n watched him still sitting on the kitchen counter with her legs crossed, biting her lower lip slightly, while Aemond made another call.

-Good morning Mrs. Mayotte. - Aemond spoke in a polite voice. - Reschedule all my appointments today. Reschedule lunch with the supplier, I don't mind. Put the paperwork on Aegon's desk and say that I told him to stop being lazy and work like everyone else. You can say with these words, I guarantee your job. If anyone looks for me, tell them they don't know my whereabouts. - He hung up the phone and threw it onto the living room armchair.

-I enjoyed hearing your business voice. - She said, swinging her legs in the air, jumping off the counter and walking towards Aemond. - You'll have to talk to me like that later.

Aemond rolled his eyes and pulled her towards him by the waist, placing a tender kiss on her lips.

-I'm all yours for the rest of the day. - He murmured against her lips.

-You are always all my Aemond. -She whispered back with a smile as she slowly brushed her own lips against his.

❦❦❦

After exchanging soft kisses, Aemond and Y/n prepared potato rosti, their favorite food throughout their lives.

-You're doing it wrong Aem. You definitely don't add that amount of onion. - Y/n complained, pulling the knife from his hand.

-And since when did you become a culinary expert? - He raised his eyebrows as he looked at her, pouting.

-Since your parents left me five years ago in a conservatory in Old Town. - She rolled her eyes and left a kiss on his chin. - The septas force us to work. Did you know that?

-It must have been horrible. - Aemond mocked.

-ha, ha, ha, you're hilarious. -Y/n faked a laugh while pouring water into the potato pot. - You wouldn't survive two days in that conservatory, Aemond.

-And why not? - He arched his eyebrows in offense as he put the things he wouldn't need back in the fridge.

-Because you, my dear cousin, are the devil. You don't know how to exchange two words with anyone without ironizing the person in the exact way you are doing now. - She said, looking at him with her hand on her hip. - You would live trapped in some punishment.

-And what did you do? - He looked her up and down as he asked. - Since in my experience you are no angel.

-I pretended to obey. I did what they told me. The conservatory isn't that bad after all, I learned a lot of cool things and the teaching program is really good. - She spoke in a monotonous voice while stirring the pot looking away and Aemond realized that she wasn't comfortable talking about the conservatory at that moment.

-But? - Aemond asked, approaching and holding her by the waist, bringing her towards him.

-Don't be cocky. - Y/n rolled her eyes more comfortably while biting Aemond's lower lip and pulling it lightly with her teeth.

-I didn't say anything. - His ironic look said it all.

-I really missed you. - She confessed, looking at him in that way that made Aemond's heart hurt. - Not just having sex, of everything. Being able to talk and stay by your side. You're my best friend Aem, it was horrible being without you.

-I missed you too. - He said putting a lock of her hair back. - Every day.

Suddenly Y/n's gaze changed and when she looked at Aemond again the heat was gone, and now pure anger burned in its place. With the memory of why she went to Cercei Lanister's party.

-Well it wasn't what it seemed since according to all the gossip magazines in the city you should announce your engagement at any moment. - Y/n's voice was hateful when she said that, as if the words were bitter in her mouth.

-What? No! - Aemond opened his eyes wide in shock. - Me and Floris are definitely not getting engaged.

-So there is a you and Floris? - She arched her eyebrows ironically.

-Y/n I don't like Floris, my grandfather and her father think that uniting us could be good for business… - Aemond held her by the shoulders while he said this, as if he was afraid that she would evaporate into thin air, or run away .

-I know you don't like her because you love me. -Y/n's eyes burned with anger as she spoke as she pointed at herself. - But Aemond, if you let that bitch touch you…

-Y/n.. - Aemond started to speak but was immediately interrupted.

-And don't you dare lie to me! - She practically growled. - If you let her put her hands on you I will never let you touch my body again and I will kill that bitch and I will feel pleasure from it. -She held Aemond by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes as she spoke, and he could see the jealousy burning through the surface.

-You know I would never let someone else touch me. - Aemond hissed offended, as if the mere idea of ​​being touched by someone other than Y/n disgusted him. - We promised this to each other.

-I told you yesterday that I haven't slept with anyone else since you left! -Aemond placed his palms against the sides of her face as he spoke, looking into her eyes.

-No, you didn't say it! - Y/n moved a few centimeters away from him and the irritation in her voice was palpable.

-I think the fact that I came inside you in less than ten minutes in a coat closet in the middle of a party says a lot about it. - Aemond rolled his eyes and threw his head back in annoyance.

-Do you swear? - She questioned him, looking at him with that needy look that made Aemond want to move all the mountains in the world for her, and hypnotized, he approached her again before answering her. - You swear you didn’t touch her the way you touch me?

-With all my heart. - He said, carefully stroking her hair. - I was only with you, just as we promised that night.

-I'm sorry for acting crazy. - She sighed looking at her own bare feet. - But just thinking that that bitch could have put her hands on you makes me…

-I am yours. - Aemond interrupted her by placing her hand over his heart. - Only yours.

-That's just business and company stuff. My mother and grandfather think that if I marry Floris Baratheon I can be chosen as CEO in Rhaenyra's place in the future.

-Marry? - Y/n asked in disbelief and Aemond could see her eyes suddenly shine with tears. - This is what you want? - She asked, looking into his eyes, trying to get away from him again and Aemond could see the feeling of betrayal in her eyes. - Marry Floris Baratheon and become CEO?

-No! - He denied it immediately as he pulled her back towards him, surprising even himself for not caring about anything else other than making her believe him. - I want you, Y/n, only you.

– Do you swear? - She asked, but now with an irritated voice.

-I swear! - He growled against her face without excitement.

-Then end this lie, because I won't share you! - Y/n practically growled as she held Aemond's face tightly between her hands. - She's the other one and not me, she was the one who arrived later trying to steal you from me.

Aemond agreed and kissed her on the lips, he could feel the possessiveness in her kiss, the way she pulled his hair and bit his lips, pulling him more and more towards her, as if she was hungry, as if she needed to prove that he was of hers.

-Give me a week to resolve everything. - He said breathlessly with his forehead touching hers after breaking the kiss. - I promise you that within a week I will get rid of it.

-You're lucky that I love you. - She rolled her eyes and left a kiss on his chin.

After the discussion, the two decided not to talk about Floris Baratheon anymore that day, and after eating they went towards the living room and lay down together on the biggest sofa. The familiarity of it all made Aemond feel like Y/n had left for Old Town five days ago and not five years ago. At that moment nothing mattered to him, the only thing that existed was him and Y/n, how good it was to be by her side and how he wanted to stay that way forever.

-I haven't eaten this since you left. - He said, stroking Y/n's hair gently, and she just smiled and looked at him through her eyelashes, but now in a really innocent way, just love in her eyes. - It felt wrong without you here.

Y/n caressed Aemond's face and ran her hand down the long strands of hair that were now loose.

-You didn't finish telling me how things are here yesterday. - She said caressing his face. - How is Helaena? I wish I had seen her yesterday.

-She has a huge project to save the turtles in Black Water Bay. - He spoke affectionately. - Our father decided to finance it, and now no one can bring disposable objects to the beach anymore. Apart from all the supervision of the beach during breeding periods.

-That's totally like Hel. - Y/n smiled as she imagined her cousin making her dreams of caring for endangered animals come true.

-Speaking of reproduction. - Aemond said, turning to face her and Y/n smiled mischievously. - Were you serious or not last night?

-I was just teasing you. - She rolled her eyes playfully, making herself better comfortable in his lap. - I know you get all crazy and possessive about this pregnancy thing, and I like it when you get like that, I missed it. - Y/n murmured rubbing her lips against his neck.

Aemond felt a mix of relief and disappointment, he knew she was probably joking, but the idea of ​​having a part of him and her mixed together forever made his insides vibrate with joy.

-I want to have a child with you. - He said looking into her eyes and giving her a soft kiss on the lips - You know that.

-Yes, you've been saying that since we were 16 years old. - She smiled melancholic with some memories while steadied herself on his shoulders, looking deeply into his eyes. - I will give you a son, as soon as you marry me as we agreed.

-We're getting married. I promise you. - He said, squeezing her hips and smiling, that same look of pure adoration that he always had when he looked at her making Y/n's heart melt. - Nothing changed.

-I believe in you. - She kissed him softly. - And speaking of children, how is JaeJae?

-Aegon takes him to work almost every day. - Aemond rolled his eyes, laughing. - To be honest, his secretary has more work to do with Jaehaerys than with paperwork.

-He must have grown so much. - She said, leaning her head on Aemond's chest and smiling, remembering her younger cousin.

-Last week I went to get a report from Aegon's desk and he was sleeping on the couch while Jaehaerys made paper airplanes with the pages of the reports and threw them around the room. - Aemond grumbled, laughing lightly while stroking Y/n's hair.

It was a scandal when Aegon impregnated a model three years older when he was 17. Alicent almost died upon receiving the news, and then almost killed Aegon. Y/n got chills just remembering that day, Aegon running around the house with Alicent behind him throwing things and slapping wherever he could reach.

-How is your mother's mood about this? - Y/n's voice suddenly became slightly tense.

-Oddly enough, she's not so mad anymore. She only hits Aegon twice a week now, if he reduces the amount of alcohol he consumes it could be as much as one slap every Friday. - Aemond tried to lighten the mood by talking about Alicent as he felt Y/n's body become rigid with the subject.

Y/n couldn't help but laugh, her aunt always scared her a little by being very strict, but nothing too serious until that terrible night five years ago. Before that, she was too focused on Aegon to fight too much with her, Aemond, Helaena or Daeron.

-What about Daeron?

-She's still in denial, but she stopped threatening to send him to Old Town with you.

Y/n rolled her eyes, Daeron was gay and Alicent was a crazy, controlling mother who followed the faith of the seven diligently. A combination that would hardly go well.

-First of all, this is archaic, secondly, why was I the only one who ended up in old town? - She looked at him indignantly, making Aemond laugh. - You fucked me, Daeron is Gay, Aegon is Aegon. Why was I the only one who ended up in Old town? That's not fair!

-My mother got it into her head that you are a poisonous viper sent by your father to destroy her children. - Aemond said while looking at the ceiling.

-Why is everything that goes wrong in this family always blamed on my father? -Y/n questioned indignantly, but she couldn't help but feel a pang of pain knowing that was what her aunt thought of her.

-Because your father is your father. He's completely crazy, you can blame hundreds of things on him if you try hard enough. - Aemond stated, rubbing his nose against her neck as he smelled his own scent mixed with hers.

-And Rhaenyra? - Y/n changed her focus when remembering her cousin.

-If we are going to talk about my older sister I will need to call a family therapist. - He spoke in a monotonous voice against her neck and Y/n laughed in a nasal way.

-Rhaenyra isn't that bad. She would bring chocolate every time she came to visit. - Y/n smiled at the memory, the expensive chocolates that her old cousinbrought always caused fights between her and the other cousins, everyone always wanted to choose first, but she and Aemond always shared theirs. And like a frenzy, Y/n's eyes lit up with an idea.

-Let's have hot cocoa. - She said suddenly excited and Aemond arched his eyebrow looking at the radiant summer sun that came through the window.

-It must be about 30 degrees outside.

Y/n rolled her eyes as she got up and walked towards the thermostat, lowering the air conditioning temperature even further, making Aemond laugh slightly as he laid his head on the back of the sofa.

-Okay, now we will have a pleasant 15° degrees of autumn for a hot cocoa. - She smiled at him, already going towards the kitchen to prepare the hot chocolate while Aemond went towards the bedroom without warning.

When Y/n lifted her head again she saw in his hands a worn navy blue blanket with silver embroidery and couldn't help but give a bright smile as she felt his eyes handling it.

-I can't believe you kept that.

-It's the hot cocoa blanket. - Aemond shrugged smiling and Y/n kissed his cheek as she was flooded with memories. Shortly after Y/n moved in with her aunt and uncle, they went to Driftmark for a weekend to visit Rhaenys, the place was beautiful, but it was cold like Y/n had never felt before. Y/n always thought Rhaenys looked like a hawk, had a smart look and didn't miss anything, but after that weekend she discovered that the woman could be very sweet and affectionate too.

Especially when she covered Y/n and Aemond with that same blanket and made two large cups of hot chocolate for them. And when they left she said they could take the blanket since it was very cold and they both liked it so much.

From then on, the two always drank hot cocoa together when the weather got cold, and they always did it under that blanket that was now old and worn out.

After the chocolate was ready the two sat back down on the sofa covering themselves while they enjoyed the hot drink and smiled at each other, both exchanged soft and warm kisses while caressing each other affectionately.

-I missed you. - Aemond whispered while rubbing his nose against hers, warming Y/n's heart, after they both finished the chocolate.

-I'm never leaving again. - She promised rubbing his nose back. - I promise.

The two were snuggled under the blanket, with Y/n still on top of Aemond as he slowly stroked her scalp as he knew it made her soften.

-How it was? - Aemond finally gained enough courage to ask in a melancholy voice, but almost in a whisper. - Your time in Old town? Do you want to talk about it?

-I hope I never have to go back there again. - She sighed, placing her hand on Aemond's chest. - I learned a lot of things at the conservatory, the teaching schedule there is incredible. - She spoke as if she needed to justify this part so it wouldn't seem so bad.

-But the rest was terrible, we are not allowed to access the Internet in the conservatory, so no chance of any attempt to contact us. -Her voice sounded sad as she played with her fingers looking down. - No movies or series. And books only those pre-approved by the septas.

Aemond arched his eyebrow, sighing and pulling her closer to him. Y/n always loved watching TV more than anyone he knew, to the point where he knew the programming of his favorite channels by heart when they were younger.

-The diet was also very restricted, only healthy foods from a menu prepared by a nutritionist and pre-approved by the septas. No cookies, chocolates, soda and things like that. - She continued speaking and Aemond felt his heart ache when he saw y/n with her shoulders slumped and a sad look on her face.

-I really missed chocolate. - She gave a slight smile, but still with a sad look.

-We'll buy all the chocolate you want as soon as we leave the house. -He spoke seriously, looking at her, making Y/n smile softly as she laid her head again on his chest.

-There are so many rules that I think in five years I haven't memorized them all. - She rolled her eyes. - In the first few days I fought back, didn't obey and thought I was going to get out of there. But it got easier when I just started pretending to obey. - Y/n sighed against Aemond's chest, hugging him. -At least they didn't give me excessive work as punishment anymore.

-They wanted me to stay, take the oaths and become a septa. - Y/n lifted her head from Aemond's chest and looked into his eyes. - But I could never do such a thing. Not when I thought about you every day and the moment when I would be of age and could return.

He gently pulled her by the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair and kissed her with love and sweetness letting out a sigh when they separated.

Aemond's heart hurt hearing Y/n say all those things, knowing what she had to endure to be there again, his beautiful girl deserved much more than being trapped in a place like that. And Aemond promised himself that he would never let anyone take her away from him again.

-There wasn't a day that went by that my heart didn't burn and cry out for your presence. - He stroked her cheeks lovingly using his fingertips. - You are like a sparkle of love and joy in my life.

The smile that appeared on Y/n's lips when she heard him say those words almost took his breath away, and he knew that no one would ever make him feel that same feeling.

Y/n was like a vice for Aemond. And away from the exhibition he managed, at least for a while, to pretend to everyone around him that he wasn't completely and utterly addicted to it. And now entangled with his cousin again, he knew there would be no second chance. His body and mind had already been exposed again, and he was too high on her to make any decision other than being together forever.

He had made his choice when he took her home again and ran away from all obligations just to be there, with her body pressed against his, and Aemond knew that this time he would be strong enough, he wouldn't let anyone separate them.

next chapter

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