#modern aegon targaryen x female!reader

[arcielee]

Alone, Together

Pairing: modern Aegon Targaryen x FemaleReader   Summary: You did not mean to get tipsy, but Aegon takes care of you.   Warnings: Alcohol consumption, mentions of rehab, but this is purely fluff.   Word Count:  1619 Author’s Note: This was inspired by my muse @f4ll-for-you​, thank you for being my beta reader and helping me find structure to this. ♥ This was kind of foreshadowed with an exchanged look between Jace and Cregan in Wait So Long.  Just another continuation to my not-really-a-series series about modern Aegon. I write him as more of a golden retriever bf after he has successfully completely the rehabilitation and therapy that poor bb desperately needed. Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond​ @sirenofavalon​ @annikin-im-panicin​ @watercolorskyy​ @schniiipsel​ @sylas-the-grim​ @aemondx​ @fan-goddess​ @babygirlyofthevale​ @httpsdoll​ @theromanticegoist​

“How drunk do you think they will be?”

Aegon assumed very, especially after Baela took charge for the bachelorette celebration. Though you never really drank often, if ever, as you found the taste of alcohol to be too much unless craftily mixed to hide the liquor entirely, Baela would be well aware and nothing would stop her from celebrating her dear friend getting engaged. You felt hesitant, but Aegon smiled and gave you a kiss with the simple instruction, “Go, have fun.” 

You left with your friends and Cregan, Jace, the Cargylls and his brothers all came over to the apartment, an informal hang out while Baela sent updates throughout the night: the drag show you went to, the meal at your favorite restaurant, the farewell toast of fruity beverages to your single life. 

The proposal had been unexpected for only you. Aegon had purchased the ring when he left the center, knowing full well that life was done for him and that you, with absolute certainty, were his future. He hoped to create a romantic moment, but instead it came when he had opened the door one evening and saw you in the kitchen. You were wearing one of his shirts and mismatched socks, your hair mostly pulled back with your bangs framing your rosy complexion as you focused on the task at hand. 

“It’s pasta,” you called over your shoulder, before turning and allowing him to see the apron you wore over his shirt, how it cinched your slender waist and the access fabric that spilled over. “The sauce is simmering, but do you mind tasting it and seeing if it needs more–”

“Marry me.”

You met with his eyes and he closed the space between you, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you against his chest for a kiss that drew the breath from your lungs. When he broke away, you were stunned and still had your hand wrapped around the spoon you used to stir the sauce. “Aegon, what…?” 

“We should get married,” his smile stretched across his jawline, his eyes bright with his words. “If you will have me, I want you to be my wife.”

You stammered your response. “A-are you sure about this?” It was a subject you left alone, mostly because of the torment he carried from the dysfunctional relationship between his mother and father when his father was still alive, but you did not mind. You loved him, you always had, and you knew he was yours.

Aegon burned for you. “I am sure,” and he pulled out a velvet box to reveal a ring, taking your hand into his own and slipping it onto your finger. “I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Your friend group was thrilled that Aegon had asked, that it finally was happening, and Baela threw herself into preparations, while Aegon and the boys had a more relaxed approach to their evening. He enjoyed having everyone at the apartment, with the retro console Jace brought that refueled a rivalry since their childhood. 

Even Aemond came that night, bringing his usual quiet reserve; as they watched Daeron and Jace needle at one another, with Cregan trying his best to referee, Aemond pulled Aegon aside. “You seem really happy,” his voice low with the congratulations.

His smile beamed in response and he showed Aemond the latest photo sent of you laughing, gleeful. “I am,” and he wrapped his arm around his brother.

“She brings out the best in you,” Aemond added, his brow raised. 

“I like to think so,” Aegon wet his lips. “Be my best man?”

His lips curled slightly, the hint of a smile that Aegon always searched for and cherished. “Of course.” 

The night waned away and Aegon noticed his phone screen lit up with a text message, we have arrived. He announced it to his friends and they filed out of the apartment, in search of the drunken return of the girls, bounding down the flight of stairs. 

Out front he saw Baela and Rhaena trying to coax you from the car.

“Sweetie, we are home,” Rhaena kneeled in front of the open door, her tone honeyed. Aegon peered over to see how you were sitting crossed legged, holding your shoes and purse against your chest, your eyes wide and glassy. “Don’t you want to go upstairs?”

“I can’t,” your voice was small, tear laced, and Aegon watched you carefully, perched behind Rhaena’s shoulder. “I am so drunk, I cannot walk. I cannot…Aeg cannot see me like this.”

Aegon smiled to himself, touching Rhaena’s elbow, who graciously stepped aside. “Hey, pretty girl,” his low timbre was a balm to your boozed soul, your cheeks warming from his voice. “Come out of the car and let me take you back to our bed.”

You were embarrassed, shy almost, but reached for his hand and he turned around. “Be my backpack, hm?” he called over his shoulder and you wrapped your limbs around him like he was your lifeline. Baela gave a quick kiss to Jace, grabbing your purse and shoes to follow, with her promise to be right back. 

Aegon was careful with you, as always, and you nestled your face between his shoulder blades, enjoying the smell of fresh laundry and that cologne you had gotten for him. Baela grabbed each door and deposited your belongings on the kitchen counter, petting your golden retriever on top of his head, and calling goodbye over her shoulder when she left.

He placed you onto the couch and you giggled as Sunfyre tried to lick your toes; Aegon returned from the kitchen, shooing Sunfyre from your side and handing you a glass of water. “Hydrate,” he said, sinking next to you and watching as you took the glass, gripping it with both hands.

“Are you mad at me?”

His brow quirked with your question. “No, why would I be? Actually,” he gently touched beneath the glass and lifted it towards your lips, “please drink this and then answer me.” 

You took a comically large gulp and he could not help but smile again, but it faded quickly when he noticed your glassy eyes. “What’s wrong, pretty girl?” he asked as he took the half full glass from your hands and set it on the coffee table. 

“I did not want to be so drunk, Aeg, but they had strawberry,” your words babbled like a brook with your confessions, spilling from your red stained lips. “I only wanted to hang out with my friends and celebrate, but the strawberries were so tasty…”

Strawberry jello shots, Baela had warned him in the texts along with the following, my bad. 

The strawberry jello stained your lips, your tongue exceptionally pink as you continued, “I did not want to be drunk and come home…you have been amazing, Aeg, truly, and I feel like I am throwing it in your face!”

“Hey,” his voice was low, soothing, as he cupped your cheeks to bring your focus to him. “I’m fine, I promise you,” he smiled with his words, his thumbs wiping the large tears that spilled from the corners of your eyes. “I am 3 years sober and I have you to thank for that. You have seen me at my absolute worst and helped me through it. Now I have a moment where I can take care of you and your strawberry, giggling, crying mess–this is the least I could do.” 

You hiccupped again. “I’m a mess?”

You sounded childlike and Aegon could not help but laugh, bringing your face in and kissing you softly. “Yes, but you are my beautiful mess,” he paused for a moment, a playful grin curling on his lips. “Mrs. Mess, actually.”

You groaned but smiled, “Gods, Aeg, you are so cheesy.” 

“Ah, fair, but you remember that you said yes,” he reminded you, “so, you cannot take it back now.”

Your expression is almost somber when you look at him, your eyes wet and wide to take him in. “I never would.” 

The genuineness in your tone made him blush and his throat bobbed with a swallow as he pulled away to stand, reaching his hand back to take your own. “Come on, pretty girl,” and he pulled you to stand up, his other hand on your hip as you found your balance. 

You glowed with your smile towards him and he felt it permeate through his rib cage, curling with its warmth in his chest. He placed a hand on each hip bone and helped guide you towards the bed; there was a struggle to remove the dress that poured over your curves, but only after Aegon agreed to give you the shirt he was currently wearing. “It smells like you,” you explained as he peeled it off. 

You tried to kiss him, a deep kiss that would taste like strawberries, and as much as he wished to melt into you, he remained chaste with your advances, the inkling in the back of his mind that he would rather you be sober. Instead, he retrieved the glass of water, which you finished and then immediately announced that you had to use the restroom, and he waited outside the door to bring you back to the bed. 

He crawled beneath the covers and you curled against his chest, Sunfyre bouncing up and laying on your legs. Aegon drew small circles on your back until your breathing was steady, and he continued still; his eyes fell to your sleeping form, your features highlighted by the city lights that spilled through the blinds, and he could not stop the smile that curled on his lips with the thought, Mrs. Mess.

modern Aegon masterlist // Arcie’s masterlist

[br0kenangel]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐌𝐲 𝐝♡ve 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

Pairing: Unhinged Aegon x Therapist Reader part 4

Summary: you left as fast as you could. What was his gift? You were praying to god that your love be safe. But little you knew, it was just the start...

Warning: blood, mental illness.

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. Original gif by @asoiaffan ♡ Hope you enjoy!

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest like a drum as she gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white. Her breathing was shallow, frantic, as if she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Every horrible possibility ran through her mind, twisting her thoughts into a frantic knot. Her boyfriend wasn’t answering his calls. Aegon had smiled at her like he had some dark secret, that twisted, sick smile. The gift he left. What had he done?

She pressed down harder on the gas pedal, the car speeding recklessly through the empty streets. The world around her blurred as she focused solely on getting home—on finding out what was waiting for her. Her hands were trembling so violently she could barely keep the car steady. As she took a sharp turn, her tires screeched against the pavement, almost colliding with a car coming from the opposite direction.

“Shit!” she gasped, jerking the wheel back. Her pulse skyrocketed, her breath coming in short, rapid bursts. The other car honked angrily as it sped past, but Y/N didn’t care. She couldn’t think about anything except getting home.

“Aegon’s lying,” she muttered under her breath, her voice trembling. “He’s trying to scare me. He’s just… messing with me. I’ll get home, and it’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.”

But no matter how much she tried to convince herself, the fear was still there, gnawing at her insides like a festering wound. She could still hear Aegon’s voice in her head, the way he had laughed so softly, so eerily.

Did you open the gift I left you?

Y/N swallowed back the rising panic, her throat tightening. Her vision blurred with unshed tears, her heart thundering so loudly in her chest she thought it might explode. She pressed harder on the gas, speeding through another intersection without checking. Her mind was a whirlwind, screaming at her, warning her, pleading with her to turn back—but she couldn’t. She had to know. She had to see.

When she finally pulled into her driveway, she slammed on the brakes, barely giving the car time to stop before she jumped out. The moment she stepped outside, she froze.

The air was thick, heavy with a putrid smell—like something had rotted, festered. Her stomach lurched as the stench hit her full force, bile rising in her throat. It was a smell she couldn’t ignore, and it only heightened her terror. Something was wrong. Something was so wrong.

“Jacob…” Her voice cracked as she whispered her boyfriend’s name, the words barely a breath. Tears pricked her eyes as she stumbled toward the door, her legs weak and shaky. The smell only grew stronger as she got closer to the house, the kind of stench that clung to the walls, suffocating. Her mind spiraled into horrible images, and she felt her knees buckle beneath the weight of her fear.

“What did Aegon do?” she whimpered, her throat dry, her lips trembling.

She fumbled with the keys, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she unlocked the door and stepped inside. The smell hit her full force, thick and rancid, making her gag. Her eyes watered from the stench, and her mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusion. She couldn’t think straight. She couldn’t breathe.

“Jacob,” she whispered again, her voice desperate, pleading. “Please, God, no…”

Her eyes scanned the room, her vision blurry with fear. The house was eerily silent, except for the pounding of her heart in her ears. The living room was still, as if nothing had been disturbed. But then her gaze fell on something that hadn’t been there before—a large box sitting in the middle of the couch.

Y/N froze. The knot in her stomach twisted violently, her chest tightening with dread. The gift.

She took a slow, shaky step toward the box, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. The stench was overwhelming now, and her breath came in shallow gasps as she tried to steel herself, telling herself it would be okay.

“He’s messing with me. He’s messing with me. He wouldn’t…”

But her thoughts were fractured, her mind replaying Aegon’s twisted smile, his eerie laugh, the way he had hinted at something horrible waiting for her. Her steps were slow, each one more painful than the last as she forced herself closer to the box. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to stop, to run, to leave—but she couldn’t. She had to know. She had to see what he had done.

Her knees nearly gave out beneath her as she stood in front of the box. Her hands trembled violently, hovering over the lid. She squeezed her eyes shut, her breath ragged as she tried to calm herself, tried to tell herself that whatever was inside, she could handle it.

“You can do this,” she whispered to herself, her voice shaking. “It’s just a box. Just open it. Open it, and it’ll be over.”

She took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she gripped the lid. And then, just as she was about to lift it, she heard it.

“Meow.”

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, her heart skipping a beat. The sound was soft, almost delicate, and it took her a moment to process what she had heard. Slowly, with trembling hands, she lifted the lid of the box. Inside, curled up in a soft blanket, was a small golden kitten with wide, innocent eyes and a pretty blue collar around its neck.

For a moment, Y/N just stared, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. Her breath caught in her throat, and the tears that had been threatening to spill over finally broke free. She let out a sob—of relief, of exhaustion, of fear—and collapsed to her knees in front of the box.

It was just a kitten. A cute, tiny kitten. Nothing horrible. Nothing gruesome. Just… a kitten.

“Oh my God,” she choked out between sobs, her hands trembling as she reached into the box and scooped the kitten up into her arms. The kitten nuzzled against her, purring softly, and Y/N cried harder, her body shaking with the force of her relief.

She hugged the kitten tightly to her chest, pressing her face into its soft fur as she sobbed uncontrollably. The tension, the fear, the gut-wrenching panic she had felt—it all came crashing down at once, and she couldn’t hold it back. She kissed the top of the kitten’s head, her tears soaking into its fur as she whispered, “Thank you. Thank you, God. Oh my God…”

For what felt like hours, she just sat there, cradling the kitten, her body wracked with sobs of relief. The terror she had felt—the belief that she would find something horrible, something irreversibly gruesome—it all melted away, leaving her trembling and exhausted.

When she finally managed to calm herself down, she stood up, still holding the kitten in her arms. Her mind was a haze, her body weak from the emotional onslaught. As she walked toward the kitchen to find something for the kitten to eat, she noticed something strange—the smell was still there.

Her heart skipped a beat, and her stomach twisted again. She glanced around the kitchen, her eyes landing on the counter where a package of meat had been left out—rotting. The smell was coming from the meat.

Y/N almost laughed—a weak, breathless laugh. All of her fear, all of her panic, had been over rotting meat.

The realization made her feel foolish, but it also made her feel relieved. She hadn’t found her boyfriend’s body. She hadn’t found anything horrible waiting for her. Just a kitten and some rotten meat.

But as she fed the kitten and sat down on the floor, petting its soft fur, a new fear crept into her mind. Aegon’s words still echoed in her head. Why isn’t he answering your calls?

Her relief was short-lived, replaced by a sinking feeling of dread. Something was still wrong.

The doorbell rang, its sharp sound cutting through the quiet of the house. Y/N froze, her heart leaping into her throat. She held the kitten closer, her mind racing with a flood of possibilities. Was it Aegon? Had he followed her here? Her stomach twisted with fear as she slowly walked toward the door, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

With trembling hands, she peeked through the peephole. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw Jacob standing on the other side, holding a bouquet of flowers. For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe—he was alive. Jacob was standing there, perfectly fine.

She flung the door open, tears spilling down her cheeks as she threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest. “Jacob!” she cried, her voice muffled against his shirt. “Oh my God, I’m so happy you’re here. I missed you so much.”

Jacob stood there, stunned, the flowers still clutched in his hand as he blinked down at her. “Y/N… are you okay? What happened?”

But Y/N didn’t let him finish. She tightened her hold on him, her tears soaking into his shirt as she pressed her face harder into his chest. “I thought… I thought something happened to you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’ve been so scared. I missed you so much, Jacob.”

His arms wrapped around her slowly, pulling her closer as he kissed the top of her head. “I missed you too, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice soft. He held her tightly, gently rubbing her back as he tried to calm her down. “I’m here now. Everything’s okay.”

For a moment, the relief was overwhelming, and she stayed in his arms, soaking in his warmth, the familiar smell of him. It was real—Jacob was safe, and Aegon hadn’t touched him. She hadn’t lost him.

After a few moments, they moved to the couch, and Y/N wiped her tears, trying to compose herself as she sat beside him. Jacob placed the bouquet of flowers on the coffee table, a small, awkward smile on his face as he looked at her. “I brought these for you,” he said softly.

She managed a weak smile, trying to hide the lingering fear that gnawed at her insides. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

They sat in a brief, comfortable silence before Jacob sighed, his expression turning more serious. “Y/N… there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Her heart sank. Something to talk about? She suddenly had a bad feeling, the unease creeping back into her chest. But she forced a smile, trying to push the anxiety aside. “What is it?”

Jacob ran a hand through his hair, his eyes filled with hesitation. “I’ve been offered a job,” he began slowly, “but it’s far away. Really far away. I’ll have to leave soon, and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

Y/N’s mind immediately raced back to Aegon—the man who had haunted her thoughts and dreams, the man who had been tormenting her for weeks. The man who might have killed Jacob if things had gone differently. The thought of being alone, with no one to protect her from Aegon, made her stomach churn. But she swallowed her fear, forcing herself to remain calm.

She couldn’t tell Jacob about Aegon. Not now. Not after everything they’d been through. She didn’t want to fight with him again, and she certainly didn’t want him to think she was crazy.

So instead, she plastered on a smile, pretending everything was fine. “That’s… great,” she said, her voice unnaturally bright. “I’m really happy for you, Jacob.”

He looked at her, his brow furrowing with concern. “Are you sure? I know it’s sudden, and I don’t want to leave you alone—”

“I’ll be fine,” Y/N interrupted, her voice firm despite the terror creeping into her chest. “I’ll be okay. You deserve this, and I don’t want to hold you back.”

Jacob smiled, relief washing over his face. He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. “Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot to me.”

They sat together for a while longer, talking about the details of his job and the logistics of his trip. Y/N listened, nodding at all the right moments, but inside, her mind was spiraling with fear. She smiled when she was supposed to, laughed at his jokes, and even kissed him, pretending that everything was fine. But deep down, she was still terrified. Aegon was out there, lurking in the shadows, and she knew he wasn’t done with her.

Jacob leaned in, kissing her softly, his hands cupping her face. She kissed him back, holding him close, trying to savor the moment despite the dread twisting in her stomach. When they pulled apart, Jacob smiled, his eyes soft and full of love. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Jacob smiled, clearly relieved by her reaction. He leaned in and kissed her softly, and she kissed him back, pretending everything was okay. But inside, she was shaking. The terror of what Aegon had said, of what he was capable of, still gnawed at her.

When they pulled away, Jacob wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close again. Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, trying to calm her racing thoughts. She closed her eyes, breathing in his familiar scent, trying to ground herself. But the fear still lingered, festering inside her.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed on the table, and Y/N flinched, her heart jumping into her throat. She reached for it with trembling hands, her eyes widening when she saw the message on the screen.

Do you like your gift? :)

The message was from an unknown number, but Y/N didn’t need to guess who it was. She paled, her heart hammering in her chest as the blood drained from her face. Aegon.

Her breath hitched, her body going rigid as fear gripped her once again. Her mind spiraled, panic clawing at her insides. She wanted to scream, to throw the phone across the room, to run. But she couldn’t. Not in front of Jacob.

Jacob glanced over, noticing her reaction. “Who’s that?” he asked, his voice casual, but Y/N could hear the hint of curiosity.

Y/N forced a smile, quickly locking her phone and setting it back down on the table. “No one,” she said, her voice strained but steady. “Just a spam text.”

Jacob didn’t seem to notice the tremor in her voice. He nodded, leaning back against the couch as he wrapped an arm around her. “I guess it’s just me and you tonight, then,” he said with a smile.

Y/N smiled back, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Inside, she was screaming. Aegon was watching. Aegon knew.

The days after Jacob left were quiet. Too quiet, in fact. Y/N tried to keep herself busy, throwing herself into distractions to keep her mind from wandering. At least she had Fluffy, the golden kitten Aegon had given her. He was a good boy, sweet and playful, a small comfort in the silence that now filled the house. She'd named him Fluffy because of his soft fur, and he seemed to take well to her affection, curling up in her lap and purring as if he sensed her unease.

But even Fluffy couldn't drown out the constant notifications from her phone. Aegon was still texting her, not the threatening or possessive kind of messages she was used to, but almost... sad ones. He talked about how he was feeling, how much everything hurt, how lonely he was. His words were raw, like those of a lost child, begging for attention, for someone to understand him.

“| don't know what's wrong with me anymore, Y/N."

"Everything hurts."

"I can't sleep, I can't think, I can't breathe without you."

"Why don't you ever reply? Do you even think about me? Or am I just dead to you?"

But no matter how hard she tried to focus on the kitten, or the movies, or anything else, there was one thing she couldn't escape: her phone. It buzzed constantly, the screen lighting up with message after message from Aegon. At first, she didn't bother reading them. She had learned long ago that giving him any attention, any response, was like feeding a starving animal. He would latch onto it and never let go.

He mentioned Fluffy too, explaining that he got her the kitten because he wanted her to have something to make her happy, something to be her friend when she felt alone. He wanted to give her a little version of Sunfyre, his beloved cat, so that she would have a piece of him even when he couldn't be with her. Aegon just wanted her to be happy.

There were long paragraphs detailing his spirals, how he would drink until he couldn't feel anything, how the world seemed to blur around him. His words became increasingly disjointed, desperate.

"I feel like I'm disappearing. Do you even remember me?"

"I bought him for you so you wouldn't be alone. So you'd have a piece of me with you."

"I wanted you to be happy. That's all l've ever wanted."

Sometimes, Y/N felt a strange flicker of pity for him. He sounded so hurt, so lost. But every time she thought about feeling sorry for him, she reminded herself that this was Aegon. The same man who had put her through hell, the same man who had stalked her, who had terrorized her. It didn't matter how sad or broken he sounded-she couldn't trust him. She couldn't let herself fall into that trap again.

And so, she ignored him.

She never replied to his messages. She couldn't. And for a while, it seemed like that was enough. Aegon remained calm, his texts gentle, almost pleading, but never aggressive. Everything was fine, or as fine as it could be.

Until it wasn't.

One evening, Y/N noticed her phone buzzing more than usual. At first, it was just a few messages from Aegon, the usual ramblings about his day or how much he missed her. But then the texts became more frequent, coming one after another, a steady stream of notifications lighting up her screen.

He was demanding her to reply.

It wasn't a request anymore-it was an order. The tone of his messages shifted, becoming more erratic, more desperate.

"Why aren't you answering me?"

"I know you're there."

"Please, just talk to me."

The texts came faster, piling up one after another until her phone buzzed continuously. Then, the calls started.

Her phone rang and rang, Aegon's name flashing across the screen. She ignored it, her hands trembling as she tried to keep herself calm. But the ringing didn't stop. It was relentless. The sound echoed in the small living room, pounding against her skull, making her chest tighten with anxiety.

Y/N couldn't take it anymore. Her heart was racing, her hands shaking as she reached for her phone and turned it off completely. The sudden silence was deafening, but it was better than hearing Aegon's voice, than seeing his name over and over.

She tried to distract herself, to forget about the flood of messages, about the growing dread building in the pit of her stomach. She put on a movie, curled up on the couch with Fluffy, trying to lose herself in the noise of the television. But her mind kept wandering back to Aegon, to his erratic texts, his sudden shift from pitiful to demanding. Something was Wrong. She could feel it.

And then, the doorbell rang.

Y/N’s heart stopped.

Her eyes flicked to the door, her body going cold as fear washed over her. She didn’t move at first, just stared at the door, her breath shallow, her mind racing. It couldn’t be…

Slowly, she stood up, her legs trembling as she moved toward the door, careful not to make a sound. She didn’t want to look. She didn’t want to see who was standing on the other side. But she had to know.

Peeking through the peephole, her blood turned to ice.

It was Aegon.

He was standing there, his face pale and smeared with blood. His clothes were stained with it too, dark crimson splashes that looked like they’d been hastily wiped away. His hair was disheveled, his eyes wide and wild, like an animal cornered and desperate.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she watched him. He didn’t look right. He didn’t look normal. Something was horribly, horribly wrong.

And then he spoke.

“Please… let me in.”

Her breath hitched, her entire body stiffening in place. She didn't respond. She couldn't. Her throat was too tight, her mind racing too fast to form coherent thoughts. She just stood there, frozen in place, as he pressed his bloodied hand against the door, smearing it with red.

"I need you," he whispered, his voice hoarse, trembling. "Something happened. I did something bad. I don't know what to do. I don't know who to go to."

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he looked so utterly pathetic, so broken, that for a fleeting moment, Y/N almost felt sorry for him again. Almost. But the sheer terror that gripped her heart wouldn't let her move. She couldn't afford to feel sorry for him. Not now.

"I don't feel good, Y/N" Aegon sobbed, his hand sliding down the door, leaving a dark red smear behind. "Please... I just want to see you. Please. Let me in."

Y/N’s hand hovered over the doorknob, her mind a storm of confusion and fear. A part of her wanted to open the door, wanted to help him. He looked so broken, so lost. She couldn’t help but feel that same flicker of pity again, that small voice in the back of her mind whispering that maybe he really did need her, that maybe he really was just a scared, lonely boy.

But then Aegon’s face twisted, his tear-streaked expression contorting into something darker, something terrifying.

“You fucking bitch!” he snarled, slamming his fists against the door. The sudden violence made Y/N jump, her breath catching in her throat as she stumbled back, her eyes wide with terror.

“I know you’re in there!” Aegon screamed, his voice raw with rage. “You think you can hide from me?! You think I don’t fucking know?!”

He pounded on the door again, harder this time, the wood rattling under the force of his fists. “You’re mine!” he shouted, his voice cracking with fury. “I’ll fucking kill you, Y/N! I’ll rip you open! I’ll tear you apart!”

Y/N’s body went cold, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from her chest. She stumbled back, her mind screaming at her to run, to hide. She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t face him. Not like this.

Y/N's body moved on instinct, her fight-or-flight response kicking in. She ran. She bolted to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her, her heart hammering in her chest. Her hands shook so violently that she could barely turn the lock, but she did it. She locked the door and stumbled backward.

Y/N sat huddled in the tub, her entire body trembling uncontrollably, clutching Fluffy so tightly that she could feel his little heartbeat against her chest. Her breath was shallow, uneven, the fear twisting in her stomach like a knife. She pressed her hand over her mouth, trying to silence the sobs that threatened to escape. If she made a sound—any sound—he would know where she was.

The front door had crashed open. Aegon was inside. He didn’t call out anymore; the apartment had gone terrifyingly quiet except for the slow, deliberate thud of his footsteps. Each step echoed through the empty rooms, growing louder, heavier. He was searching for her.

Her mind raced, each frantic thought more horrifying than the last.

He’s going to find me. He’s going to kill me.

Her heart hammered so violently in her chest that she thought it might explode. The apartment was small; there weren’t many places to hide. He would check the bedroom soon. It was only a matter of time before he found her.

Stay quiet. Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Maybe he’ll leave. Maybe he’ll think you’re not here.

But the thought was ridiculous. He knew she was here. He had known from the moment he’d started pounding on the door. He could feel her fear, her presence, like a shark smelling blood in the water.

The footsteps grew closer.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing herself against the cold, hard surface of the tub. Her grip tightened around Fluffy, who had gone still in her arms, sensing the terror in the air. She could hear Aegon’s footsteps in the hallway now, slow and methodical, as if he were savoring the anticipation.

Don’t come in here. Please, don’t come in here.

The bedroom door creaked open.

Her entire body went rigid, her breath catching in her throat. She bit down on her lower lip so hard that she tasted blood, forcing herself to stay still, stay quiet. Her chest ached from the effort of holding her breath. Every muscle in her body screamed in agony from the tension, but she didn’t dare move. She didn’t dare make a sound.

The silence was unbearable. The only thing she could hear was the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears, each thud a countdown to her doom.

The floorboards creaked. He was inside the room now.

Her mind was racing, a whirlwind of fear and desperation. What do I do? What can I do?

Run? No, he was too close. He would hear her. He would catch her. There was nowhere to run.

Fight? With what? She had nothing. She was defenseless. He was stronger than her, and she had seen the blood. She had no idea what he was capable of.

Hide. Just hide. Stay quiet.

She could hear him moving through the room, the soft scrape of his shoes against the floor. He wasn’t saying anything, but the silence was more terrifying than his screaming had ever been. It was the silence of someone who knew exactly what they were going to do. The silence of someone who was in control.

He’s looking for me. Her stomach twisted into a knot of terror.

The sound of a drawer being yanked open, then another. He was checking everywhere. She could picture him tearing through the room, methodically searching every corner, every shadow. Her heart thudded in her chest, so loud she thought for sure he could hear it. Can he hear it? The thought sent a fresh wave of panic surging through her.

Please, please, just leave.

Suddenly, the air in the room shifted. Y/N’s breath hitched as she realized he was standing right outside the bathroom door. She could hear his breathing now, low and ragged, like a beast just beyond the threshold.

He knows. He knows I’m in here.

Her whole body locked up in terror as she imagined him standing there, staring at the door, his bloodshot eyes wide and crazed, his hands still covered in blood. Her mind conjured up horrifying images of him busting through, grabbing her, and dragging her out of the tub, his fingers sinking into her flesh.

He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me and I’ll never see daylight again.

Fluffy shifted slightly in her arms, a soft, almost imperceptible meow escaping his tiny throat. Y/N’s breath hitched, terror flashing through her veins like electricity. No, no, no, no, no.

The bathroom door handle rattled.

She froze. Every inch of her body turned to ice. The metal handle creaked as Aegon twisted it, testing the lock. It didn’t open, but he was trying. He was there. Just on the other side.

Her entire world shrank to that single sound—the soft, rhythmic rattling of the door handle as Aegon tried to get in. It felt like hours passed as she sat there, paralyzed in the tub, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for him to break through.

And then, with a sickening thud, the door slammed.

He was pounding on it now, harder and harder, the force of his blows making the door tremble. Each hit reverberated through her, shaking her down to her core.

Oh god, he’s coming in. He’s going to get in.

The doorframe groaned under the pressure, the wood splintering. Y/N pressed herself further into the tub, trying to make herself as small as possible, her heart racing so fast it felt like it might burst. Her breathing was shallow, her chest tight with fear. Every instinct screamed at her to move, to run, but she couldn’t. She was trapped.

The door cracked. She could hear the wood giving way.

Oh god, he’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me.

But then… silence.

The pounding stopped.

She blinked, her breath catching in her throat. Was it over? Did he leave?

Her body trembled, her muscles aching from the tension. She didn’t dare move. She didn’t dare make a sound. She just waited, listening.

Nothing. No footsteps. No breathing. Just the eerie, deafening quiet.

Slowly, cautiously, she lifted her head, straining to hear something—anything. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Maybe he had given up. Maybe he was gone.

But then, out of nowhere, a loud, sickening crash shattered the silence.

Y/N’s blood ran cold. She whipped her head toward the source of the sound, her heart seizing in her chest.

Aegon’s face smashed through the small window in the bathroom door, the glass shattering around him. His bloodshot eye stared through the broken pane, wide and unblinking, searching. His face was smeared with blood, his skin pale and stretched tight over his bones, but it was his eye—his one, crazed, bloodshot eye—that was the most terrifying.

It was staring right at where she was hiding.

Did he saw me? Did he saw me? Oh god. I'm dead. I'm dead.

Y/N slapped her hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her face as she tried to stifle her breathing, her whole body trembling uncontrollably. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying that he couldn’t see her, that he couldn’t hear the terrified gasps that escaped her despite her best efforts.

Don’t breathe. Don’t move. He can’t see you. He can’t see you.

But his eye… it was right there, inches from her, staring through the broken glass with a wild, unhinged intensity. His breathing was heavy, ragged, echoing in the small space as he scanned the room, looking for her. His hand reached through the broken window, the bloodied fingers scraping against the door, searching, clawing.

Y/N’s heart thundered in her chest, her pulse so loud she thought for sure he could hear it. Her entire body shook with fear, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. She pressed her hand harder against her mouth, trying to muffle the sounds of her sobs.

Please don’t find me. Please, god, don’t find me.

For what felt like an eternity, Aegon stayed there, his face pressed against the door, his eye wide and frantic, his breath fogging up the glass. He didn’t say anything, didn’t scream or yell. He just… looked.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.

He pulled back, his bloodied hand retreating through the shattered window. His footsteps echoed through the apartment once again, slow and deliberate, growing fainter and fainter until they finally disappeared altogether.

He was gone.

Y/N stayed there, curled up in the bathtub, her body trembling violently, tears streaming down her face as she clutched Fluffy to her chest. She didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She didn’t even breathe properly, too scared to believe that it was really over.

When she was sure he was gone, she let out a strangled, shaky breath and crawled out of the tub, her legs weak and shaking. Fluffy stayed behind, still curled up in the tub, too scared to move.

Her fingers fumbled for her phone, but she had turned it off earlier. With shaking hands, she powered it on, and as soon as the screen flickered to life, she called the police.

But even as she pressed the phone to her ear, the sound of her own heartbeat drowned everything else out.

How about you? Did you like this part?

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[councilofcastamere]

DRAGONS AND THE CITY | MODERN!AEMOND TARGARYEN X READER

a b r i d g e m e n t : you’re an assistant to a Baratheon magazine editor in the lonely city of New York. but why, whenever she makes you run errands, do you bump into the second son of King Viserys Targaryen of England?

TW: not as far as I know

A/N: based on sex and the city!

You stalked along the streets of New York, your J’adior slingback pumps clacking across the stony pavement. Your curly hair was thrown back in your face as you hurriedly reached into your pocket.

In all seriousness, your boss, Cassandra Baratheon, had instructed you to be at her office at 8 am and had told you to fetch her a latte macchiato from the new Brazilian coffee shop opening up around the corner of the apartment you lived in.

Well, as luck could have it, it was 7:50 and you weren’t inside the damn doors of the conglomerate doors, which is why you were trotting for your life, every step you take a risk of spilling the coffee on your silk-viscose Armani jumper.

You’d been running for 2 minutes, not paying any attention to the angry passer-by’s you managed to bump into. You thought a simple “sorry!” or “contact me, I’ll pay you back” would suffice as you ignored the angry mutters behind you.

You panted as you finally made it to the bold doors of the largest building you had ever worked at, the door man being courteous as ever.

“As jolly as always.” you chuckled, playfully hurrying into the building. as soon as you stepped inside you hurried into the elevator.

Inside were three other woman. Other assistants with the same agenda and the same troubles, you assume. You flashed a quick smile but of course only one of the women bothered to return the smile.

God, you almost wanted to die of embarrassment. Your feet instinctively tapped against the carpet as you prayed the elevator wouldn’t get stuck.

You almost did trip over the white elevator carpet as you hurried out of the lift, frantically scanning the names on the bold golden doors until you finally read “C. BARATHEON, EDITOR OF WESTEROS GLAMOUR.”

The clock on your wrist compelled you to check, seeing if you had absolutely screwed your heels and stamina for nothing.

Andddd… great. It’s 8:04.

You sighed, pushing the doors forward as you came face to face with the light of the big windows.

“Mrs. Baratheon?” you asked in a polite tone, trying to keep your nervousness from prevailing into your tone. “I apolog-"

“Put the coffee on my desk, dear." the Baratheon replied bluntly, slowly swinging her chair from left to right whilst tapping her nails against the desk. “I do not the time to listen to your excuses, nor do I care, to be frank.”

Rude much? But obviously, you couldn’t tell her that. You’d be out of here quicker than that one time you went on a date with that man that suggested you’d be a knock-out if you just got a little botox.

“Is there anything else you require of me, Mrs?” you asked, hurriedly settling the coffee down on the marble furniture.

“Yes.” she replied, eyeing you up and down with a mean streak on her face. “As you know, the prince is visiting this weekend.”

“May I ask which one?” you ask, quickly taking out your lighter as she took out her cigarette. “There are 6 of them, you know?”

“What’s the name again?” Cassandra asked, although not to you. Her fingers flicked as she tried to come up with a name. “His name escapes me at the moment, but it’s the eye-less one.”

“He still has one eye. Not exactly eyeless.” you chuckle.

“Watch it.” she warns, rolling an eye. “Anyhow, you’re in charge of driving him to the Baratheon manor. Said he had urgent business with my family. I can swear the fucker is there for an arranged marriage. Probably to Floris. It’s always Floris.”

“When might that be?” you ask, raising a brow. “Gotta have a good dress for it. Not everyday I meet a prince of the oh-so-holy Targaryen dynasty.”

“Glad you asked, cause it’s right about fucking now.” Cassandra cocked a smile, blowing the smoke out into open air.

That bitch? The audacity? You weren’t even dressed for the occasion? She’s a fucking menace?

“Alright.” you sigh. you didn’t wanna get fired, you just wanted to keep your job! “Where do I meet him?”

“He’s waiting in the limousine right now, so you’d better hurry your little Dior heels down the stairs.” the Baratheon dismisses you, waving her hand.

“Shit!” you sigh, quickly tucking your stuff into your Khaite the Remi hobo bag. you quickly ran down the hallway, using the stairs this time. you did not even register there was a silhouette in-front of you, until you inevitably bumped into it.

“Sorry!” you instinctively blurt out, as the stranger held you tight, his fingers digging into your arms.

You looked up at the stranger, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t surprised to see His Majesty on the regular stairs of a New York building.

“Your Highness,” you address him, quickly composing yourself. “My apologies, I just…”

“Ran a marathon, perhaps?” The silver-haired prince mused, cocking a brow as you could only let out an unexpected chuckle.

“Uh, yeah.” You smiled, composing your body to stand straight. “Yeah. I’m Y/N.”

-

part 2 coming soon, I wanna see where this goes in terms of popularity which happens to affect my motivation 📸

[goddessofvalyria]

BAD BOYS | Modern!Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader x Modern!Aegon Targaryen

Summary: Aemond and Aegon Targaryen are the bad boy of the campus and they absolutely are the kings of every party. One night, they find the good girl of the college and they decide to have a little fun with her.

TW: 18+, MINORS DNI, SMUT, She/Her pronouns, virginity loss, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, sexual tension, sex, threesome. In this Au Aemond doesn't have his disability.

English is not my first language, be kind <3

This is my Masterlist

Words: 6K

Aemond Targaryen is the notorious bad boy of the college campus, a title he shares with his older brother, Aegon. With their striking platinum blonde hair, piercing violet eyes, and the reputation of being a double menace, the Targaryen brothers are known by everyone, admired by many, and feared by some. Tonight, like most nights, they find themselves at the most infamous brotherhood house on campus—the epicenter of their escapades.

Inside, the house is alive with the thumping beat of music, the smell of alcohol, and the heat of too many bodies packed together. Aemond leans casually against a wall, his eyes scanning the room only adds to his dangerous allure. Aegon, meanwhile, is already in the thick of things, flirting with two girls who giggle at his every word.

That’s when they see her.

She stands near the kitchen, sipping from a cup, clearly out of place. She’s a good girl, everyone knows that—keeps her head down, aces all her classes, never seen at parties. Her long hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders, her dress is made of black lace and satin, but there's something about the way she bites her lip, the way her eyes flicker with curiosity as she watches the chaos unfold, that catches Aemond's attention.

Aegon notices his brother’s gaze and follows it, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Interesting choice, brothe,” he says, his voice laced with amusement. “You think she’s up for a little fun?”

Aemond smirks. “Only one way to find out.”

They make their way toward her, weaving through the crowd with a predatory grace. She doesn’t notice them at first, lost in thought as she stares at the scene before her. But then Aegon speaks, his voice smooth and inviting. “What’s a good girl like you doing in a place like this?”

She startles, almost spilling her drink, and looks up at them with wide eyes. “I—I’m here with a friend” she stammers, glancing around, but it’s clear her friend has long since disappeared into the crowd.

Aemond steps closer, his gaze intense, locking onto hers. “And yet, you’re standing here all alone” he observes. “Did you want to be found?”

Her breath hitches at his words, and she looks between them, unsure of what to say. There’s something magnetic about the way they look at her, something that makes her heart race and her stomach twist with nerves. She knows who they are, knows their reputation. But there’s a thrill there, too—a dangerous curiosity.

Aegon senses her hesitation and leans in, his breath warm against her ear as he whispers. “You’ve been a good girl for so long. Don’t you ever want to be a little bad?”

The words send a shiver down her spine. She glances around the room again, as if expecting someone to come to her rescue, but no one pays them any mind. Her gaze returns to them, her cheeks flushed, eyes wide with a mix of fear and desire.

“I…I don’t know” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond reaches out, his fingers brushing against her arm. The touch is electric, sending a jolt through her body. “We can show you” he says softly. “If you want.”

There’s a moment of silence, a moment where she could still walk away, but she doesn’t. Instead, she nods, her decision made. They exchange a look of triumph before Aemond takes her hand, leading her through the crowd, with Aegon following closely behind.

They lead her upstairs, away from the noise, away from the prying eyes. The room they enter is dimly lit, a soft glow from a single lamp in the corner. It’s Aegon’s room—messy, with clothes strewn everywhere and an unmade bed that dominates the space.

Aemond closes the door behind them, the click of the lock loud in the quiet room. She stands there, unsure, her heart pounding in her chest. But there’s no turning back now. She wanted this. She wants this.

Aegon steps up behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders, his lips brushing against her ear. “We’ll take care of you” he murmurs, his hands sliding down her arms, pulling her back against his chest. She gasps, the sound caught in her throat as Aemond approaches from the front, his hand reaching up to tilt her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of” Aemond tells her, his voice low and soothing. “We’ll be gentle… at first.”

Aegon chuckles softly behind her, his lips grazing her neck, making her shiver. “If you want us to stop, just say a word” he adds, his tone light but with a dark edge.

She nods, her voice lost somewhere between fear and excitement. She can feel Aegon’s hands moving lower, down to her waist, pulling her dress up inch by inch. Aemond’s hand on her chin moves down to the neckline of her dress, his fingers tracing the delicate fabric before he slips them underneath, brushing against her skin.

The room feels too hot, the air too thick. She feels Aegon’s lips on her neck, sucking gently, while Aemond’s mouth finds hers, capturing her lips in a soft, exploratory kiss. It’s gentle at first, but soon it deepens, becoming more urgent, more demanding.

She moans into his mouth as Aegon’s hands slide up her thighs, his fingers slipping under the thin fabric of her panties. She feels his fingers stroke her gently, exploring her folds, and she can’t help the soft cry that escapes her lips. Aemond’s lips leave hers to trail kisses down her neck, his hands moving to unbutton her dress.

Her hands reach up, gripping Aegon’s arms, her nails digging into his skin as his fingers find her clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. She’s overwhelmed, her senses overloaded with the feel of their hands on her, their lips against her skin, the sound of their breath hot and heavy in her ears.

Aemond pushes her dress down her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a soft heap. She’s standing there in just her panties, feeling exposed, vulnerable, but there’s no going back now. Aegon’s fingers slip inside her, and she gasps, her body arching back against him.

“Gods, you’re so tight” Aegon groans against her ear, his fingers moving inside her, curling just right. She can feel the heat building inside her, the pressure coiling tight in her belly.

Aemond steps back for a moment, watching them with a hungry gaze, his hand reaching down to undo his belt. “You like that, don’t you?” he asks, his voice rough. “Being between us… feeling both of us.”

She nods, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. “Yes” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Aemond smiles, a dark, satisfied grin, before he steps forward again, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her down onto the bed. Aegon moves with her, his fingers still buried deep inside her, not stopping for a moment. Aemond is quick to position himself between her legs, his mouth descending on her wetness, licking a long, slow line up her slit.

She cries out, her body trembling, her hands reaching out to grasp the sheets, her knuckles turning white. Aegon’s fingers work inside her, matching the rhythm of Aemond’s tongue, and it’s too much, the pleasure too intense. She can feel herself on the edge, the tension building and building until it finally snaps, sending her over the edge.

She comes with a cry, her body convulsing, her hips bucking up against Aemond’s mouth. He doesn’t stop, his tongue lapping up every drop of her release while Aegon continues to pump his fingers inside her, prolonging her orgasm until she’s a trembling, boneless mess.

When she finally comes down from the high, she’s breathing hard, her body limp against the bed. Aegon pulls his fingers out, licking them clean with a satisfied hum, while Aemond rises, his face glistening with her slick.

“That was just the beginning” Aegon whispers, his lips brushing against her ear. “We’re not done with you yet.”

She swallows hard, her body still trembling, her mind spinning with the promise of what’s to come. She’s crossed a line tonight, and there’s no going back. She’s in their world now, caught between the Targaryen brothers, and for the first time in her life, she doesn’t want to be good anymore. She wants to be theirs.

Her heart is still pounding in her chest, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as Aegon’s words echo in her mind. "We’re not done with you yet." She knows there’s more to come, and the thought makes her pulse quicken with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.

Aemond wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a dark look of desire burning in his eye as he stares down at her. “Get on your knees” he commands softly, his voice rough with lust.

She hesitates for a moment, but the heat in his gaze and the memory of the pleasure they just gave her drives her to obey. She pushes herself up onto shaky arms and turns over, her hands and knees sinking into the soft mattress. Behind her, Aegon moves quickly, his hands gripping her hips as he positions himself behind her.

She feels Aegon’s hardness pressing against her entrance, and her breath catches in her throat. This is it. She’s never done this before—never been with anyone like this. The thought both excites and terrifies her, but there’s no turning back now. She wants this. She wants them.

Aemond moves in front of her, his fingers tangling in her hair, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “Are you ready?” he asks, his tone softer now, almost gentle.

She nods, biting her lip. “Yes” she whispers, her voice trembling with anticipation.

Aegon chuckles softly behind her, his breath warm against her skin. “Relax, sweet girl” he murmurs, his hands squeezing her hips. “We’ll take care of you.”

She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. She feels Aegon’s cock press against her entrance, the blunt tip teasing her, and then he pushes forward, slowly, carefully, breaching her inch by inch. The stretch is intense, a burning sensation that makes her wince, but he goes slow, giving her time to adjust.

Aemond watches her closely, his hand still in her hair, his thumb stroking her cheek. “That’s it” he whispers, his voice soothing. “Breathe through it.”

She does as he says, taking slow, deep breaths as Aegon fills her, stretching her in a way she’s never felt before. There’s a moment of discomfort, a sharp sting of pain as he pushes deeper, but it quickly fades, replaced by a feeling of fullness, of being completely and utterly claimed.

Aegon bottoms out with a low groan, his hands tightening on her hips. “Fuck, you’re so tight” he breathes, his voice rough with restraint. “You feel so good.”

She whimpers, her hands clutching the sheets, her body trembling as she adjusts to the feel of him inside her. Aemond leans down, his lips capturing hers in a deep, possessive kiss, distracting her from the discomfort with the stroke of his tongue, the taste of him overwhelming her senses.

Aegon starts to move, slowly at first, rocking his hips back and forth, each thrust pushing deeper, rubbing against a spot inside her that makes her gasp into Aemond’s mouth. The pain is gone now, replaced by a growing pleasure, a heat that spreads through her veins, igniting her blood.

Aemond breaks the kiss, his breath hot against her lips as he murmurs. “Good girl. You’re taking him so well.”

She moans softly at his words, the praise making her clench around Aegon’s cock, drawing a groan from his lips. He picks up the pace, thrusting harder now, each stroke driving deeper, pushing her closer to the edge.

Aemond moves away for a moment, and she hears the rustle of fabric as he sheds his clothes. He’s back in front of her in an instant, his cock hard and heavy in his hand. He strokes himself slowly, his gaze locked on her face, watching every expression, every gasp and moan that escapes her lips.

���Open your mouth” he orders, his voice low and commanding.

She obeys without hesitation, her lips parting, and he guides his cock to her mouth, sliding it over her tongue. He’s big, and the taste of him is musky, intoxicating. She closes her lips around him, sucking gently, her tongue swirling around the tip.

Aemond groans, his hand tightening in her hair, guiding her head as he slowly thrusts into her mouth, matching the rhythm of Aegon’s thrusts behind her. She’s caught between them, filled from both ends, the pleasure building and building, driving her closer to the brink.

Aegon’s thrusts become harder, more urgent, his grip on her hips bruising. “Gods, you’re perfect” he growls, his voice tight with need. “So fucking perfect.”

Aemond’s thrusts are slow and controlled, each one pushing deeper, filling her mouth, making her throat tighten around him. “Such a good girl” he murmurs, his tone laced with praise and lust. “Taking us both like this. I knew you’d be perfect for us.”

The praise sends a jolt of pleasure straight to her core, making her clench around Aegon’s cock, drawing a strangled groan from his lips. He slams into her harder, his pace frantic now, and she knows he’s close.

The room is filled with the sounds of their bodies moving together, the slap of skin against skin, the wet sounds of her sucking Aemond’s cock, the low, desperate moans and grunts of pleasure. She can feel the pressure building inside her, the coil tightening in her belly, threatening to snap at any moment.

Aegon’s thrusts become erratic, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I’m gonna come” he warns, his voice strained. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Aemond’s grip on her hair tightens, his cock throbbing in her mouth. “Come with us” he orders, his voice low and commanding. “Let go, sweet girl. Come for us.”

That’s all it takes. The coil snaps, and she’s falling, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave, her body trembling, her walls clenching tight around Aegon’s cock. She moans around Aemond’s cock, the sound vibrating through him, and he lets out a low groan, thrusting deeper, holding her head still as he comes, his release spilling down her throat.

Aegon isn’t far behind, his hips jerking as he finds his release, his cock pulsing inside her, filling her with his warmth. She feels him throb, his cum spilling deep inside her, and it sends another wave of pleasure through her, making her tremble.

They stay like that for a moment, all of them breathing hard, their bodies slick with sweat, tangled together in a mess of limbs and heat. Slowly, Aegon pulls out, his cock slipping free, leaving her feeling empty, spent.

Aemond releases her hair, pulling out of her mouth, his cock softening. He strokes her cheek with his thumb, a satisfied smile on his lips. “You did so well” he praises, his tone soft, almost affectionate.

She collapses onto the bed, her body exhausted, her mind spinning with everything that just happened. She’s just lost her virginity to both of them, been utterly claimed, and she knows she should feel something—regret, shame, something. But all she feels is a deep, bone-deep satisfaction, a contentment that settles over her like a warm blanket.

Aegon lies down beside her, pulling her close against his chest, his lips brushing her temple. “You’re ours now,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm. “Ours.”

Aemond lies down on her other side, his arm draped over her waist, his lips pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. “Ours” he echoes, his tone just as possessive.

She knows she should feel overwhelmed, maybe even scared, but she doesn’t. She feels safe, secure, like she belongs here, between them. She closes her eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips as she lets herself relax, lets herself be theirs.

Tonight, she gave herself to them, and she doesn’t regret a single moment.

The days after that night feel like a blur.

She tries to focus on her studies, tries to keep her head down like she always has, but she can’t stop thinking about the Targaryen brothers. Her body still hums with the memory of their touch, the taste of their skin still lingering on her lips. She’s replayed that night over and over in her mind, each time her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and desire. She wonders if they think about it, too.

Aegon, apparently, does not. She sees him a few times around campus, always with a new girl on his arm, always with that same cocky grin on his face. He doesn’t even acknowledge her when they pass each other in the quad, his attention already focused on his next conquest. It stings a little, the way he brushes her off so easily, but she knew what she was getting into. Aegon is Aegon. She wasn’t expecting anything more.

But Aemond… Aemond is different.

She catches glimpses of him in the library, in the dining hall, his intense gaze always seeming to find hers across the room. There’s something there, something lingering in the way he looks at her. She feels it, too, a pull she can’t quite explain. He doesn’t approach her, doesn’t speak to her, but she knows he’s watching, waiting.

It’s a Friday night when she finally sees him again. She’s in her dorm room, curled up on her bed with a book, trying to distract herself from the noise of the party raging in the common room down the hall. Her roommate is there, too, laughing loudly with a few friends, the sound of music and chatter bleeding through the thin walls. She tries to focus on the words in front of her, but her mind keeps drifting, her thoughts wandering back to him.

And then, there’s a knock on her door.

She hesitates for a moment, glancing at the clock. It’s late, almost midnight. She wonders who it could be, maybe her roommate’s friends needing something, but when she opens the door, her breath catches in her throat. It’s Aemond.

He’s standing there, looking as effortlessly handsome as ever, his silver hair falling into his eyes, a leather jacket slung over his shoulder. He looks different tonight—less composed, more raw. His gaze is intense, his eye fixed on hers, and she feels that familiar heat rise in her cheeks.

“Aemond...” she breathes, her voice barely audible over the noise from the hallway. “What are you doing here?”

He steps closer, into her room, closing the door behind him. “I didn’t feel like going to the party” he says simply, his voice low and steady. “Thought I’d come see you instead.”

She swallows hard, her heart racing in her chest. “Why?” she asks, genuinely curious. “Aren’t there a hundred other girls who’d want your attention?”

He smirks, his lips curling up at the corners. “Probably” he admits. “But I’m not interested in them.”

There’s a charged silence between them, the air thick with tension. She feels a shiver run down her spine, her body reacting to the look in his eyes, the way he’s watching her like he wants to devour her.

He takes a step closer, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin. “Are you going to invite me in?” he asks, his voice a low, seductive purr.

She nods, stepping back to let him in. He moves past her, his presence filling the small room, making it feel even smaller. She closes the door behind them, the sound of the party muffling to a dull roar outside.

He’s on her in an instant, his lips crashing down on hers, his hands gripping her waist, pulling her against him. She melts into the kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. He kisses her like he’s been starving for her, like he’s been waiting for this moment since the last time they were together.

He pushes her back towards the bed, his hands roaming over her body, pulling her close, his lips never leaving hers. She falls back onto the mattress, pulling him down on top of her, her legs parting to make room for him between them.

He pulls back for a moment, his gaze dark and hungry as he looks down at her. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you” he admits, his voice rough. “About how you felt… how you tasted.”

She shivers at his words, a moan slipping from her lips. “Me too” she confesses, her voice breathless.

He grins, a wicked, knowing grin, before he kisses her again, his lips trailing down her neck, over her collarbone. He tugs at her shirt, pulling it over her head, his lips trailing down her chest, his hands working to unhook her bra.

She gasps as his mouth finds her nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak, his teeth grazing it just enough to make her arch her back. His hands are everywhere—sliding up her sides, gripping her thighs, pulling her closer.

He moves lower, kissing down her stomach, his fingers hooking in the waistband of her shorts, pulling them down along with her panties.

He spreads her legs wider, his gaze fixed on her wetness, his mouth watering. “You’re already so wet for me” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. “Do you know how crazy that drives me?”

She bites her lip, her breath hitching as he lowers his head, his tongue flicking out to taste her. She cries out, her hips bucking up off the bed, but he holds her down, his hands gripping her thighs, keeping her still as he licks and sucks, his tongue swirling around her clit, teasing her entrance.

He’s relentless, his mouth working her over, his tongue driving her wild. She feels the pleasure building, a slow burn that starts in her core and spreads through her entire body. She can’t think, can’t breathe, her mind a haze of pleasure and need.

He slides two fingers inside her, curling them just right, hitting that spot that makes her see stars. She cries out, her hands fisting in the sheets, her body trembling with need. He works his fingers in and out of her, his mouth still on her clit, sucking harder, licking faster.

She feels it building, that pressure inside her, coiling tighter and tighter, threatening to snap. “Aemond” she gasps, her voice a desperate plea. “I’m— I’m gonna—”

“Come for me” he growls against her skin, his fingers curling inside her, his tongue flicking her clit. “Come on, I want to feel you come.”

That’s all it takes. The coil snaps, and she’s falling, her orgasm crashing over her in a wave of pure, blinding pleasure. She screams, her body convulsing, her walls clenching tight around his fingers. She feels something release inside her, a gush of liquid soaking the sheets beneath her, and she realizes with a shock that she’s squirting.

He groans against her, his fingers working her through it, his mouth never leaving her clit, licking up every drop of her release. He pulls back after a moment, his chin glistening with her wetness, a satisfied grin on his lips.

“Fuck” she breathes, her body still trembling, her mind spinning. “I’ve never… I didn’t know I could…”

He chuckles, his gaze softening as he wipes his chin with the back of his hand. “There’s a lot you don’t know about yourself” he says softly, his hand reaching up to stroke her cheek. “But I’d like to find out.”

She smiles up at him, her heart swelling in her chest.

"Stay with me" she whispers. "I want you. Just you."

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His mouth crashes down on hers, the kiss hungry and desperate, his hands roaming over her body, pulling her close. She melts against him, her hands finding his shoulders, her fingers digging into his skin as she kisses him back with equal fervor.

Aemond’s hands are everywhere—sliding under her shirt, gripping her waist, then moving to cup her breasts through her bra. He pushes her back towards the bed again, and she falls onto it with a soft gasp, pulling him down with her. His lips leave hers, trailing down her neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin there, leaving marks that she knows will be there tomorrow.

He yanks her shirt off, tossing it aside, and then his hands are on her bra, unclasping it with a deftness that makes her head spin. He pulls it off her, his lips immediately closing around one of her nipples, sucking and biting, his other hand pinching and rolling the other. She cries out, arching her back, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

"Aemond" she gasps, her body on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation. "Please..."

He pulls back, his lips leaving her skin, his eye dark with desire as he looks down at her. "Please what?" he taunts, his voice a low growl.

"Please” she repeats, her voice desperate. "I need you."

Aemond grins, a wicked, knowing grin, before his hands move down to her shorts and pulling them down her legs, leaving her in just her panties. He slides them down too, tossing them aside, leaving her completely bare before him.

He looks at her for a moment, his gaze sweeping over her body, taking in every curve, every inch of her exposed skin. She feels her cheeks flush under his scrutiny, but the way he’s looking at her makes her feel powerful, makes her feel wanted.

“You’re beautiful” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost reverent. He leans down, his lips trailing kisses down her stomach, his hands spreading her thighs apart. She shivers, her breath hitching in her throat as she feels his hot breath against her core.

He doesn’t waste any time. His tongue flicks out, teasing her clit, and she cries out, her hips bucking up off the bed. He holds her down, his fingers digging into her thighs, keeping her in place as he devours her, his tongue swirling around her clit, then dipping lower to tease her entrance.

She’s already so sensitive from their earlier activities, and the feel of his mouth on her, the way he’s licking and sucking, drives her wild. She can’t think, can’t breathe, her mind a haze of pleasure and need. She feels that familiar heat building in her core, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter, threatening to snap.

“Aemond” she gasps, her voice a desperate plea. “I’m— I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me” he growls against her, his tongue flicking her clit harder, his fingers sliding inside her, curling just right, hitting that spot that makes her see stars. “I want to feel you come all over my tongue.”

That’s all it takes. The coil snaps, and she’s falling, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave, her body trembling, her walls clenching tight around his fingers. She feels herself squirt again, a gush of liquid soaking the sheets beneath her, and she hears Aemond groan in satisfaction, his tongue lapping up every drop of her release.

He doesn’t stop, his fingers still moving inside her, his mouth still on her clit, and she feels another orgasm building almost immediately, her body still sensitive, still on edge. She cries out, her hands fisting in the sheets, her body arching off the bed as another wave of pleasure crashes over her, her second orgasm even more intense than the first.

Aemond finally pulls back, his lips glistening with her wetness, a satisfied grin on his lips. He moves up her body, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her closer. “You taste so fucking good” he growls, his lips crashing down on hers, making her taste herself on his tongue.

She moans into his mouth, her hands sliding down to his jeans, fumbling with the button. She can feel his hardness pressing against her thigh, and she wants him, needs him inside her. “Please,” she whispers against his lips, her fingers finally undoing his jeans, pushing them down his hips. “I need you, Aemond. I need you inside me.”

He groans, his hand wrapping around his cock, guiding it to her entrance. He slides the tip over her clit, teasing her, making her squirm beneath him. “Beg for it” he orders, his voice a low growl.

“Please” she gasps, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. “Please Aemond, I need you. Fuck me, please.”

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. As he puts a condom, he thrusts into her, hard and deep, filling her completely. She cries out, her body arching off the bed, her nails raking down his back. He feels so good, so big, stretching her in a way that makes her toes curl, makes her mind go blank.

He sets a brutal pace, his hips slamming into hers, each thrust driving deeper, hitting that spot inside her that makes her see stars. She wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, her hips meeting his with every thrust, the sound of their bodies slapping together filling the room.

Aemond grunts, his teeth gritted, his fingers digging into her hips. “You feel so fucking good” he groans, his voice strained with effort. “So fucking tight. Gods, I could fuck you forever.”

She moans in response, her body trembling, the pleasure building again, higher and higher, threatening to consume her. She can feel another orgasm building, her body on the brink, and she knows she’s not going to last much longer. “Aemond,” she gasps, her voice a desperate plea. “I’m—”

“Come for me” he orders, his thrusts becoming harder, more frantic. “Come all over my cock.”

That’s all it takes. She’s falling again, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing, her walls clenching tight around him. She screams his name, her nails digging into his shoulders, her body arching off the bed as the pleasure consumes her.

Aemond groans, his hips jerking, his own release hitting him like a freight train. He thrusts into her one last time, burying himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he spills inside her, filling her with his warmth.

They stay like that for a moment, both of them breathing hard, their bodies slick with sweat, tangled together in a mess of limbs and heat. Slowly, Aemond pulls out, rolling onto his back beside her, his chest heaving with exertion.

She turns her head to look at him, a satisfied smile on her lips. “That was… incredible” she breathes, her voice barely more than a whisper.

He lies down beside her, pulling her close, their bodies tangled together in the soft sheets. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it with a match. He takes a long drag, the smoke curling up around them, before passing it to her.

She takes it hesitantly, taking a small puff, coughing a little. He laughs softly, his hand stroking her hair, soothing her. “You’re not as much of a good girl as everyone thinks, are you?” he muses, his tone teasing.

She shrugs, a small smile playing on her lips. “I do what I have to” she admits. “For the scholarships, for the grades.I’m not as perfect as people think.”

He smiles, a genuine smile that reaches his eye, making him look almost boyish. “Good” he says softly. “I don’t want perfect. I want real.”

“Good” she asks. "And what about you?"

"About me?" he answers. "I'm quite good to all the subjects and I like metal and rock music"

She feels her heart flutter at his words, a warmth spreading through her chest. She takes another drag of the cigarette, feeling the smoke fill her lungs, then lets it out in a slow, steady exhale. “The night is still young” he says, a playful glint in his eyes. “Want to go for a ride?”

She grins, that wicked, dangerous grin that makes her heart race. “I’d love to.”

They get dressed quickly, laughter filling the small room as they stumble over each other, the high of their shared moment still buzzing in their veins.

They make their way outside, the cool night air hitting their skin, the sounds of the party fading into the background.

He leads her to his bike, a sleek, powerful machine that looks as dangerous as it does exciting. He swings his leg over it with practiced ease, the leather of his jacket creaking with the movement, and holds out a hand to her. She takes it without hesitation, her heart racing with anticipation as she climbs on behind him, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist.

Aemond revs the engine, the deep, throaty roar vibrating through them both, sending a thrill down her spine. She feels the bike rumble beneath her, powerful and alive, just like the man in front of her. She leans into his back, feeling the warmth of his body through his jacket, the scent of leather and smoke filling her senses.

“Hold on tight” he murmurs over his shoulder, a wicked grin on his lips.

And then they’re off, speeding down the dark, empty streets, the wind whipping through their hair. The world around them blurs as they race through the night, the lights of the campus fading into the distance. She feels a rush of adrenaline, a wild, exhilarating freedom she’s never felt before. She tightens her grip on Aemond, pressing closer, the thrill of the ride mixed with the intoxicating feeling of his body against hers.

They disappear into the darkness, leaving behind the noise and chaos of the campus, the cold night air biting at their skin. Aemond drives fast, weaving through the streets with a confidence that makes her feel safe, even as her heart pounds in her chest. She doesn’t know where they’re going, and she doesn’t care. She’s with him, and that’s all that matters.

They ride for what feels like hours, the city lights blurring into a distant glow behind them. Aemond takes them out to the open road, the dark highway stretching out before them, endless and inviting. She leans her head against his back, closing her eyes, losing herself in the moment, in the feeling of being free, of being alive.

Eventually, he slows down, pulling off onto a secluded overlook that offers a breathtaking view of the city below, twinkling like a sea of stars. He cuts the engine, and the sudden silence is almost deafening after the roar of the bike. She lets out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, her heart still racing with the thrill of the ride.

Aemond turns to look at her, his eye searching hers, his expression soft in the moonlight. “You okay?” he asks, his voice low and rough, laced with concern.

She nods, a wide smile spreading across her face. “More than okay” she replies, her voice breathless with excitement. “That was… amazing.”

He smiles, a real, genuine smile that makes her heart skip a beat. “Good” he says softly, reaching out to brush a stray hair from her face. “I’m glad.”

They sit there for a moment, the city spread out before them, the quiet of the night wrapping around them. She feels a sense of peace settle over her, a contentment she hasn’t felt in a long time.

Aemond turns slightly, his hand still on her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin. “You’re different” he murmurs, his gaze intense. “Not like the other girls and I know that you hate hearing that.”

She tilts her head, looking up at him with curiosity. “I'm different because I am myself and yes, I hate when you say that I'm different"

She feels her heart flutter at his words, a warmth spreading through her chest. She leans in, pressing her lips to his, a soft, tender kiss. He kisses her back, his hand sliding to the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

They stay like that for a long moment, lost in each other, in the quiet of the night. When they finally pull back, their foreheads rest together, their breaths mingling in the cool night air.

“I don’t want this to end” she whispers, her voice barely more than a breath.

He smiles, his hand tightening on her waist. “It doesn’t have to” he murmurs, his tone filled with promise.

She nods, her heart full, her body warm with the promise of what’s to come. They may have started as just a night of fun, but now, as they sit together under the stars, she knows that this is only the beginning.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Duet of Fire and Fate

Part Three | Series Masterlist

Summary: tensions between Aemond and the pianist reach boiling point | Word Count: 4.6k~ | Warnings: smut, semi-public sex, forced proximity, mummy issues

There was a sense of unease about being awake at this time. An early riser, Aemond was, but even this was pushing it for him as he sat on the creaky bus, having to listen to the way plastic and metal jolted his bones with every little divot in the road, only amplifying the disquiet that was equally happening inside his head.

Glancing at his watch, the gold hands mocked him once more. 5:49 in the morning.

That morning, Alys had made her stance painfully clear: their encounters had to end. She seemed to realise that their relationship had become merely a means to an end, a way for him to escape his pressures. The implication that she felt used weighed heavily on Aemond, even though she framed her decision in practical terms.

"You need to focus on your music, not me," she had said, her voice firm, leaving no room for argument. It was a logical decision, one that should make perfect sense to a disciplined musician like him. Yet, as he turned her words over in his mind, they struck a dissonant chord.

The thought of facing Otto's incessant messages about organising a meticulous solo practice session, only to nitpick at his every perceived flaw, was unbearable. So, Aemond sought refuge in the numbing scroll of social media, anything to ward off the encroaching silence of the apartment.

As his thumb flicked mechanically across the screen, a thought struck him, a reckless impulse that had been lurking in the back of his mind. He paused, his heart rate ticking upward with the audacity of what he was about to do. Swiping out of the mundane updates and into the search bar, he typed her name, the pianist who had so effortlessly invaded his thoughts and challenged his perspectives.

Her profile wasn’t hard to find, her public persona was as vibrant and engaging as her performances. There she was, in photos and tagged videos, her presence as dynamic online as it was in person. Each post, each snippet of her life and art, pulled him in deeper, her world unfolding before him through the glow of his phone screen.

The more he watched, the more he realised how much she had begun to permeate his thoughts, challenging not just his musical ideals but the very way he viewed his art. It wasn’t just professional curiosity, it was something more, something deeper. A connection he hadn’t anticipated, one he wasn’t sure he wanted, but also one he couldn’t seem to deny.

He thought perhaps a nice, hot shower would clear his thoughts with heavy ribbons of steam, near-scalding his pale skin as droplets of water slid off his body. His hair clung to his neck, falling in strips around his face as he stared at his reflection on the drain cover. Sometimes he could not bear to even look at himself.

But even with his eyelids pressed tightly shut, he did not know peace.

He was sixteen again, standing on the stage of a packed auditorium. The applause had faded, and he was left alone with Otto, whose presence loomed larger than the praise had ever felt. Otto's face was stern, his eyes dissecting not just the performance, but Aemond himself. "That was adequate, Aemond, but only just," Otto had said, his voice cold and precise. "Your bowing was sloppy in the second movement. You must control every motion, every emotion." Aemond's hands had trembled with a mix of exertion and suppressed anger. He had poured his heart into that performance, felt every note resonate within him, but Otto saw only flaws. "Control, always control," Aemond muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on the neck of his cello. Otto had caught the muttered defiance. "What was that?" he snapped, stepping closer. "If you have something to say, speak clearly, boy." "Nothing," Aemond replied, his voice low, but inside, a storm was brewing. Otto’s relentless criticism after every performance, his inability to see anything but the mistakes, Aemond felt like a vessel about to burst. That night, back at the music academy, in the solitude of the practice room, Aemond stared at his cello. The beautiful instrument, which had always been his voice, now felt like a chain. In a moment of blinding rage, a desire to break free from Otto’s relentless grip, he did the unthinkable. With a shout that echoed through the empty room, Aemond lifted his cello and smashed it against the floor. Wood splintered, strings snapped, a harsh, discordant noise that was the antithesis of everything he had been taught to produce. The destruction was quick, but the silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of what he had done. But didn’t regret it one bit.

Aemond opened his eyes, the memory leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He had eventually replaced the cello, and Otto had never mentioned the incident, assuming it had been an accident. But something inside Aemond had changed that day. The act of destruction, though regrettable, had been his first real rebellion, his first step toward finding his own voice amidst the oppressive expectations placed upon him.

Now, years later, as he considered reaching out to the pianist, he realised he was standing at another crossroads. Would he continue to conform to the stringent demands of his classical training, or would he dare to explore the emotional depth that she so effortlessly embodied in her music?

Stood there, beneath the stream of water that had now ran cold, Aemond felt the old, familiar stirrings of rebellion. This time, however, it wasn't about destruction but about discovery. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to smash through the invisible barriers he had erected around his music and his heart.

The loud chattering and messy runs of various instruments made it difficult to concentrate. She found herself blinking hard and tiredly, willing the exhaustion away. Lyonel Strong had yet to arrive to conduct today's practice, and so everyone had taken it as an excuse to not practise at all.

"Can you believe this?" Jason called out from across the room, his voice tinged with annoyance. He was leaning against the wall, his violin hanging loosely in his hand. "Lyonel's late again. We could have started at least half an hour ago."

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I know, Jason. But complaining isn't going to make him appear any faster."

Maris, with her fiery red hair and a perpetual scowl, was plucking at her strings, each note more discordant than the last. "It's not just Lyonel," she snapped. "Half of you can't even play your parts right. Couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery.”

The others chimed in, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of complaints and criticisms. Jason and Maris continued to bicker, their frustration with each other and the situation palpable. She tried to mediate, her soft voice lost in the din, while others muttered under their breath or joined in the argument.

The pianist tuned out the noise, focusing instead on marking her music sheets. She meticulously made notes, adding small annotations to help guide her through the piece. The process was calming, a small island of order in the midst of the chaos around her. She could hear snippets of the ongoing argument, but she chose to ignore them, her mind drifting.

Their band was a far cry from Aemond's. His ensemble operated with a precision and unity that seemed almost unattainable for her group. Every member of his band knew their role, their place, and they worked together seamlessly. In contrast, her band felt like a collection of individuals, each with their own agenda, their own frustrations.

When Lyonel eventually decided to join them, having had his fill of several espressos, their practice could finally begin. The tension lingered, a constant reminder of the disunity that plagued them. As she played, her thoughts drifted to the upcoming competition, the inevitable clash with Aemond's band. She knew they needed to be better, to be more cohesive, if they were going to stand a chance.

"Can I have a word?" Lyonel asked authoritatively as she was packing her things away with practised efficiency. The room had cleared, others wanting to escape the confining claws of his teachings.

She nodded, trying to mask the fatigue she felt. "Of course."

Lyonel glanced around the now-empty room before speaking. "I wanted to talk to you about your solo performance."

She had known for a while that she would have a solo, but the way he said it now made her stomach twist with unease. "Yes, sir?"

Lyonel studied her for a moment longer, then sighed, his stern demeanour slipping. "Look, I know our chemistry as a band isn't perfect," he admitted, his voice softer. "But that’s exactly why we need you to shine. Your solo can elevate the entire performance. It can make up for the lack of cohesion."

She bit her lip, feeling a mix of frustration and resignation. "I understand the importance of my solo, but wouldn’t it be better if we worked on our chemistry as a band? If we played better together, maybe the pressure wouldn’t have to fall entirely on one person."

Lyonel’s expression hardened again, though not unkindly. "I know it’s not fair. But with the time we have left, we need to play to our strengths. And right now, you are our strength."

She wished he would address the root issue instead of putting all the pressure on her, but she knew better than to argue further. "I'll do my best," she said finally.

Lyonel placed a hand on her shoulder, a rare gesture of support. "I know you will. Just remember, it’s not just about you out there. It’s about all of us. We’re counting on you."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She stood there for a moment, letting his words sink in. The pressure was immense, but so was the opportunity.

“Music is in your blood, my dear.”

Memories of her family surfaced unbidden. Her father, a renowned classical musician, had always been a looming figure in her life. His talent and success were legendary, casting a long shadow over her own musical ambitions. Yet, despite his fame, he had left her mother for another woman within the same industry when she was still a child. The betrayal had torn their family apart.

Her mother, once supportive of her daughter's musical pursuits, had become bitter and resentful. The very sight of a piano seemed to deepen the rift between them. "You'll end up just like him," her mother would say, the words dripping with disdain. "Consumed by music and blind to everything else.”

Their relationship had deteriorated to the point where they barely spoke. Communication was limited to snotty texts, her mother’s disapproval seeping through every word. Her mother couldn't understand why she wanted to follow the same path that had destroyed their family.

On the other hand, her father would occasionally reach out, but his messages were infrequent and perfunctory. His busy schedule left little room for meaningful connection. When he did find time to call, his conversations were often laced with criticism.

She often found herself caught between two worlds, one that resented her passion and another that demanded perfection. She longed for approval, for a sense of belonging that seemed always just out of reach.

Her fingers hurt but she didn't care. She stood on stage, feeling like a million dollars, soaking in applause that rang in her ears, the first place medal cool against her chest. But as her eyes scanned the crowd, searching desperately for a familiar face, for her mother, she felt her stomach sink. Her heart pounded harder than it had during her performance, but for all the wrong reasons. The rush of victory, the adrenaline that should have been pumping through her veins, was rapidly replaced by a hollow feeling. She stepped off the stage, clinging to the hope that maybe her mother had just been late or stuck in traffic. Maybe she’d be waiting outside, apologising for missing the performance, but there nonetheless. She checked her phone, scrolling through her contacts until her mother’s name flashed on the screen. Her hands shook as she dialled. It rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Voicemail. The third call, the fifth, the eighth, it all blurred together as she wiped at her eyes. By the tenth attempt, her hands were trembling, and the high of winning was a distant memory. She dialled again, fighting back tears that threatened to spill over. When the voicemail beeped once more, she paused, then finally spoke, her voice breaking. "I won, Mum…” She stared at her phone for a long moment before slipping it back into her bag. The title, the first-place medal,  they felt like nothing now.

Packing up her sheet music, she made her way towards the practice rooms, and as if on cue, a text buzzed in her pocket. With a sigh, she opened the message from her mother, bracing herself for the usual criticism.

Your father mentioned you have a competition coming up. 

She rolled her eyes. As if her mother had expected her to bite when that is the bait.

No ‘how are you’ or ‘how is music school’. No. It was always about how she had to not follow the same path as her father and not let music consume her like it had him.

Whenever her thoughts drifted to him, she found herself sinking into confusion. However distant he was, she still craved his approval. Longing for him to say he was proud of her. Just once.

She slipped through the doors with the hotheaded mindset that she would do better. Determined. But she halted when she heard the familiar whine of a delicate instrument she had come to know so well. If her shoes hadn’t squealed against the varnished, wooden floor, she wouldn’t have disturbed him from his practice. But like an animal primed for distractions, Aemond’s head whipped up from his cello, his expression hardening once he saw her.

“I have this room booked.”

She narrowed her eyes, her jaw tightening. "Funny, because I do too."

Aemond's lips pressed into a thin line, his annoyance palpable. "You must have made a mistake."

She shook her head, stepping further into the room. "No mistake. Maybe you're the one who needs to check the schedule.”

She slipped her bag off her shoulder, searching it with her back turned to him. Her hands shook with frustration, the build-up of the day lingering with fire in her blood. She froze when she stared at her blue tinted screen, seeing that somehow…

Double booked.

“You're not going to leave, are you,” Aemond muttered annoyed.

She turned to face him, an eyebrow raised. “Why should I? I have as much right to be here as you do.”

Aemond smirked, leaning casually against his cello. “Is that how you justify it? Riding on the coattails of your daddy’s fame?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“You know,” he continued, his voice dripping with condescension, “the big famous musician embroiled in scandal. Must be tough living in that shadow.”

Her jaw clenched. “You don’t know anything about my family.”

“Oh, but I do,” he said, setting aside his instrument to taking a step closer. “Everyone does. It’s quite the story, isn’t it? Daddy leaves Mummy for someone else in the industry. Must be quite the inspiration for your music. I knew I'd seen your surname around somewhere. Turns out it was the tabloids.”

Her hands tightened, her nostrils flaring with irritation.

“Aw, sore spot?” he taunted, enjoying the way her eyes flashed with anger.

She took a deep breath, trying to keep her composure. “You think you’re so much better than everyone else, don’t you?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe I am.”

“That arrogance is going to be your downfall one day,” she shot back.

“And your baggage is going to be yours,” he replied smoothly.

Without warning, she stepped closer, their faces inches apart. “You want to talk about family baggage? Let’s talk about yours.”

Aemond’s eyes darkened. The smile, victoriously wiped from his face. “Careful.”

“Why? Can’t handle it?” she challenged. “Maybe you throw accusations of daddy issues because you have them yourself—”

“Watch it.”

“Or what? You’ll keep me from practising? You’ll sabotage me?” she retorted, stepping closer. “You're a fucking coward—”

The door to the practice room opened abruptly, and the sound of footsteps interrupted their heated exchange. Without thinking, Aemond grabbed her arm and pulled her into the storage room, shutting the door quietly behind them. They stood in the cramped space, their breaths mingling in the darkness.

The footsteps in the practice room slowed, followed by the unmistakable murmur of voices. Aemond stiffened, his body going rigid against hers, and for a split second, all he could smell was her perfume and feel the rapid fluttering of her heart against his chest. The weight of the voices hit him hard, and he recognised them immediately.

Otto.

And Lyonel.

His heart pounded harder now, not only from the closeness of her body, but of the two men outside the door.

Otto's voice carried through the thin walls. “I trust you’ve got a firm hand on your group.”

Lyonel made a noise of agreement, but there was a subtle edge to his tone. “They're a bit disjointed, but not as much as I hear yours are.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched. Neither of them dared to breathe too loudly, straining to hear the conversation outside, but the pressure between them, physical and emotional, was unbearable.

“That is none of your business,” Otto's voice was guarded. Icy.

Aemond’s breath hitched, and she felt the sharp intake of air against her ear, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. His hand slid to brace himself against the wall beside her, his body pressing more firmly against hers not out of seeking comfort, but simply because he had no choice.

“Hmm, your grandson I hear is a bit of a wild card.”

“He’s difficult, but I’ve trained him for this. He just needs focus.”

The footsteps shifted, and for a moment it seemed like they were heading toward the door of the storage room. Her mouth opened but Aemond’s hand shot up, covering her mouth as he leaned in even closer. His eyes widened in silent warning. 

Her pulse quickened.

"Your grandson is a good player," Lyonel said, a hint of frustration in his tone. "But from what I've seen, he’s too rigid. No room for improvisation. He might fall apart when things get unpredictable."

Aemond’s teeth clenched, his hand now gripping the edge of the shelf beside her. She could feel the tension vibrating off him, and she fought the urge to push him back and say something. But they couldn’t risk being heard.

“That’s why you’re counting on her, aren’t you?” Otto’s voice was quieter now, almost conspiratorial. “Your pianist, what’s her name again? She’s your only shot at taking the solo.”

Lyonel chuckled softly. “She’s going to win it for us. I have no doubt about that.”

The footsteps began to fade, the two continuing to speak about where the final performance would be held, and she heard the distant click of the door closing. Aemond finally released her, but the tension between them was far from gone. The room seemed smaller, the air heavier with the weight of everything unsaid.

She pushed against his chest suddenly, a sharp shove that didn’t budge him an inch. “What the fuck was that for–”

I am no fucking coward.

“Just stop fucking talking," he growled, cutting her off with a kiss that was as furious as it was desperate.

She felt the hardness of the wall behind her as Aemond shoved her against it, grounding her as he deepened the kiss, exploring with an urgency that made her breath hitch. Coupled with that was the hardness that pressed against her stomach. It was a fight in that of itself, the clashing of their lips and teeth only intensifying what was already a fiery dynamic.

There was something exhilarating about it. And as her fingers weaved into his hair, pulling him closer, no matter how small the gesture, it solidified the simple fact that he needed this. She was intensity personified. And he was drawn to it like a moth to a flame, in his personal and in his musical life, combined in one dangerous cocktail that was her. It wasn’t only lust, it was an addiction to the thrill of the chase, the danger that came with being so close to her. His rival, his obsession.

He trailed kisses down her neck, feeling the pulse of her heartbeat beneath his lips as she arched up against him in silent encouragement. But he was the one who pulled her legs around him, rucking her black skirt up to her hips and ripping ladders into her tights as he shoved them down her legs, his movements frantic and needy, as if he were a man starved of water. She was soft and yielding beneath him, yet there was a strength in her grip that intrigued him still.

Clothes. Fucking clothes.

He perhaps thought that if he tried to mould himself to her. If he could just be inside her for a moment, would he be able to understand her? To absorb her.

The urgency of their actions felt reckless, yet a part of him revelled in it. It was the kind of intimacy he craved, the kind that made him forget everything else. 

She gasped against his mouth as if completely not expecting the blunt head of his cock against her, his fingers having wrenched the gusset of her underwear aside to press against her bare skin. And she felt heat rise to her cheeks when she glanced down between them, watching the way his length glistened as he teased himself against her slit. The spontaneity of the moment meant that while she was not completely wet, it was embarrassing that she was at all.

She dare not look him in the face. He was doing this to prove he knew what he did to her. To let her sit in this feeling of resentment for responding to it.

And yet she would not admit how it stole her breath away when he firmly pressed into her. There was something exciting about the feeling of being partly unprepared. Her ego somewhat inflated that he simply couldn't wait a moment more. But the sting of it as he slid to the hilt reminding her that she would most certainly be sore the next morning.

He wanted her to feel it.

But equally, she wanted him to want it. And the breathy whimper he gave when he pulled back to push his hips back against her, made her think that he absolutely did.

And he didn't wait. His movements became frantic, each thrust igniting a fire deep within. Her breath hitched, and he felt a flicker of satisfaction at how easily he could provoke such a response from her. There were no words. If there were, they would have carried the same fire that had simmered for days, weeks.

Had it only taken weeks for him to crave her.

Her nails dug into his back, grounding him. And so his grip tightened around her thighs as he drove into her, as if holding on to her could tether him to something solid, something real. He could feel the tension in her muscles, the sharp gasps escaping her lips, the way she arched into him. And he knew, he knew this wasn’t just him.

They were both lost in it, both fighting against and succumbing to whatever this was. He wanted to hate her, to despise her for how easily she got under his skin, but in this moment, all he could feel was her, the way she wrapped around him, the way she pulled him deeper.

She wasn’t supposed to mean anything to him, just another obstacle, another rival to conquer. But her taste was on his tongue, her scent filled his lungs, and her body felt like the answer to a question he’d been too afraid to ask.

He raised his gaze from where they were joined, plunging into her with abandon, less about pleasure and now more about the release. 

Aemond's grip shifted, his hand trailing up her neck, his fingers curling gently around her throat. Not in a way that threatened, but in a way that demanded attention.

“Look at me.”

She hesitated for a beat, then her eyes flickered up, locking with his. A flush spreading over her cheeks, a soft pink bloom that travelled down her neck. His gaze was relentless, searching her expression.

Look at me.

He could see it now, the way her composure was slipping, the way she was coming undone beneath him. That small, vulnerable break in her guarded facade was everything, and it only drove him deeper into the need to witness her fall apart, to be the one who made her unravel.

Aemond felt the shift in her body first, the subtle tremor that ran through her as she neared the edge. Her head tipped back against the wall, her eyes fluttering shut as she finally surrendered to the intensity between them. He felt her body tense and then shudder as she came apart beneath him, the quiet, breathless moan escaping her lips like music. Soft, involuntary, raw.

It wasn't the feeling of her trembling around him, more the sight. He couldn't hold back any longer. His grip tightened around her hips as he followed her over the edge, his body trembling with the force of his release. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, his breaths ragged, the tension that had been coiled inside him snapping with a fierce, undeniable rush.

After, they stood still, bodies pressed together, the lingering heat between them slowly dissipating. For a brief moment, as he felt her skin warm under his hands, there was a flicker of vulnerability. But as quickly as it came, it was drowned out by something darker. Regret. A sharp, suffocating regret that sank deep into his chest.

He had given her power. Ammunition. She could use this, twist it, turn it against him. The walls he had carefully built around himself felt as if they had cracked in her presence, and that thought made him recoil internally.

She let out a quiet breath as he pulled away, feeling the loss of him instantly, followed rapidly by the warmth dribbling down her thigh. His hands worked swiftly to do up his belt, his movements mechanical and detached. He couldn’t look at her. Couldn't let her see the conflict etched across his face.

If he had looked. He'd be more irritated by what he saw.

She stood there, half-naked and breathless, the flush of their shared moment still on her skin. He didn’t stop to think about how she might feel, the confusion, the embarrassment, the sense of being used. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t let it matter.

She was never going to see that side of him again.

Without so much as a glance back, Aemond turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving her alone in the suffocating quiet, half-naked and stunned.

Aemond snatched up his cello as he left.

Leaving her behind, vulnerable and half-dressed, he had merely traded one form of destruction for another. But he’d rather face the self-imposed torture of his strings than the unpredictable vulnerability of human connection.

Swapping one prison for another, the cello felt safer. At least this was a pain he knew how to manage.

General Taglist: @1lluminaticonfirmed @aemondsfavouritebastard @all-for-aemond @bellstwd @blackswxnn

@blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @cl-0-vr @eddieslut69

@emmaisafictionwhore @eponaartemisa @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

@minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @nixiefics

@primonizzutto @qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @sheshellsseashells

[dragonbarbie]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 | Part 2

aegon x best friend!reader ; modern!au

series summary: this fic is snippets of aegon and reader's relationship as they grow up and discover new feelings. but to let himself be loved, aegon has to first do some growing up. loosely inspired by the tv series one day!

rating: 18+, minors dni.

tags: alcohol, substance abuse, making out, titty sucking, blink and youll miss it dry humping (lmk if i missed something)

word count: 5.1k

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A/N: im so overwhelmed by the response to the first chapter! im so sorry this took so long, this chapter was originally well over 8k so ive just decided to split it, which means the next chapter is pretty much ready maybe ill have it up by wednesday. thank you so much to everyone who interacted, hope you like this. [not beta read!]

lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

divider credit @cafekitsune ! title of fic is from 'peter' by taylor swift.

Age 18

“i think that’s enough pictures, mum.” y/n held up her arms to shield herself from any more photographs her mother might take. she felt self-conscious enough already, grimacing at every picture, thinking how the flaws glaringly stood out. her parents thought she looked beautiful as always though, and wanted as many photos as possible to keep as memories of their daughter’s special night. only she didn’t want to believe there was anything so ‘special’ about it anyway.

she heard an impatient car honk coming from outside, just in time for her to make her exit. “let me at least take a picture of you and your date.” her well-meaning mother attempted, earning a whine from her daughter, “for the last time he’s not my date.” not really he wasn’t, they were just going as mates, nothing more, she reminded herself as she waved her parents a quick goodbye.

then why did her stomach flutter seeing aegon leaning against his irritatingly green, flashy sports car. taking a drag of his cigarette, his platinum hair was mostly gelled back, few strands allowed to fall to his eyes either fashionably or as a result of hurry. he was dressed simply, black suit and a white shirt. but seven hells did he wear the hell out of that suit, y/n had to admit. he looked neater than usual, the light stubble he usually carried had now been shaved off, his eyes didn’t look nearly as red as she was accustomed to. he even wore dress shoes, when truthfully y/n had been betting on him showing up in his usual jordans.

she couldn’t help but beam as she realised walking towards him, that all this effort he had made for her. aegon hadn’t even wanted to go to their senior prom. he’d said he would simply throw the after-party for the prom back at his mansion, where he wouldn’t be required to ‘come dressed as a penguin,’ in his words. the entire school knew about aegon’s famous ragers by now, and the night of senior prom was guaranteed to be the greatest ‘one-last-hurrah’.

it was y/n who had wanted to go, in order to live the full high school experience before they would be forced to enter the adult world after summer. and there was no one else she would have rather taken to prom. so, after countless hours begging and pleading (and some threatening), aegon finally relented. but his acquiescence hadn’t guaranteed to her that he would even bother following the dress code. yet, here they were.

she was going to comment on what a pleasant surprise it was to see him look like a ‘penguin,’ when she saw the look on his face. his eyes were suddenly alert and his mouth slightly agape, cigarette in his hand forgotten momentarily with his hand hanging still in the air holding it.

“what is it? do i have something on my face? on the dress?” she patted her cheek in alarm, before looking down at her dress. she’d chosen a simple black, satin dress that hugged her just right, pairing it with the deepest red lipstick she could find. she smoothened the front in anxiety, scared her high heels were going to make her trip on the fabric any second.

“no, it’s just...you look nice. very pretty.” her eyes focussed on aegon’s trying to gauge his expression, but his gaze remained transfixed on her figure.

“is it that shocking that i would look pretty, that you have to go and make that face?” she snorted. that snapped aegon’s attention back to her face with an eyeroll, “i didn’t mean it like that and you know it. you look good, would it kill you to just take the compliment?” her lips turned upwards at his words, “yeah i’m just messing with ya.” she tried to hide how the praise made her feel warm inside her chest.

“you don’t look so bad yourself, targaryen. look you’re even wearing the shoes and everything.” aegon grinned at the words giving a quick twirl to show off his full look. “who knew you had it in you?” she teased.

“had to step up my game. can't let my date outshine me, can i?"

date? the word rang in her ears. did aegon think this was an actual date?

“oh, please,” she tried to maintain a cool façade, seemingly uncaring of his words, “i've always outshined you.”

“only because i let you.” he claimed, flashing her one of those lazy half smiles of his that would make her mind wander to what else he was capable of doing with those lips—

she immediately shook her head to get that image out of her mind.

“got you something. well, technically mum got you something” aegon opened the passenger seat of the car, and retrieved from it a beautiful, very expensive looking bouquet. “she wouldn’t let me leave the house without flowers for my date” there it was, that word again, ‘date’!  she thought, astonished as she received them.

did aegon think this was a date? a date-date? was he expecting something? did she expect something? her mind started to race with a hundred things.

she had to clear her throat to bring herself back to the present, “these are beautiful, tell alicent i love them.”

“great, can we go now? i want to get the boring part over with so we can properly party later at my place.”

the prom itself ended up being less dreadful than aegon had been sure it was going to be. aegon spiked the drinks, and then proceeded to get his friends leon and martyn as drunk as possible. it didn’t escape y/n’s notice that aegon himself, was merely buzzed. she even dared to hope for a second that he was limiting his cups out of respect for her, and her very known hatred of his drinking himself into blackouts.

he remained clear-headed enough to laugh about and reminisce with her over their years at the academy. “no, i remember clearly, you’ve never once said sorry about making me fall on my first day.” y/n accused as she attempted to drink the very strong punch aegon had made for her. “and i remember very clearly, you came in my way.”

she narrowed her eyes at his blatant lie. “cunt.” he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him at her drunken-vitriol. “and i think that’s quite enough for you.” he grabbed the cup out of her hands in spite of protests. “good gods, aegon targaryen preaching moderation? must be the apocalypse.” she nudged him playfully.

in that moment, smiling and laughing with her best friend, she couldn’t help but realise that this time of their life was coming to an end. come fall, they would be on different sides of the country.

y/n had been accepted at her first choice, sunspear university only weeks ago, but she hadn’t discussed it with aegon. he hadn’t spoken of his plans for university either but helaena had told her that their grandfather was using his pull to get him into the family alma mater, oldtown college.

any time she had attempted to so much as talk about life beyond school with aegon himself though, aegon would get irritated and cagey, eager to shut down any and all conversations about the future. then again she couldn’t blame him, for some reason her first instinct too had been to hide that acceptance letter from him.

yet as they stood there, she had a feeling that he was thinking about the same great uncertainty that lay ahead too. thinking, that their days of being by each other’s side like this every day were numbered.

“come on” he suddenly offered her his arms, getting a puzzled look in return. “you wanted the ‘full high school experience’ right? dancing at prom is kinda the main thing.”

she let him lead her to the dance floor, feeling her cheeks going red. he brought them right in the middle, and when he placed her arms around his neck, his own hands becoming placed around her waist, she couldn’t find a word to say.

couples around them were slow dancing to some song she couldn’t quiet place, and she couldn’t believe that aegon had willingly placed himself in the scene around them. this suit, the shoes, the dancing, the flowers – none of it was remotely close to his scene. yet she had barely heard him complain. she had to give it to him, he had been on his best behaviour because he knew how much the night meant to her.

“thank you,” she finally said, looking at him with adoration in her eyes. “for agreeing to come.”

aegon’s expression was unreadable at first. after a second he seemed like he was going to lean in towards her to say something, when his eye caught something behind y/n shoulder.

she turned her neck to see who it was and felt her heart drop down in her stomach.

cassandra baratheon, the most sought-after girl at school, her golden hair and confident demeanour were hard to miss. y/n looked up to see aegon was transfixed on the tight red dress she wore.

she felt his hands drop from her waist, “get you something to drink?” but he didn’t so much as look at his friend.

“sure” she mumbled, trying to mask her disappointment, but he didn’t wait for a response before he started walking towards the blonde.

she watched as aegon approached cassandra, his charm on full display. y/n sighed, tired of how predictable his routine was. she danced with a few classmates, trying to keep her spirits up, but it wasn’t the same without aegon.

after a while, she grew tired of pretending and slipped out of the ballroom, certain she wasn’t going to be followed by the only person she wanted to be with. she started walking in the direction of her home, too angry to think to call someone to pick her up.

the sound of her heels against the pavement and the chattering of her own teeth from the unexpectedly cold night couldn’t distract her from her woeful thoughts.

she should have expected this, she chided herself. aegon’s attention had always been fleeting, especially when it came to pretty girls. but it still hurt. she had hoped, maybe just for tonight, things would be different. at the beginning of the night he’d been giving her all his attention, and making her feel as if she was the only one who mattered in that room.

yet, he had to go ahead and ruin that, by chasing one more skirt to add to his long list of distractions from anything that could actually matter.

when she reached her house she was grateful her parents had long since gone to bed, not wanting to talk about her night.  she walked up to her room and changed into some comfortable clothes.

she curled up on her bed, but sleep seemed to escape her. she tossed and turned but she could not forget the look on her best friend’s face when he looked at cassandra baratheon, ignoring her. she couldn’t help but wish that the way his eyes trailed down her figure, the open lust with which he watched her, the desire that carried him away from her – she wanted it all to be hers.

it was perhaps the first time she had admitted it to herself. she wanted this, she wanted him and not just as a friend.

her mind then wandered to that one moment of hope she had not dared to let herself dwell on. the way his hands felt rested on her back, how he looked for a split second as if he were going to lean in to her, what might that have felt like if it had been allowed to go on? would he have kissed her? would his lips have felt as soft as they looked? would his tongue—

she didn’t realise when in the middle of all these wandering thoughts her hand had slipped down to underneath her shorts. over the cloth of her panties, she could feel a wetness building as she slowly rubbed the top of her entrance, her imagination building up the tension between her legs.

just as she was getting comfortable though, she got the fright of her life when she heard her window open. “fuck me!” she sat up straight on her bed, clutching her blanket in front of her chest.

she let out an exasperated breath at the now-messy platinum hair glinting in the moonlight, that she could make out even in the darkness of her room. she moved to get up and turn on the lamp next to her bed. the light revealed a slightly different aegon to the one she had left back at the dance, stumbling into her room.

his jacket now gone, his white shirt was untucked and the first few buttons had been left undone (one of them was missing, from what she could tell), the semi-open shirt allowed her to make out lipstick smears trailing his chest. his eyes were red, and the fact that he couldn’t seem to walk straight, told her he’d returned to drinking at his usual pace once she’d made her exit.

“what are you doing here?” she sighed, crossing her arms across her chest, both defensively and because her bra had been long discarded, which left the tank top she wore revealing far too much for her liking.

he almost looked earnest when he answered “came looking for you. you never showed up to the party at my place.”

“yeah, well i don’t like your parties” “sure you do!” he snorted

“no, aegon i don’t! i never have. i only ever come for you and i’m miserable the entire while, and you never notice!”

he looked hurt at her accusation, blinking as if it had never crossed his mind that she didn’t enjoy getting high and causing chaos as much as he did. that hurt quickly turned into anger of his own as he shot back.

“fine, even if you didn’t wanna come to the party, why did you leave prom so early? for weeks it’s all you wanted to do, going to prom. you dragged my ass there and then just ‘puff’ i turn my back for one second, and you’ve disappeared.” he sounded almost as if he felt abandoned, wounded.

“you seemed busy.” she cooly replied.

“busy?” aegon echoed, his brows furrowing. “i was just talking to people.”

y/n shook her head, her eyes reflecting a mix of hurt and frustration. “you always do this, aegon. you leave me for the first pretty girl that catches your eye.”

he shook his head as if y/n were being the unreasonable one here “it’s not like that.”

“then what is it like?” she demanded, her voice rising. “because it feels like you’re always looking for a distraction. and tonight, i needed you.” her eyes burned as tears pooled in them. “it was our last night in school. it meant something.”

he flinched at her words, the truth of how much he had bruised her, cutting through the haze of alcohol. “i didn’t mean to—"

“didn’t mean to what? make me feel invisible?” y/n's voice softened, the anger giving way to sadness. “it’s like you don’t care.”

aegon stood there, steadying himself by leaning against the desk, looking deflated. “i do care, y/n. you’re my best friend.” she could tell he was trying, trying to make her see he cared, trying to be a good friend. the fact that he had left his own party simply to come look in on her, hadn’t gone unnoticed by her.

but unluckily for him, y/n was tired of his constant trying when she knew it never led to any real change.

she took a deep breath, steadying herself. “we need to talk about something else, too. we’ve been avoiding it all year.”

aegon looked up at her, confusion and apprehension mingling in his eyes. “what do you mean?”

“college, aegon. you’re going to oldtown, and i’m headed to sunspear,” y/n said, her voice trembling slightly. “i’ve tried to bring it up, but you always change the subject.”

he looked away from her, fiddling with the rings on his fingers almost anxiously. “because i don’t want to think about it.”

“well too bad, because we have to discuss it” she insisted. “this is big. we’ve never so much as spent one summer break apart, you’ve dragged me to every family vacation and christmas dinner. but come fall, that’s over. you don’t think that’s important enough to even talk about? doesn’t it matter to you at all?”

“of course it matters!” he finally spat out, taking stumbling steps towards her. “i don’t want to talk about it because i know it’ll change everything.”

aegon’s eyes were glassy, his emotions threatening to spill over. “because you’ll be far away, making new friends, living a different life. you get to conveniently walk out on me and my fuck ups. i don’t want to talk about it because you’re leaving me.”

“leaving you?” the aegon that stood before her was shaking like a scared child, gone was the playful, laid back popular boy. for the first time that night, she could see clearly through him, the first time he’d allowed her to.

y/n moved closer, taking his hands in hers. “aegon, i could never leave you.” she promised. “you’re a part of me. distance doesn’t change that.”

“you say that now…” he mumbled, looking away as she caught tears running down his cheek.

“i’m not leaving you,” she repeated, more firmly this time, her heart aching for him. “we’ll find a way to make it work. i promise.”

“do you really mean that?” her hand reached out to his cheek, wiping away his tears with the pad of her thumb. “with all my heart,” she whispered. the vulnerability in his eyes was raw and unfiltered as he confessed “i don’t want to lose you.”

“you won’t,” she assured him, putting her arms around him as she pulled him into a tight embrace. “we’ll figure it out, together.” she sounded sure, determined.

he clung to her, and she could smell the weed and cigarettes on his shirt, she knew that he wasn’t as clear-headed as he should have been for the conversation they were having. “i don’t know what i’d do without you, y/n.” he muttered into her hair. she smiled against his chest. “lucky for you, you don’t ever have to find out.”

as one of his hands trailed down to her lower back, she suddenly felt her shorts were far too short for her to be having company. his other hand started to rub at her side, his thumb brushing up against the side of her breast and lingering just enough that she knew he could tell she was bare beneath her flimsy cotton top.

they’d been standing in silence for a minute when he suddenly spoke up, “i’m sorry that i mess everything up, you deserved to have me there with you tonight.”

his hand had stopped right by her cleavage, causing her throat to dry up. “it was just a stupid dance.”

“yeah, but it mattered to you.” he brought his other hand to her ass, as he pulled apart slightly to look down at her. her breathing became rapid as she looked back up at him.

in that moment, the tension between them shifted. aegon leaned in, his lips brushing against hers hesitantly. y/n responded, closing the distance again, with more passion.

there was a sense of urgency, a rush as his tongue entered her mouth. the hand on her ass moved to slip past her shorts and panties to grab at her bare skin, causing her to moan into his mouth. her own hands attempted to undo the few remaining buttons on his dress shirt, before letting her fingers roam around his exposed chest.

he pushed them back, till she felt the edge of her bed behind her making her fall back on it, pulling him down with her as she went.

his mouth moved to trail sloppy, wet kisses on her neck, and then down to her collarbone. she could feel him use his teeth, marking her for the next day.

situated as he was between her legs, she could feel his semi-hard on from under his pants, rubbing against her in the most delicious way making her wrap her legs tighter around him, to feel that friction more intensely.

his mouth broke away from her now-sensitive skin momentarily, as he lifted her top enough to expose her breasts to him. his hands roughly gripped the flesh, making y/n gasp with how cool his rings felt pressed to her skin.

his mouth then took in one of her nipples, as she whimpered at the sensation, her fingers pulling his hair as he flicked it with his tongue, before sucking on it.

when he finally lifted his head to look up at y/n, she couldn’t believe the scene before her. in that moment aegon was looking her with a hunger and wanting, that she didn’t think he’d even given cassandra baratheon.

what might come next though, made y/n nervous. she’d never gone this far with a boy before, reasoning with herself that she’d never liked anyone enough. but she could admit to herself now that she’d been waiting to share that experience with aegon, waiting for him to come around.

still, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to go all the way, or how to do it if she was.

thankfully for her, aegon reached ahead and merely kissed her lips once more, softer this time. then, even more unexpectantly, he placed a final, tender kiss atop her head, before climbing off from between her thighs and crashing down on the pillow beside her.

she blinked at the figure of him, lying next to her completely relaxed, as if what they’d just done was so routine, it didn’t warrant another thought. “get that lamp light next to you, would you?” he yawned.

as if in a daze, y/n wordlessly switched the light off, plunging the room into darkness.

she could hear him breathing beside her, close enough to block her nose with the smell of cigarettes she was sure she’d have to wash out of the sheets the next day. but with his pale hair falling like that against his fluttering eyes, she knew he was the only person she wanted, flaws and all.

drowsiness began to take over her after sometime, and she wasn’t sure if she actually heard him mumbling “love you” or if she’d dreamt it but she drifted off with a faint smile on her face nonetheless.

the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over y/n’s room. she stirred awake, stretching out lazily when her eyes fell on to the snoring boy beside her. she couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful his face looked, her hand stretching out to tuck behind the strands of platinum falling to his eyes.

she tried to be as quiet as she could in walking to her bathroom. standing in front of her mirror, she noticed the now purpling hickey right by her collarbone. she still couldn’t quite believe that the events of last night had actually occurred, but the evidence was staring her right in the face. her fingertips grazed the bruise, and the corners of her lips turned upwards automatically.

she washed her face and brushed her teeth in a haze, where all she could think about was what was going to happen next. would she and aegon have a conversation about it, or would he pretend it was nothing? oh god, what if he regretted it? the thought made her tense. instead of going back to her room she sat on the edge of her bathtub, nervously thinking about what impact last night would have on their friendship. she couldn’t imagine losing aegon, she thought. if it came down to taking whatever happened yesterday forward or saving their friendship, she would pick the latter, she determined. before she could lose her nerve, she decided to go back to her room with that thought.

upon her return she realised the object of all her anxiety was already up, rubbing his eyes with his palms and groaning, clearly nursing a hangover. her heart suddenly started to pound in her chest. “you’re up early. it’s not even noon yet.” she teased as she came to sit by him. “and morning to you too” he grumbled.

“how are you feeling?” she hesitantly asked, “like i got hit by a bus,” he said, attempting a weak grin.

she gave him a faint chuckle. she looked around the room as silence filled the space. she was hoping that he’d be the one to bring up last night, rather than making her go through the embarrassment and awkwardness of coming to that topic.

how did you even start that conversation? she wondered as she pulled at a few strands of embroidery coming untethered from the rest of her bedsheet. ‘hey last night was the best kiss i’ve ever had, let’s do it again sometime soon’? no, that wasn’t it. she stole a glance at aegon who had picked up his phone, neither of them having said anything to break the silence. i could start by telling him how i’ve always liked him? no that would definitely activate his commitment-phobia, and he’d go running out the door, she realised. sitting this long without either of them talking felt far too weird and she started to panic slightly.

she kept thinking if he was going to approach the topic, wondering if she should instead, when suddenly aegon got off her bed.

“what have we got here” he walked over to the basket where some of her old toys had been kept for her mother to donate when she went to college. “nothing just some old things” she replied, surprised that this was what he wanted to discuss now. he seemed to be entertaining himself by going through her things as if he hadn’t been in her room a hundred times before.

well, if he was going to avoid it, y/n decided she should be the one to rip off the band-aid. she cleared her throat to start speaking, when he suddenly cut her off, “do you still have that lightsabre i gave you for your 12th birthday? the one that used to light up and all?” “no, because you broke it playing with it in my garden that same day you gifted it.” she reminded him, “right…” he muttered, before going back to his rummaging.

this time she stood up and walked over to him, and started to say, “y’know i think we should talk—” “what’s ollie doing here?” grinning, he grabbed an old red octopus from the basket and lifted one of its stuffed tentacles to wave at her. “did this mean old lady steal you from me ollie?” “no, you stole him from me, remember? and alicent had to return it back” she reminded him, snatching the toy back from him in irritation. if he was going to keep mucking about, she was never going to be able finish what she wanted to say.

she exhaled a big sigh, and built up her courage again, “we have to talk about last night—” “yeah, what did happen last night?”

she could only blink, as aegon nonchalantly asked, not even bothering to look up from the box of broken, dusty toys. “what do you mean ‘what happened’?”

“as in how did i end up in your bed?” he laughed, “don’t remember much after us arriving at prom” her heart sank at his words. “you blacked out.” she said in realisation. she turned around and walked back to sit on her bed so he wouldn’t see her wounded expression.

he didn’t even remember what was possibly one of the biggest moments of her life, something so monumental that she’d woken up this morning as if waking up to a new life. all those years she'd spent unknowingly pining for him, she’d thought that now there was finally some hope that she could actually be with him. but one little sentence from him had made her memory of last night dissipate like a mirage.

what had she even been thinking, he was drunk out of his mind and was probably barely in knowledge of himself when they did what they did last night. it was a mistake, and it should have never happened. she couldn’t control the tears slipping down her cheeks, her back facing aegon to shield herself subconsciously.

“you were pretty drunk. you climbed up to my room and we talked for a while. you fell asleep here.” she answered in robotic narration, not daring a look at him. she wiped her face quickly as she heard him stop with his aimless search and come sit next to her.

“sounds accurate. i do anything stupid i should know about?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern. it was the standard question he asked when he blacked out. for a second, she wondered if she should tell him everything.

y/n shook her head, smiling faintly. “no, you didn't. just needed a place to crash.”

she thought about it rationally – even if they did talk about last night, what was going to be the best-case scenario? he would be glad of what he did? but even then, what would happen next? she was going to dorne, and him to the reach, and a long distance anything was going to be impossible enough. here they were nervous about their friendship surviving the distance, but a relationship? she couldn’t see any way this would end well.

and this was considering if aegon even wanted any of it. last night may have been special for her, but if drunken fooling around and crashing into bed was all it took to get him to pursue someone romantically, half the school was ahead of her in that line.

this was the best thing for both of them, she sadly thought, to preserve their friendship.

him putting his arm across her shoulders and squeezing her brought her out of her miserable thoughts, “thanks for looking out for me, as always.”

“of course,” she replied softly. “that's what friends are for.”

aegon met her gaze, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “yeah, best friends.”

a few minutes later she left momentarily to get herself a glass of water but by the time she returned, her room was empty with her window left open and her red octopus missing once again from her bed.

[maidragoste]

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Clarification: Reader is Velaryon because she is the daughter of Laenor and Joffrey. I leave open the possibility that she is their adoptive daughter or that she is Laenor's biological daughter that they had by surrogacy. I leave this open with the intention that the Reader be as inclusive as possible.

Summary: After the disastrous divorce between Aemond Targaryen and Y/n Velaryon the twins Baelon and Aemon were separated. Each was raised by one of their parents. Baelon was raised by his father while Aemon was raised by his mother. Years later they both meet at a summer camp and discover the existence of the other. The twins realize that there are many secrets in their family, eager to discover their past, they put together a plan to deceive their parents.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Answering questions, headcanons, etc

Is the Valeryon!Reader in Parent Trap AU is a fashion designer too like the mom in the movie ?

In parent trap au reader and Aegon have kid together?

What's the relationship between Aegon and Y/n?

Will the reader be able to notice that it's not Aemon?

Does Aegon's family know about Joff? Or who is his mom?

the last update of this masterlist was on September 30, 2024

Taglist: @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @diorchaiamet @bugheadskid @partypoison00 @camy85 @rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @savagemickey03 @nyenye @krokietino @natashaobo @lizlovecraft @aleemendoza2425-blog @snh96 @angeliod @thegirlnextdoorssister @targaryenmoony

If you want to be part of my taglist

hotd masterlist

[theswordwrites]

PART ONE (the alchemy)

Juniper receives good news and has no choice but to celebrate with her closest friends, leading her right into the path of Aemond Targaryen (again.)

(TW: 18+ partying, drug use, nothing too crazy!)

word count: 4.3k

NEXT PART

By midnight, June’s feet ached in the heels required by her uniform. It was ridiculous, truly. The gala attendees barely looked at her for longer than a few seconds, so why was she squeezed into a cocktail dress that had probably been handed down a dozen times and shoes that made her calves tense and sore for days? As she ran drinks to and from tables, flashing her best million-dollar smile, she reminded herself the paycheck would be worth it. Her rent would be paid, her credit card debt knocked down, and she could finally buy the cat tree that had been sitting in her online shopping cart for weeks. Maybe she’d even splurge on a night out at The Velvet Throne with her roommate, Arianne, and their friends.

After a night working the Green Party’s latest altruistic-yet-off-putting kickoff gala, she would need at least four martinis and a cigarette. She had spotted Alicent Hightower, as beautiful as ever, gliding through the room in a deep sage silk gown. June wasn’t sure what the gala was raising money for, but they had raised a hell of a lot of it. She had to admit, Alicent was so stunning she might have emptied her own pockets for her, too. The Targaryen-Hightower children had made an appearance. The eldest—whose name escaped her—was drunk by the time the opening speeches began. Helaena had left early, trailed by three bodyguards. She’d seen the second son, Aemond, only from behind. Taller than his older brother, and surprisingly, not wearing green. Odd, considering the rumor was he was at odds with party advisors ahead of the election.

That morning, Arianne, Edith, and Seraphina had dissected the election over bagels and coffee. Edith claimed he seemed different from his father, with more progressive policies aimed at gaining the younger generation's vote. Arianne rolled her eyes and insisted he might put on a good show, but he was just as much a Targaryen as his father, with his scheming grandfather pulling the strings. “I’m sure he’ll say anything to get into office, and once he’s there, he’ll line his pockets like the rest of them.”

June had stayed quiet, editing her thesis on her laptop and mulling over her use of the word "delve." She had no faith in the system, nor those who upheld it. But she had heard a speech Aemond had given about student debt, arguing that education shouldn't have a price because knowledge was power, and everyday people deserved to hold it. It intrigued her—how young he was, and the impact that could have. She promised herself she would research more closer to the election and do her duty as a citizen of Westeros. Her brain was too full of edits and deadlines to give it much space now.

“June, we need more champagnes to the front table, like right now,” one of the other servers hissed at her, voice anything but subtle. She nodded and forced her aching legs to move.

At the table sat the Hightowers and their equally powerful, politically savvy friends. She spotted Larys Strong, who had served the late Prime Minister, looking as intense and off-putting as ever as he leaned on his cane. Jason Lannister's spray tan was a shade too deep, and June had to bite back a giggle. How could someone be so rich and yet so blind? Surely, he could hire someone to remind him that a few hours was more than enough.

She set the glasses down gently, adding a smile and a dragon-embossed napkin. June tried to ignore that Alicent Hightower was looking at her but managed a polite, “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“I think we’re okay for now, thank you,” Alicent replied, her voice as graceful as her movements.

June smiled again, hoping her lipstick hadn’t smudged, and glanced around the table. The eldest Targaryen son sat to Alicent’s left, and next to him was Aemond, the current parliamentary candidate. He was all sharp lines and elegance, with blue eyes that were now fixed on her. June paled, frozen in place. Her gaze traveled from his silver hair to the scar etched over his eye and then to the gold signet ring on his pinky.

He was a Targaryen in every sense of the word, elegantly leaned back in his chair, hands folded on the table, eyes like steel.

The seconds stretched into an eternity before her brain caught up with her body. With another awkward grin and a slight tilt of her head, she turned—no, scurried—away.

Nothing embarrassed June more than feeling out of place. And that had been mortifying.

Back in the kitchen, she sipped water and fanned her face, hoping she wasn’t too flushed. She quickly asked the manager—an older woman with a sharp determination to break in the new servers—if she could take her first break. The manager nodded, and June didn’t waste a second before slipping outside. The cool air of a late August evening felt refreshing against her skin, drawing out some of the heat as she leaned against the brick wall. Her phone dinged.

TO: JUNIPER GREYSONFROM: DR. ORWYLE

Miss Greyson,

I apologize for the late correspondence. I have just received confirmation that your dissertation has been approved by the committee. Please call my office tomorrow morning to set a date for your defense.

CongratulationsSent from my iPhone

She squealed—a high-pitched, elated sound that escaped before she could stop it. It didn’t matter who heard. She had spent three years on that thesis, hours upon hours of research and writing and scraping by, and now she’d done it. Her fingers found Arianne’s contact, and she didn't care if the brunette was with her “so-not-my-girlfriend” girlfriend.

After a single ring, Arianne answered, “Junie! Are you off work yet?”

“No, not yet. Another hour, maybe. Do you have a second?”

“For my beautiful, smart, strawberry blonde best friend? Of course!” June could picture her now, animated, hands moving as she spoke. Arianne always had a flair for the dramatic—and for flattery, which June usually appreciated.

“It got approved! My thesis, I mean. Dr. Orwyle just emailed. It’s going to committee as soon as I set a date.”

Through the phone came another excited, ear-piercing squeal.

“Oh, Seven! June, that’s incredible! I knew you could do it!”

“I—” June stuttered, adrenaline catching up to her, “I think I’m in shock. I expected another round of edits, you know? The conclusion didn’t feel right on the last read—”

Arianne cut her off before she could spiral into self-doubt. “Breathe, Junie. You got approved! That’s the only thing that matters right now. Any chance you can leave early so we can celebrate?”

June glanced from her phone to the open kitchen door. “Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll be home.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Arianne, Edith, and Seraphina were waiting for her with wide grins and a drink in hand when she finally stumbled through the front door. In the mere twenty minutes it had taken June to get home, they had somehow managed to drape a glittering “Congratulations!” banner across the mantle, fill the room with balloons, and crack open a bottle of champagne. The faint scent of perfume and laughter filled the air.

Her heart swelled as they swarmed her, squealing and hugging her like they hadn't seen her in years. "Junie, we are so, so proud of you!" Edith sang, throwing her long arms around June in a hug that rocked them back and forth. The others echoed their congratulations, their voices bright and cheerful, brimming with the kind of excitement only best friends can muster.

They didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath, herded her straight to the bathroom, insisting she shower and change. She let them fuss over her, laughing as they debated outfits, finally settling on something so skimpy it would’ve made her mother clutch her pearls in horror.

For a moment, June thought of her mother, a sharp pang tugging at her chest. She should call her, share the news— but just as quickly, she shoved the thought away, burying it deep. Her mother had been so distant since the accident, so different from the bubbly, over-involved PTA mom who used to cheer too loudly at every recital, every bake sale. It broke June’s heart, but it had been three years, and she had learned to lock those feelings away in a box that she only opened on rare, quiet nights. She was different now too—tougher, more self-reliant. Or at least that’s what she told herself as she swiped concealer under her eyes and dabbed on a thick layer of blush.

"Come on, Junie, let’s go!" Arianne urged, grabbing her arm with a grin. "The Velvet Throne is gonna have a line out the door!"

She barely had time to grab her purse before they were out the door, tumbling into the warm night air. The city buzzed around them—cars honked, street lights flickered, and the distant thrum of music seemed to pulse from every corner. They giggled like schoolgirls as they raced down the street in their high heels, their excitement infectious. After a few glasses of champagne, the ache in her feet had disappeared and she was ready to dance.

When they reached the Velvet Throne, the line was indeed snaking around the block, a mass of people dressed to impress, chattering with anticipation. But Edith, ever the charmer, knew the bouncer. With a coy smile and a flutter of her eyelashes, they were whisked inside and escorted up to the VIP level.

The music hit her like a wave, a deep, pounding bass that vibrated in her chests. One drink turned into two, two into three. The bartender, hearing their redheaded friend was on her way to becoming a doctor, poured them free shots. June held her breath, pinched her nose, and downed it, wincing at the bitter taste but reveling in the warm, numbing sensation that spread through her limbs. The music was so loud it seemed to drown out her thoughts, and for the first time in a long time, she let go.

She danced like she was weightless, the beat coursing through her veins, her friends spinning around her, hair flying, eyes sparkling under the neon lights. They were all in their own little world, a blur of laughter, movement, and joy. At one point, she caught sight of Edith slipping a small baggie from a man in a dark jacket, his expression unreadable.

Edith grabbed her hand, pulling her into a corner and shouting over the music, "Cregan’s at a party at the Keep! He said we’re invited." She opened her palm, revealing the little baggie with a sly grin. "I say we take our new little friend here," she gestured to the baggie, "and head over! Lots of sexy, rich men and free drinks!"

The girls cheered, their excitement infectious, and June felt a surge of adrenaline. This night was far from over.

The Keep was the heart of King’s Landing, home to the city’s wealthiest and most influential residents. The girls had been to a few parties there before, the most memorable being the one where Seraphina ended up spending the night with a Prince from Dorne. They hadn’t let her live it down for months, teasing her with “Your Majesty” until they were breathless with laughter. The prince had texted her the next day, practically begging her to hop on the flight back with him. Sera had only shrugged, saying that while he was amazing in bed and seemed like a nice guy, living in the public eye wasn't for her.

Arianne and Edith had disagreed, dreaming up all the scandalous headlines they’d make if they were ever involved with someone so high-profile. "We’d be the perfect all-Westerosi girls," Arianne had insisted, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

June, as usual, had just nodded and giggled along, content to listen. But now, with the buzz of champagne and a little powder still fresh in her system, she was feeling more chatty. “How did Cregan manage to get into a party at the Keep?” she asked, her voice louder than she intended, her words slightly slurred.

Edith shrugged, adjusting the hem of her skirt. “Old money, babe. His parents have a house there. I’m sure he’s got connections.”

June leaned in closer, her eyebrows raised, chin tipped playfully. “So, are you two ever going to date? Or finally address all that crazy sexual tension?”

Edith laughed, tossing her hair back, her eyes gleaming under the streetlights. “Ask me that tomorrow,” she replied with a wink, just as a car pulled up to the curb. She quickly touched up everyone’s lipstick and hair with a practiced hand. “That’s us!” she shouted.

The Uber ride was a blur, the city lights whizzing by in streaks of neon and gold. It took only fifteen minutes, thanks to the late-night traffic, but it felt like a heartbeat. By now, it was past three in the morning, and though June wouldn’t admit it, she could feel the exhaustion creeping in, the night beginning to weigh heavy on her bones. Still, she was committed to the bit, the thrill of the night pushing her forward.

Cregan was waiting for them outside, leaning casually against the wall in his usual outfit: an open button-up shirt and jeans that clung just right. They exchanged quick hellos, June’s eyes flicking to Edith, who was already batting her lashes and nodding eagerly at everything Cregan said. She nudged Sera with her elbow, tilting her head toward the two of them.

“He’s definitely ending up at your place tonight, I hope you can sleep through it.” June whispered, twisting the silver ring around her middle finger. Sera managed a quick eye roll before they were whisked inside.

The drunk crowd sprawled across the plush living room seemed almost out of place, like they’d stumbled into the wrong kind of party. The room felt like it belonged to someone who read classic novels by the fireplace or debated politics over brandy. June noticed a distinct lack of personal photos; instead, the walls were adorned with stunning artwork, pieces that seemed to glow under the soft lighting and made her mouth water with envy.

She glanced up, her eyes following the endless ceilings that stretched toward a glittering chandelier, so ornate it looked like it belonged in a palace. Above it, a second level.

“Who’s place is this anyway?” she asked, turning to Cregan.

He tore his gaze away from Edith, though his hand remained comfortably on her lower back. “One of the Targaryens,” he replied with a casual grin. “I play ball with Aegon on the weekends. He’s around here somewhere.”

June raised an eyebrow, amused by the casualness of his tone, as if dropping the name of one of the city’s most influential families was no big deal, “He’s the oldest, right?” Cregan nodded, “I worked their gala event tonight. Rumor has it he left early because he was smashed.”

An arm slid around her shoulder, the weight of it startling her. She could see blonde curls from the corner of her eye. A voice, smooth and amused, spoke close to her ear. “Smashed would be correct, little red. But I have sobered up enough to throw one hell of a party.”

“June, meet Aegon. Aegon, meet Juniper Greyson.” Cregan interjected, gesturing between them. The blonde took his arm away from her shoulders and offered his hand to shake.

June took it, taking him in. While he and his brother shared the same icy hair and serene blue eyes, there was a softness to Aegon’s features that set him apart. His nose had a gentle slope, and his eyes, though strikingly similar in color, lacked the hard edge she’d seen in his brother— but were identical to their mother’s set and shape.

Aegon turned his attention to her friends, his grin widening as he introduced himself. His blue eyes stuck to Seraphina as they walked to the kitchen. June withheld her giggle, watching Sera blush under his gaze.

The girls chatted and the boys eventually drifted away to find more of their friends, not before finding the girls cans of seltzers and bottles of water. June watched as her friends chatted, feeling that odd sensation of being inside the conversation, but also outside of it. She figured the drinking, dancing and coke had caught up to her.

“I’m gonna find the bathroom— be right back.” She gave her friends a tightlipped smile.

“Want me to come?” Edith offered, but June shook her head.

“No, I’m alright. Go talk to Cregan again, he’s been staring at you this whole time.” She nodded her head at him across the room, and he quickly looked away, almost embarrassed that he’d been caught.

The first bathroom had been occupied but what she could only assume to be the raunchiest couple in King’s Landing with the sounds that they were making. She scoffed, sure she hadn’t really ever had mind-blowing sex, but that level of noise was just so obviously unnecessary. The second had just been locked with no answer to her knock. She sighed as she made her way up the stairs, finding not a single bathroom, but a bedroom with one connected. 

After taking care of her business and washing her hands, drying them off on the fluffiest hand towel she had ever touched, she wandered around the bedroom. It felt wrong to snoop, but with the lack of trinkets or personal belongings she assumed it must have been a guest room. The bookshelf was full of classics and history books, a few well-loved first editions she could guess by the aged and worn spines. Now, in the silence, her head began to pound as the music faded away. She counted the drinks in her head. 

One at home. Three at the bar. Add two shots at the bar. One downstairs. Two lines in between. 

She realized she had definitely overdone it. While June enjoyed nights like these with her friends—welcomed them even—it wasn’t something she wanted to make a habit of every weekend. The way her vision blurred told her it would take weeks to muster the courage to drink again. Sitting on the bed, she ran her fingers over the dark green quilt and giggled.

Green. Of course it was green. Like the hand towel and the bathroom rug. She wondered if that’s what the owner of the room had told the interior designer, “Well, you see I like green. And I’m so, disgustingly rich.” She said aloud in the poshest accent she could manage, making herself laugh even harder.

The door swinging open seemed to sober her up quickly, pulling any laughter out of her chest.

She looked up, horrified to find Aemond Targaryen in the doorframe. He was wearing the same dark suit from earlier in the evening, but his jacket had been shrugged off and tossed over his arm and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. “You.” He said, something like recognition washing over his face.

“Me,” June stammered, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks. “I, uh, just needed to use the bathroom and get away from the crowd for a moment. The one downstairs was occupied by a couple making the most disgusting noises, and the other one was locked—someone probably doing coke or something. I thought this was a guest room. I’m sorry. I should go. My friends might be looking for me.” She rambled on, the alcohol making her spill a play-by-play of how she ended up in his bedroom.

Aemond remained in the doorway, his expression unreadable. Despite leaning against the frame, he was still a head and a half taller than her. “You were at the event tonight, and now you’re in my bedroom. Stalking me?”

“You’re a very tough guy to stalk, Mr. Targaryen. I spent all night knocking on doors until Aegon let me in here,” June found herself looking down at her feet, the carpet much easier to maintain eye contact with. 

“So, you’re friends with Aegon then?”

“No, not really. One of my friends is kind of seeing Cregan Stark, and he’s friends with Aegon. We were out celebrating and he invited us. I didn’t realize whose house it was—or that you must live here with Aegon.”

“I don’t live here with Aegon. The place is mine, but Aegon thought it’d be a good joke to throw a party here.” He crossed his long arms over his chest, and June tried to ignore the enticing hint of skin peeking from his undone shirt.

“Oh, that’s kind of shitty.”

“Kind of shitty should be Aegon’s middle name. I’ve already kicked everyone out. Your friends might be gone, but if my driver is still out front, I can have him take you home.” He gestured to the hallway and began to walk. June followed, too tired to argue.

“You don’t have to. I can call an Uber.” She said, not wanting to be a bother. But she did think, in the back of her mind, that Edith would have a fit if she knew Aemond Targaryen’s personal driver had taken her home. Arianne would pretend to be less impressed, but would hound her later on the make and model; asking if there was a privacy shade and free champagne.

“Ride-share crime has gone up 10% last quarter, I can’t in good conscience—especially not to a constituent.” 

“Trying to win my vote, Mr. Targaryen?” She asked, grinning.

“I was hoping I already had it.”

“You probably do. I saw your student debt speech and liked it, but I’ve been putting off thinking about the election until school settles down. So I can make a well-informed decision of course.”

They descended the stairs. Indeed, Aemond had kicked everyone out, and only Aegon lay sprawled on the leather sofa. “Little red! I see you met my brother, charmer isn’t he?”

Aemond’s gaze was cold as he replied, “Go back to sleep, you oaf. I’m going to have Criston take her home.”

“Oh, I sent Criston back home. Oops.” Aegon giggled, clearly drunker than the last time she saw him. Aemond only sighed as they reached the door.

“I can take you home. I don’t drink, so I’m as sober as can be.”

June nodded, again too tired to argue. The liquor made her pliant, and she was eager to get home. Aemond led her to a sleek black Mercedes, opening the door for her with a practiced ease. She found the gesture oddly chivalrous.

As he turned on the engine, the hum of the car snapped her out of her daze. She glanced around at the luxurious, leather interior. “You’re a PhD student at KLU, right?”

“Stalking me, Mr. Targaryen?” She peered at him.

“Aemond,” he corrected, his tone softer but still firm, glancing over at her as he handed her his phone, maps open and ready for her to enter her address. “Call me Aemond, please. ‘Mr.’ makes me feel old. I stepped out for a smoke this evening and overheard you on the phone. Congratulations, by the way. Dr. Orwyle is not an easy man to impress.”

“Oh.” June’s lips curled into a smile at the praise as she handed his phone back to him. She watched as the map popped up on the car’s screen, showing it was only a ten-minute drive home. “Thank you. I’m excited for it to be over, I think. You studied under Dr. Orwyle?”

She found herself looking at him again, her gaze lingering on his muscular hand gripping the steering wheel. “For my first PhD. He was a hard-ass, but pressure makes diamonds, and I couldn’t have done it without him.”

“Were you nervous for your defense? I know you do speeches all the time now, but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s going to be the hardest part.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” He asked, his voice dropping close to a whisper, as if anyone else could hear him. “I still get nervous. Every time. Whether it's a crowd of twenty or two thousand. But I remind myself that it’s not about me; it’s about the content, about getting people to listen. All the other stuff—the cadence of your voice or your posture—will come naturally.”

She hummed in response, her head resting against the cold window. The city lights blurred past, and she wondered if Edith had gone home with Cregan. “That’s good advice, thank you.”

“If politics doesn’t work out, my mother thinks I should go into consulting. Perhaps I have a knack for it.” He glanced over at her, his gaze intense. June tried to imagine the setting of that conversation. Was he worried about losing, or was the confidence from his team (or his family) faltering?

“You might, but I think politics might suit you better. The whole country seems to be buzzing about you.”

He shrugged, a flicker of something—appreciation, relief?—in his eyes. “We’ll have to see if that's the case in a few months.”

“Oh, this is me, with the red door.” She pointed out, and he brought the car to a slow stop. Before she could unbuckle her seat belt, he was out of the driver’s side and rounding the car to open the door for her. She found his chivalry oddly compelling, a sharp contrast to his earlier indifference to seemingly everything and everyone.

“Thank you for giving me a ride home, Aemond,” she said again, her voice tinged with genuine gratitude and something more. He just nodded, watching her unlock the door and step inside.

Juniper and Aemond failed to notice the blacked out SUV across the street, a long camera lens poking out of the passenger side, snapping away.

okay part one is out! I see this being 7-12 parts, depending on how much i daydream about it in class tomorrow. please leave comments questions etc! so excited to share this <3

[fairysluna]

INVISIBLE STRING | Chapter 5: it's nice to have a friend.

New Girl!AU — A disastrous break up led you to them; three guys living in a huge apartment and in need of a new roommate who helped with the way too expensive rent.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY — Your best friend finally visits your new home, but in a terrible moment. As she takes all the attention, you find yourself locked in your room with an unexpected company. New feelings and confusions might appear.

TAGS — alcohol consumption, baela makes her first appearance, mentions of virginity loss, awkwardness between aegon and reader bc they're dumb af, use of y/n. If something is missing, let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE — PLEASE READ THIS!! Just to clarify, Baela and Rhaena are Velaryon, just Laena's daughters not Daemon's, Jace and Luke are Strong, and Aegon, Aemond, Daeron, Helaena and Rhaenyra are Targaryens; this means only the Targs and Strongs are related. Thank you for reading!!🤍

WORD COUNT — 4.6k

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

Lucerys’ big, blue eyes were staring at you as you read through his latest English test trying to see and correct the things in which he had failed. Jacaerys had asked you to help him with his studies after their mother threatened to ground him if he came home with another bad grade. In return for your work, he would do the dishes for you for an entire month; and you couldn't say no to that.

“Alright, a C+ is not terrible, but it can be better if you really put effort into studying,” you advised him. “You're a smart kid, you can definitely get an A+.”

“It’s so hard for me, there's too many concepts. I don't even know what a funnel introduction is,” he murmured, bumped out.

“It's fine, Luke, I'll help you study for your next test and you'll get at least a B+, I promise,” you said, smiling softly at him.

For a moment he just stared at you, being completely silent as he placed his chin on his hand while leaning on the table. You lifted your eyebrow and your smile slowly started to disappear.

Oh, gods, not again.

“You have a beautiful smile, you know?” he suddenly said, taking you by surprise and making you remember his little crush towards you.

“You need to stop trying to flirt with me, Luke,” you warned him. “I'm too old for you.”

“It was just a compliment,” he shrugged.

“Luke…” you said his name with a scolding tone.

“It is!” he assured you.

“Well, then thank you. That's very sweet of you.”

The main door opened just when you finished talking, Aegon was soon walking inside the loft with his hands holding at least five bags, each filled with the groceries for the month. You excused yourself before standing up and going to help him.

Things, surprisingly, were not awkward at all anymore. You were grateful for that, knowing that all your business with Aegon was now forgotten since what happened a few days ago. You both agreed, however, that you would not say anything to the rest of the guys, just so they wouldn't get the wrong impression. You were pleased, though, because now your relationship with Aegon was better, and you knew he trusted you a tiny bit more now. You were happy about it, too.

“Want some help with that?” you asked as you tried to grab some of the bags.

Aegon immediately shook his head, telling you it was okay as he moved the bags away from your hands, even when he seemed to be struggling a bit.

“Don’t worry about it,” he breathlessly said. “There's a sad, hot girl looking for you out there, you should probably go and see what's that about.” He walked past you and left you standing right in the middle of the hall.

You watched him enter the kitchen and leave the bags on the floor before he went to the fridge and drank orange juice straight out of the bottle. You sighed before you curiously peaked to the entrance only to find your best friend standing there with her backpack hanging from her shoulder. Her eyes were red — it seemed as if she was crying the whole way there, her lower lip was quivering as she held back her sobs.

“Baela?” you asked as you walked towards her, wrapping your arms around her as she laid her head on your shoulder, weeping against your shirt. “Hey, babe, what's wrong? What happened?”

“Garett and I fought today,” she sobbed, “It was bad, I took my thing and I left.”

Your hands went to her hair, your fingertips soothingly caressing her head as you comforted her. “It’s okay,” you cooed, grabbing her face and wiping her tears away with your thumbs. “Let's go talk in my room, alright? Come on.”

Baela obediently nodded as you guided her through the loft with your hand on her lower back. Aegon gave you a confused look and you just shrugged as a response. He followed you with his eyes until you disappeared around the corner and were out of his sight.

“How did you know the address?” you questioned, curiously.

“You sent it to me when you came for the first time just in case they would kidnap you or murder you,” she explained as she sniffed.

“Oh, right…” you muttered.

“It's a really nice apartment, you were lucky to find it.”

“I know, and it's quite cheap too.”

“I can't believe there's three men living here-”

All of the sudden, Jace walked out of his room; his sleepy face and swollen eyes would be proof enough to know that he had just woken up. However, what actually caught your attention was the way his body froze when he laid eyes on Baela, and also the way that she stiffened up when she saw him standing in front of her. His eyes widened as his lips slightly parted in what seemed to be a silent gasp.

“Baela…” he murmured. Suddenly you felt invisible.

“Hi,” she said in a sigh. You frowned, confused.

Standing there between them, you found yourself being taken aback by their reaction, about the way they looked at each other as if their breaths were caught up in their throats. You glanced at Baela, then at Jace, trying to find some explanation to this awkward situation, but you found nothing more than sparkling eyes in them.

“What- Did I miss something?” you asked, interrupting the moment and feeling Baela's stare falling on you.

“No,” Jace quickly replied. You could almost see him blushing. “Nothing happened.”

“Weren't we going to your room?” Baela turned to tell you, and you nodded. “Alright, let's go then.”

You resumed your path towards your room, and as soon as you crossed the door, Baela closed it behind her back. Suddenly, all traces of sadness were now replaced by something new; nervousness, perhaps. You sat on your bed staring at your friend who was now looking at you with widened eyes. You were beyond confused, filled with questions and doubts that needed to be answered before your mind would explode.

“Listen,” she started.

“I think there is a big elephant in the room right now.”

“There's a lot to unpack.”

“I can tell,” you replied. “You know Jace, don't you?”

“I do,” she nodded. “I actually know him very well. Very well.”

You stopped for a second. “How well?”

“Remember my time in Dragonstone as a camp counselor?”

Oh Gods.

“Yes…” you muttered, unsure of whether you wanted to hear the rest of the answer or not.

“Remember what happened during that summer?” she questioned, surprisingly shy.

“I do.”

“Well, it was Jacaerys,” she confessed.

Your eyes widened as you heard her saying it and confirmed it as if it wasn't breaking news, then your mouth dropped. A gasp escaped from your lips as you stood up from the bed and walked towards her.

“Shut up!” you said out of surprise. “It was Jace? That Jace?”

There was a moment of silence before Baela nodded and said, “uh… yes.”

“What?!” you yelled.

“Babe, keep it quiet, please,” she whispered.

“I thought Jace was a virgin,” you confessed, talking in loud whispers, still in shock.

“I can assure you that he's not.”

You covered your mouth as you saw her getting flustered by the situation. The whole thing with her boyfriend, and whatever had happened between them two, had been quickly forgotten by you two, because now you were trying to make sense of how small the world really was.

“I can't believe this!” you exclaimed.

“Well, imagine my situation,” Baela said, scandalized. “I just found out that, out of the billions of people in the world, my best friend is living with the guy that took my virginity during summer camp!”

“It's kinda romantic, though,” you confessed. Baela noticed the dreamy look on your eyes as you spoke; she was already used to it. “Maybe it's destiny.”

“You're insane,” she chuckled.

“Just imagine, Baela! What are the odds?”

“I'm dating Garett!”

“You were crying because of him a few minutes ago!” you reminded her. “What did that douche do anyway?”

Baela took a deep breath, rolling her eyes as she remembered everything. You knew a part of her was slightly embarrassed to tell you, only because she knew you would say ‘I told you so’. She was too stubborn to admit she had been wrong about him all this time.

“He got jealous because he went through my phone and found a picture I took with a friend from work,” she explained.

“He went through your phone?” you repeated, widening your eyes. “Gods, Baela, what are you waiting to break up with him?”

“I don't know!” she replied in despair. “Maybe I love him too much.”

“Whatever you two have going on, I can assure you that it's not love. You deserve better than him, and you know it.”

“I will break up with him… some day,” she promised, doubting. “But now, I need a place to stay tonight because I can't go back to my apartment if he's there. Can you help me with that?”

“Of course,” you immediately replied, “you can stay as long as you want.”

“Thank you,” she sighed.

“Though he should be the one looking for shelter,” you couldn't help but to speak up. “It's your apartment.”

“I know, but I'm doing what I can, alright? I feel like there's a lot of shit going on right now. Can't we just drink our weight in booze?”

“I- I don't know, babe,” you slowly said, “I have a bunch of papers to grade and next class we'll revise them and-”

“Hey, it's okay,” she shrugged, “Maybe one of those guys will make me some company.”

A soft knock was heard and soon Aegon opened the door of your room. He was looking tired and uninterested as usual. Baela crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking at him up and down. Aegon didn't even notice such a gesture, because all his attention was on you.

“I brought pizza from the supermarket,” he informed you. “They’re getting out of the oven, so come and have dinner. You can also come, if you want,” he spoke to Baela, finally glancing at her.

“We'll be there in a minute,” you replied.

Aegon left as quickly as he arrived, and your attention returned to your friend, who was arching one of her eyebrows.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing…” she shrugged, but her tone made you a bit suspicious. “Shall we go now? Crying makes me hungry.”

“Alright, let's go… I'll introduce you to Aemond.”

She grabbed your hand and you guided her through the hall until you were back in the dining room. Lucerys looked up from his plate and his mouth fell as he saw Baela walking confidently towards the table. One single glance at him and you sighed relieved to know that his crush towards you was now replaced by his crush towards Baela.

Aemond —who was wearing a kitchen apron and had his long silver hair in a bun— also appeared with two pizzas in his hands, being followed by Jacaerys who carried one. As they put them on the table, you cleared your throat trying to make them acknowledge your presence in the room.

They both stood still as they saw her.

“Aemond, Luke,” you started, “this is my best friend Baela. She'll be staying with us tonight if that is not an issue.”

“Of course not.” Aemond stepped in, removing the oven mitts from his right hand and stretching it to reach hers. “I'm Aemond Targaryen,” he introduced himself with a soft smile as he brought her hand towards his lips and left a kiss there.

Jacaerys rolled his eyes.

“How chivalrous,” Baela commented, pleased with that small interaction.

“Shall we take a seat now?” you proposed, going to your usual spot.

“Where do I sit?” Baela asked.

“Wherever your ass fits, but not in my chair,” Aegon suddenly said, appearing out of nowhere and taking his seat in the spot right next to you.

You gave him a bad look as he sat down.

“You can sit beside Aemond.” You pointed at the empty chair right next to him. Baela did what you said and smiled at him politely.

A quick glance at Jacaerys and you noticed how his jaw slightly clenched and how his eyes would, occasionally, look at them. You narrowed your eyes, noticing there was something going on there probably related to what you had just found out.

“Well, can we start eating now?” Aegon asked. “I'm fucking starving.”

Without waiting for an answer, he took a slice of the pizza and opened his mouth to eat almost half of it in a single bite. Aemond looked at him as if he was scolding him for his terrible manners, but you could only giggle at that.

“Do you guys happen to have beer?” she curiously wondered, staring at Aemond. “I'm in need of some.”

“There's a couple in the fridge, and-”

“No, no. Those are mine, I bought them,” Aegon interrupted.

His lips were covered by stains of tomato sauce, and you gave him a napkin so he would clean himself. He quickly took it and cleaned his mouth.

“Aegon, she's a guest,” Aemond said.

“And?”

“And you need to be polite.”

“I'm sharing my pizza with all of you, I think I'm being polite enough,” he argued as he pointed at the three pizzas on the table.

“I can go and buy some beer,” Jacaerys suddenly offered, “uh… there's a store around the corner, I can grab some beers for you.”

“That's so thoughtful, Jace,” Baela thanked him.

“You guys need to be careful,” you warned them.

“Why?” Jace questioned.

“It's just that your brother is here, and he is a minor-”

“I’m sixteen,” he quickly replied.

“Which means you have to wait two more years to legally drink,” you reminded him.

“Listen, it's my free night, and I don't want to listen to music or smell a beer tonight,” Aegon groaned, interrupting the conversation.

“No one is inviting you to join, Aegon,” Jace murmured.

You gave him a bad look. “Don't be mean.”

Of course no one noticed, but Aegon looked down at his lap just so he would hide the faint rose blush that appeared on his cheeks.

“Y/n will be busy tonight, so maybe you guys can give me some company,” she proposed to Aemond and Jacaerys, who immediately nodded.

“Can I be there too?” Luke asked.

“As long as you stay away from the alcohol,” Baela told him.

“Fine,” he sighed.

“Then you can join us,” she cheerfully said.

An hour was all they needed to create their own personal little pub. You were in your room, the door closed and your eyes feeling tired from reading so much - especially when you had to almost guess what the poorly written words were. The weariness was starting to show as you would continuously jawn and rub your eyes, trying to stay focused on your task.

You saw the clock. 11pm. As you listened to the faded music coming from the living room, you missed the days when you were able to stay awake until sunrise. Perhaps you were getting old.

Or maybe you just needed coffee.

The pen in your hand dropped as you stood up, stretching your limbs and sighing while you put on your comfy slippers. You left your room and rushed into the kitchen, finding Jace staring at Aemond and Baela sitting on the couch. He looked dissociated, as if his mind was giving him a thousand thoughts in a second, and even when you saw him distracted, you asked him:

“Where are the coffee pods?”

Jacaerys’ eyes wouldn't even dare to leave Baela. You would notice how he was nervously tapping the kitchen counter and biting his lip. It was quite obvious that he didn't even hear a word of what you've just said.

“How long have you known her?” He suddenly asked.

“Who? Baela?” you spoke as you looked into the drawers.

“Yes,” he said as he finally turned around to look at you.

“She's been my best friend since sixth grade, why- Oh, here they are,” you mumbled once you found what you were looking for.

You grabbed the coffee pod and put it in the coffee machine, waiting next to it for the cup to be filled.

“So you know,” he assumed. “Of course you do, she's your best friend.”

“What do I know?”

“That we- you know…” he shyly said. “Summer Camp, Dragonstone… uh, sex.”

“Well, she just told me, actually…” you confessed. “I mean, I knew how she lost it, but she never told me the name of the guy, so I didn't know you two had met before. Also, you've never mentioned anything about that camp before, so...”

“Gods, she looks even more beautiful than I remembered,” he said with a shy smile, looking at Baela and then back at you. “Shit, she's here and my hair looks hideous, I don't know why I cut my curls off, I feel like Samson.”

“You look fine, Jace.”

“Yeah, you say that to Aegon everyday, how can I believe you?”

You were about to open your mouth and say that you actually meant it each time you would say that to Aegon, but, somehow, admitting that information made you feel embarrassed. You just decided to change the subject before the silence turned into an awkward one.

“Listen, you do you, I'll be in my room-”

“Wait, no,” he interrupted you. “You need to stay here.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't- How am I supposed to get close to Baela if you're gone?” He asked you, widening his eyes with panic.

“The same way you did when you first met her, isn't it easy?”

“You have to understand,” he said, looking deadly serious. “17 year old me, is not the same person as 22 year old me. I've grown weak.”

“Find that inner 17 year old you,” you shrugged, as you started to slowly walk away. “Best of luck, my friend.”

You walked out of the kitchen with the cup of hot coffee in your hand. As you passed by the living room, you gave a threatening look to Luke who was too close to the beers in the center table. As a response, he lifted his hands in a gesture of innocence, and looked at you with those blue, puppy eyes. You sighed, resuming your way towards your room and humming the song that was playing back in the living room.

Once you returned, it was a complete surprise to see Aegon laying on your bed with his computer on his lap and a bowl of chips on his side. He was shoeless, in his pajamas, looking so comfortable that you even thought for a small second that you accidentally entered his room instead of yours.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, as you walked towards your desk and left the coffee cup there.

“I'm watching a movie and they aren't letting me listen because their music is too loud,” he explained.

“Why don't you use subtitles?”

He scoffed, “I'm watching a movie, not reading a fucking book.”

“Aegon, you need to stop appearing in my room,” you mumbled. He paused his movie, sitting up on the bed. “Last time was a disaster.”

“I won't be a bother to you, I swear it. I'll be quiet and let you do your thing,” he told you, looking at you with his puppy, lilac eyes. You couldn't say no.

“Fine,” you mumbled, sitting in your chair before you resumed your work. “Keep the volume down too, please.”

“Alright,” he said, and each started to focus on your own thing.

You gave him one last look before you turned around and grabbed your pen. The music was muffled thanks to the thickness of the walls, and all you could hear was the soft voices of the actors coming out of Aegon's computer. It was quite relaxing, there was no awkward silence or anything as such. It felt comfortable and nice.

His presence felt nice.

Suddenly, you heard him laughing out loud, and it was contagious enough to make you smile, distracting you from your work. You turned around only to see him covering his face with one of your pillows, somehow you thought it was cute.

“What are you watching?” you asked as you stood up and sat on your bed next to him.

“Pineapple Express,” he said between giggles, still laughing at one of the scenes.

“Can I watch too?”

“I thought you were busy working,” he replied, looking up at you.

You sighed, “yeah, you’re right.”

Aegon looked at you for a few seconds before pausing the movie and sitting up.

“You look stressed,” he pointed out. “Want some help with whatever you're doing?”

“Would you help me?” you asked, incredulously.

“Yeah, why not? I wanted to be a teacher when I was little,” he confessed, “until I realized I was supposed to go to university to do it.”

“You haven't gone to university?”

“I have, actually,” he nodded as he spoke. “My father forced me to go. I never finished it though, I dropped out.”

“What program?”

“Business administration,”

“Was it fun?”

“The most boring shit ever,” he replied, and you chuckled.

He looked at you as you laughed, and a small —almost nonexistent— smile appeared on his face. It was an involuntary gesture.

“Why did he force you to study something you didn't want?” you curiously asked.

You knew that perhaps you were overstepping a line, but it was the first time he ever said something about him to you, and you were craving to know more. You just couldn't help it.

“Alright, what is this? A fucking interview?”

“Oh, come on!” you insisted. “I've seen you naked already, remember? I know more of you than Aem and Jace.”

“Bold of you to assume they haven't seen me naked yet,” he chuckled. “Will you want help with those hieroglyphics or not?”

“Don't be mean,” you scolded him. “They are just learning how to properly write.”

“Which grade is it?”

“Third.”

“Amateurs…” he mumbled.

“Stop it, they're kids,” you giggled.

“No excuse.”

“Alright, I'm gonna keep going before it gets too late,” you said as you stood up.

Aegon, out of impulse, stretched his hand to grab yours, stopping you from moving away. You turned around, failing to hide your surprise. He seemed unfazed by his own action on the outside, but on the inside he was panicking and desperately wondering why he did that.

“I can help you if you want,” he offered again.

You had to take a second to process it and answer him.

“It's- it's fine,” you shrugged. “You keep watching your movie, don't worry.”

He pressed his lips; an awkward smile.

“Alright,” he said, and let go of your hand.

“Thank you, though.” As you pronounced, Aegon looked back at the screen, almost as if he was suddenly ashamed of looking at you.

You tried to say something, but you just pressed your lips together, sealing them so they wouldn't utter a word. You turned around, and sat back on your chair. For a second you just stayed there, staring at the papers scattered around the desk, and thinking about that sudden gesture that was so odd coming from him.

You couldn't help but to ask yourself whether it was a good idea to have rejected his help, thinking that maybe this would push him away once again.

You were overthinking everything, as usual.

As you turned around, you noticed that Aegon was already with his eyes on you. Nervously, you cleared your throat.

“What?” He asked.

“Uh, what?” you repeated.

“What's wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You've been staring at your desk without moving for like a minute,” he explained. “Are you suffering a stroke or what?”

“No, I just- uh…”

“What?” he interrupted you.

“You're not mad at me, right?” The suddenness of the question made Aegon chuckle and think it was a joke, but after seeing your serious expression he realized you weren't actually kidding.

“Why would I- Listen, if I didn't get mad at you for seeing me naked, why would I get angry because of this?”

“Actually, you did get mad at me for it,” you murmured.

“Well, I'm not mad at you now, okay? Now chill out.”

“Alright, I'm so-”

“Don't apologize,” he stopped you before you could even finish. Then, he softly chuckled. “Why do you act like that?”

“Like what?”

“Weird.”

“To be honest, the first month here I thought you hated me,” you admit, “sometimes I still do, actually.”

“Nonsense,” he scoffed. “I wouldn't be your friend if I hated you, would I?”

“I'm your friend?” You repeated, widening your eyes with emotion.

Aegon looked at you weirded out, “of course you are, you dumbass. I saw you naked, we live together; I think I had no choice, actually.”

You smiled.

“Well, it's nice being your friend.”

“It is,” he agreed.

Baela suddenly opened the door in a scandalous way. You jumped in your seat, taking all your attention towards her; she wasn't drunk, but she was certainly a bit tipsy. Aegon immediately closed his computer and grabbed his now empty bowl of chips, standing up from your bed.

“Guess the party's over, so I'll go to my room now,” he announced. Some tiny part of you didn't want him to go just yet. You liked having his company. “Good night, y/n.”

“Good night, Aegon,” you sighed.

“Goodnight, Bella.”

“It's Baela,” she corrected him.

“Yeah, whatever.”

He left the room in a hurry as Baela rolled her eyes. Soon, she went to her backpack and took an oversized shirt she used as pajamas, all while staring at you with a subtle smirk on her face.

“What?” you asked.

“You need to tell me what's going on between you and him.” She removed her clothes and put on the shirt.

“What do you mean?”

“Don't play dumb,” she murmured as she went to the bed and laid beneath the covers. “Girl, you have bewitched the guy!”

“What? That's- that's nonsense.”

“Look at the floor, there's a path of his drool all the way from your bed to the door.”

“Baela, he's not- he doesn't do relationships.”

“Oh, but he would definitely do you, you know?” She said imitating your tone.

“Alright…” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

“You need to shoot your shot there, he's hot.” You felt the heat running to your cheeks, and of course she immediately noticed it. You hated that she knew you too well. “Oh my! You're blushing!”

“Baela, that's enough.”

“I can definitely sense a vibe there.”

“There's nothing vibing here.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Just go to sleep, okay?” you groaned, turning towards the desk.

“Goodnight, love,” she said. You could hear her smirk on her voice.

“Goodnight,” you simply said, sighing tiredly.

The thought of Aegon being into you was too far-fetched to be truthful. He had just started to see you as a friend, and even when he saw you naked he didn't try to make a move or make comments about it that would give you sogns of his attraction towards you. In fact, he was rather indifferent about it. On the other hand, even when a part of you thought of Aegon as someone handsome, he wasn't your type at all; too immature, perhaps, it would never work between you two.

You shook your head, weirded out with the mere idea of being thinking about it. At the end of the day, Aegon was just another of your friends… right?

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[flowerandblood]

The Pearl and the Sapphire (7) Completed

[ modern! • Aemond x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, sexual tension, trauma, obsession ]

[ description: As a representative of a large family-owned gemstone business, Aemond is attending a major jewellery event where jewellery makers from all over the world are exhibiting. One of them is the Baratheon family. Aemond is tasked with focusing on attracting new customers, but his attention is diverted by the youngest daughter of the eminent maker Borros Baratheon. Slow burn, bitchy, possessive and obsessive Aemond, lots of dark angst and sexual tension. ]

A story which is an alternative universe of The Impossbile Choice taking place in modern times. The characters are all the same as in the main series, however, for obvious reasons they will behave differently and experience things differently from medieval times. You can read this without having to delve into the main series.

Series moodboard: Aemond & Miss Baratheon

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

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

Aemond wasn't sure he had ever experienced anything like this before. When she kissed him, when he saw her naked body, when she sank his length inside her he felt like he was going to die of arousal.

He didn't recognise his own sounds or his body, which was quivering all over seeking only fulfilment in her hot interior, the skin of the hollow of her neck where he cuddled his face smelled of her sweet, flowery perfume that made his head spin.

Ordinary sex with Alys made no sense to him, for he felt nothing during it and found it difficult to achieve fulfilment. He only succeeded in the beginning when they fucked in secret in his office and were afraid someone would catch them. The excitement made it enjoyable and intense for him, but as soon as they moved on he lost interest in it.

Still, like any man, he needed the sexual relaxation that she was able to provide.

But now, being with her, he was horrified by how unexpectedly his body reacted to her touch, her mouth, her insides, the sight of her body. He felt like he was going into a frenzy, like he was melting into one with her, the movements of his hips greedy and desperate, as if he wanted to take her for himself as quickly as possible.

He felt her clench on him, heard her sweet sounds and fell into an ecstasy through which he was barely able to slide out of her before he came.

When she allowed him to stay with her he turned off the light and undressed, joining her in bed, his mouth exploring every inch of her soft, warm skin. He took his time, enveloping her breasts with his hot breath, licking and sucking her nipples, making her whole body quiver beneath him, her hands clenched in his hair holding him close.

"− please −" She mumbled softly, and he hummed only at her request, his free hand running over her thigh, his mouth releasing her nipple with a quiet plop, massaging her breast with slow, sure strokes.

"− I'll taste every inch of your skin before I put it inside you again − will you be patient for me, my little one? −" He cooed, turning her gently onto her stomach, placing a wet, warm kiss on her shoulder. "− will you let me enjoy yourself? −"

She swallowed loudly and nodded, and he purred with satisfaction at her expression. His lips roamed over her sweaty, firm skin leaving wet marks on her neck, her back, her buttocks, her thighs. He felt her shiver at his gentle touch, quiet, gentle murmurs escaping from her lips.

It felt like an eternity had passed before he grasped her buttocks in his hands and lifted them, spreading her hips in front of him, looking in awe at how wet she was. He slid in and out of her slowly, her hands clenched on the sheet, her cheek hugged to the pillow. She was breathing loudly through her mouth, her eyes closed, her dark hair in disarray.

"− so pretty −" He murmured softly looking down at her with some kind of bliss, his hard manhood disappearing inside her only to emerge again with a loud, licentious click of her wetness. He slid one of his hands between her thighs, his palms spreading her moisture over her clit and began to rub her with calm, sure movements.

A quiet moan of surprise escaped her lips, her whole body trembled, her walls clenched against him involuntarily. They both began to pant as the movements of his hips became more intense and violent, the loud splat of flesh against flesh spreading through their room.

"− I would like so much to fill you, little one − to cum inside you and watch my semen flow out of you −" He exhaled licking his lips, involuntarily imagining the sight, his whitish transparent cum running down her thighs.

"− please −" She mumbled, though they both knew they couldn't do it. He groaned lowly as he felt her begin to clench on him, his hips again and again stretching her fleshy insides with his cock, his movements deeper and more brutal.

"− I think we will need to meet again so I can finally fill that beautiful little pussy − don't you think? −" He hissed and she trembled all over, her body coming out to meet each thrust, their bodies colliding louder and louder, the bed beneath them began to creak.

"− yes − god, yes −" She mumbled out and shuddered, her mouth parted wide as a strong, lingering orgasm shook her body, pathetic, sweet moans of fulfilment erupting from her throat, her eyes clenched almost in pain.

He fucked her through her orgasm, with the remnants of a strong will restraining himself from cumming inside her, and slid out of her quickly coming on the sheets beneath him, massaging himself intensely, panting hard.

"− fuck − fuck −"

When it was all over he laid down beside her, breathing loudly. They looked at each other for a moment with misty eyes, his hand involuntarily rising to brush her hair away from her face. She smiled at the gesture and moved closer to him, nuzzling her cheek against his sweaty chest.

He hummed at the gesture and embraced her, feeling as if it were completely natural, her hands entwined around his back like vines, her legs slipping between his. He felt her skin, her warm, quivering flesh all over him.

He felt at peace.

They both fell asleep like this, tired after what had happened to them that day. She woke him in the middle of the night asking if she could put on his Tshirt because she was freezing naked, and he handed it to her without a word, rubbing his eyes, sleepy.

He couldn't hide the satisfaction that was painted on his face as he watched her put on his shirt, thinking about her falling asleep in his clothes.

It seemed to him a very intimate and private sight.

He felt embarrassed when she laid down next to him again and they kissed on the lips as if it was the most normal thing in their lives, as if they had done it every day for years. He embraced her from behind, to which her murmur of contentment answered him, her hands tightening on his arms, settling comfortably.

He fell asleep with his face snuggled against her neck sinking into her hair in a deep, peaceful slumber. Even as they twisted or changed positions they made sure they touched each other, that they were close, that they felt each other's presence. He purred as she turned towards him again, laying comfortably facing him and he felt her press her lips against his for a moment.

He woke up cuddled against her breasts hidden under the material of his t-shirt, feeling her fingers gently comb through his hair. He knew he should get up, that he should leave, but he was unable to move.

It felt too good for him.

Pleasant shivers ran through him with every movement of her hand, he felt relaxed and rested. Her closeness didn't seem forced or uncomfortable to him, he had the feeling that they were both able to give each other something they needed and he felt good with that thought.

He tried not to think about the fact that tomorrow was the end of the EXPO, that tomorrow he and she would return to their cities, to their homes. He swallowed loudly at the thought that he might still be able to see her if their father agreed to sign a contract with them, but he didn't want to broach the subject.

He was afraid she would think he had done all this just to get a new client.

They both shuddered when the alarm ringing on his phone sounded in her room. He sighed heavily and picked himself up, reaching into his trousers on the floor, taking out his mobile phone. He pressed his lips together seeing several text messages from an unknown number.

He got out the app and saw that, in addition to the number, he had several missed calls from his grandfather and several text messages.

He stared at the screen with a blank gaze feeling he had stopped breathing for a moment, a deep black void in his mind.

His father was dead.

He laughed out loud and covered his mouth with his hand, shaking his head, he heard her concerned, surprised voice behind him.

"Something happened?" She asked uncertainly, clearly frightened by his condition and his reaction.

"My father is dead." He said standing up, quickly dressing his boxers and trousers. He heard her swallow loudly, pulling off his T-shirt, covering herself with the duvet and handing it to him with a trembling hand, disbelief and horror in her eyes.

They looked at each other but said nothing. He saw her scowl, her lower lip trembling slightly.

"Forgive me."

He pressed his lips together at her words. At her guilt, at the thought of it being her fault. That if she hadn't invited him he would have held his ailing father's hand at night and stood by him in his final moments.

He knew that wouldn't have been the case, but he was still shaken, his heart pounding like mad.

"He had been dying for six months, and he hadn't recognised me for a year." He said indifferently as if that would explain anything, putting on his Tshirt quickly, heading for the exit, putting on his leather jacket.

He felt that she was looking at him, he felt that she was terrified, he felt that she needed comfort too, the knowledge that she was not to blame, that he felt good with her, that he needed it as much as she did.

He was unable to say anything. He dressed his shoes quickly, opened the door and walked out, leaving her alone.

He didn't remember much about the drive home except his grandfather's words about how irresponsible and childish he was. His grandfather drove fast across the highway without even looking at him.

"I hope she was worth it." He growled, and his lips tightened at his words in rage.

"She was. She was fucking worth it and don't you dare talk about her again." He said throwing him a threatening look, his grandfather snorted at his words.

"Don't think I'm going to support you in a board vote. You'll never grow up."

When they arrived the whole family was already there, including his half-sister. Rhaenyra cried silently as she looked at her father's dry, wrinkled face lying on the snow-white hospital bed. His mother came up to him as soon as they entered and embraced him tightly.

"He died in his sleep. He didn't suffer. I called you last night, where have you been?" She asked and he answered nothing.

He felt emptiness.

There were a lot of things going on around him, journalists standing at every turn, a funeral, family trying to talk to him, but he had the feeling that he was deaf and blind.

He left her.

He left without saying a word.

He didn't even tell her not to worry.

He wasn't surprised that he hadn't heard from her since then even though he had hoped otherwise.

Browsing her Instagram account every evening had become his addiction, as had reminiscing about their last night in the hotel, the sense of peace he'd experienced, for which it was now so foreign to him. His heart pounded hard every time she put up a new post, he felt by watching her like this that he was still part of her life.

He shuddered when one day he saw that she had written to him. He was afraid to see what it was, afraid to see the wall of text, the outpouring of pain and humiliation she had suffered because of him. He wasn't sure he'd be able to take any more and for two hours he didn't even display her message.

In the evening, however, he broke down, the thought of the board vote terrifying him and making him unable to fall asleep despite taking several sleeping pills. He noticed that he had to take larger and larger doses to get at least four hours of slumber. With a shaking hand, he clicked on the Instagram icon and went into private messages.

He felt a tightness in his throat, his lips curved in a grimace of pain, his healthy eye glazed over from the tears that had been squeezing inside him for weeks. He thought he didn't deserve this, didn't deserve her understanding. He didn't know what to reply, nothing seemed right, enough.

He didn't write back.

The next day he came to the board meeting as if to be beheaded. The realisation that what he was doing for his family and for the company didn't matter when all that counted was business. For the last years of his life he was at his grandfather's every beck and call as Aegon fiddled only to hear that his grandfather had offered Helaena as his father's replacement.

The rest of the company were unconvinced by the idea, considering Helaena too inexperienced. His worst nightmare came true and his father's place was taken by Rhaenyra, now having the most important say in all matters concerning the company. He had no illusions that he, his grandfather, his mother and his siblings would be pushed back.

He had nothing.

He had achieved nothing.

He had gained nothing.

What was it all for?

He wondered about this as he sat late at night on the balcony of his flat, smoking a cigarette in silence, without even turning on the light. For the first time in years he felt the tension had left him, the cause was lost. It had been done.

What now?

Journalists from the local small newspapers were chatting like rats outside his high-rise building, surely wanting to write articles full of pity about his defeat. He knew that Alys had spoken out on his case once in a while on the internet.

Thank goodness his lawyers had their hand on the pulse and stopped an interview from surfacing in which she mentioned his affair during the EXPO and never made it into the paper.

He would not let any harm befall her.

He swallowed hard at the mention of her, feeling pain and shame at the thought of not writing her back, not replying. He felt small and empty, like a hollowed-out fruit skin that was thrown in the dumpster, not knowing what to do with it.

Maybe it was better this way.

He was too broken, too empty to give her anything good.

She didn't deserve to be his nanny, to try to lift him off his knees.

He pressed his lips together at the thought that he missed her. That he had never felt as safe and peaceful as he had in her embrace, that time in the morning when she stroked his hair.

He took out his phone and dialled her number quickly, placing it next to him on the table, switching on speakerphone mode, lighting a second cigarette with his lighter.

Just once, he thought.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

He heard a sudden silence and froze, something like the quiet rustling of the bedclothes on the other side.

"… Aemond?" He heard her sleepy, uncertain voice. He felt his throat tighten at the sound of her, soft and warm, his heart began to pound like mad. With a trembling hand, he pressed the cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply.

He did not answer. For a moment he heard no sound on the other end, but he knew she hadn't hung up.

She knew it was him.

"If you want, I'll just stay on and be with you in silence. You don't have to say anything." He heard her quiet voice, full of an understanding he didn't deserve and he pressed his lips together, his eyebrows arching in pain.

He swallowed loudly feeling tears running down his face and let the smoke out loudly through his nose, inhaling again, his fingers twitching like crazy.

He swallowed hard, as if he was suffocating, crushed by everything that had happened, the past and the future, the fact that he had no idea who he was or why. Everything he had done so far in his life seemed pointless, and his only consolation was a girl he had met completely by accident.

He wanted to tell her that he had wasted years of his life, that he had achieved nothing, that all he had was his money, his flat and his dog, that his affair with Alys had been the biggest mistake of his life, that he should have stayed at university and read books about history, that he should have written to her immediately after his father's funeral.

He couldn't get anything out of himself, everything he felt was running down his cheeks.

Her silence and at the same time her presence on the other side of the phone had a soothing, calming effect on him. The realisation that he didn't have to say anything, that he could just sit there knowing that she was next to him, that she could hear his breathing.

That despite what he'd done to her, she hadn't forgotten him and still thought he was worth her attention, her devotion.

He stared blankly ahead, contemplating everything that had happened to him in his life, the cigarette burning slowly in his hand. He had the feeling that something had ended in his life and he didn't know what to do with himself.

What to do next.

He rose slowly and took the phone in his hand, opening the door from the balcony, stepping back into his flat. Vhagar lifted her head, drowsy, and sneezed loudly, twisting on her pillow, returning to her interrupted sleep.

He moved ahead, placing his phone on his pillow, pulled off his shoes and lay down on the bed next to him. He heard her swallow quietly, that she was still there, that she wasn't asleep either.

"Don't hang up." He whispered quietly, almost silently in a weak, hoarse voice, his throat compressed and dry. He heard her draw in air loudly.

"I won't. Try to sleep." She said softly, and he closed his eyes.

He woke up in the morning hearing a strange noise, as if someone had just rearranged a cup or dishes. He looked around sleepily, rubbing his eyes, and it took him a moment to realise that the sounds were coming from his phone. He clicked on the display and saw that their call had been uninterrupted for five hours and twenty-one minutes.

"Can I visit you?" He asked indifferently, looking ahead with empty gaze. He heard a commotion on the other end and a sound, as if someone had picked up the phone.

"Good morning! Can you repeat that? I just brought myself breakfast and didn't hear." She said lightly, he imagined her contented, happy face. He swallowed quietly, his heart pounding like mad.

"Can I visit you in your house?"

The journey to the village where she lived took him two and a half hours. In the meantime, he got lost, because they lived in a suburban town where his navigation went crazy and led him along roads that didn't exist. He had to call her and only then did he find out that he had missed the right turn-off each time, which turned out to be a dirt country road.

Their light brick family home was two-storey and large, looking like a small ivy-covered country manor house with a small garden. He felt a tightening in his stomach when he saw her run out to meet him, cheerful and excited, her light-coloured dress with buff sleeves and her braid matching the place around her.

He turned off the engine and got out of the car, heading for the back door. He opened it, and after a moment Vhagar jumped out from inside, wagging her tail, curious and scared, smelling new and exciting scents.

He whistled at her and she immediately moved to follow him, even though she usually felt unsure in new places, he could see that she had shared his optimism.

When he approached her they hugged awkwardly, but he felt relieved to hold her in his arms again, to smell her, to be close to her.

"You can bring your suitcase in later. I'll show you your room." She said calmly and nodded for him to go inside.

He wasn't sure what Borros Baratheon's face said at the sight of him, however, whatever his daughter had told him worked. He was surprised when Vhagar ran straight up to him and started sniffing him, nor did she start barking when his daughter reached out to her and sniffed her uncertainly.

He thought it was a good home with good people.

Borros reached out to him and he shook his hand.

"My daughter told me that you are her friend, and for my daughter's friends there will always be a place in our house. I have heard of the recent events that have befallen you and I hope you will rest a little here, son." He said as he patted him on the shoulder and he nodded. His daughter smiled at him and gestured for him to go upstairs with her.

Their house was cosy, full of plants, old ornaments, painted plates, family photos and paintings. It was the complete opposite of his family home, cool, empty, painfully modern.

Without a soul.

She led him up to the top floor to the attic and opened the door for him. He entered a room that was full of flowers and plants, a desk, chairs, a bed, a bookcase and a chest of drawers, the part of the ceiling that was the roof went diagonally across the room, as did the windows.

"At night you can see the stars through these windows because there are few houses around us and no artificial city lighting." She said softly and he looked at her, swallowing hard, trying not to think about the fact that he was alone with her, that he had been thinking about her for a month, that since he had spent the night with her he had not slept with another woman.

He didn't want another woman.

He nodded, seeing that his silence embarrassed her, Vhagar sniffing everything carefully, curious, her tail high up, waving right and left with satisfaction.

"What's her name? Your dog." She asked, crouching in front of her, extending her hand to her. Vhagar approached her uncertainly, sniffed her fingers, licked them lightly and moved on to explore his room.

He thought Vhagar rarely approached strangers of her own accord.

"Vhagar." He said quietly and she looked up at him with a smile.

"My room is right next door if you need anything." She said softly, turning towards the exit, and he involuntarily moved behind her. "Make yourself comfortable and…"

"…I need you." He said helplessly, heartbroken by his pathetic behaviour, what he had been thinking about, what he had wanted after leaving her shamelessly in the hotel that day. He pressed his face to her neck, placing his hands hesitantly on her shoulders and felt a strong shiver pass through her. "Please."

It seemed to him that literally seconds passed between what he said and when he lay between her naked thighs unzipping his zipper, panting quietly along with her, trying not to make any noise.

He leaned over her and kissed her, taking his member in his hand, directing it to her moist, hot entrance.

She moaned into his mouth as he entered her in one, sure movement, their lips sucking together with a wet click as his hips began to move inside her.

As much as he wanted to he couldn't stop himself, he'd waited too long for this, he'd missed her too much, he'd wanted this too much. Her hands weaved into his hair and drew him close, their lips sucked together again, her legs entwined around his waist.

"− please − tell me you're taking pills −" He breathed out between one messy, pawing kiss and another, and she moaned loudly into his mouth and nodded quickly.

He sighed with satisfaction and began to slide into her with all his strength, stretching her throbbing hot insides again and again.

"− Aemond −" She mewled underneath him sweetly, pleadingly, and he leaned down and closed her mouth with his, trying to silence the moans that were erupting from her throat.

"− shhh − please − hush, my little one − fuck −" He growled tightening his hands on her hips, fucking her brutally and quickly, animalically, panting along with her, trying with all his might to be quiet, the pleasure and heat he felt in his lower abdomen was unbearable.

"− please − please −" He mumbled and she stroked his cheek, moving her hips in rhythm with his thrusts, her fleshy insides pulsing against him making him feel like he couldn't take it any more.

"− it's okay − just cum in me −" She whispered softly and he pressed his lips together and stifled a low, throaty moan when he finally let go, his erection pulsing hard, his warm semen spilling over her insides.

"− I'm sorry − I'm so sorry −" He whispered trembling all over, stunned with pleasure and helplessness, her small hands trying to embrace him all over, to soothe him.

"− it's okay −" She said softly, stroking his hair. He snuggled into her, crushing her with his body, moving inside her for a moment longer, feeling only peace, only fulfilment.

His hand slid down between her thighs and teased her clit for so long until she came under the touch of his fingers, filled with his partially soft manhood, her body trembling all over in convulsions.

They kissed helplessly, as if they had given up any illusions of being able to pretend that they had nothing in common, that they felt nothing when they touched, that they both felt no relief for the first time since he left her without a word.

"− I'm sorry I left you then − that I didn't write back, that I…fuck −" He said and felt his voice caught in his throat. He swallowed loudly, snuggling into her neck, seeking comfort, refuge.

"− it's okay − you're safe here − I promise no one will hurt you here −" She whispered, and he felt his whole body flinch at her words, his hands clenched tightly on her body.

"− sleep in my bed −"

As promised when all the housemates had gone to bed she came into his room, her hair loose, dressed in a plain white t-shirt and pastel blue shorts. He involuntarily smiled to see that, as usual, she was dressed lightly and casually, unconcerned about anything.

She closed the door quietly behind her and tiptoed over to his bed, afraid that the old wooden floor would creak under her feet. He uncovered the duvet for her to lie beside him and she slid under the bedding landing in his arms.

He kissed her and stroked her cheek but did nothing more. He pressed his forehead against hers and looked at her, trying to realise that he had really come to her, that he was really with her.

She reciprocated his gesture, her fingers running over his scar, a gentle contentment and calmness on her face. He swallowed quietly and brushed her skin with the tip of his nose, and she smiled.

"− how do you feel? −" He asked lowly, not knowing how to put into words his worry, his feeling that he had used her, that he had hurt her, that he had preyed on her kindness and understanding. She blinked, considering his question for a moment, her hand stroking his hair slowly, making him shiver.

"− well − I was so worried about you − I'm relieved that you're here, safe −" She whispered softly and he swallowed loudly, feeling a sting in his heart at her words.

He pulled her to him so that her face lay under his chin, one of his hands stroking her hair, the other her back. He felt her embrace his waist and he kissed the top of her head, leaving his nose pressed against her hair.

"− then at the hotel I was shocked − I shouldn't have left you like that, but I couldn't − I don't know − He sighed heavily, her fingers trailing steadily down his back.

"− you've had a lot of bad things happen to you recently − you need to rest at last − no one will bother you here −" She said quietly and he hummed at her words, feeling that her scent, the warmth of her skin made his body relax, his eyelids began to close spontaneously, heavy from stress and many sleepless nights.

"− say you will come to my bed every day − I won't fall asleep without you −" He whispered, stroking her soft cheek with closed eyes. He felt her smile at his words.

"− I will −"

And so she did.

Every day she came to his room late at night when everyone else was asleep and sank into his arms. At first he tried to restrain himself and do nothing more than kisses, strokes and cuddles, not wanting her to think he was making her his sexual comfort.

But all it took was a few innocent kisses, her body close to his, the touch of her hands on his cheeks for her to feel how much he wanted her, his hard member pulsing hard against her body.

She would then begin to kiss him a little more courageously, deeper, her hand sinking into his hair, her hips rubbing shyly against him, and he already knew that he wouldn't be able to stop, that he would come inside her again like he had the night before.

Sex with her had always been remarkably tender and quiet at first, they kissed and touched as he moved inside her with slow, deep movements. He looked at her face and saw the feeling he had been dreading.

Realizing slowly what was happening between them he sped up, as if he wanted to stop it, pretend it was only about physical pleasure and fucked her closing her mouth with his own, stifling all her moans in his throat.

When it was all over they embraced each other quickly, as if they needed to find solace in each other's arms, breathing hard, their bodies trembling, sweaty from exertion and pleasure. They would then kiss for a while longer, him dragging a moment before sliding out of her, sometimes just falling asleep while being deep inside her.

They didn't talk during the day about what they did at night.

They had originally agreed that he would stay with them for a week, as a rest and holiday. Borros did not want to hear about paying for his stay, and said that if he wanted to, he could help his daughters and son with household chores.

At first he felt strange about it, but then he got used to putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher with her, accompanying Borros shopping in the market or helping to set the table for dinner.

Although they did not talk much, he spent a great deal of time with her. They went on walks together with Vhagar, wandering through the nearby forests and fields, watching sunrises and sunsets together. She did not force him to emerge, nor did she ask him about his past or his future, letting him rest in the here and now.

He worked remotely, and although he could do so from his room, he preferred to stay in her workshop, watching from the corner of his eye as she sewed. The sound of the sewing machine, or the sight of her embroidering, applying materials to each other, sketching out a new design relaxed him.

Occasionally they would talk about what she was doing, she would show him step by step how she was putting the parts of the garment on the mannequin together one by one. Sometimes they looked at each other and there was a silence between them, but the kind that is pleasant, full of understanding.

He embraced her then and kissed her forehead, not letting her go for a long time.

Royce knew what was going on between them, but he felt that Borros also sensed that something was up. He took him aside one day after breakfast when his younger daughter was just talking to her older sister. He thought he was going to ask him how much longer he was going to stay and enjoy their hospitality, but her father brought up a completely different subject.

"Have you been to a therapist before?" He asked suddenly, and he swallowed loudly, completely surprised, putting his hands in front of him in a gesture of defence.

"…as a child." He said coldly, recalling with difficulty his visits with his mother to a certain lady's office after he had lost his eye. He hated her because she spoke to him as if he were a small child who understood nothing. Borros murmured at his words.

"Listen. I see that you and my daughter are close − let me finish −" He rebuked him when he saw that he wanted to get a word in, and he pressed his lips together, swallowing loudly.

"− I can see that you are close, but I know that no matter how close you are, she will not be able to help you with everything that has happened in your life. She and Royce, after the death of their mother, urged me to have therapy and I shied away for years, but only now do I understand that what I poured out at my therapist, I poured out on my children before. Do you understand what I mean? It's not a shame. − I can drive you to him, we'll say we'll go shopping together. No one will know. −"

He didn't want to do that, he was furious and horrified by his words.

Who was he to dictate terms to him?

When he went out for a walk with Vhagar and cooled down, however, he began to think about it and decided with shame that Borros was right.

He had come to their home and run away from his problems, hiding in her arms, coming deep inside her, but he knew that it would end one day, that he'd have to return. And then what?

He was afraid of what she aroused in him, afraid of how easily they became attached to each other, afraid of how easily intimacy in every aspect of the word came to them. In that one thing Cregan was right, with her everything seemed simple, good.

But he knew he was being cruel towards her, taking what she gave him without offering her anything in return, no reassurance, no confession. She reckoned he could leave and not speak to her again, forget her, and although he knew it was unfair, he couldn't sort out in his head what was happening to him, what he wanted and what he didn't.

He thought he'd drive with him there one time so he could give him a break.

The man Borros took him to lived in the suburban village next door in a small house in the woods. He liked the fact that he did not live in plain sight, giving him a sense of privacy and security. When he got out Borros told him he would be there in an hour and that everything would be fine.

He was terrified.

When he knocked on the door he was opened by a smiling man about Borros's age with an already elegantly trimmed grey beard, combed hair and glasses. He was wearing a shirt, light trousers and jacket and immediately held out his hand to him, which he shook.

"Mr Aemond? Please come in."

He led him into a cabinet that looked like a spacious living room, filled with vases and paintings, to his right a large extinguished fireplace, to his left huge windows overlooking the garden. There was something peaceful about this view, he thought, playing with his fingers as he sat down in the armchair he had pointed out to him.

He felt small.

He smiled at him, adjusting his glasses, sitting down and nodding at him.

"What brings you to me?" He asked lightly, as if it was a chat between two friends who had just met for coffee. He saw that a large glass full of water was standing in front of him.

He swallowed quietly at his question not knowing for a moment what to answer. He decided that he would simply tell the truth.

"My friend's father told me that I should go to therapy." He said coolly, not looking at him but out of the window, into the garden. The man hummed at his words, turning in his seat.

"Your parents do not think the same?"

He lowered his gaze, trailing his fingers along his armrest, looking blankly at his hand.

"My father is dead. And my mother…I don't know. She's going through a hard time." He explained, wanting to justify her in his mind.

She was always on his side.

The therapist nodded.

"How do you feel about your father no longer being among us?" He asked softly, noncommittally. He shrugged his shoulders at his question.

"Not at all."

"You weren't close?"

"No."

His therapist looked at him watchfully and again corrected his glasses, which had rolled down his nose.

"Tell me about your friend."

Aemond twisted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling his heart begin to beat hard in his chest. He grunted loudly, looking down at his hand.

"What do you want to know?" He asked indifferently, the man turning his head at his question.

"What you think is relevant."

Aemond didn't know what was relevant and what wasn't, he felt confused and stranded.

"She is good, understanding and gentle." He said softly, swallowing quietly without looking at him, his fingers still trailing in unconditional impulse over his armrest. A rather long silence answered him.

"Helping you through this difficult time?" He finally asked quietly, and he only nodded. The man made a sound of understanding.

"You said that her father persuaded you to go to therapy. Do you often visit their family?" He asked, and his lips tightened, it seemed as if his whole body was tense like a string about to snap.

"I came to their house for a while to rest." He said dryly, again looking with an impatient gaze towards the garden outside the window.

"What makes it so special about their house that you happen to be looking for rest there?" He asked curiously, and he gulped loudly, feeling a tightness in his throat.

"She is there." He answered more quietly than he would have liked, feeling hot, feeling ashamed, embarrassed.

She.

For some reason he felt like crying.

The therapist looked at him silently, watching him closely.

"She must be a really good friend." He said finally, and he furrowed his brow as if in pain, with his residual strength not letting the embarrassing moisture he felt under his eyelids leave the corners of his eyes.

"Yes. She is." He muttered, feeling a tightening in his heart, a discomfort in his stomach from which he felt sick. "Too good."

The doctor twisted in his seat.

"What do you have in mind? Please elaborate on that thought." He said, fiddling with the pen in his hand.

He didn't want to talk about it with him, but on the other hand he had no one else to share it with. He was a complete stranger and what he would think of him didn't really matter to him.

"I'm sleeping with her." He said with shame, his throat hoarse, his hand clenched into a fist. "I'm using her."

The man corrected his glasses again with a quiet click.

"Why do you think you're using her?" He asked, and he scrunched up his eyebrows, feeling that this conversation was coming at him with great difficulty, as if someone had cut him open and was tearing at his insides.

He felt small, frightened, closed off, and on the other hand he felt that something was going on in his mind, that he needed to get it out of him.

"I met her at a jewellery expo a month ago. I spent two nights there with her until I got the news that my father was dead. I left her without a word and didn't speak to her from that time. Then she reached out to me and said that I could always count on her, that I could call if I needed to. I finally did and asked if I could come to her house. That I needed to get away and had nowhere to go. She agreed, her family welcomed me with open arms, and I fuck her under their roof." He said quickly, his voice breaking on the last sentence, he covered his face with his hand, shaking his head.

How could he do this to her?

The therapist looked up at the ceiling, as if considering something.

"Have you discussed beforehand the principles on which your relationship will be based? Have you made any commitments to her?" He asked, and he snorted loudly and shook his head.

"No, we didn't sign any contract. We haven't agreed on anything, but I can see…I don't know, when she looks at me, I think I just know there's more to it than that. That if I leave and abandon her again, I'm going to hurt her, and I'm doing it deliberately anyway." He mumbled, massaging his face with his hands, pulling off his leather jacket feeling that he was hot. The man waited with his answer until he was seated in his armchair again.

"You talk a lot about what you think she feels, but as I understand it you didn't ask her directly. Why?"

Aemond lowered his gaze, embarrassed by what he was about to say.

"… because I don't want to stop." He said quietly. The man made an encouraging movement with his hand.

"Explain your thought."

Aemond swallowed loudly.

"I don't want to stop doing it with her. I want to keep sleeping with her." He said, and then burst into tears like a small child.

The man said nothing as he ran his hands over his face, trying to calm himself, breathing loudly. He leaned over and slipped his fingers into his hair, looking down at his lap, crushed by the realisation of how bad and selfish he was.

The therapist grunted quietly.

"Why don't you want to stop?"

"I don't know." He mumbled quickly, the man's brow furrowed.

"Make an effort."

Aemond chuckled helplessly at his words and snorted through his nose, wiping his red eyes, not believing that he had actually cried in front of a stranger.

"Because it's pleasant. Because she is beautiful and I am comfortable with her. Because I am calm and peaceful around her. Because I can't fall asleep when she's not next to me." He said amused, as if he expected the man to laugh at his words. He, however, remained serious.

"You're describing your emotional needs, not physical ones, and so sexual intimacy is a result of them, not the other way around." He said lightly, and he snorted, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't understand what you're talking about." He said.

"Feelings of security, reassurance, comfort, acceptance, as well as physical closeness and associated pleasure are emotional factors. They are not related to a purely male drive, although you express them that way. You replace the lack of emotional communication with physical closeness, but it is not an aim in itself. The lack of proper tenderness or closeness shown to the child by parents during childhood often causes such people to involuntarily seek satisfaction of these needs in sexual intercourse, because they are unable to ask for it otherwise."

Aemond looked at him feeling as if he had lost his hearing for a moment, his heart pounding like mad. He looked blankly at the glass in front of him and bit his lower lip hard. He didn't know how he felt about what he'd heard, but he wasn't sure he could call his words a lie.

"What does that mean?" He asked finally, the therapist hummed at his words.

"That you are looking for something more than sexual release in your friend."

Aemond drove with Borros back to their house in complete silence, the radio playing in the background. Borros glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, concerned to see that he was returning even more petulant than an hour ago.

"Are you all right?" He asked uncertainly.

"I don't know."

When they got back to their house he smelled dinner, Cassandra and Ellyn had promised to make a roast. Even though everything was ready and they were about to sit down at the table, he said he felt worse and would miss the meal. He saw her worried look lead him upstairs.

When she came to him in the night and lay down beside him he did not let her say a word, his lips instantly pressed to hers, his tongue forced its way deep into her throat, taking her breath away. He undressed her and himself, wanting to feel her with his whole body, with every inch of his skin.

She tried to ask him what was wrong, if he was all right, but her words turned to moans as he slid his tongue deep between her thighs, caressing her until she was on the verge of orgasm.

He lifted then onto his shoulders, wiping his face quickly, put her legs around his waist and entered her deeply, her head tilted back with a blissful sigh as if his presence inside her was the most natural thing in her life. He pressed his forehead to hers, looking down at her with a hazy gaze, his hips pushing her hot, throbbing insides apart with intense thrusts.

"I want more." He exhaled and she blinked, stroking his cheek, panting along with him, her face expressing dismay. He slowed a tad, sliding deep inside her, all the way in.

"I want more. More than this. Do you understand?" He asked in a trembling voice, and she nodded quickly with a sweet, warm smile.

He kissed her greedily, her arms embracing his neck and pulling him close. He gripped his hands on her hips and fucked her until they both came, writhing under each other and panting loudly.

He kissed her cheek, stroking her hair, her gaze full of understanding, joy, fulfilment. They moved closer to each other, their lips brushing against one another gently, innocently, tenderly. He brushed her cheek with the tip of his nose and hummed, as if he had just decided something.

"I'm going to take you with me."

____

Epiloque is coming after my come back from Prague 💕💕💕

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @tempt-ress @ahristata @menaosama @queenofshinigamis @dark-night-sky-99 @kate-to-the-ki @travelingmypassion @summerposie @thetrueblackheart

[mistreatedangel]

WHEN THE CLAY DRIES.

SUMMARY — a voice for the outer world, bearing a gift for what’s to come. a warning laced with love and compassion.

WARNINGS — crimson peak au!, mention of sexism, classism, prejudice against lower economic classes, no use of y/n.

AUTHORS NOTE — i can’t wait to finish writing this. i’ve been in love with crimson peak since it came out. so this honestly will probably have a special place in my heart. i hope you guys enjoy as much as i did (writing this!).

WORD COUNT — 2,651.

[MAIN MASTERLIST] [WTCD MASTERLIST]

A VOICE FROM BEYOND (I)

were ghost truly real? many pondered on that question of the unknown. no one could pin point if it was a thing. no matter how hard the scientist or even physicians, they could never truly understood or even have the knowledge of the answer. even some of the so called claimed experts, didn’t know. no one truly know the true answer. where did people that you loved so dearly go after their time here was over? where did their souls venture off to? did they simple perish into the unknown or did they become something else entirely.

but you knew one thing for sure, that ghost were real. you came to conclude that. it was on the faithful night of your own mothers funeral, that she visited you in the dark of the night, the hour of the dead. there she stood like a dark cloak, almost masquerading as a different entity entirely. dressed in the pitch black dress, that seemed to fit her body like a oversized glove that hang on by a thread. she stood there in the ominous dark watching you every move.

"...come here my sweet." she called your name, reaching out her frail hands. as her fingers desperately tried to grasp out and touch you. this wasn't your mother, no. this was something more sinister trying to take her place, parading around in her once life filled body.

"no." you cried out turing your body from what used to be your mother's. pushing your head down into your bedsheets. trying to block out whatever that thing truly was.

like a ghost in the wind she descended upon your fragile, shock ridden body as you shock in fear, that seemed to paralyze your very being. a fear of the unknown. a fear of what is this could truly be. a being of the unknown. but she was your mother no less. something your could tell for sure, even in death she was able to read you, like a book. her, you and even you, her. but oh what she became, even in death. she was truly beautiful, a diamond in the rough.

is this what became of her after death. a mere of the woman she once was, now a bring of death and deception.

her death ridden hands leached onto your shoulders, fingers digging into you. as she hovered over your body, leaning ever so slowly into your ears, whispering words. bone chilling word that would stick with you for years to come. a reminder, a message from beyond death.

"my child. . . when the time comes, beware of the crimson peak." she told you, placing a kiss of death on your forehead. running her bone like fingers across your face.

this was her finally goodbye. something you truly wished your were able to give her. even in death, she will always be with you. in spirit and in soul.

and like that she was gone. gone like the wind, in the dead of night leaving behind a mist of what she truly was. with a reminder of moths that fluttered around the room she once occupied. like an untold message of the unknown.

a warning from out of time.

₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚.

it been years since you heard the chilling voice of your mother. a whisper from a past you seemed to have long forgotten. a memory from the past, with a message of the unknown. pushing back your hairs, examining the body before you, making sure not a single hair was out of place.

"perfect." you praised yourself, smiling at the image before you. you looked especially sophisticated, a product of your now time period, a woman in good grace. you truly did clean up well when you wanted to. pushing back from the chair, moving your body to the side, placing a firm on the ground, make sure to have one foot in—front of the other. pressing down on the vanity, pushing with all your body weight to up to stand from the chair.

"lady cushing. the carriage is waiting for you outside the manor." lenora told you through the door, knocking. waiting upon your answer. she know, no the all know to never enter your room without your permission. a reminder you so grateful instilled in their minds.

"oh yes. thank your lenora. i'll be right there."

"no worries ma'am." she acknowledged nodding her head, before turing back the way she came.

grabbing the stack of papers your spent your life devoted to. you were going to be a world renowned writer no matter what. this was going to be your destiny. even if it costed you your name. you would take a new name if need be, hell even a different gender if they asked.

it would be demeaning yes, but it seems to be inevitable. this was the way of the world worked. you just hoped to at least have something to your name. not just daughter of the one and only Mr. Carter Cushing.

you wanted to have your own name, your own hold on the world.

making sure that everything was in the right order. snatching up your satchel purse, adjusting the hat on your head with a smile painted on your red lips.

pushing your door aside, tracing your hands down the rail to the stairs, straightening your posture with ever step you took. something your mother never forget to drill into your mind. "you're a lady act like it." she pounded in your head, a lesson of the world around you. this was a man's world, no matter what. women were never truly equal.

breathing in and out trying to psych your self up, for this dreadful situation, almost nerve racking.

closing your eyes, taking a deep breath. taking in the last scent of the manor. nodding your head at the doorman that awaited your call. with grace he pulled open the door, welcoming in the noise of the world around you. the buzzing of families and friends running the streets trying it make it to their destination.

like a caged bird set free, your legs moved without thought. guiding your body to the carriage that awaited your departure. "good morrow my lady." the footman spoked opening the door for you holding out his hands as a steeping stall. a gesture you greatly appreciated.

"good morrow sir'"

"to master cushing presumable?" the footman teased. this was your daily routine, to visit your father, for his guidance on how to approach his own publisher.

"that would be correct." you replied. making yourself comfortable in the seat placing your loose papers of your manuscript on the side of your now sat body, making sure the we're still in the correct order. before placing a firm hand on them, unmoved as your stared out the small carriage window that provided your a view of the world outside the small closed cabin.

nodding his head he closed the door, walking around to pull himself onto the dickey box.

an without a hitch he was off. riding through the crowd filled road smiling and waving at people, you both grow accustomed to seeing on your trips into town.

₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚.

the cabin door swung open, as a hand reached in presenting their hand as a sign for you to take. prompting you to make your way slowly out onto the street before your very own fathers's building; that lived at the heart of the town square. there it stood in all its glory, booming with business and personnel that wanted to come into the new age of business, to make a name for themselves in a world that seemed to be nonstop changing.

making your way through the building like a man on a mission, gliding up the stairs with hasty. rushing past the people who stopped and talked, and those who seemed they couldn't wait to escape the building.

with the call of your own name. you stopped in place, turing your body to the sound of your name coming from the mouth of your very own friends: jacaerys.

"jacaerys. when did you get back?" you asked breathlessly, moving down a few steps to meet him. while he did the same with the biggest grin you ever seen in his lips. as his eyes scrunched up with what seemed to surprise and admiration, that danced within his eyes. calling upon you like an untold song.

"two weeks ago. i thought baela would have told you." he answered rounding the corner of the steps holding on to his own set of books and documents.

"no. i haven't heard."

"oh she made herself a conquest in london." he gushed, finally stopping to stand before you leaning his lower back against the railing beside you, as his eyes roamed your face. marking down ever little detail, every micro expression you made. you were like an unopened book, he craved to read. shacking his head, he smiled down at you.

chuckling, nodding your head at the man. "oh has she now." you teased poking the older males bicep.

"what are you doing here?" you questioned the older boy, no man... is what he became. you could no longer call him a boy. the man before you was different from the last time you seen him. he has grown into his body, filled it out more then before. he looked good.

"oh just setting up my practices upstairs." he beamed glancing up at the top of the stairs, hinting towards where his room is now located. before glancing back at your,...no the manuscript your held close to your body, with a smile.

"i'm here to meet corlys at 10' o clock. to see if he wants to publish my manuscript." you told him with hope radiating off your body. swinging your body around, making your way back to where you were heading, with him following in your foot stead. "you do know it's only 9?"

"i know, but i couldn't wait any longer. like they say the early bird always caught the worm. and i still want to make come corrections anyways. so—" stopping a few feet short, turning to the man. who couldn't keep his eyes off of you.

glancing back up stairs at his room, titling his head. "if you have some free time, please come and visit. my door are always open for you." jacaerys told you with what seemed like a permanent smile on his plum lips.

"i would love that—"

with heavy foot steps here came his mother and her little chaperones that followed her with their tails between their legs. always so eager to please her, to her ever whim. "we met him at the british museum last fall when we were visiting jacaerys." she told the group for women behind her, flicking her fan back and forth. eyeing the two of them up and down with disapproval.

"mother." jacaerys called out. ignoring the women behind her, turing his full attention on to rhaenyra.

"you wouldn't believe it. he's so handsome." one for the women behind her gushed. eyes wide, blushing like a mad woman.

"and his crossed the ocean with his sister. only to see visenya." rhaenyra told the woman that flocked around her. seemly drawing everyone around her in, as they waited for the next words to spill for her sour mouth.

visenya hissed out lightly hitting her mother with her fan. "mother, he's here on business."

"it seems he's a baronet? well an, aristocrat of some sort." one teased, poking fun at the man.

"so a man that feeds off land that others work for him. a parasite with a title." you argued, staring down Rhaenyra and her clique of woman in disgust. this is the type of man, they thrived to have in their lives. a man, not a moth that ate everything they came into contact with. a parasite, some would even call him.

tuning out the rest of the hurtful words they seemed to throw at you. rolling your eyes. returning up the stairs to corly's room. making a pit stop by your father's room. that was now vacant. with the high demanding, he rarely was in here. a blessing and a curse all in one.

placing down the script on his worn down table that seen better years. pulling out his chair, with urgency. smoothing down your dress on your back side, making sure not to cause any wrinkles or creases in your dress.

take a well needed seat. grabbing his ink filled feather quill pen. brushing the stroke gently against the paper, crossing out word that seemed to repetitive, out of place. redefining the word making the story more eye catching, more alluring to the readers and corlys.

swiping your forehead out of exhaustion, glancing down at your masterpiece. this is it! you told yourself re—reading your story with a sense of satisfaction and gratitude.

₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚.

to say the meeting with corlys was uneventful would be an understatement. not only did he question your chose of genre but also questioned you on whether the book would truly sell due to being a 'ghost story', when the people outside of this town craved... no wanted a story about love. something with a a happy ending and a love story. something your story was not, no it was a reminder of the past and future, a reminder of the unknown. a metaphor. it just so happened to have a ghost within the story.

not only did he tell you that, he also pointed out, no reprimanded that you could tell this was a woman's work, with the cadence, the usage of certain words, but the true factor was your handing writing. "a woman's handwriting." he grunted out throwing the script on the desk before him with little to any interest.

so here you were three stories below re—writing the story with a type writing, he couldn't say it was a woman's hand writing if it was type out could he? no he could not. grumbling typing every word with efficiency making sure not to miss type any word that would cause you having to start from the beginning again.

"you got this madam cushing!" one of your fathers workers told you, leaning over your shoulder in interest and curiosity. she couldn't wait to see the outcome of all your hard work come to fruit.

"i'll be at this all day. but it does make it so handsome, don't you think? it truly will be worth it." you cheered to the older woman, leaning back in to chair with a smile. this was going to be good, regardless of how long this took you.

"yes it is." she smiled back rubbing your shoulders in excitement.

like a light shining through darkness, a steady figure approach the two of you. whose confidence that, exuded from his body with ever meaningful step he took. stopping short of where you resided, "good morning miss. forgive the interruption. i have an appointment with Mr. Carter Everett Cushing." he announced placing down his briefcase. fixing the loose buttons on his almost dated coat.

"goodness, with the great man himself." you teased the unknowing man, glancing up at your father's worker with unspoken mischief.

"i'm afraid so." handing your his business card, with a pleasant smile, no grin on his round, plum, pink lips.

taking the card slowly turing it over to examine the name and contents of the card. there it stood in bold letters his name; "Sir Aegon the Second Targaryen," you read out loud pulling your eyes away from the card, to the man before you. this is who was the talk of the town. him and his sister, who just came from london to this small town.

"that would be me." he grinned with a smug expression, eyeing you up and down with intent.

"and what would your name be miss?"

[pearlstiare]

A very drunk Aegon sees a painting of Y/N

Aegon: This is a painting of my wife, my woman, my angel, my goddess, my everything *begins to talk very passionately*

[br0kenangel]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐌𝐲 𝐝♡ve 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

Pairing: Unhinged Aegon x Therapist Reader part 2

Summary: after your last session with Aegon, you always feel him behind your back, when you were at home you could feel him here. And when your next session come, everything just got worse...

Warning: dead animals, just a little sex scene, minors DNI.

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language and I wrote this at 2 AM alone in the home. So I'm sorry if it's not good, I was scared and I couldn't think. Hope you enjoy!

PART 1, PART 3, PART 4

That night, sleep came slowly to Y/N. The room felt colder than usual, the darkness pressing in from all sides. Every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind against the window sent her heart racing. She pulled the blankets tighter around her, trying to convince herself that Aegon’s words had just been that—a mind game, an attempt to unsettle her. But the weight of his gaze from earlier lingered like a ghost in the room.

He didn’t actually watch me, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut. He was just trying to freak me out, trying to get into my head. That’s what he does.

But as soon as she closed her eyes, she imagined him standing outside her window, staring in at her with that unsettling intensity. She quickly opened them again, staring at the window across from her bed. The curtains fluttered slightly in the breeze, and for a moment, her mind played tricks on her, imagining a shadow behind them.

There’s no one there, she repeated to herself. He’s not here. He can’t be here.

She forced herself to roll over, turning her back to the window. But that only made her feel more vulnerable. What if he was watching her now, right behind her? She cursed under her breath, her skin prickling with the sense of being observed.

He’s not here. You’re safe. He just wanted to mess with you. That’s all.

But the thought looped in her head, becoming harder to shake. Every sound in the house became magnified—the creak of the pipes, the hum of the fridge, the rustle of leaves outside. Everything felt threatening. She tried focusing on her breathing, counting each inhale and exhale, forcing her mind to calm.

You’re a professional, she reminded herself, staring at the faint light coming through the crack in the curtains. You’ve dealt with difficult clients before. He’s no different.

But deep down, she knew Aegon was different. He was more than difficult—he was dangerous, unpredictable. The way he looked at her, the way he spoke about that dove, about watching her through the window... it was unsettling in a way that no other client had ever been. And that was what made it so hard to shake.

Hours passed before she finally drifted into a restless sleep, her mind plagued by half-formed dreams of shadows and cold eyes staring through the night.

The next morning, she walked to her office with a persistent unease in her chest. The street felt too quiet, and she found herself glancing over her shoulder every few steps, expecting to see Aegon trailing behind her. But there was no one. Just the usual early morning foot traffic—people heading to work, students with their heads buried in their phones.

He’s not here, she told herself again, quickening her pace. He’s not following you. You’re just being paranoid.

But every time she turned a corner, her heart leapt into her throat, expecting to catch a glimpse of his familiar figure. She tried to shake off the paranoia, but it clung to her like a second skin.

When she finally reached her office building, she sighed in relief, stepping quickly inside. The familiar scent of the lobby, the hum of the elevator, the bright, sterile lighting—everything felt like a small refuge from the gnawing anxiety that had been following her all morning.

But the moment she stepped into her office and closed the door, the unease returned. Her eyes immediately darted to the window, checking for any sign of movement outside. There was nothing—just the trees swaying gently in the breeze, the distant sound of traffic.

He’s not watching you, she reminded herself for what felt like the hundredth time. He’s just trying to scare you, and it’s working. Don’t let him get to you.

But even as she tried to focus on her work, her mind kept wandering back to Aegon. His strange, possessive words about the dove. The way he described wanting to clip its wings, to keep it trapped and close. It echoed in her head, too close to how he might feel about her. She shuddered at the thought, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached for her coffee.

Later, as the day turned to evening and she walked home, the unease intensified. The shadows stretched longer, darker, and with every step, she felt like someone was just a few paces behind her. She forced herself to keep walking, telling herself not to look back.

He’s not there, she repeated, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. It’s just your imagination. He’s not following you.

But the urge to turn around became too much. She quickly glanced over her shoulder, her breath catching in her throat.

No one. The street behind her was empty, save for a few distant cars and pedestrians.

Her heart raced as she turned back, walking faster now, nearly breaking into a jog. She couldn’t shake the feeling, no matter how hard she tried. The shadows felt alive, watching her, waiting for her to let her guard down. And it was getting harder and harder to convince herself that it was just paranoia.

When she finally reached her apartment, she slammed the door shut behind her, locking it quickly. Her hands were shaking as she leaned against the door, trying to calm her breathing.

It’s over. You’re home. He’s not here. You’re safe.

But even as she said the words, she didn’t fully believe them. Every creak of the apartment, every shadow cast by the dim evening light seemed to take on a new, more sinister meaning. She jumped at the slightest movement, her nerves frayed beyond reason.

As she sat down on the couch, she glanced at the window, half-expecting to see Aegon’s face staring back at her from the street below. But it was empty, just the soft glow of streetlights outside.

He’s not watching you, she repeated to herself, her voice barely a whisper. He’s not watching you.

But the creeping feeling of being observed refused to leave, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere, somehow, Aegon was watching—waiting for the right moment to make his next move.

A week had passed since their last session, but it felt like months to Y/N. Every day, her unease grew, festering like a wound that refused to heal. The feeling of being watched never fully left her; shadows felt longer, eyes sharper. No matter how much she told herself it was just in her head, there was always a faint whisper of doubt in the back of her mind.

Now, sitting in her office once again, facing the man who had been haunting her thoughts, she forced herself to breathe. Aegon was different today. His usual agitation, the relentless tapping of his leg and biting of his nails, was absent. Instead, he sat eerily still, his eyes fixed on the wall to her left, as if he was watching something that she couldn’t see. His lips moved faintly, a soft, tuneless whisper escaping them. She strained her ears to catch it but could only make out fragments of sound—a hum, almost like a lullaby.

The silence in the room felt thick, oppressive, and she had to fight the urge to shift in her seat, to break the suffocating quiet.

I have to ask, she told herself, steeling her nerves. You have to confront him about last week. You can’t let him think he can do whatever he wants.

She took a deep breath and spoke, trying to keep her voice calm, even though her heart was pounding in her chest. "Aegon, last time we spoke, you mentioned something… odd. You said I looked good last night… in my pajamas." Her voice faltered slightly at the memory, but she forced herself to continue. "I need to ask, what did you mean by that?"

Aegon didn’t respond. He didn’t even seem to hear her. His eyes remained glued to the wall, his lips still moving faintly, whispering that strange song to himself. His hands rested on his knees, the skin pale and bruised, nails ragged from relentless chewing.

"Aegon?" she pressed, her voice tightening as her nerves frayed. "What did you mean?"

He stopped humming, but his gaze remained unfocused, distant, as if he were somewhere far away. After what felt like an eternity of silence, he finally spoke, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion. "Sunfyre died this week."

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "Your… your cat?"

Aegon nodded slowly, still staring at the wall. "He was my only friend. The only one who understood." His voice was monotone, lifeless, as though the words were being dragged out of him.

"I’m… I’m sorry to hear that," Y/N said cautiously, watching his expression for any sign of reaction. But there was nothing. His face remained blank, his eyes never leaving the invisible point on the wall.

"He was beautiful," Aegon continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Golden fur. Like the sun. That’s why I called him Sunfyre. He was always warm. Always there."

Y/N swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. There was something deeply unsettling about the way Aegon spoke—as if he was detached from the world around him, floating somewhere she couldn’t reach.

"And now," he murmured, his voice taking on a strange, almost dreamy quality, "he’s gone. And there’s just… noises." He finally blinked, but his gaze remained distant, as if the room had become too small for him. "The noises never stop."

"What… what noises?" Y/N asked cautiously, her fingers gripping the armrests of her chair, trying to steady herself. Something in the pit of her stomach twisted.

"Them," Aegon replied vaguely, tilting his head slightly as if listening for something. "The whispers. The sounds in the walls. They’re everywhere now, you know? After Sunfyre… they got louder. He used to keep them away, but now there’s nothing. Just them. Always talking. Always laughing." His face twitched for the briefest moment, as if suppressing a shiver.

Y/N’s heart started to race again, an icy chill creeping down her spine. "Aegon… have you… have you spoken to anyone about these noises? Has this been happening for a long time?"

"They’ve always been there," he said in the same flat, detached voice. "But it’s worse now. It’s like they’re closer. Watching me all the time. Telling me things." His eyes, still glued to the wall, seemed to glaze over. "I try not to listen, but sometimes… sometimes they make sense."

Her throat felt dry, but she forced herself to ask, "What do they tell you?"

Aegon’s lips curled into a slow, unsettling smile. It was the first time he’d smiled since he entered the room, and it was chilling. "They tell me the truth. About everything. About you."

Her blood ran cold at his words, her mind racing as she tried to keep her expression neutral. "What… what do you mean, Aegon?"

"They tell me how beautiful you are," he whispered, his eyes still locked on that invisible point on the wall. "How you care about me. How you don’t want me to leave. They tell me how you wear that soft panty to bed. The one with the little flowers on it."

Her heart stopped. How does he know? How?

She felt light-headed, her vision blurring at the edges as panic surged through her veins. "Aegon… how do you know what I wear?"

He didn’t answer. Instead, he tilted his head again, listening, as though someone was whispering in his ear. Then, with an eerie calmness, he said, "The voices see everything."

Y/N’s hands trembled as she gripped the chair tighter. "Aegon, I need you to focus. What do you mean the voices see everything?"

"They watch. They’re always watching," he replied, finally turning his head to face her, his gaze locking onto hers. His eyes were wide, unblinking, and filled with a strange, manic intensity that made her heart lurch in fear. "Just like I do. Just like I watch."

The room suddenly felt much smaller, the walls closing in around her. She couldn’t breathe. She wanted to run, to leave, but her legs felt frozen in place.

"Sunfyre used to keep them away," Aegon continued, his voice a low murmur now. "But he’s gone. Now there’s just me. And you."

She couldn’t speak. Her chest tightened, her thoughts a jumble of fear and confusion. She had to end the session. She had to get out.

But before she could move, the clock on the wall chimed, signaling the end of their time.

Aegon stood up slowly, still smiling, his eyes never leaving her. "I’ll see you next week," he said softly, his voice dripping with a sickening sweetness.

And with that, he walked out of the room, leaving Y/N sitting in her chair, frozen in place, the echoes of his words reverberating in her mind.

The voices see everything.

The second Aegon left her office, she felt the walls pressing in, the whispers of doubt clawing at her. She packed up quickly, her hands trembling as she stuffed her notebook into her bag and threw on her coat. All she wanted—needed—was to get out.

By the time she reached her apartment, her fingers shook as she fumbled with her keys, her heart still hammering in her chest. As soon as she was inside, she slammed the door shut and bolted it, leaning her back against the wood as she tried to steady her breathing.

It’s just in your head, she told herself, her voice shaky and uncertain. He’s just a patient. He’s just trying to get under your skin. He’s not watching you… he’s not.

But the fear lingered. His words replayed in her mind, twisting around her thoughts like a poison.

With trembling hands, she pulled out her phone and dialed the number she knew by heart. It only took two rings before she heard the familiar voice on the other end.

“Hey, babe,” her boyfriend, Jacob, answered. His tone light and warm. “Everything okay?”

“No…” Y/N’s voice broke as the word slipped out. “Can you come over? Please. I—I need you.”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be right there.”

The next twenty minutes felt like an eternity. She paced around her apartment, trying to shake off the weight pressing down on her chest. She kept checking the windows, the corners of the room, every shadow stretching a little too far, every creak of the floorboards making her jump.

When the knock finally came, she practically ran to the door. As soon as she opened it, she fell into his arms, her body trembling with the weight of it all.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Jacob murmured, holding her tightly. His hand gently stroked her hair as he guided her back inside, shutting the door behind them. “I’m here. What happened?”

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “It’s… it’s Aegon. My patient. He—he said these things and I don’t know, it’s just… he knows things, things he shouldn’t know.”

Her voice broke as she recounted the details, her words spilling out in a frantic rush. She told him everything—Aegon’s strange behavior, his fixation, the way he talked about her. The voices. The watching.

Jacob listened, his face calm and reassuring as he nodded. “Babe, I think you’re just stressed. This guy… he’s messing with you because he knows it’ll get to you.”

“I don’t know…” she whispered, wiping at her eyes. “It felt so real.”

“I know, I know it did.” He pulled her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. “But you’re letting him get in your head. He’s trying to make you scared, but you can’t let him win, okay?”

She nodded against his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt. “You’re right. You’re right… it’s just in my head.”

“That’s all it is,” he said softly, his hands running soothingly down her back. “Just some creepy guy trying to push your buttons. But you’re stronger than that. You can handle it.”

His calm, rational voice slowly chipped away at the terror inside her. She breathed deeply, letting herself believe his words, clinging to them like a lifeline. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I needed that.”

“I’m here,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Always.”

The tension in her chest began to unravel as she melted into his embrace. Slowly, the fear that had gripped her all week loosened its hold. He was right. Aegon was just trying to get under her skin. Nothing more.

He pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on her shoulders. “How about we forget all about this guy, huh? Let’s just relax.”

She nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “Yeah… yeah, that sounds good.”

Without another word, he took her hand and led her toward the bathroom. The warm steam from the shower enveloped them as they stepped inside, the water cascading over their skin, washing away the remnants of the day’s tension.

He pulled her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. She responded, her hands sliding up his chest, the heat of the water matching the growing warmth between them. His touch was gentle but sure, his hands slowly roaming over her body as he deepened the kiss.

In that moment, the world outside didn’t matter. Not Aegon, not the fear, not the shadows that had haunted her all week. There was only him, the steady reassurance of his presence.

As they moved to the bed, their wet skin still warm from the shower, he kissed her neck, his hands sliding between her legs, slowly caressing her. She gasped softly, her body responding to the comfort and distraction he offered.

He kissed her deeply, and as his hands roamed over her, she closed her eyes, letting herself forget everything. For just a moment, she let herself believe that everything was okay.

The weight of Jacob's arm draped over her gave Y/N a sense of temporary calm, her mind finally lulled into a fragile state of rest after the events of the week. The sheets clung to their bodies, still damp from the shared heat, their limbs intertwined in a way that made her feel, for the first time in days, safe. Protected.

But that safety shattered in an instant.

A loud crash from the other side of the apartment jolted them awake. The sound of breaking glass ripped through the silence like a scream, sharp and sudden. Y/N shot up in bed, her heart pounding so fast it felt like it would burst out of her chest. Her boyfriend sat up beside her, his hand instinctively reaching for her.

"What the hell was that?" he whispered, his voice low, urgent.

"IーI don't know," Y/N stammered, already pulling the blanket around her naked body, her hands trembling as she clutched the fabric tightly. Fear crawled up her spine like a cold hand, squeezing her chest. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

Jacob swung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbing a nearby lamp as a makeshift weapon. "Stay behind me," he said, his voice grim as he stood, leading the way out of the bedroom.

They crept down the hallway, the air thick with tension, their breaths shallow and uneven. The soft click of the floorboards under their feet was deafening in the oppressive silence that followed the crash. Y/N tightened the blanket around her, the fabric dragging across the floor as she followed behind, her senses on high alert, every shadow on the walls seeming to twist and warp into something sinister.

The moment they stepped into the living room, the metallic tang of blood hit her like a punch to the gut. She froze.

"Oh my God..." her boyfriend whispered, the words barely audible, as his gaze swept over the scene before them.

Doves. Dead doves, strewn across the floor like discarded dolls. Their once-beautiful white feathers were soaked in blood, their delicate wings from their bodies, limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Some of them were headless, their necks bent at grotesque angles, the floor slick with their blood. Their wings were now broken, shredded, discarded in small, crumpled heaps.

The smell was overwhelming, suffocating. The stench of death and blood filled the air, thick and coppery, clinging to their skin like a second layer. Y/N gagged, one hand flying to her mouth as bile rose in her throat. Her eyes were wide with horror as she stared at the carnage before her.

It wasn't just the doves.

The walls were splattered with blood- thick, dark red streaks of it, smeared in long, jagged lines. Words. Horrible, terrifying words written in the blood of the doves.

"MINE"

"LEAVE"

"ALWAYS WATCHING"

The writing was erratic, desperate, the letters dripping down the walls like some kind of twisted arning. The word “MINE" was repeated over and over again, sometimes scrawled so large it stretched from floor to ceiling, other times tiny, scratched into the plaster as if done by someone who had lost control.

The words clawed at her brain, a primal panic bubbling up from the depths of her mind. They weren't just words-they were a threat, a message, twisted and dark, filled with rage. Her chest tightened, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her eyes scanned the room, wild and terrified.

"What the fuck.." her boyfriend whispered, his voice trembling now, his grip tightening around the lamp. "What the fuck is this?"

Y/N's legs were shaking, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her as she stumbled backward. Her eyes darted to the window, and that's when she saw him.

A figure in the shadows, standing just outside the glass, watching her.

Aegon.

His pale, hollow face was half-hidden by the darkness, but his eyes一those wild, burning eyes一were locked onto hers, unblinking. There was something feral in the way he stood, the way his lips twisted into a sickening smile as he stared at her, his head tilted at a strange, unnatural angle, like a predator stalking its prey.

She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Her throat was dry, her voice stolen by the sheer terror of the moment. Her body felt frozen, paralyzed, unable to move, unable to breathe.

Her boyfriend's voice cut through the fog of her panic. "What is it? What do you see?"

She tore her eyes away from the window, grabbing his arm with trembling hands. "He's here" she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "He's outside... it's him..."

Her boyfriend whipped his head toward the window, but by the time he looked, Aegon was gone. The shadowy figure had vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving nothing but the echo of his presence behind.

"I don't see anything," he said, his voice laced with confusion andfear. “There's no one there."

"No-no, I saw him!" Y/N insisted, her voice rising with hysteria. "He was there! I swear to God, he was right there, watching us!"

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her as she trembled violently. "It's okay, it's okay. We'll call the cops. Someone broke in, this... this is some fucked-up shit, but we'll figure it out. He's not here anymore."

She nodded weakly, her mind spinning with confusion and terror. Her eyes kept darting back to the window, expecting to see those cold, unblinking eyes staring back at her. But the space was empty now, just an expanse of darkness and the dull glow of streetlights outside.

Jacob pulled out his phone and dialed the police, his voice low and urgent as he explained the situation. Y/N barely heard him, her thoughts swirling in a chaotic whirlwind of fear and disbelief.

The words on the walls seemed to pulse in the corner of her vision, the blood dripping down in slow, thick rivulets: MINE. LEAVE.

Her stomach twisted into knots, her entire body shaking as she collapsed into the nearest chair, her legs giving out beneath her. The doves lay scattered around her feet, their lifeless eyes staring up at her, empty and soulless.

She couldn't escape it.

No matter how hard she tried to convince herself it wasn't real, that Aegon wasn't capable of such madness, the truth was there-painted in blood across her walls.

This wasn't just in her head. This was real. Too real.

“There’s not much we can do without evidence,” one of the officers had said, his voice neutral but with an edge of doubt. “But we can check on him, just to ease your mind.”

And so, at 3 AM, Y/N, Jacob, and the two officers found themselves standing outside the grand Targaryen estate. The imposing house loomed before them, bathed in the glow of the moon, its towering facade as cold and uninviting as the man who lived inside. Y/N’s heart was pounding in her chest, her skin crawling with unease as they rang the bell.

It didn’t take long for the door to open.

Alicent stood in the doorway, her face pinched with confusion and irritation, her robe wrapped tightly around her. She looked from the officers to Y/N and her boyfriend, then back again. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Officers," Alicent greeted politely, though her voice held an edge of irritation. "May I help you?"

Y/N’s voice shook as she stepped forward. “It’s Aegon. He’s been stalking me—he came to my apartment tonight. He left… dead birds everywhere, and he wrote on the walls with blood. He’s been following me. Watching me.”

“I’m sorry, but what is this about?” Alicent’s eyes flicked between Y/N, her boyfriend, and the officers. “This must be a misunderstanding.”

“No, it’s not a misunderstanding!” Y/N yelled, her voice breaking as tears welled up in her eyes. “He broke into my apartment. There were doves—dead doves—and blood… He’s been following me, watching me! He’s dangerous!”

Her boyfriend squeezed her hand gently, trying to pull her back, but she yanked away, pointing toward the door. “You have to believe me! Aegon is sick—he needs to be locked up! He’s not right in the head!”

Alicent’s face hardened. “That’s impossible. Aegon’s been here all night.”

The officers exchanged uneasy glances, unsure how to proceed.

Alicent’s eyes flicked to the officers, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “My son would never do something like that. He’s not… unwell. He’s just dealing with some personal things.”

Y/N’s heart hammered against her ribcage as rage and fear bubbled inside her, her voice rising as she lost control. “He’s a fucking psycho, and he’s trying to ruin my life! He’s stalking me, and you’re just covering for him!”

“Ma’am,” one of the officers cut in, stepping forward to intervene, “let’s all remain calm. We’re here to investigate, but we need to speak to Aegon himself.”

At that moment, the sound of footsteps echoed down the grand staircase.

Aegon appeared, descending slowly, rubbing his eyes as though he had just woken from a peaceful slumber. He wore a loose-fitting T-shirt and pajama pants, his blonde hair mussed, his expression calm, and his movements casual, almost lazy. He looked nothing like the manic, disturbed man Y/N had seen just hours before.

“Is everything alright?” Aegon asked, his voice quiet, soft, laced with concern. His eyes scanned the group, lingering on Y/N for a moment before turning to the officers. “What’s going on?”

Y/N felt a wave of nausea wash over her. How could he look so normal? She knew what he was—she had seen him, heard his madness—but now, he was playing the part of the innocent. She could feel herself unraveling, her emotions spilling out uncontrollably.

Her blood boiled at the sight of his calm, innocent facade. He wasn’t the same Aegon she had sat across from in therapy—the one who whispered disturbing things and stared at her with dark, empty eyes. This Aegon seemed so harmless, almost apologetic, as if none of the horrors from earlier could be traced back to him.

"Do you know this woman, sir?" one of the officers asked, gesturing to Y/N, who was on the verge of collapsing under the weight of it all.

Aegon blinked slowly, his expression softening into something almost pitiful. “Yes, she's…my therapist," he said, his voice low and even, a hint of sadness laced into his words. "But…I'm not really sure why she’s here.”

One of the officers stepped forward. “Sir, we’re here following a report. This woman has made some serious claims about your involvement in an incident tonight. We just need to ask you a few questions.”

Aegon’s face contorted into an expression of confusion, concern knitting his brow as he blinked at the officers. “I don’t know what she’s talking about,” he said, his voice even, smooth. “I’ve been here all night. I haven’t left the house.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her eyes going wide. “What? No—no, don’t act like this! You know exactly what you did, Aegon! You’ve been following me! You were in my apartment tonight! I saw you!”

Aegon shook his head slowly, his eyes filled with what looked like genuine confusion. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I was home all night. I would never do something like that.” He turned to the officers. “I’ve been going through a hard time. I recently…broke up with my girlfriend, and I started seeing Y/N to help me deal with the depression. But…I don’t know where all of this is coming from.”

“He’s lying!” Y/N screamed, stepping forward, her whole body shaking with anger. “He’s making it all up! He’s dangerous—he’s not the person you think he is!”

Aegon didn’t flinch. Instead, he stepped closer to the officers, his face calm, composed, but his voice took on a vulnerable tone. “I think… I think maybe she’s upset because I didn’t reciprocate her feelings.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in horror. “What the fuck are you talking about? That’s not true!”

Aegon glanced at the officers, feigning embarrassment. “She…she made some advances during our sessions. I told her that it wasn’t appropriate, but I think she may have misinterpreted our relationship. Maybe she’s just mad that I didn’t…you know, return her feelings.”

Y/N’s world spun. The rage and helplessness surged inside her like a storm, the bile rising in her throat. “That’s a lie! You’re lying! You need to stop lying!” She lunged forward, her hands reaching for Aegon in a desperate attempt to stop him from spinning the truth any further, but her boyfriend grabbed her, pulling her back.

“Stop it, Y/N!” he pleaded, holding her tightly as she fought to break free. “Just stop!”

Aegon’s face twisted into something almost sad. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to ruin her reputation, but…I’m worried about her. I think she’s struggling with some personal issues, and that’s why she’s saying all of this.”

The officers looked back at Y/N, their expressions unreadable, but she could feel their judgment. It was like a weight pressing down on her chest, suffocating her. They didn’t believe her. No one believed her.

“You’re fucking sick!” Y/N screamed, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face. “You should be in a mental hospital! You—” She was hysterical now, her words a broken mess of sobs and fury. “You did this! You—”

“Ma’am, we need you to calm down,” one of the officers said sternly, stepping between her and Aegon. “We’ll handle this, but we need you to calm down.”

“I’m telling the truth!” Y/N cried, her voice raw and desperate. “He’s dangerous! He’s going to hurt me! He’s—”

But no one was listening. Not her boyfriend, not the police, and certainly not Alicent, who stood behind her son, a look of quiet satisfaction on her face as she watched the scene unfold.

Aegon rubbed his eyes again, stifling a yawn as if all of this was just an inconvenience, just a bad dream he would soon wake from. “I just want to go back to bed,” he said softly, looking at the officers with pleading eyes. “I promise I’m not who she says I am. I just…I just want to move on.”

The officers nodded, exchanging a glance before turning back to Y/N.

“I think it’s best if we leave now, ma’am,” one of them said gently, but firmly. “We’ll follow up on this, but…for now, you should go home and try to get some rest.”

Y/N’s heart sank. She had lost. She had been defeated by his lies, by his calm demeanor, by the illusion of normalcy he had created.

Her boyfriend wrapped an arm around her, guiding her back toward the door. Her legs felt like lead, her body drained of all strength, her mind clouded with fear. But as they stepped outside, she turned back for one last look at Aegon.

And that’s when she saw it.

His eyes were wide now, bright and burning with a terrifying intensity. He stared at her, unblinking, a slow, twisted smile creeping onto his lips. And then, with a single finger pressed against his lips, he made a silent gesture.

Shhh...

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[sapphire-writes]

Down in Flames (modern!HOTD Band AU)

next ~ series masterlist

pairings: modern!Aegon x Reader & modern!Aemond x Reader

summary: Dracarys is the next big thing, and you have followed the band to the top. But tensions rise as the band grows into fame. Will you make it out in one piece, or are you destined to go down in flames?

warnings: language, drinking, cheating, a general warning this story is going to get messy 🫣 angsty 😩 and 🥵 😏

word count: 5.2k

note: what if the dance of dragons was about a band? I hope this part really sets up the story! hope you enjoy! 💚

masterlist

“I am so done,” you say, throwing back a shot, “do you hear me? Done.”

Baela raises her eyebrows at you before glancing at her twin. Rhaena’s eyes soften and she places a comforting hand on your arm as you signal to the bartender for another shot. 

“What did he do this time?” Baela asks, mouth twisting into a frown. 

The music in the bar is loud, matching the pounding of your heart against your ribcage. You hear the static of the speaker from the stage and the strumming of a guitar. 

The bartender places a row of shot glasses in front of you, letting a stream of tequila fill them before hanging limes on their rims. You shoot the second shot as soon as it is placed in front of you, blaming the tears that come to your eyes on the burning that chases down your throat.

The red lights that hang over the bar cast a maroon glow over your face, as though you have been bathed in blood. The color is fitting for the burning rage you feel in your belly. 

After arriving late to Dragonstone for the band’s performance, you started the evenings as you always did. Going backstage to wish your friends-and your boyfriend- good luck. How surprised you were to find Aegon in the bathroom, along with some scantily clad girl. You had slammed the door in his face before he could begin to speak. Surely, he was preparing some stupid excuse for you now as you waited at the bar. Asshole. 

“Not again,” Rhaena murmured, as though reading your thoughts, before throwing her head back letting the tequila burn a path down her throat. Baela’s lips part, her brows knit together in anger. She throws back her shot, slamming the glass harshly on the counter. It’s a wonder it doesn’t shatter beneath her palm.

“Y/N, come on,” Baela said, her anger coming through in her the way she growls your name out like she’s forcing it through her clenched teeth. Her silver curls practically vibrated with fury, her eyes narrowing. 

“I told you,” you snapped, “I’m done. I mean it this time.” You pop the lime into your mouth, sucking the tart liquid.

You looked into Baela’s eyes, and your best friend held your gaze. You give her a green smile, the rind of the lime covering your teeth. Rhaena raised her eyebrows, sucking on the lime she held between her fingers. Though you were so fucking angry you could feel your heart breaking as you said the words. Aegon and you had been through this several times. You had said those same words before. While Rhaena nodded in agreement with you, Baela continued to stare you down, mouth set in a hard line. 

“Y/N,” a voice called, and you turned to see Jace coming towards you. He smiled at Baela, pressing a quick kiss to her temple, as you discarded the lime into your empty glass. Jace was dressed and ready to perform, the set should have begun by now. 

“You look great, babe,” Jace said, taking in Baela’s outfit. Baela could wear a potato sack and still look breathtaking. But tonight you supposed she did look especially radiant, with the seafoam green dress she wore that clung to her every curve. She smiled at Jace, scrunching her nose affectionately to acknowledge his compliment. Jace turned to you then. 

“He won’t go on,” Jace begged, causing you to roll your eyes, “please Y/N.” 

“That’s not my fucking problem,” you snapped, reaching for another shot.

“C’mon he’s your boyfriend,” Jace said, brown eyes wide with sympathy.

“Not anymore.”

Jace looked at Baela who simply rolled her eyes. He sighed, placing a ring on the bar next to you. This was not the first time you and Aegon had a fight that ended with you throwing your ring at his head. 

“C’mon Y/N he’s a wreck,” Jace begged, “we can’t do the set without him.”

“Let’s go,” Aemond’s voice called as he joined as well. His sapphire prosthetic eye winked in the lights from the bar. Aemond’s sharp features were only accentuated in the low lighting, the shadows dancing on his face. He looked at you, with an annoyed expression on his face, with none of the sympathy Jace had granted you.

“I’m not fucking helping,” you told him. 

“Hey Aemond,” Rhaena said, cheeks turning pink. She twirled a loc around her finger, her other hand smoothing the dress she wore. Aemond glanced at her.

“Hey Rhae,” he said politely, clearly dismissing her. This didn’t stop Rhaena from smiling. Aemond turned his attention back to you. 

“You need to talk to him. Now,” he told you in an icy voice. He looked towards Jace, jerking his chin towards the stage. “Go help Luke, he’s struggling.”

You glance towards the stage where Luke stands along, toying with his guitar. He strikes a cord causing a loud metallic sound to emit from the speakers. The crowd is chatting, restless waiting for the band to perform. Jace squeezes your shoulders, giving you a sad parting glance as he leaves to help his brother. Baela trails behind him; she doesn’t want to witness you being convinced to soothe Aegon for the millionth time. It’s exhausting dealing with your rollercoaster of a relationship. 

Rhaena stays put, as she often does when Aemond is around, starry-eyed. Aemond moves the stand on the other side of you, placing his elbow on the bar and leaning forward to you. 

“Talk to him,” he tells you and you shake your head, lips pressed firmly together. Aemond’s eye searches your face assessing your stubbornness. His jaw clenches, and you watch a muscle twitch. 

“He fuck some groupie again?” he asks, his voice uncaring. 

“Fuck you,” you tell him. He knows all about his brother’s antics.

“You wish,” Aemond retorts. You pretend to not notice Rhaena’s flustered expression and the way she turns her head away from looking at the both of you. Her hand reaches to rub the back of her neck. Aemond never says things like that to her, even when they banter. It would mess with her head too much. It’s well known within the group Rhaena’s had a thing for Aemond forever. 

And Aemond, being the soulless heartless bastard he is, does not reciprocate. You don’t think Aemond feels anything for anyone outside of his siblings. He had a fling with some middle-aged woman a while ago, but you’ve never seen him take someone home casually after gigs. It's as though he is above that depravity. 

“I’m done Aemond, fucking done,” you tell him, staring at his face. His expression is angry, but you do not look away. You let your gaze get lost in the sapphire that holds the place where his left eye used to be. 

That's a sore spot for the band. When they were younger, the band just beginning to come together there was a huge blowout. You didn’t know the whole story and did not want to ask Aemond about it directly. All you know is Aemond stole something, which led to a fight between himself and Luke. It ended with a glass bottle to Aemond’s eye. 

Understandably, Luke and Aemond still struggled to get along, and tension was felt within the band. It always felt like the band was one brawl away from tearing itself apart. 

“Just go talk to him,” he says again, “you know you’ll forgive him later.”

“I won’t,” you insist, shaking your head, feeling your earrings caress your jaw, “I hate him.”

“Love and hate are two sides of the same coin,” Aemond says, taking a sip from his drink. His long fingers play with your ring, spinning it on the counter. Once, twice. 

Dammit. 

You look away then, not wanting him to see the angry tears that gather in your eyes. You want him to be wrong. You want to insist that this is it, the straw that breaks the camel's back. But Aegon and you are always drawn back to each other, no matter how much he fucks up. You can’t stay away from each other. 

You meet Aemond’s gaze. He’s the only one besides Baela who is real with you. The honesty of his words cut through you like a knife. 

You don’t answer him, simply place your hand over the diamond ring on the counter and scoop it up, before heading toward the stage. Aemond follows close behind, jumping onto the stage as you disappear behind down the hallway. 

You can hear Aegon’s slurred speech before you see him, and the sound of his crying. You walk through the hall and enter the room. Aegon is sitting on the couch, violet eyes red and watery, head in Helaena’s lap. 

She’s all dressed for the show, in a gold gossamer gown that makes it look like she has the wings of a butterfly when she holds her arms out. Her eyelids are painted gold making the violet rings of her irises hauntingly glow deep within her pale face. Helaena often looks like an otherworldly creature, with the same luminescent pale skin and silver hair as her siblings. 

“Y/N,” Aegon says standing, “baby I’m so sorry, fuck. I didn’t do anything I swear she just followed me in,” he hiccups, hands reaching for you. You turn your head away from him, but let his fingers sink into the bones of your hips, as he falls to his knees before you.

“Please, baby, I swear on fucking anything, nothing happened,” he begs, fresh tear tracks glistening on his cheeks. His eyes are red from crying, from drinking. 

Helaena observes from the couch, mouth set in a line. She rises, her gown making her appear as though she is floating through the air as she nears you both.

“I’m going to go set up,” she says, giving you a soft, sad smile, before leaving the room. Aegon whimpers below you, fingers painfully digging into your waist. Bruises will surely bloom there by tomorrow, scattered purple kisses across your hips. Sometimes you think Aegon’s love language is suffering. You are like a bruise he enjoys poking. 

“I’m such a fuck up,” he sobs, “I try so fucking hard-”

“Aegon, shhh,” you murmur, bringing your hands to his hair, “okay baby, okay.”

Aegon looks up at you, eyes glistening. You stroke his choppy silver hair, combing your fingers through the soft strands. He likes it when you do this, especially when you lay in bed with him. You’ve cut that hair before, when it gets too long and he can no longer stand the way it feels tickling against his shoulders. Another reason you hate him. Too many memories. 

You’ve been together too long, everything about him is melded into you.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, swallowing the anger that threatens to climb up out of your throat. Aegon stands, placing his hands on your cheeks and pulling you into a kiss. He tastes like vodka, his lips are a salt rim, and you drink him down greedily. 

“You have to get on stage,” you whisper against his lips. He only kisses you again, tongue dipping into your mouth as you speak. You feel a fire start in your belly and you want to scream at how frustrated it makes you. At how much you love this fucker who seems to do nothing but hurt you. 

“I fucking love you,” he growls, hands pawing your backside, digging into the meat of your ass. 

“I love you,” you whisper. Reluctantly, he pulls away and you wipe the tears from his face. Aegon takes a deep breath, realizing the fight is over. 

“Okay,” he says, running a hand through his short locks. You walk him down the hallway to a door that leads to the stage, where he grabs his guitar before you rejoin your friends in the crowd. Baela’s eyes narrow as she watches you place your ring back on your finger. 

“Kiss and makeup?” she asks harshly, noticing your swollen lips. She crosses her arm, a look of angry disapproval on her face. The music starts on the stage, capturing your attention.

“Good evening, King’s Landing!” Aegon says into the mic, addressing the bar as the crowd cheers, “we are Dracarys and we have quite the lineup for you tonight.” 

Jace slams down on the drums, as the first song begins. Helaena takes center stage, dainty hands grabbing the microphone stand. She bobs her head to the beat as their first song picks up.

“I’ll make you green with envy

Every time I come around

Green, with envy

Wearing my conqueror's crown” 

“I think it’s romantic,” Rhaena says, eyes on Aemond as he begins to play the bass he holds, long fingers working beautiful magic on the instrument. 

“Romantic?” Baela says, pursing her lips, “yeah, having a sex addict for a boyfriend is quite romantic I guess.”

“He’s not a sex addict,” you defend Aegon, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. 

“He can’t say no,” Baela argues, “to anyone, Y/N, any horned up pair of tits that walks his way ends up with his tongue inside her mouth.”

The words sting; a slap to your face. Baela’s always had a sharp tongue. You’ve been friends for too long, she won’t coddle you like Rhaena does. 

“Baela,” Rhaena says, cautioning her twin. Baela rolls her eyes. 

“I’m sick of seeing him do this to you,” Baela says, her face full of concern, “he treats you like shit Y/N, and I’m fucking sick of it.”

“I know, okay? I get it, Bae,” you tell her, meeting her eyes. She frowns at you. Your eyes shift towards the stage, to Aegon with his guitar in hand as he moves towards the mic to back Helaena with his vocals. 

“I’ll make you green, green, green with envy

Watch my heart turn black 

Dragons weaving, dragons screaming

Green, green, green”

“Can we just not do this now?” you tell her, pushing towards the bar, “I’m getting a drink!” 

Rhaena grabs her twin’s arm as you move towards the bar, hair swishing behind you as you exit. She frowns her lips at her twin. 

“You need to stop pushing her,” Rhaena says, as Baela pulls her arm away. 

“She needs to end it, Rhae,” Baela says, shaking her head, “before they do something stupid. Before she fucking marries him.”

“Y/N will leave when she’s ready,” Rhaena assured her, rocking on her toes causing her platinum locs to bounce, “C’mon we’re just having fun.”

“We’re not kids anymore,” Baela snaps, and Rhaena’s smile falters, “we’re not just slumming it with some local band. This is real now.”

Rhaena nods her head. 

“Yeah I get it,” she said, eyes finding Aemond on stage once more, “these guys are getting big. It’s only going to get harder.”

Baela follows her twin’s gaze, feeling her heartbreak. You return with three drinks held in your arms, holding them out to Baela and Rhaena. The twins accept them, before clashing the glasses together. 

“Cheers!” Rhaena says, laughing as some of the cocktail spills from the side of her glass. She brings the glass to her lips quickly to avoid more spillage. Baela licks a stripe up the side of her glass, capturing a stream that threatens to wet her fingers. 

“Luke’s looking awfully cute tonight,” you say, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively. Rhaena snorts. 

“Yeah never going to happen, guys,” she says laughing, causing you to roll your eyes and Baela to sigh dramatically. 

“C’mon! Luke is totally cute,” Baela encourages, “then we could be dating brothers! Keeping everything very close in the family.” Baela wiggles her hips, thrusting at her twin. 

You laugh loudly at that and Rhaena keeps shaking her head, screaming “No” louder each time she repeats it until the three of you are in stitches. 

The moment, the music, the dancing it all brings you back. As you sip your drink you can’t help but remember what it felt like, not that long ago, when you first got involved with the band. 

You had met Baela and Rhaena through university, and immediately became friends with the twins. Rhaena was close with Helaena, and after spending a girls' night together, Helaena invited you all to a small venue to see her band perform. 

“We’re pretty new,” Helaena had said, “well, not really new. It’s a family band, my nephews and my brothers. Well, two of my brothers. My brother Daeron lives abroad. My sister Rhaenyra started the band when she was younger but…well that’s a long story for another time. Anyway, she’s not in it now.”

Helaena had given you the address and you showed up, desperate for a night of drinks and dancing away from the stress of your classes. The early days of the band when they could only score stage time at Flea Bottom, a dive bar students flocked to for cheap drinks and loud music. 

It had been a while since you had been out, so you decided it was time to dress to the nines. Fishnets and a dress that clung to every curve adorned your body. 

As the band entered the stage, your eyes were drawn to Aegon right away. He was beautiful and looked very much like Helaena. In fact, all three siblings looked very similar with their purple-blue eyes and shockingly silver hair. All three of them caught your attention. You could have sworn Aegon had smiled at you while performing, singling you out in the crowd. 

Helaena was a goddess onstage, her voice ethereally beautiful and her mannerisms enchanting in front of the microphone. The entire night was fantastic as you danced and drank and gorged yourself on music with your two dearest friends. 

The after-party was where the night truly began. Where Aegon had approached you. He was locked in with several other girls when you arrived, they practically draped themselves over him on the couch. And how couldn’t they? Aegon oozes charisma, sitting with his button-down shirt half opened, Ray Ban sunglasses on, and a glass of whiskey held in his ring-adorned hand.

That's something you remembered about Aegon the most. The cool feeling of his rings on the skin of your throat, in between your thighs. You hung back, waiting for him to come to you. And by the predatory smile that came on his face when you entered the party, you knew he would. 

Baela had met Jacaerys that night as well, and they were instantly smitten. Jace was ever more the gentleman that Aegon, he had asked Baela on a proper date before the night had ended. Your night, however, ended with sex on the balcony and a brief exchange of words. Nothing more, nothing less. 

You hadn’t expected to be Aegon’s one and only; this was only proven more as you followed the band on tour. Slaps, hickies, cheating, screaming fights the whole nine yards. You and Aegon had a tumultuous relationship if you could call it that. Aegon did not want to define it for quite a while, and yet he didn’t want you to leave either. You could have some of him, and no one else, and that was all he would give you. 

But you pushed, you pushed him and worked with him and bent to his whims and somehow became his girlfriend. Somehow basically moved into the flat he shared with his brother (though Baela did not touch the room that you shared in case you needed to come home).

The three of you followed the band as they grew. More girls came and went but there were always you three. It felt as though you were a part of the band as well. 

You grew closer with Helaena, Jace, and Luke especially. It was hard not to. 

It was also hard not to fall in love with the broken man in front of you. Even when he fucked up. He would come to you with those sad eyes, begging you to love him. Aegon searched for love in all the wrong places, but something deep inside of you wanted to be that lasting love for him. Even if it broke you. 

The applause snaps you back into the room as the set is over. You watch as Aegon blows kisses towards the crowd, while Helaena bows deeply, her wavy blond hair spilling over her shoulders. Jace does a final drumline as the band begins to exit backstage. 

“Favorite part,” Rhaena says, smiling widely, “the afterparty.”

“Old fashioned, please,” you tell the bartender, who winks to acknowledge you. You look to your left as Jace slides next to you. 

“Like the show?” he asks smiling. You nod, bumping your shoulder against his.  

“I always think ‘Beast Beneath the Boards’ is overrated until I hear it live in front of a crowd,” you tell him and he scoffs shaking his head. 

“Screw you, overrated,” he grumbles, but chuckles. You scrunch your nose at him playfully, as a girl slides up next to his right. She fiddles with the pendant that hangs in the hollow of her throat, the shape of a wolf. 

“Hey Jace,” she says, eyes wide, “you were great tonight.”

Her hair matches her eyes, the same shade of chocolate brown. 

“Thanks,” Jace says, cheeks pink. 

“Buy you a drink?” she asks, biting her lip. She looks hopeful. The bartender returns, handing you your drink. You take a sip, watching the interaction. Jace is a good boy, you hardly feel nervous watching him converse with her. Plus, Baela would skin him alive. 

“I’m okay, actually, thank you,” he says politely, before turning back to you. 

“Yeah sure,” the girl says, looking defeated. She gives Jace a fleeting glance before heading back into the crowd towards who you assume are her friends. Jace orders a beer and retreats to find Luke. Suddenly, Baela appears at your side. 

“Who was that?” she asks, causing you to frown. 

“No idea,” you answer. Baela looks concerned, taking her lower lip between her teeth and pulling her shoulders back to stand a little straighter. 

“Bae,” you warn, “stop being crazy.” She looks at you, before sighing. 

“I know,” she grumbles, “Aegon’s just put me in a mood.”

Your mouth sours and you take another sip.

“Yeah well, not your problem,” you tell her, smiling sarcastically, “Jace isn’t Aegon.”

You look toward the crowd. Luke and Jace are chatting together; Luke is clearly drunk. The youngest of the band is quite lightweight still. His large grin causes you to smile as he laughs at something Jace says to him, clasping him on the shoulder, doubling over. 

Your eyes drift to Aemond who sits on the leather couch that outlines the club. Rhaena is perched on the armrest beside him, but he pays her no mind. Nor the pretty redhead who sits to his left and keeps eyeing him, hand dangerously close to his thigh. He sits stoically, nursing his drink, long legs splayed open. Aemond catches your eye and you look away. 

“God I wish she would give it up already,” Baela moans, gesturing toward her sister. Your expression shifts to one of compassion, lips turned in a pout. 

“She really likes him,” you tell her.

“Yeah I get it, but c’mon,” Baela says, cocking her head, “she’s glued to him all the time and he barely acknowledges she exists. And the dress? Sapphire blue? Like, get a grip Rhaena.”

You chuckle, but your face is sad. You really feel for Rhaena. She’s liked Aemond forever, and while you and Baela found relationships in the band, you imagine Rhaena still feels like a groupie most of the time. 

You watch as Luke makes his way over to her, grabbing her hand to engage her in a dance. Rhaena laughs nervously but allows Luke to lead her toward the floor. The redhead next to Aemond whispers in his ear. His violet eye catches yours again. You feel your cheeks heat up, being caught observing him again. 

You turn to find your boyfriend. Fiancee? Aegon had given you your ring a few months ago. It wasn’t a proper proposal, but it was a diamond. You felt odd calling him your fiance, and you had yet to discuss a marriage or wedding of any sort. 

You found Aegon, sunglasses on though the club was dark. He held a drink in his hand which he quickly drank down, causing the men and women around him to cheer. He sure knew how to work for a crowd. Aegon’s smile caught the light as he threw his head back.

He was a narcissistic creature, you knew that. Liquor and attention. Aegon’s two vices. A woman walked over to him, handing him a sharpie and pulling down her shirt to her nipples, exposing the tops of her breast. You watched as Aegon uncapped the marker with his teeth, before signing his name on the soft flesh. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as the smile never left his face. 

“How’s my girl?” Helaena purred, finding her way over to you. It felt at times like Helaena had a sixth sense, she could always tell when something was wrong; when the waters weren’t calm. She was the heart of the group. 

“Been better,” you said, eyes still on Aegon, “we literally just fought about this shit.”

“He’s drunk, Y/N,” Helaena said, eyes sad, “on booze and the crowd. You know how he gets.”

“Doesn’t make it better,” you scoff, taking a sip from your drink. You realize it’s nearly empty as it touches your lips. You suck down the dregs, licking your lips. 

“No, it doesn’t,” she agreed, “but you knew how he was before you fell in love with him.”

Helaena always had a way of talking. She was so much wiser than others believed. 

“You’re right Hel,” you say smiling tightly, “just a rough night I guess.”

She nodded in agreement, chewing on her lower lip. She fiddles with her fingers, a nervous habit. Helaena always gets post-performance jitters; she once described it as feeling as though she’s at the top of a rollercoaster just before it drops.  

“You hear Otto’s got something big lined up for us?” she said, taking a sip from her drink, “whole studio album or something. We’re going to meet with some label this week.”

Your mouth drops open in surprise.

“Helaena, that's incredible!” you tell her. She smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling. The dragonfly earrings she wears catch the light, reflecting it like a disco ball. 

“Aeg didn’t tell you?” she asks. Another pain in your heart. 

“He’s forgetful these days,” you tell her. Not a total lie. The bigger the band gets, the farther Aegon seems to spiral. Not that Otto Hightower cares. As long as Aegon is on stage, guitar in hand, mouth on the mic. 

“I worry about him,” Helaena told you. Though Helaena was closest with Aemond, she and Aegon shared a special bond as the oldest of the siblings. You take her hand in yours.

“Me too, but I’m keeping an eye on him,” you promise. 

“We all are.”

“I thought Rhaenyra still owned some of the rights or something, aren’t you worried about that?”

“I don’t really understand the legal stuff, but Otto says there’s some loophole,” Helaena shrugged, “to avoid getting sued or something. I’m not sure.”

The thought of a legal battle with Rhaenyra Targaryen made your stomach turn. Especially with Daemon as her manager. 

“Just be careful,” you tell her. Helaena cocks her head, giving you a soft smile. 

“Always am.” 

You return her smile, bringing your gaze to Jace and Baela, who are swaying in the crowd. One of Jace’s hands caresses her waist, the other held against her back holding a beer. Baela smiles at him lovingly, running her hands through his dark hair as they sway to the music.

“I’m going to go rescue my younger brother,” Helaena said, noticing Aemond’s discomfort on the couch with the redhead who was getting increasingly closer to climbing on top of his lap.

“You’re a good sister,” you tell her.

“Want me to grab Aegon?”

You look towards where Aegon is, drinking and laughing and not thinking about you much at all. 

“No, I’m good,” you tell her, “I’m going to get one more drink.”

Helaena nods. You watch Helaena make her way over to the couches, and slip between Aemond and the redhead, much to the girl’s displeasure. She had just begun leaning into him, about to whisper in his ear. 

Aemond greets his sister, before getting up and making an escape into the crowd. You laugh to yourself as Helaena begins to engage the girl in conversation that makes her eyes go wide. Probably about some insect, she’s been researching (one of Helaena’s many interesting hobbies). 

Aemond joins you when you make it to the bar. You place your hands under your hair, lifting it off of your neck for a moment, feeling hot. Aemond watches you, leaning against the bar. 

“You forgive him?” he begins, and you throw your head back in frustration, releasing a groan.

“Listen, I really don’t need this from you right now,” you tell him, “I got shit from everyone else tonight already.”

Aemond nods, flagging down the bartender. 

“Yeah 'cause you’re acting like an idiot.”

You grind your teeth together. Here we go.

“Aemond, literally fuck you.”

“No you’re an idiot,” he faces you, a sick smile on his face. He often gets that wild look in his eye when you start arguing. 

“Don’t insult me,” you snap, and he tilts his head to the side. You can see his tongue dancing in his mouth as he sucks on his teeth. 

“You’re a very smart girl,” he says leaning closer, “but you’re not acting like one.”

“You don’t get it,” you tell him, but it feels childish like you’re justifying a toxic relationship with a parent. Aemond chuckles, motioning to the bartender, who hands him a glass almost immediately.

. 

“I live with you fuckers,” he says, taking a sip from his drink, “I know everything that goes on, princess.” 

Your cheeks flush at the condescending nickname. He looks at you again, sapphire gleaming in the red lights from the bar. 

“Don’t you think you deserve better?”

You snort at him, feeling mean. You’re a little tipsy, which doesn’t help. Nursing drinks all evening isn’t the healthiest coping strategy, a bad habit you picked up from Aegon. 

“You’re not my friend Aemond,” you snap, “you’ve made that quite clear the past couple of years. So stop acting like one.”

His eyes bore into yours. You expect him to say something mean back to you. Aemond and you have never gotten along; you hate the way he strings Rhaena along, and he hates the drama you cause with Aegon. It’s truly a match made in hell. He doesn’t say anything, he only hums deep within the back of his throat before tearing his gaze from you. 

You leave Aemond at the bar, as Rhaena beckons you from the dance floor, still grinding near Luke. You slide between them, beginning to dance as the song changes, throwing your head back and letting the music wash over you. Aemond watches you from his spot at the bar, tapping his fingers against the glass he holds. 

He glances over to Aegon, who is still engaged in conversation with the girl whose breasts he signed.

“Aegon,” Aemond mumbles to himself, shaking his head, before making his way to his brother.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed part 1!!! I hope this sets the scene for you and gave you something to look forward to in the next parts!! 💚

[birdiewriteslit]

“summer of difference”

chapter one: miss americana and the heartbreak prince

various house of the dragon boys x fem!stark!reader

me writing? since when?? ik it’s been a while but i’ve been thinking about writing a series for house of the dragon! it’s summer, and i’m rewatching the summer i turned pretty, so this is kind of inspired by it? but also not, yk? i’m happy to be writing things again, hope y’all enjoy!

p.s. the boys i’ll be writing about include jacaerys, aegon, and aemond (and this is modern au obvi)

warnings: suggestive/sexual themes

This would be your fourth summer with your brother’s best friend’s family in King’s Landing. Summers here were always so different than the summers back home in Winterfell. Not only was the temperature much warmer, but things were actually interesting in this lakeside town.

You sat sandwiched between your siblings in the backseat of your mother’s Toyota. Cregan reached behind your head to smack Sara’s headphones off.

“Hey!” she shouted, watching the device fall into her lap.

“Quit it, Cregan,” your father warned, not taking his eyes off of the road.

The long drive south was the only thing you hated about this trip. Being the middle child meant you were always stuck in the middle seat. At hour four, you were unbelievably relieved when the road to Rhaenyra’s house finally came into view late afternoon.

A smile appeared on your face as you pulled into the driveway. It was times like these when you were grateful that your brother had rich friends.

The house was huge. It was white with light blue accents and three garage spaces. One of these hosted Daemon’s red convertible, which you had some interesting memories with Jacaerys in.

Speaking of Jace, he ran out the front door as soon as Cregan exited the car, you sliding out after him.

You couldn’t really focus on whatever complicated bro hug they were doing because Jace looked so different.

His hair was long and curlier, and his features were sharper. His smile was bright and perfect as he patted your brother on the back. He had certainly matured since last summer.

As he parted from Cregan, his eyes shifted to you, his smile never faltering. “Wow, Y/n,” he said as he took you into his arms.

You breathed him in. He smelled of salt air and the beach scented candle his mother was always burning. His damp hair brushed against your cheeks as his arms tightened around your waist.

“Gone swimming with out us?” Once you pulled away from him, you gestured to his bathing suit trunks, which had left a few wet splotches on your shorts.

“Yeah, Daemon’s with the boys by the dock,” he explained, then looked over your shoulder at your sister taking her things out of the trunk. “Luke’s inside, waiting for you.” He smirked, glancing at Cregan. You turned to Sara, copying his expression while she rolled her eyes, grabbing her duffel bag.

“You three are so immature,” she said, shoving past Cregan to enter the house.

“I don’t like being looped in with you guys,” you said.

“You’re lucky to be,” Cregan said. “Now help me with all this shit.” He gestured toward the open trunk.

“Watch your mouth, Cregan. We’re guests here,” your mother scolded.

“It’s all good, Gilliane. I’ve heard worse from my stepdad,” Jace said.

“I bet,” your dad muttered.

“I’ll meet you guys inside, alright?” Jace pointed at you and Cregan.

“Yeah, I’ll see you in there,” you said, smiling stupidly.

Cregan nudged your arm. “‘I’ll see you in there,’” he mimicked your words in a high pitched voice. Your face burned as you told him to shut up.

You walked into the house with your bags and brought them upstairs to the blue room. You always shared the room with Baela. The walls and the carpet were different shades of light blue, and the skylight above the bed always made it seem brighter.

You stopped in your tracks when you saw Sara fishing through her bag on the ground. “What are you doing in here?”

“Nyra told me we’re sharing this year. Apparently Baela and Rhaena are with their mother for the month,” Sara said nonchalantly.

“What?” This was news to you. Rhaenyra’s stepdaughters were always here for the summer. Baela was your best friend away from home. Your stomach dropped when you realized what this meant. You’d be forced to hang out with the boys all summer, or worse, your little sister.

“I can’t share a room with you,” you said. Sara scoffed and pulled her bathing suit from her bag, going into the bathroom to change. You pulled out your phone and texted Baela immediately.

—

You: how could you do this to me?? why didn’t you tell me you weren’t coming this summer :(

my bae🤍: i’m sorryyyy!! it’s only a few weeks though. my mom thought it was unfair that dad gets us all summer. tbh it is unfair like he doesn’t even hang out with us.

You: mannn you cant leave me with creg and jace

my bae🤍: i don’t think you have a problem being alone with jace lol

You: don’t even start! creg has already reminded me today. it doesn’t help that jace has gotten sooo much hotter since last year.

my bae🤍: please refrain from talking about my brother like that. and btw NOBODY has forgotten about it.

You: thanks for that. i ran upstairs so i wouldn’t have to face nyra and daemon again. i’m literally gonna die from embarrassment.

my bae🤍: don’t worry, nobody brings it up in front of dad and her. rhaena, luke, and i just make fun of him when they aren’t looking. you should see how red his face gets. seriously, it’s hilarious.

You: ughhh i was hoping this would just go away

my bae🤍: nah you’re never living this down

You: he hugged me and i swear to god i heard a taylor swift song playing in the background

my bae🤍: i bet it was lover lol

You: more like miss americana and the heartbreak prince

my bae🤍: y’all are so lover shut up. PLEASE update me tonight if anything interesting happens. i am fucking devastated that i cant watch you guys reunite.

You: you’ll get over it

—

You rolled your eyes at her last text and set your phone on the bed, beginning to unpack your items. A knock on the doorframe made you turn around. Rhaenyra stood there, a soft smile on her face. “You didn’t even say hello to me.”

“Sorry, Nyra. I wanted to see Baela as soon as possible,” you lied.

“Ah, well, you’ll see her in July.” She sat on the bed in front of you and placed a strand of hair behind your ear. “How have you been, sweet girl?”

You grinned at the nickname, almost sighing from relief that she wasn’t even thinking about the incident from the last time you were here. “Really good. I’m happy to be back here, though.”

“I love having you here. You’re my favorite girl. I hope you know that. Don’t tell your sister.” She winked.

“I won’t,” you promised.

“You know, I always hoped you would be my future daughter-in-law,” she said cheekily. Your eyes widened as heat crept up your neck. “Only teasing, my dear,” she said, standing up from the bed. “Get your suit on, Jace wants you to come tubing.”

“Okay,” you squeaked, turning to fumble around in your bag.

-

This is a little tight, you thought as you exited the basement and walked on the stone path to the dock.

You initially bought the bikini because it was your favorite color, but now you felt a little self conscious about the amount it revealed. You grabbed a life jacket from the bench on the dock and hopped onto the boat.

“Put that on, Y/n. We’re going first,” Jace said, wearing the same smile from earlier, and eyeing you up in a very unsubtle way.

Butterflies surged in your stomach. You would be alone with Jace for the first time in nearly a year. But does it really count if you were being dragged behind a pontoon boat with water spraying into your faces and both of your families watching you? You wouldn’t say so.

Nevertheless, you were still nervous when you felt his eyes on you.

Cregan, Sara, Luke, and Joffrey were already on the boat, all thoroughly intrigued by their favorite reality show, aka you and Jace.

Daemon untied the boat from its posts and gently pushed it away from the dock, jumping on with your father following suit.

“Rickon, you spot while I drive,” Daemon said, and your father nodded. Their dad fits were impeccable on this afternoon. Matching sports sunglasses with cargo shorts and shirts that sponsored separate breweries was definitely the move.

“You aren’t driving, Rickon?” Jace said, sounding worried.

“Nope. My shoulder hurts from, uh, weightlifting.”

You snorted at his fake excuse. You knew he just didn’t want to do it, based on all of his complaining during the year. He claimed it stressed his muscles too much.

“It’s my boat, kid. I won’t whip you if you can’t handle it,” Daemon taunted.

“I can handle it,” Jace said firmly. “Come on, Y/n.”

Rickon pushed the pancake tube off of the boat and held the rope tightly as you and Jace climbed on. As he slowly let go of the rope, letting you drift out into the lake, you said, “Why the fuck would you tell him we can handle it? He’s going to fling us like 50 feet into the air.”

Jace grinned evilly at you. “I said I can handle it. Not my fault if you can’t.”

You looked at him incredulously. “Have you forgotten what happened last time he drove the boat? I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes.”

“He was drunk that time.” Jace shrugged.

“He’s worse sober!” You gripped the handles tighter as the boat began to move. “Seven hells,” you muttered.

The boat quickly sped up, and soon you and Jace were bouncing across the lake. The motor combined with the rush of water was loud in your ears, the spray cold and nearly blinding.

Daemon swung the boat around and the tube flung out to the right, you screamed while Jace laughed hysterically.

“Jace, oh my God, what is that?” you yelled, looking at an upcoming wave.

“I think that’s your downfall,” Jace shouted.

“That’s not fucking funny!” The tube bounced up over the wave, flinging you and Jace off and into the water.

The water came up over your head before the life jacket brought you back to the surface. You breathed in deeply and pushed the wet hair away from your face.

You looked to your left and saw Jace about ten feet away grinning and shaking his wet hair. The boat was turning around to come fetch you both.

You quickly swam over to him and grabbed onto his shoulders, dunking him from behind. He was coughing when he came back up. “You bitch!” he said as you laughed.

“That’s what you get,” you fired back. He raised his hands and splashed water in your face. You spit out what got into your mouth and splashed him back.

“Get on the boat, lovebirds!” Sara called, laying on the sundeck as the boat approached.

“Shut up, Sara,” you said, casting your eyes down to your legs treading water. “And speak for yourself.” You glanced at Luke, who knelt on the seat behind her. She stuck her tongue out as you climbed the ladder onto the deck.

You made your way to the front of the boat, taking off the life jacket and wrapping yourself in a towel. “Cold?” Daemon asked.

You glared back at him. “Clearly.” He smirked and called out to Sara and Luke, making sure they were ready for the hell he was about to put them through.

Jace sat next to you after grabbing his own towel and two sodas from the cooler. He handed one to you before draping his arm across the back of your seat. Cregan and Joff sat on the opposite side of the boat, the younger one absentmindedly playing with the buckles on his life jacket.

“Why didn’t you go with me, man? Now I have to go on the slow ride,” Cregan complained, gesturing to Joff.

Jace shrugged. “Baela isn’t here, and I couldn’t leave my favorite girl hanging,” he said, squeezing your shoulder.

Cregan rolled his eyes and pretended to retch when Jace wasn’t looking. You motioned for him to stop as Jace looked back at him when the boat started moving.

You slipped out of Jace’s grasp and went to sit at the back of the boat to watch your sister and his brother get tortured by Daemon. It didn’t take long for Sara to go flying through the air, screaming Luke’s name as she went. He whipped his head around to watch her splash in the water, accidentally taking his hand off the handle and landing a few feet in front of her.

Your father reeled the tube in as Daemon turned the boat around to fetch them. Creg and Joff went next, their ride relatively uneventful. The perpetual frown on your brother’s face made you feel better about him teasing you the whole day.

Daemon slowed down and rode back to the dock with them trailing behind. Your father reeled them in while Jace and Luke hopped off the boat to tie it to the posts.

“How was that?” Jace asked, grinning at you as you walked up to the house with him.

“Exhilarating,” you said, giving him an annoyed look.

“My girl, always so adventurous.” He said it sarcastically, but your heart always skipped a beat when he called you his girl. You smiled nervously as he opened the door for you.

You shivered as the air conditioning hit your bare skin. “Why is it always so cold down here?”

Jace shrugged. “Daemon is a diva. He always has it on.”

You laughed. “He needs the best of the best.”

“No less,” he agreed, following you up the stairs.

When you entered the kitchen moments later, your mother immediately scolded you for dripping water on the floor.

“Oh, she’s fine. My boys do it constantly. Look at Jace doing it right now,” Rhaenyra countered, continuing to stir the contents of the pot in front of her.

“I walk in the room and I’m a victim,” Jace said, sitting on one of the barstools.

“Don’t sit on my stools in that wet bathing suit. You two, go shower and clean up for dinner,” Rhaenyra commanded.

“Yes, mom.” Jace stood from the stool and followed you down the hallway.

You left him at the bottom of the stairs as you hurried up the steps to gather your things for your shower. Sara wasn’t there yet, probably still outside with your brother and the boys.

You headed to the bathroom and felt instant warmth when you stepped into the shower. You washed your hair and body, and once you were done, you were so happy the smell of lake water was gone from you.

After getting changed, you left your wet bathing suit on the bathtub to dry, and exited the bathroom. Sara was laying on her cot in her semi-wet swimsuit when you got there, watching TikToks on her phone.

“Finally,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the door. “You were in there for like thirty minutes.”

“Time escapes me,” you said, plopping down on your bed and pulling out your phone to do the same thing she was doing.

There was a text from Jace in your notifications.

-

J: Night swim tonight??

You: i just showered i don’t want to get back in the lake

J: Where’s your sense of adventure from earlier?

You: long gone

J: Pleaseeeee

You: fine but only because you asked nicely

-

The real reason you agreed was because you were hoping he would talk to you about what happened the year before. So far, he had made no move to bring it up, but maybe all it took was being alone with him.

You sighed into your pillow and opened TikTok to distract you from this situation. After a good thirty minutes that felt like five, you were being called downstairs to eat by your brother.

“Smells good,” you said, entering the kitchen and grabbing a plate.

“Thank you, darling,” Rhaenyra said, patting your back as she moved past you into the dining room.

“Man, I’ve been waiting all year for this.” Cregan proceeded to fill his entire plate with spaghetti and meatballs, drowning it in parmesan cheese.

“Save some for the rest of us,” you muttered, grabbing a piece of garlic bread.

You took your plate into the dining room and sat down next to Luke. Jace and Cregan sat across from you two, with Daemon and Rhaenyra at the ends of the table. Sara sat down on Luke’s other side, your parents on Rhaenyra’s end of the table. Joff, Aegon, Viserys, and Visenya all sat at the foldable kids table. You stared wistfully at the empty seats at the adults table that were usually reserved for Baela and Rhaena.

“So,” Luke said to you, hardly disrupting the conversations of the other people at the table. “I hear you got your license. Are you and Jace planning on taking another spin in Daemon’s car, if you know what I mean?”

You nearly choked on the piece of spaghetti dangling from your mouth. Of course, you knew what he meant. The sly fucker just had to bring it up at the family dinner. Luckily for you, Jace was occupied with eating like a starved man on the other side of the table. Daemon was one empty chair away from hearing Luke’s remark. You thought he wasn’t listening, but it was hard to tell when he was eavesdropping.

“You better shut your mouth right now before someone hears you,” you said quietly, holding your fork at him threateningly.

“Does it matter if they do? Everyone heard you last year. It might’ve been embarrassing for you but it was downright traumatic for me,” Luke said.

Jace had successfully cleared his plate at this point, it was impressive, really. He had his attention turned towards you now.

“What was traumatic?” he asked.

“No, Jace. Do not even ask,” you warned.

“I think I’d like to know,” Daemon chimed in, smirk on his face, not even bothering to look up from his food.

You gave him a horrified look that contradicted his unbothered one. Luke shifted uncomfortably, no longer having fun. He cleared his throat. “I’d rather not talk about it at the dinner table.” Liar.

“That’s what I thought,” Daemon said coolly, twirling his spaghetti in a rather unsettling way.

“No, seriously, what?” Jace pushed, utterly clueless.

“Drop it, Jace,” you warned again, an embarrassed heat rising up your neck.

Seeing the look on your face, realization dawned upon him. “Oh,” was all he said as he cast his eyes to his plate, the leftover marinara sauce the same color as his cheeks.

Luke snickered to himself, and you kicked him under the table. “Jesus, Y/n, what was that for?” he hissed. You only glared in return.

Soon enough, everyone finished dinner, and you dragged your feet to your bedroom, collapsing on the bed. You were stuffed and tired, but you promised Jace a swim tonight. All you could do was hope that it wouldn’t be awkward.

You went on your phone to pass the time until nine, which was the usual time you met up with him for your night swims. Sara was passed out in her bed when you swiftly left the room to change.

When you got down to the dock, Jace was already in the water. He slicked his wet hair back with his hand as grinned at the sight of you. “The water’s warm, get in.”

“Look what I’m doing,” you said, going down the stone steps and slowly entering the water.

“Come on,” he said, nodding his head to the raft about twenty feet from the boat. He started swimming towards it with you in tow, trying to ignore how tired you felt from the long day.

He climbed the ladder and laid down on the raft. “I thought we were going to swim,” you said, laying beside him.

He was quiet for a moment, staring up at the stars, leaving the crickets and other night animals to fill the silence. He turned his head and met your eyes. “I don’t really care what we do. I just wanted to hang out with you. I missed you, you know,” he confessed.

“I missed you too, Jace. We have all summer to hang out together.” And hopefully sooner or later, you would sort out your unspoken history.

“Even when Baela comes back?” he asked tentatively.

“Even then. I’ll always make time for you.”

He smiled and looked back up at the sky. “Let’s just stay out here for a while.”

You nodded and looked away from him, gazing at the stars instead. You expected to come out here and have an awkward conversation about the incident from last summer, not pick up where you left off. Why wasn’t he bringing it up? You knew he hadn’t forgotten, but why wouldn’t he talk to you about it? He was always so open, so forward with you.

As you laid together on the raft, he looped your fingers through his, and you were all but transported to the year before.

[oh-theseus]

all i wanted | prologue

pairing: modern!aemond targaryen x female!reader summary: the beginning of zenith. warnings: bar setting a/n: special thanks to greta van fleet for inspiring me to make everyone in the band except for reader siblings lol. hope you all enjoy this beginning <3

series masterlist. next.

“You’re nepo-babies,” was what you had said to Aegon and Aemond Targaryen when you’d met for the first time.

You had been eighteen, freshly graduated from high school and without any plans for your future. All you knew was that you had a passion for music, and that when your uncle let you play at his bar, everyone told you that you were good at it. But that hadn’t meant you expected the sons of Alicent Hightower to approach you after one of your performances on a normal Tuesday night.

Alicent Hightower was one of the most well-known musicians of her age. when she was still relatively young, she’d married Viserys Targaryen, a man twice her age and the owner of the most successful record label in the last decade. Her fame had never dwindled, not even when she started to have children and devoted most of her time to motherhood. When her children entered into the music scene when they were young, the whispers of nepo-favortism had started flying.

So, your insult had not been a foreign one to either Targaryen boy. Aemond was your age, albeit a few months younger. Aegon, however, was three years older than you, and was certainly the reason that his younger brother had been able to sneak into the bar. 

“Smart, aren’t you,” Aegon had teased, though clearly had not been impressed with your sharp words.

“Very,” you had fired back just as quickly. Your quick-wit had been unexpected, but something that both boys would become accustomed to over time. 

“Is that a rejection, then?” Aemond spoke next, and for the first time that evening.

Ah yes, their offer. the one that had caused you to insult them so plainly. 

They’d approached you nearly ten minutes previous, complimenting you on your performance at first, and then all of a sudden offering you to start a band with them next. It was all very quick, and when you had tried to question them, Aegon had simply said that the brothers had been watching your for a while now, and they thought you could help them. 

That, of course, had been when you called them nepo-babies. How could they need your help when all they had to do was flash their unmistakable silver hair and mumble their last name to get what they wanted? 

“No, it’s not a rejection,” you said finally, but were quick to add, “It’s a ‘give me your phone number and I’ll text you an answer in the morning’.”

Aegon had done just that.

For the record, you didn’t text him for a month.

That had been three years ago, and since then Zenith had become one of the biggest rock bands in the world. You were their lead singer, praised for your consistency and the confidence you held on stage. Aegon was the guitaris and when they played shows, it was not uncommon for his name to be screamed the loudest. And finally, Aemond. The public’s opinion of him seemed to change every day - no one really knew what to think of him.

For the first four months of being a band, Zenith had no real drummer. It had bothered you so badly that you’d spent a whole day arguing with Aegon about finding one. He’d tried to bring in about a dozen of people he “knew” (he’d spoken with them all approximately once), but you had shut down every offer. It wasn’t until Aemond had suggested they have their sister come in that you finally came around. Helaena was a natural, and was undeniably funny. And though her joining had led to years of questions towards you asking what it was like being the one in the band that wasn’t a sibling, you hadn’t regretted it for even a second.

Zenith had taken off nearly immediately. You were certain it had to do with the Targaryen name at first, but you had not complained one bit when it was announced that Zenith’s first studio album had debuted in the top twenty. 

The band had been riding that wave of success ever since. In the last three years, Zenith’s popularity had only grown. They’d released a second album in that time, and its debut had done far better than the first album’s. It’d done so well, in fact, that the band has just announced they’ll be going on their first ever world tour. Everything was perfect. 

For the time being, at least. 

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