yoursweetheartsrevenge

[yoursweetheartsrevenge]

Been loving your comments Ange! 🥰

Happy you enjoyed it. I'm always glad to subvert expectations. The little epilogue has turned into something a bit chunkier.

We'll see Amelia & Ettore one more time 💕

Disease - Chapter Eleven - Goodbye - Ettore

Summary: Ettore finds himself face to face with a new inmate, his ex. Will their tragic circumstances bring them closer together or be the end of them?

Read on Ao3

Masterlist

Warnings: smut, violence, murder, MINORS DNI, 18+

Word Count: 2.5K+

Chapter 11 - Goodbye - Ettore

His head was on her belly. His arm was draped around her prone body cushioning her in a squeeze of a hug. His lips gently kissed that beauty mark on her hand. 

“I should have used my words.” 

After months together on this ship Ettore had finally let himself break down. He didn’t know what their future held, but he knew he needed to tell her what had happened. 

“You’re right.” She mused pushing her fingers through his hair, nearly long enough to tug. “But I understand. Now I understand.” 

He had come to her tonight. 

Ettore had planned that he would enact his loose idea of a plan right before Dibs could figure out who fathered Amelia’s child. He hadn’t woken her, just laid his head on her belly, a bit lumpy and hard from the early stages of pregnancy. 

His baby. 

He recalled that over and over again before he told her. 

Ettore had been scared that night. Of himself mostly. He did love her. He always loved her, but something had broken inside him letting his monster free. The years of not taking control had taken over him as if he were a rubber band finally snapped. He took whatever loss of control to heart. 

That man had taken his girl. 

She had taken as well. It was in her right to take her revenge. He had felt that monster burn inside. 

He was so afraid when he finally let his hands from around her throat. 

He could do that to her again. 

Ettore WOULD do that to her again. 

There was too much love there to allow himself that sliver of happiness. 

He could not risk harming her again so he removed himself from the equation. He let his anger and hurt out in terrible ways on others. She wasn’t there to rein him in. Amelia wasn’t there to offer him his name as anchor back to the reality they shared together. 

He drove himself away to never hurt her again. 

Now he was here, resting on her belly filled with life. He was hurting her again this way too. Ettore supposed he couldn’t help himself in hurting her. Perhaps that was the price of love, a tug between hurt and absolute devotion. He nuzzled his nose into her skin, feeling her pet his him softly. 

“You’re here. You’re here now. That’s what matters most.” She continued to play with his hair and tickle his nose. Her fingers tugged at the warm edges of his ears. 

He whimpered a bit. 

“I didn’t forget you. I’ll never forget you.” Her voice was so soft and full of wanting. 

Ettore looked up at her from under his lashes. He suckled at her hand feeling his body react to her touch. If this was the last night they spent together he wanted her here and now. 

Just like this. 

He moved, a predator in only a small sense. She seemed to welcome his lips with open arms. He pressed gently to her so she could feel his hardness. Amelia lowered his boxers so that he was able to kick them off his ankles. Her fingers tugged at his ears again as he continued to kiss her. He couldn’t count how many times she said his name. 

Each time made his heart sing, skip beats. 

This was what it was like to be in love he thought. 

This was what it was like to love someone so much it made his heart hurt to part from her. 

“I will never leave you again.” He told her. 

He watched her face. Ettore wanted Amelia to believe him. He wanted her to know it wasn’t just him anymore. It had never been just him. From the moment he met her, he knew he had endangered himself to anchor himself to her. 

Her love had hurt him. 

Her love had saved him. 

Their love would kill them both if given the chance. 

“Stop acting like this is the last time.” She said when he sheathed himself fully inside her. Amelia’s fingers pulled at his hair. “It will work. It will all work out.”

Ettore could not save himself from falling into kissing her. His hips were slow to press into her. He had never been more careful with her body then he was now. He minded himself as he moved slowly into her letting his thumb tease her clit as he moved. With each stroke she whimpered against his lips that never left hers. 

His name was whispered against his flesh. 

“I’ll never leave you again. Both of you.” He did not press too hard into that little bump. 

He felt the tears gather at the corner of his eyes. The pleasure built inside him nearly boiling over. He felt her hand against the small of his back encouraging him to roll his hips against her a little harder. 

“I love you, Ettore.” Amelia breathed. Her voice was high and deliciously on the edge of her own desire. “It’ll work. We’ll be happy. We’ll be together. I never want anyone else. Only you. Only you, Ettore . . .”

His name. 

His name on her plush and raw lips was all he ever wanted to hear. 

Ettore didn’t want this love making to end. 

Yes, he knew he wasn’t fucking her. 

Ettore was making love to the only person who would ever love him, the only person HE would ever love. 

Her hips pushed up to meet him. Her lovely little sounds were so soft and beautiful as he cried. Fuck, he didn’t hate that he was feeling so good that tears were spilling from his face. When he felt her kiss and lick his tears, a pureness escaped him he did not know existed within him. He breathed out letting his eyes close, crying more as he released inside her, an orgasm that blinded him to all reality they shared together. 

Hers was small and controlled though he felt her little nails dig into her. 

Amelia peppered him with kisses not stopping the momentum even as they both came down from their high. 

“Don’t leave me.” 

“I won’t. I promise.” He palmed her belly. There was fear in Amelia’s eyes. He hated seeing that. He kissed her cheeks feeling how vulnerable he was naked on top of the woman he loved. “As long as I have breath in me -” 

She cut him off with a kiss. 

“But I take your breath away.” She teased with a sweet little smile that slowly verged on devilish. 

He watched her, the emotions wave in and out of her face. 

Uncertainty.

Hope. 

Love. 

Desire. 

Anxiety. 

Trust. 

This woman trusted him. She loved him. He could not fail her. 

He would not fail her. 

There was a dark silence that fell in the room. He saw Amelia turn her head toward the doorway of the the little room. He knew what that meant. His hand snaked under her pillow to grab at the scalpel. 

“You.” Was all Dibs said. 

Ettore acted. All his rage at the doctor for hurting HIS girl bubbled up to his fingers wrapped hard around the metal weapon. His entire strength pushed her against the wall. She struggled. Dibs was stronger then he imagined, but the scalpel buried within her collarbone. His soft cock pressed against her hip causing a bit of pain as he caged her against the wall and himself. 

She bit at his hand that went to cover hee mouth. Ettore twisted the knife into her flesh deeper feeling the hardness of her collarbone as the blade moved. Blood bubbled from the cut. 

“You hurt her.” It was a hiss. 

“But you chose to kill her, you fuckin’ idiot.” It was muffled, but he could hear it as she struggled to survive the wound. 

“No, we are leaving.” 

It sounded so much stronger out loud than in his head. His hand slunk into the doctor’s pocket for the key to one of the escape pods. He had been secretly studying the scamatics of the thing for weeks, instead of sleeping. He had broken into the offices he needed to gain this information. Dibs rarely had the keys except on certain days when she had opened the pods for yearly maintence. 

Tonight had been one of those nights. 

“You won’t survive.” He heard the uncertainty in her voice. He pulled the scalpel out, stabbing her. 

One. 

Two. 

Three times in succession.

“You can’t control us anymore. You’ll never hurt her again.” The body fell in a slow slump to the floor. 

He turned to Amelia, the bloody scalpel in his hand. She was crying, a soft flow of tears flowing from her face. 

“I didn’t want this for you.” 

“It was needed. I would do anything for you.” He was on his knees beside her, keys and bloody scalpel in each hand. He kissed away her tears. “Is that why . . . you killed him? Back then? You didn’t want that sin on my soul?” Her little nod was slow and easy. “You can’t save me, love. You can only cage me in.” He rubbed his nose against her, sniffing in her natural smell. 

It made him hard, just being here with her, smelling her sweat drenched flesh and salty tears. 

“Let’s go.” He whispered, giving her a sweet kiss on her temple. 

He dressed. He grabbed his boxers, rolling them over his cock which was half hard. He heard her little sigh and giggle. Amelia palmed his covered cock. He warned her not to. They were on a time limit now. They might have a lifetime of desire if they pulled this off. He found a pair of slacks and a dark black shirt. 

Amelia pulled herself out of bed. 

Fuck, she was gorgeous, long hair she pulled back with her little hair tie, white shirt that he could clearly see her pert little nipples, and soft low hanging black pants. He held her up under her armpit. She leaned against him even though she didn’t need much help. Her face snuggled into whatever surface she could get from him. 

Ettore could feel how hot she was. 

“I didn’t realize murder turned you on.” He joked as they passed Dibs body. 

“Not murder,” She cooed. “You protected me. You are protecting us.” Her eyes motioned down to that little bump covered by her slacks. 

“We’ll be okay, love. My beautiful girl.” Ettore kissed her forehead. 

They moved out of the room. 

The pair were careful when moving on the eerily silent ship. Their feet padded softly though Ettore felt they were too loud. Her little breaths were soft against his skin as she squeezed close to him. She was relying on him. It frightened him to realize in that moment two people would be relying on him. 

The responsibility of it hit him with a bit of a tremble. 

He could focus on that fear once they were in the pod. 

Ettore could focus on the rest of their lives once he smelt the dirt of earth again and not the fake -

Tcherny was standing between them and the entrance of the pod. He had a set of tools next to him. They had all been put away. He felt Amelia slowly pull the scalpel from his hand. The older man’s eyes slowly looked over Ettore and Amelia. They fell on Amelia’s belly. 

The two men made eye contact. 

***

Ettore was buckling her into the escape pod. He made sure the harness was tight, but not tight enough to hurt the baby. He stroked her little bump looking down at it. He let himself imagine it getting larger, feeling it swell with life, even feeling the little life kick within her. He ignored the blood that he now realized was staining his hands. 

“Do you think it’ll be okay?” There was the fear in her eyes again. 

“I don’t know.” He admitted. 

They would have to be in hyper sleep for three years while the pod made its way back to Earth. He had already plugged in the directions. He had settled on their time. He’d wake up a little earlier then her to make sure things were okay. Ettore didn’t know much passed getting them into hyper sleep. He certainly hadn’t thought of if their baby would survive. 

He hoped. 

Ettore really hoped. 

He leaned down to kiss her belly one last time. 

“I want it to be.” She said through teary eyes and a wide smile. “I want us to be okay.” He held the side of her face. Her cheek was so soft and round, not the swallow cheek he saw when she first got on the ship. He pressed his forehead to hers before kissing her there, then her lips. 

It wasn’t a passionate kiss, but one that held devotion, promise, and joy. 

“I love you, Amelia. No matter what happens. No matter what. Just . . . know that.” His thumb ran over her lower lip. 

He let her say one last thing before letting her go into a three year sleep for their journey. 

“I love you, Ettore. I came here for you. I am leaving with you and so much more.” Her fingers tickled her belly. 

He punched in the code to put her to sleep. Slowly her seat rolled back. A slick shield covered and molded to her body, protecting every aspect of her. His heart leapt into his throat at the thought their child might not survive the hyper sleep. That maybe they might not survive. 

If this was the last time, he was content with that. 

Neither of them were good people. 

Neither of them deserved to escape, to be happy, but they were selfish. 

They wanted to live. 

They wanted their love to survive.

He could be his best self with her. 

If they deserved to live, they deserved to live together. 

Once she fell into her deep sleep he moved to press in the pod’s course. It disconnected from the prison ship with a resounding hiss. Fuck, he wouldn’t miss it. He’d rather die in space than rot on that vessel. However, memories of their time there settled in him. 

He had reconnected with her there. 

They had conceived their child there. 

Those memories would stay with him forever. 

He settled beside her in his own seat. Ettore let the audio pilot of the pod begin to work as he was strapped in and slowly rolled back to fall into a three year sleep with her. He wished he could hold her hand. His fingers twitched to reach out to her. Instead he let his eyes focus to the cold white ceiling covered in a film of blue lights. 

It reminded him of the bar he met her at. 

The club with pulsing music echoed in his head as the shield covered him. 

He remembered whirling around to see her for the first time. 

She was against his type. 

Amelia was everything he didn’t want. 

In the end, she was everything he ever needed. 

She was perfect. 

She was his. 

It was his last thought before the sleep faded his vision to black.

Author’s Note: Despite the title of this chapter this is not the end. We have one more chapter, an epilogue of sorts. When I was writing this I knew I wanted a happy ending, not only because sad endings really put me in a funk, but because it was something I had not seen before in a story about Ettore (not that he deserves a happy ending in those other fics). I decided on this ending before I realized the actual logistics of the lore established (three years in space!). After my initial how do I get out of this feeling I decided it’s my story I’ll make up what I want lol High Life is already a pretty bizarre film so more suspension of belief is not uncalled for.

[yoursweetheartsrevenge]

did you know you can do anythingh with your ocs and no one can stop you.. did you know you can make aus of your ocs. you should make aus of your ocs

[yoursweetheartsrevenge]

Bowing her head in defeat, Queen Alicent surrendered the keys to the castle, and ordered her knights and men-at-arms to lay down their swords. “The city is yours, princess,” she is reported to have said, “but you will not hold it long. The rats play when the cat is gone, but my son Aemond will return with fire and blood.”

FIRE AND BLOOD by George R.R. Martin

That is insufficient. Aemond has been damaged, permanently, My King. “Good will” cannot make him whole. There is a debt to be paid. I shall have one of her son’s eyes in return. He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son.

— Queen Alicent Hightower HOUSE OF THE DRAGON «Driftmark»

[yoursweetheartsrevenge]

Awwww thank you so much sweetie! 🥰

Their evolving relationship was so fun to write. Indifference very much turned Aemond on 😏

I wanted to use the phrase "Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought him back" at some point, but it never worked out. I think that summarizes that closet scene perfectly. Reader is definitely satisfied knowledge wise and in more ways. hehehe

Aemond laying out his little plan for their life was so fun to write. A bit menacing, a bit sweet.

So glad you had a good time reading 💕

The Academic

Summary: He’s gorgeous and silent. The perfect patron. But the underlying mystery of why this mysterious silver haired stranger spends entire days seated in the library fascinates the staff. One librarian takes it upon herself to see who this mystery man is and what exactly he desires.

Read on Ao3

Written for @hotd-bigbang

Taglist: @sepherinaspoppies

Warnings: smut (face sitting, creampie, cowgirl, public sex), MINORS DNI, 18+ 

Word Count: 10.9K+

Author’s Note: Written for @hotd-bigbang.

Week 4: Free Space - Wanted to write another Modern AU. Besides, ever since Ewan answered with the library as what Aemond would love about modern society I was itching to write him in a modern library setting. This really got away from me.

The Academic

“He’s back again.” 

She turned to look at her co-worker. Her dark haired co-worker was slowly sipping her coffee while tilting her head in the direction of the he in question. The librarian adjusted her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose as her light eyes fell in the direction of him. 

Their silver haired frequent researcher had a decent looking spread across one of the library’s wide tables. She held a series of poor condition large print titles that were due to be recycled. She plopped them on the dark book cart hearing the hardcovers echo against the howl metal. 

He remained concentrated. His long curtain of white blonde hair did not even deter him from his studies. He scribbled notes before flipping one page then two pages in another book. She could definitely see a range of atlases and maps he had somehow found within the public library walls. 

“The Academic.” Her co-worker nearly chuckled in a posher than normal voice. 

“A nickname just because he is doing a research project?” She said with a sigh. Her fingers tickled the edges of the cracked veiny spines. She slowly shifted the titles to be in alphabetical order. 

“Yes, but you see the assortment of books he has piled up, maps, business proposals, history books, and I am pretty sure he’s found every title older than seventy years old not in a glass case.” She gave her coffee a loud sip again. They both looked toward their mystery researcher. 

Still very concentrated. 

“He’ll come looking for one of those titles in the historical room one of these days. I’m sure of it.” There was a soft smile on her co-worker’s face that nearly looked dreamy. 

“You just think he’s attractive.” She whispered in a hiss. Her hands gripped the metal handles of the book cart. 

“Oh please,” She settled the cardboard coffee cup beside her desktop at the reference desk. “I see the way you make eyes at him. I’ll turn on the fan for you.” Her fingers clicked on their small fan at the desk. 

The librarian huffed pulling the cart away. One wheel spun out as she moved it across the carpet. It echoed softly hitting bumps every so often. Her french tip nails clicked against the cart. There was a slight pause in her pathway when she realized she would have to pass “the academic” to get to the back office. 

The library was nearly empty on the creeping autumn mid afternoon. The trees had just started turning that crisp orange with yellow veins along the leaves. The large framed windows let in the shadows of oranges that made her feel cozy to be inside. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment. 

He had his hair half up in a small ponytail. He wore a soft green sweater with two navy stripes nearly hidden beneath the fluff of the sweater. She could see white cuffs peeking through the cuffs on the sweater. He had before him an array of different colored pens and highlighters lined up in a nearly perfect line.

Her lips settled into a soft smile seeing it. 

There was an appreciation there in seeing organization. 

She loved seeing how he had lined them up, placing them back in order as he went. 

Not as if she were looking.

Slowly she pushed her cart past the front of his table. Her soft heels settled on the hard carpet making an easy click as she moved. 

He looked up. 

She saw him then. 

The librarian wasn’t sure why she hadn’t seen the eye patch, leather and etched with an embroidery of leaves along the edges. The design work was actually quite beautiful. His soft violet eye slowly blinked at her. 

She felt caught somehow as if she were doing something wrong instead of her job. 

Her throat rolled out a quiet whimper. She winced, feeling her covered big toe knock against one of the wheels. She nearly tripped. Their mystery researcher began to stand. Her hands pushed the cart further until she passed his table. 

He was standing, watching her go. 

She didn’t want to look back. 

Her mind wandered to imagining that he was looking at her behind in the long skirt skating at her ankles. 

In the window of the office she could see, he was doing just that. 

He was outside before they opened almost every day now. She always thought the silver haired researcher looked dashing in every outfit he came in with. Her co-workers would swoon with curiosity at what exactly he was working on. 

Librarians were always up for a good mystery.

He never spoke to a single employee. His long fingers and brilliant mind seemed to navigate the shelves with great ease as if he had been here since the building opened and had not just appeared two months before. 

She noticed the things her co-workers seemed to ignore in favor of his physical traits. 

They, of course, had noted the eyepatch, but she had noticed how he seemed to not touch it as if it were an old wound he was used to when the world seemed too silent around him.

She noted what kind of bags he came with. A green leather briefcase and a canvas messenger bag always accompanied him to his table. His table was nearest to the non-fiction materials. She noted he remained close to the history section. He never took too many steps from his table to what materials he needed. 

While her co-workers continued to be curious what the handsome stranger was researching, seeing him devoted to taking every copy of the history section on The Conquest to his table to study and topical maps of the surrounding areas of Westeros, she had been curious how he researched. 

He did not come in with a laptop, but instead a smattering of over used notebooks that were dog eared and sticking out papers at the edges. There was organization there. She could tell as he maneuvered between each notebook with ease pulling out different writing utensils with each different book. 

There was no doubt he remained very concentrated about his work. 

“How does he know where it all is?” Her co-worker had asked while in the break room. She was looking between the blinds at him.

There were only the two of them in the break room. While her co-worker was nearly glued to watching the handsome researcher, she continued to eat her tuna fish sandwich shrugging slightly.

“He seems intelligent enough to figure it out.” It was an obvious statement. She heard the blinds snap closed. “What?” Her co-worker stared at her rolling her eyes. 

“Why do you do that?” 

“Do what?” She picked at the crust of her bread looking down. 

“Pretend like you have some special bond with him. Like you know him.” Her eyes narrowed as if trying to decide if her words might be true. 

“I just appreciate how self-sufficient he is. It’s rare.” 

That seemed to be the end of the conversation. 

She had the night shift that evening. It was always quiet toward the end of the night. This was the time she could do her displays. She was pulling some titles for non-fiction ghost stories as autumn continued to linger into the spooky season. Her short list of titles was nearly finished, but she was missing one.

Her feet padded over to the section, checking the early 100s for about the fifth time. Her fingers wiped over the empty spot which should have held, Most Haunted Places of Westeros. It was a loose spot with several titles leaning into each other for support. She didn’t know why she was so keen to find the title. Perhaps it was because the records said it was checked in and it was not exactly where it was supposed to be. 

It frustrated her when things were out of place. 

She clicked her nails against the wooden shelf. Her eyes wandered beyond that spot to the other side. Her eyes caught the side profile of a curtain of silver hair as he stood looking over a title. Her eyes caught his eye for a sharp moment staring a bit caught in the moment. She saw the twitch of a smile on his face. Her fingernails scratched the wood watching him walk away. 

Maybe . . .

Her body moved automatically putting the books on display at the end cap of the non-fiction shelving unit. She smoothed out the display sign indicating what kinds of titles were on display, a black inky paper filled with white cartoon ghosts flying out of a white lined Victorian house. There was that missing spot though. It made her lips twitch a bit. She turned the corner to look for the title thinking it may have been mishelved. 

She wasn’t sure how long she was looking or when she had gotten on her hands and knees to obsessively check  the bottom shelves. Her hand caught her sneeze hearing the tail end of a clearing of a throat. 

“Sorry,” His voice was not familiar to her, but it was higher than she imagined it. She sniffled, turning to see the silver haired stranger holding out exactly what she was looking for. “I took one of your books for your display, didn’t I?” 

Her mind blanked for a moment looking up at him from on her knees on the hard carpet. She sat back on her ankle booties. Her glasses, silver framed completely on purpose since she had to stare at his silver hair all day and every week, slid down her nose. When she adjusted them she could see he was wearing a black button up with every button fascinated tight. So tight in fact she could see that his biceps and pecs were straining. 

She nibbled at the side of her lips before realizing his words. 

“Oh it is no trouble I can -” 

“No, please. I’m finished. Besides, you are closing soon.” He nodded his head curtly holding out the thick yellowed paged book. She could smell the age of it from here, but it was a perfect addition for her display which she desperately needed. 

She shifted upwards, unable to stop herself from witnessing the way his violet eye seemed to follow her. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. Gods, he was tall! Nearly a foot taller than her, but she could have imagined that by the way he was slumped over his studies. 

There was more she could say, but instead she mumbled a soft thank you letting her fingers grasp the book from his hand. She pressed it to her chest letting her feet take her back to the end cap. 

He watched her. 

She felt that soft eye on her making sure the book returned to where it needed to be. 

“You know we close in fifteen minutes. Don’t you, Sir?” She said merely so she could break his little stare. She was aware he knew this information.

“Oh yes, right. I should start packing up my things. Apologies again for the book.” He nodded awkwardly before returning to his table where he did in fact have a large spread of items. 

While he packed up she looked up at the cover of the book they had both been desperately clinging to. 

She wondered what a man like him could need a book about supernatural locations for. 

He had finally checked out a book. 

It was the gossip of the day among all the curious library workers. He had come up to the circulation desk with one paperback fiction title tucked at his hip. It was before he went on his two hour lunch break to the local coffee shop. Upon handing his library card, everyone now knew the name of the silver haired patron who graced them with delicious eye candy for months. 

Aemond Targaryen. 

It wasn’t long before everyone knew quite too much about the no longer stranger. She had sat back and listened as they listed his accomplishments and failures. The Targaryens were nearly celebrities, but the silver hair while hereditary wasn’t exactly an indication of a true Targaryen. Many people dyed their locks to look like the semi celebrity royals of Westeros.

It didn’t bother her much that they were searching for juicy gossip about the long haired Aemond Targaryen. That was simply human nature. People were curious when strange people came in. Aemond was an interesting fellow. She could admit that. 

What bothered her most was when they discussed his eye. 

It was no secret Aemond Targaryen was missing one eye. 

She had never been curious about the cause of it. 

What good was knowing the nature of his disability? 

Her co-workers seemed obsessed over knowing how the eye was lost. 

When they were discussing she had taken to leaving the room or planting herself on the large circular reference desk in the middle of the library that always faced him. Everytime she did she saw him catch her with his one good eye. 

She was beginning to notice it more and more ever since the first day she spoke to him. 

Aemond Targaryen was curious about HER. 

Her co-workers were so wrapped up in knowing him more that they had not noticed that they had now taken to exchanging soft smiles. It was a small gesture, but one she seemed to look forward to. She had also taken to going to lunch around the same time as him. She would whisper her request for an early lunch knowing he would softly gather his things before heading to the coffee shop within walking distance. It may have been her imagination, but when she lifted herself from the squeaky wheeled chair at the desk he’d look up and begin to pack up as if on an automatic timer. 

There was an unwritten rule not to scold him if he came back with his flat white latte with the lid firmly on. Now that they understood he was a Targaryen the rule was very widely known among patrons and the staff. 

She had settled herself at the desk beginning her desk shift for the day. Her items were always well placed beside her. Her notebook containing her to-do list was open on her left while her cold brew with a light pink reusable straw was settled to her right on top of a tissue in an attempt not to make a stain on the ancient desk. She was typing her password in the computer when she felt his warm shadow. 

“I was looking for a book.” 

Aemond Targaryen liked to wear black and green. It had something to do with the heraldry of their house in Old Valyria. Not that she had scrolled on her phone late one night to discover the reason. However today he was dressed in a rather plain looking mock grey turtleneck and dark jeans. His eye patch however was a faded olive green leather bordered with little vines at the edges. 

“Oh, of course,” His question caught her off guard. He never came looking for a title. Aemond Targaryen was used to navigating the library on his own. It seemed to function as a second home to him. She suspected if he could sleep here he would. “Do you know the -” 

“It says it is in special collections.” He answered as if seeing the curiosity on her face. She saw his head tilt slightly. “It’s on The Conquest.” Her brain worked to guess what he was talking about. There was a small smile peaking at the corners of her lips as if he were enjoying seeing her mind sort through all the titles. 

“We have many titles in our historical archives on The Conquest. Did you have a specific one in mind?” She hated to give up and not give him an answer, but -

“How many titles?” 

“Twenty six.” Her eyes nearly widened at her own memory. 

His lashes fluttered as he chuckled softly. 

“You know the collection quite well, Miss . . .” 

She spoke her name. Her voice cracked a bit at the letters. 

Gods was he handsome. 

She hated that.  

“Perhaps you can show me the collection?” There was a softness in his voice as he asked, a politeness she rarely heard in the few times they spoke. 

She simply nodded shifting to put up the sign at the desk signifying she was off desk. Her fingers shuffled for the keys to the private room and various locked cabinets in the drawer. He waited and watched her as she moved. She momentarily thought to break the silence of the soft echo of their heels by asking him of his research, but slowly thought it was none of her business. 

The historical archives room was a space on the opposite end of the library. Individuals rarely went in there, but there was the occasional reporter or request that came in from across the country asking for a scan of a record. Generally civilians didn’t ask too much for the room unless they were doing family research. 

“Conquest.” She muttered under her breath a few times in a sing-song tone. 

She noted he was leaning against one of the shelves before she turned to give him a stern look. 

“Please be careful. That is original furinture.” She hadn’t meant to sound so harsh. It appeared to work though. Aemond Targaren acted as a caught child straightening up, folding his hands behind him. “Now as I said we have a number of titles on The Conquest.” 

“Twenty six.” He repeated her own words. 

The high ceilings seemed to echo those words. 

“Yes,” She swallowed, moving to tap her fingers along the first of several glass cases that bordered the room. “Most are in these cases, if you want to -” 

“I know what I am looking for.” Aemond said. 

He scrolled confidently over to a small cabinet near the exit of the room. It held many titles that were distinguished as being from two hundred years ago. She hesitated before going to the cabinet to join him. She followed his line of sight to see that he was eyeing the only spine with no title. 

“These are rarely looked at.” The librarian started out loud. “There is a procedure if you wish to look at them.” She started to move to the small drawer underneath the cabinet pulling out supplies. There was a small pink plastic bin she settled on the table. The brunette could feel his eyes watching her. She adjusted her glasses hoping he did not notice they were fogging. 

“I’ll need your id.” She shifted the little card bin brushing off some dust from infrequent use. “You’ll need to wear these gloves to look at the item.” Her finger shifted the small pump of hand sanitizer and box of tight blue latex gloves. “Put the sanitizer on your hands before the gloves.” She lined the items out in the order he needed to use them. Her eyes fluttered up to him. Aemond slowly turned his head toward her, eyeing the items. “The item must remain in this room. Any damage -”

“I will not damage the item.” He stated coldly. 

“Any damage to the item will be noted. There are cameras in this room.” That last line was one she should not have stated yet she still pointed them out to the man. He did not follow her finger, but instead remained looking at her. His focus made her cheeks hot. “Do you have any questions?” 

“Will you be watching me the entire time I read?” There was a cheekiness there in his tone.

“Only if you would like me too.” She wasn’t sure where her own flirtation had come from. 

“Hmmm . . .” He wondered if he wanted that. “I should not keep you. I will not be long. I simply need to make some notes.” His hand patted his jean pocket where she could see the spirals of the notepad sticking out. 

The librarian shifted her keys hating how close he leaned to her, hating more how she could very much see how her fingers trembled as she opened the door. She could smell his cologne on him, something she had not noticed before. It was soft and musky like a forest after a very heavy rain when every pine was fresh and wet. She shifted to put the gloves on herself retrieving the delicate item from the cabinet. 

He did as instructed. Aemond Targaryen placed his driver’s license in the bin. He wet his hands with a slow spurt of santizer rubbing it between his two hands while watching her. He slipped the gloves on with ease. 

“I will come check on you in fifteen minutes.” 

With that she left him to his business fully aware that his eyes trailed after her when she left. 

Her mind could not focus on the tasks she had left. Her emails remained a blank white screen. Her voice trembled slightly as patrons came to the desk asking computer based questions and looking for titles. One young woman even asked if she was alright. 

Gods, what was this man doing to her? 

It had been exactly sixteen minutes when she had a chance to go check on him. 

He was maneuvering from the table of contents to numbered passages. She was fully aware that was what he was doing as she noticed the gesture. Aemond Targaryen did that often with other books at the library. 

“A minute late. Tsk, tsk.” Her heart jumped at the disappointment in his tone before she noted his little smile. 

“Patrons can be quite needy.” What was she saying? 

“Am I a needy one?” 

“No. You are quite self sufficient. It is very much appreciated.” She shifted on her heels before deciding to approach him. “Did you need more time or . . .” 

“Hmmm . . .” He looked down at his small notepad. “Perhaps another five minutes. That should give me enough time to take my final notes. Would that be sufficient?” When he looked at her she felt her heart in her throat. His hair was perfectly laid back across his toned shoulders. 

“Of course. Please let me know if you need anything.” 

She walked out fast knowing if she lingered too long he may say something cheeky. 

The librarian settled at the desk noting the time. She wrote one email in those five minutes that she immediately erased seeing how it almost read as nonsense. 

“He asked for a book?” Her co-worker wondered as their shift was beginning to change. 

The librarian explained what had transpired, noting the title. 

“He checked out a fictional recount of The Conquest. I saw he’s getting a dual master’s in history and philosophy.” When she inquired how her co-worker knew that she simply winked. 

“I’m going to check on him then go to lunch.” The librarian shifted up the pink bin containing his id to bring back to him. 

When she entered the room he was not at the table. The book was left abandoned. He was looking through the shelves at other titles, hands behind his back. 

“All finished, then?” 

He simply nodded. She handed him back his id. He reached for his wallet, putting it back inside. She could not help seeing the wads of large bills sticking out from there. Yes the Targaryens were quite well off, but it was one thing to have the knowledge and another to see the cash in his wallet.

“Did you find everything you needed?” She couldn’t help herself. She wanted to talk to him more. 

“I did. Have a good lunch, my dear.” 

With that he left, letting his dress heels echo in the room. The librarian began to put on the gloves to return the book when she found the edges of a ripped out spiral piece of paper sticking out. 

Surely this didn’t belong. 

She pulled it free seeing that hand writing was not only beautiful, but the message caused her cheeks to flush. 

If you are able to get away please meet me for lunch today. I suspect you know the spot. - Aemond Targaryen

She rubbed the message between her fingers lingering over the thought that he knew that she watched him so closely. 

Dare she answer this request? 

Her heart fluttered widely at the thought of it. Her mind raced thinking that she could not get a coffee as she had already had her caffeine for that day. Why was she focused on coffee when Aemond Targaryen had asked her out to lunch? 

Instead she let her mind focus on the task at hand. She put the book away. As she ripped off the gloves she felt unsettled on her feet. 

How long had it been since she had been asked out? 

How long would it be if she rejected this request? 

Soon she found herself by her locker contemplating exactly what she should do. 

“I’m going out to lunch today. Be back in an hour.” She told her co-worker at the desk before heading out the front doors into the chilled November air. 

She shifted on her feet in line unsure what exactly she expected when entering the small cafe. It smelt of fresh coffee and cream with the steam of the espresso machine calling out to her. The clattering of plates settled on the counter for bussers to shift freshly pressed pannis and bowls of over grown gourmet salads to tables. 

Her eyes raked over the scene spread before her. It was a small smattering of people in business suits mixed with friends chatting over wide brimmed cups of hot coffee. Despite it being a short five minute walk from her library she had never been inside. It felt cozy and warm, especially on such a chilly day. 

“You came.” She barely noticed as he settled next to her in line. 

The librarian only nodded. 

“I’ve never been here.” She mused. 

“I’m as much a regular here as the library. Let me buy you lunch.” His hand seemed to hover behind her back as if wishing to touch her. 

“No, please, I couldn’t -” 

“But you will. Let me. Please.” The sparkle tangled in that violet eye making her sigh aloud. She blinked letting strands of her brown hair fall into her eyes clouding her sight as they settled on her glasses. 

Aemond started small talk about what he had liked and disliked so far in his several months coming to the location. He pointed out his favorites. She noted he settled on healthier menu items, turkey sandwiches or salads with fresh fruits. They were in a bit of a heated discussion on whether fruit belonged in a salad when it was their turn. 

“The usual Mr. Targaryen?” The young woman with a nose piercing and big bright eyes asked him. Her eyes looked curious at his lunch companion. 

“Yes, but I will also be getting lunch for my date here.” 

The noise of the place roared silent in her mind, though she suspected the world continued around them. 

Date? 

Date?!

Date . . .

“My dear, what would you like?” He asked it as if he had asked her several times. 

“Oh, um . . . caesar salad, no croutons, add avocado.” 

It was her go to with any location, though avocado was not usually something many cafes could accomedate. This place seemed able to provide her with it. When asked for her drink she had ordered a tea. It seemed like the correct beverage for a location such as this. 

Aemond found them a table. One that she suspected was another regular spot. It had an amazing view of a small garden outside. She tugged at her coat as she prepared her tea seeing that they had quite an assortment of flavors. She tried not to focus on how nice he looked with the sun shining in his long silver locks. She certainly wasn’t watching his lips against the cardboard cup sipping at his latte. 

She settled her tea on the table before removing her coat. His eye watched her every movement as if taking in each small gesture to memory. 

“I’m so glad you came.” She swallowed at the words looking at him. “I really didn’t think you would.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“You are . . . hmmm . . .” He hummed into his cup before taking a deep sip. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Very professional. I did not think dating a patron would be something you would consider.” 

It wasn’t. 

She sipped at her fruity tea without saying those words. 

“Why did you come to lunch with me then?” He scratched at his cup. 

“Curiosity.” She hummed with a shrug. 

“Is that all?” He nearly laughed at the notion. 

“I would not have come if I thought I wouldn’t enjoy myself.” It was true. Why would she waste her time on a boring person? Aemond Targaryen was intriguing. She could not deny him that. 

“You are so kind to say that. Not many people would have taken the offer.” 

They watched as their food was settled on the table. Another young girl seemed to let her eyes linger on him as she placed his roasted turkey sandwich with kale chips in front of him. Her salad was nearly a second thought. 

“You see.” He told her motioning as the bus girl let them be. 

“See?” She positioned her utensils beside her just as she liked. 

“Do not play dumb with me, my dear. I know you see.” His voice was lower, harsher, filled with a feeling she could not put her finger on. 

“You do not need me to tell you that you are intimidating and handsome.” Her fork stabbed at her salad as she used her knife to cut it into smaller pieces. 

“Handsome?” He cooed. 

“Don’t get a big head about it. I am aware you know everyone at the library is nearly falling over themselves to bask in your presence.” She was nearly bitter about it as she spoke. 

“Not you.” 

“No, I’m just better at hiding it.” She was. She had taken the time to hide any feelings she had, bury them deep until she could not feel them any longer. Many of her therapists called it unhealthy, but it never stopped her from doing it. 

“What else are you hiding, my dear?” He hadn’t touched his food. Aemond Targaryen was looking at her with a bewitched look as if he could fall in love with her at any moment. 

“Keep taking me out on dates and maybe you’ll find out.” 

He did just that. 

Aemond Targaryen, the more she thought about it, seemed to be enchanted by her presence. They had taken to going out to lunch twice a week. Occasionally they would hold hands on line as they ordered, but it was nothing more than that. Aemond was a true gentleman letting her guide every touch and subject they settled on. 

She learned his father had recently passed on leading to a fight within the family for the wealth he left behind. Aemond wanted nothing more than to continue his education. He was in a very intense dual master’s program with a hope to someday become a professor or work in another program in his field. They discussed their favorite museums and topics they both loved. 

She was surprised how easy every conversation was. 

It was as if they were good friends rekindling their friendship into a romance. 

She told him how much she adored every aspect of her job. Organization and learning were her favorite things in the world. His organization was something that caught her eye long before his beauty. 

As December approached, he began to ask her out for dinner and cozy outings. As Christmas approached she could very much feel that Aemond Targayen was more than a friend and rather a boyfriend. It was made very apparent when they walked hand in hand in the Christmas market. He had given her a kiss, their first, before letting her drive off home. 

They hid their relationship well as he still came to study in the library. He explained he could not resist being close to her, but also he still had much to study. She never truly hid the relationship from her co-workers. Right before Christmas some of her co-workers seemed to figure out her and Aemond were dating. 

They didn’t say much. 

They could be as coy and silent as her. 

On Christmas when she visited her family she received texts from him wishing her well and wistfully waiting to see her again. After Christmas he began to come into the library less though they continued their dates after work with dinners out. He explained his absence due to the fact that he was dealing with the inner workings of his family’s estate due to the sudden inability of his elder brother, Aegon to handle manners. 

On New Year’s Eve, Aemond Targaryen took his girlfriend out to a bar, Storm’s End. It wasn’t a typical location they went out to. He usually took her to historical locations buzzing to discuss the history behind the restaurant or museums with elegant restaurants attached. Storm’s End was a bit seedy with shaded lights and a smoky atmosphere. 

He had picked her up after work not telling her this was where they were going. 

Aemond had pulled out the bar stool and ordered for them. He knew her drink order by now. She loved a fruity martini after a long day. That night she sipped on a mango martini and watched him order a very expensive scotch that made the bartender’s eyes widen. He repeated the price several times before believing that the Targaryen man actually wanted it. Her hand traveled up Aemond’s thigh as the liquid in the glass seemed to disappear at her lips. 

She could hear his breath grow a bit heavier as she squeezed his toned thigh. 

Alcohol always loosened her inhibitions. 

They had not done anything quite sexual as of yet, but it did not mean she didn’t want to. 

The opportunity had never truly arisen. 

The hottest they had gotten was making out in his car before she decided she needed to go inside and his lips were bright red with her pretty lipstick. 

“You keep that up and I’ll have to take you into the bathroom.” He teased brushing his fingers along her knuckles. 

“What if that’s my goal for the evening?” She leaned forward feeling tempted to tease him further. “Have you fuck me against a dirty wall in a seedy bar? Is that why you brought me here, Aemond Targaryen?” It was only a tease as she kissed under his ear. 

Before anything further could settle between them, a large order of chicken wings settled between them. She was starving. Her fingers pulled apart the wings eager and hungry not caring if hot sauce coated her fingers. He couldn’t help himself watching her. He was glad when she offered her dirty fingers to him to suckle. The way his lips moved made her twitch a bit under her skirt. 

It wasn’t a foreign feeling. She wasn’t a prude. Her sexual history was wrought with playful exploration and deep desires. Aemond had occasionally squeezed her thighs as they kissed. His fingers would gently stroke her sex as well. Nothing more had come of it which had been a bit of a disappointment. 

She suspected tonight they could take their relationship further. 

It was especially true when Aemond seemed to take her chin in his hands. He began to kiss her right there at the bar letting his tongue explore her. The martini was empty by now, giving her a pleasant buzz that allowed her arms to wrap around him to settle into the pleasure of feeling him. Her breath was hurried as her fingers pulled at his long locks. Aemond didn’t seem to mind how enthusiastic she was being. His hands anchored her hips to the stool even as she tried to lift up to crawl into his lap. 

“You are so fuckin needy.” He said between kisses. “You want me so bad don’t you, beautiful?” She licked her lower lip at his words.  “Come on now. Let’s get you home, my dear.” 

She saw him fish out a single bill from his wallet. Her hands stroked his thigh feeling how toned he was. She would not get used to feeling the muscles on his thigh and under his shirt. He was so fuckin’ toned for a man who seemed glued to old dusty books. 

“Gods,” He whimpered. Her cold hands were inching under his now untucked button up. “Relax. I’ll take care of you soon enough.” 

It nearly sounded like a threat. 

She didn’t mind it. It was very clear how badly she wanted him. She should have been embarrassed. There were whistles across the bar. All eyes on her as she was being quite bad feeling him up in front of every living person in this bar. It didn’t matter to her. She’d never see these people again. If she felt the need she could dry hump her boyfriend here if she thought he wouldn’t spank her later. 

Though she wasn’t against spanking. 

“Aemond.” She whispered against his ear. 

“Fuckin’ don’t,” He cooed. Aemond Targaryen pulled her off the bar stool. “I’m glad I drove. You’re a mess and only from one drink.” She had forgotten what martinis did to her. She had gone out with Aemond having a glass of white wine, but the harder stuff made her a bit handsy. 

Well maybe more than a bit. 

He drove her back to her place, a small flat not far from the bar. 

When he parked she nearly crawled on top of him whispering his name against his pretty lips. 

“Do you want to come inside?” There was a lilt of naughtiness in her tone. 

“I feel if I don’t you’ll have all kinds of fun without me.” He grabbed her chin looking her over. “Your glasses are all fogged up, silly girl.” He kissed her cheek then down her neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful.” She shivered as he licked and kissed her neck, teasing the fur around the collar of her coat. “Come on. Let’s get you warmed up.” 

Her mind at the thought of going inside became more focused. She didn’t want to feel too needy and desperate their first time having sex. She wanted to be able to feel every second of Aemond Targaryen taking control of her body or however he wanted her. She shifted taking the lead to pull him inside. Aemond surprisingly let her take control letting his hand rest eagerly in hers. 

The key pushed into the lock with ease. 

Her mind floated to the idea that he would be pushing his cock inside her in a similar manner later tonight. 

She settled beside the door looking about for a moment. Panic rose in her thoart at the thought that her flat might be a nightmare. There were some piles of books beside the sofa in the living room, but not much else was out of place except . . .

“Samson!” She hissed seeing her lithe black cat hop on the counter in the open kitchen just as she removed her last shoe. “Psst! Get down.” The cat looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Gods!” 

She started padding her feet over to the cat who immediately retreated into the living room. Aemond gave a soft chuckle watching the ordeal unfold. 

“Oh you think this is funny?” Her grin softened slightly. 

“Yes. You are quite adorable when you are a bit mad.” His eye watched the cat slink under the couch. Samson watched him with yellow eyes as his tail swished back and forth. “He’s a bit skittish.” She threw her coat toward the couch, though Samson was so used to the gesture he did not move from under it. 

“You aren’t around cats a lot are you?” She took his hand in hers trying to pull his attention away from the suspicious feline. “Let me show you the bedroom. Kitty will be fine.” Her mind thought about saying something lewd about a different kind of pussy cat, but she was too needy for words any longer. 

It seemed to work. His eye settled on her following like a lost puppy ready for a delicious treat. She’d give him anything he needed tonight while not compromising her desires. Despite her up tight demeanor she was curious to see what Aemond Targaryen desired in the bedroom. He seemed quite enamored with her thighs, squeezing and caressing them any chance he got. 

When she pulled him into her bedroom she did not give him a chance to look around. Her arms pulled him down to crash into her lips. Her tongue was eager to push inside his mouth and whimper small noises against his plush lips. His hands settled on her brown checkered dress pushing her close into him. 

She could feel how hard he was for her. 

It was pure desperation. 

Her arms pulled him down, nearly ready to jump on him. 

“Mmmm. . .” He hummed against her lips. “Wait.” She let herself obey even though her body wanted to reject his words. 

He pulled from her letting his gaze settle over her. Aemond licked his lips. She could see him breathing so heavily. He was struggling to gain his composure, to obey his own word of warning. He hummed again before licking his lips again. His finger pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. It was then she noticed how hard she was breathing. 

“So bloody gorgeous.” He said in nearly a single breath. 

“So are you.” She mused with a soft innocent smile trying her best not to touch him again. 

“Don’t do that.” He warned. Aemond straightened letting his eye tease across her bright face. 

“I’m not doing anything.” She shifted on her sock clad feet. 

“Yes, you are.” Aemond tucked her hair behind her ear. “Just standing there with that little smile.” His fingers traced her lips as he spoke. “And your glasses framed silver as if I wouldn’t notice.” He tapped his finger at the corner of the glasses, a reflective silver frame. “You’ve wanted me for so much longer then I realized, haven’t you? I should have noticed sooner. I could have been doing these things,” He moved his other hand up her skirt passed her panties to her wetting slit. “To you so much sooner.” She gasped feeling his finger slip inside her. His palm held her face as he fingered her. 

“You are so fuckin wet.” His voice was low and teasing. His nose nuzzled against her cheek. “You want me to fuck you? Hmmm . . . tell me what you want me to do to you.” She couldn’t think as he pumped his finger inside her. “Oh, my dear. Can’t tell me hmmm . . .” She shook out her hair. He tucked it back together into that little tight bun atop her head. “How about I make a request then?” 

She nearly cried out when he pulled his hand away from inside her. His hand started to unbutton his black dress shirt. Aemond pulled it off tossing it to the floor. Her eyes raked over his toned chest for only a moment. He was fluid as he undressed taking his shoes, socks, pants, then boxers off until he was completely nude in front of her. He stroked his cock, from base to tip slowly watching her squirm to move under his gaze. 

“I want you to sit on my face.” 

He moved to her soft white comforter settling on the pillow on her bed.

She blinked for a moment taking in his request. 

“Did you not here me, love?” He sat up slightly looking her over. “Come sit on my face, my dear. Let me eat that sweet cunt of yours until you are trembling.” She blinked again before letting her fingers pull off her silk panties. She reached behind her to find the zipper of her dress. 

“No.” He said sharply. “Keep the dress on.” 

“You don’t want to see me?” It was an automatic reaction of self doubt that bubbled at her lips. 

“That’s not it, love.” She started to kneel on the bed as he spoke. He took her hands in his. “I have a bit of a fantasy.” Ah there it was. 

“Librarian fetish?” She was no stranger to that sort of thing. 

“Not exactly.” His soft blush told her differently though. 

“No shame in expressing what you like, my dear.” She used his own words against him. “Tell me. I suppose you want me to keep my glasses on too.” She adjusted said glasses up the bridge of her nose. She watched him swallow. His cock even twitched. It was such a simple gesture and he had nearly creamed himself. 

“Please.” He was nearly begging now. “Sit on my face. Let me make you feel good.” 

She hiked up her skirt rolling the fabric as she moved over him. She let her pussy lips skate across his cock as she moved. The groan was so low and needy she wondered if she needed to settle on his long hardness right then and there. Instead she settled for lowering on his face.His lips suckled her loudly causing her to gasp deeply. 

“Oh, so fuckin’ good. Yes.” She tried to focus on her breathing. The skirt blocked her view from his lovely face, though she could still feel how good his lips were treating her. “Let me know if I’m too heavy or you need a - ahhhhhhh!” She felt her hips moving against his mouth riding his tongue out as it found her clit to suckle. 

She had never ridden a man’s face before. Yes she had gotten eaten out, but this was a very different experience all together. Her hands positioned themselves against the plush headboard of her bed. It rocked banging softly against her egg shell colored walls. His hands held her steady and close to his face. She could not help herself in leaning into his mouth that latched onto her. His nose flicked back and forth stimulating her clit that she felt was just as needy as her. 

Her breath heaved in and out trying to focus on being able to breath. Her whimpering was a bit pathetic, but the more noises she made the more vigorous Aemond seemed to become. His hands were under her dress holding her hips against his mouth. She could hear the loud suckling against her cunt along with the slobbering mess he was drooling over her cunt. His moans and delicious little noises spurned her on. 

“Aemond, I’m close. Aemond . . .” There were no words any longer, but she could feel him move her skirt. Her eyes closed as she felt herself unravel on his mouth. 

Her hands laid flat against the headboard. Her hips rutted against his mouth riding out her little high. Her eyes finally settled downward to see he had moved her skirt to watch her face as she came undone. She licked her lips seeing how latched he still was on her cunt. It felt raw feeling her cunt in his mouth, seeing him looking up at her with blown back black eyes. 

She started to move, but he anchored her there in his mouth, moaning in protest. He closed his eye, beginning to kiss and lick her cunt then slowly toward her inner thighs. 

“Aemond . . . please.” She didn’t know what to say after. He was moaning and licking. She felt her face flush as she could feel her arousal leaking from her. “Let me . . .” 

“You are behaving perfectly for me.” He said between kisses on her cunt. “Ride my face again. Just like before.” He moaned into her again. 

“Don’t you want me to ride your cock?” She groaned so sweetly as she nibbled her bottom lip. 

“Fuckin’ temptress.” He groaned, releasing her. “Go on then. Get on it.” 

She pumped her hips a bit over his lips letting his nose tease her clit before maneuvering to where he wanted her. She hovered over his cock. Her hands skated over his toned abs not able to help herself in giving a tone that spoke to her admiration of his body. 

“If you liked how my pussy tasted,” Slowly, ever so slowly she lowered herself despite the impatience that screamed across his features. “You’ll love how it feels.” 

He cried out with her as she sank on him in one quick motion. Her cunt was used to a slow easy stretch that she wanted to test herself to see how she might react if she let his cock in with a singular motion. It felt unexpected, a bit unpleasant, and incredibly satisfying. 

“Gods, you are so full of surprises.” He groaned under her. She saw tears catch at the corner of his eye. He let out a little whimper again. His hands snaked to her hips, so round and canting. “Shit, you feel . . . Gods . . .” She was moving. It was causing him to groan and lose his words. “Please don’t stop.” 

One hand anchored her hip while the other moved to knead her breast. She helped him find the right rhythm of squeezing and brushing his thumb over her nipple which was rapidly hardening under her bra and dress. Her hands caressed his torso wanting so badly to feel him inside and out. Her hand occasionally raked through his long silver hair. 

“So beautiful.” She mumbled. “All mine.” She loved to be a little possessive when it came to the people she loved. Her mouth pulled close to him testing to see if he would let her say those words to him without wanting to turn the tables on her, possess her fully. 

“I’m . . . yours.” He breathed between her kisses. 

It prompted her to ride him hard. It allowed him to curse. He let out words in a language she did not understand. The tone of it sent her out of control. His hands were against the small of her back pushing over her clothes harder against him. She kept kissing him, riding him, and calling out his name. Her body skated past an orgasm. Her hand snaked under the skirt nearly crushed by her own movement. 

She stroked her clit, but he came before she had a chance. 

His softening cock made her whimper. 

He hummed as he let himself fall back on the pillow. 

Aemond pushed her hip slightly, a gesture for her to dismount from him. She suddenly didn’t feel so in control or sexy rolling onto her back beside him. 

“Good?” She wondered nuzzling her nose to his throat. 

“We’ll get there.” He chuckled. His eye watched as her face grew near offensive. “I prefer to have my partner orgasm first, but first times are about learning. You are such an interesting subject. I can’t wait to study what makes you tick further.” He wrapped her in his arms, snuggling her. 

She felt his lips kiss her forehead. 

“Happy New Year, my dear.” He whispered against the shell of her ear. “Let me know when you are ready to go again.” His lips curved against her cheek. She could feel his silver hairs tickle her neck. 

“Ready whenever you are, love. This time I want you to see all of me.” 

The sex was good. 

The sex got better with each passing day. 

Every date ended at her place, in her bed. His appetite for her was nearly all consuming. The little brunette was able to put the Targaryen man in place if he came on too strong. It was rare though. Her hunger for him was just as dark and consuming. 

She had yet to see his place, which bristled her only when her co-workers mentioned it. 

“What’s he hiding over there, huh?” They asked. 

Her mind often wandered of what she truly knew about Aemond Targaryen besides the surface level things she saw or read. She knew he was intelligent, but that was clear seeing him study every day or looking at his various professional profiles online. He was well mannered. He loved to touch her any chance he could get. He desired her openly when they were sitting at a bar or in a restaurant or at the theater. 

She didn’t mind constantly being touched. There was a sweetness in having a needy man at her heels wanting her so badly he’d do just about anything. It felt a bit possessive at times, but when she told him to stop he was very obedient. She suspected being told what to do turned him on. 

Her little dirty talk in the bedroom had kept him coming back for more. Or maybe it was her alone. He made her feel so special. He was beginning to lavish her with gifts besides fancy dinners and mind blowing sex. 

Fuck he ate her out so fuckin good. 

He never gave her a single piece of jewelry. Every gift was thoughtful and exclusive to her. Aemond had her favorite Jane Austen book rebound and custom made. It was etched in a solid gold cover looking like a glorious piece of art. She had nearly cried when he given it to her. Aemond gave her a small custom set of seeds with men he hired taking over her outdoor garden when he saw her reading over how to grow her own food. 

She was waiting until the spring to plant them on her little porch outside her flat, but the landscaping had been a delight.

“He’s too good to be true.” 

The words echoed in her head from her mother, her co-workers, and anyone else who seemed jealous of her happiness. Those little words ticked in her brain every time she felt too happy with her silver haired beau. Her heart pounded at the thought she might lose him to her own inability to take happiness at face value. 

Her fingers still trailed in her overthinking. 

Curiosity itched at her brain, but she refused to let it win out today.

He was taking her to Rook’s Rest, the most exclusive and expensive resturant. On Valentine’s Day no less. She had questioned how he could get in several times. He had simply told her he knew she would love their menu and he wanted nothing but the best for his woman. 

Aemond had started out the day sending a delivery of a dozen perfect roses in a hand blown glass vase that appeared as the open mouth of a dragon. 

He didn’t spend all day at the library instead letting her anticipate his arrival when he picked her up from her flat. 

She wore a long black gown with silver collared jewelry and pearl earrings. 

“The things I am going to do to you tonight . . .” 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time Mr. Targaryen.” 

He did. 

Fuck did he know how to show her a good time. 

Perfect dinner.

Perfect atmosphere. 

Perfect company. 

When he pulled up to the high rise penthouse she was surprised. It was gorgeous, tall, and a bit overwhelming in the moonlight. 

“Let me show you where I live.” 

Her heart pounded as she craned her neck. He pulled her into the elevator finding her lips and hips. He grabbed her, whimpering low and needy. Her toes curled as she perched on her toes. Even though she had heels on she was still so much shorter than him. 

She barely had time to truly take in Aemond’s penthouse. 

She knew that when the elevator opened it was to his entire room. 

Everything else blurred. 

There were certain aspects of the night that stuck in her brain. 

He had put a red ribbon around her throat requesting that was all she wear.

His hand squeezing and spanking her ass. 

His lips eating her out like she was his dessert. 

His cock so hard bending her over the bed as he fucked her from behind. 

His cum flowing against her cheeks. 

It happened over and over again until she wanted to beg him to stop, but didn’t because deep down she felt so incredible. 

She felt his hands grip around her waist in a semi possessive, semi comforting gesture. He nuzzled his nose in the crock of her neck where the ribbon met her skin. The librarian took the opportunity to let her curiosity win out deciding to scroll through her phone. 

Her mind fell down a curiosity hole going over that strange bar on New Year’s Eve. She researched the bar itself learning it had a nefarious history. Since it first opened back in the 70s there had been an insane number of bar fights and alleged murders that occurred both inside and outside of Storm’s End. 

Her fingers halted on the most recent death that had lingered on Halloween night just a bloke away from the bar. 

A stabbing. 

Lucerys Velaryon. 

Aemond Targaryen’s nephew. 

Several articles indicated Aemond Targaryen as a person of interest citing a childhood rivalry and -

Her fingers clicked out of the article. 

She looked over to the man cuddling beside her. 

Did she really know him? 

She blinked away that thought. Her eyes settled onto the room. Her mind noted details. It was dark. The walls were coated black. His bed wasn’t high, but low. It was the easiest bed to get on for her tiny frame. He had no doors in his penthouse. Everything was open including the bathroom. She peeked in from the bed, seeing that instead of a mirror above his sink there was a painting of a beautiful landscape of a dark stormy night over a looming castle on a monstrous island filled with mountains. 

There were no mirrored surfaces. She could even see from here that his kitchen was so bare. She decided to slowly wander over once Aemond entered REM. She felt his little lashes twitch against her backside. Her hips slipped out of his grasp easily though she could feel his exhale of hot breath at her back. 

She ventured into the kitchen, nude and feeling out the rest of the penthouse. The little brunette had suspected his place to be spotless, but she could see now Aemond Targaryen had an organized mess. His books were not on his empty shelves, but instead piled at each side of his love seat. The titles were very much him, textbooks on history, books of maps, of business proposals, and titles on real estate. 

On the counter top in his beautiful kitchen were a smattering of menus. Upon entering she could feel a sense of coldness there. Aemond had never been shy about his lack of cooking skills. Now she could see how truly bare the environment was. He had a smattering of greasy take away menus on the counter, folded and unfolded as if he had looked over them too many times. Each drawer she opened showed her the studio penthouse’s kitchen had never been touched. 

Every utensil had a newness and shine to it that verged on disturbing. In the refrigerator laid takeaway leftovers, a case of beer, and a bottle of overpriced lemonade. In the freezer were microwaves meals, a stockpile as if he were preparing for an apocalypse. They nearly fell atop her when she opened it. 

Her body, nude and slightly vulnerable, moved to the open walk in closet between the kitchen and living room. 

No door. 

No secrets. 

It could be the reason he waited so long to bring her here. 

Aemond Targaryen was a bare mess here. Her eyes faltered to his position in bed. He pulled the expensive silk sheets to his sweaty form. Her feet felt warm on the heated floor. He had bragged about installing it letting her mind wonder what it felt like to wiggle her toes on such warmth. Her hand flicked on the light. 

It wasn’t the contents of the closet that struck her first. 

Those were boring and unremarkable. She had seen his entire wardrobe at this point in their relationship. What she had not seen was the newspaper clippings that pressed firmly against the wall of the closet’s entryway. The articles were of take overs of large corporations from his father. There were articles that mentioned the name Aemond Targaryen, tabloids that talked about the day he lost his eye in a simple minded childhood fight with his nephew, Lucerys. In the middle of it all was a blown up article of the night his nephew died. 

Every mention of Lucerys was underlined in red ink, over and over again. 

He could not forget. 

He could not forgive what was done to him. 

“Naughty little girl.” She felt his weight against her back. His hand played with the bow loops around her neck. “Too curious for your own good. Hmmm . . .” His kiss was sloppy at her throat. Her eyes closed on instinct. 

“Don’t act surprised.” The librarian was constantly looking for more information. The academic was always looking to learn. It’s what made them good together. It’s what made her terrified and aroused as he pinned her against the looming article on the wall. 

“I don’t have to explain myself like some villain. You understand, my dear. You understand what needs to be done to you.” 

There were two options. 

Another article to the wall for discovering what she knew. 

He was responsible for his nephew’s death. 

Or . . .

“You can feel my choice right?” 

His hand snaked between her legs to her soaked sex. 

It didn’t matter what he had done. 

She was too curious to find out more. 

“Sir, the library is closing.” It was a soft tease on a summer Friday. 

Aemond Targaryen looked up from his reading, no more studying. 

Graduation was tomorrow. 

He had on an expensive gold plated eyepatch. His silver dress shirt and pressed pants showed her he was ready for their evening out. Aemond now spent his time reading books she liked. She had given him a list. He was a fast reader and was nearly done with the several titles of what she deemed as classics. He loved talking to her about them, especially the non-fiction ones though there were not enough to his liking. 

Her little mouth still frowned at his short hair, but he had insisted on a shorter look for his graduation. 

A new start he had teased. 

“I’m aware. I just need some assistance with an item.” He let the thick romance book snap closed. 

Gods she hated that he didn’t use a bookmark. 

The words were a beacon for her to follow. Her confidence with him had grown enough that she didn’t sheepishly look around her anymore. She followed him with a small spring in her step. He now was used to looking behind him for her, admiring her long pleated blue skirt and button up that had resewn buttons. 

Aemond Targaryen loved pulling her little buttons off. 

They were in a corner of the library. She instantly aware of why. 

No cameras.

He pushed a metal step stool in the corner, never moving his hands. 

“Up you go.” She obeyed. 

The gesture was unfamiliar, but a fantasy he had spoken so many times. He looked her over for a moment, observing her on the stool. She could nearly hear his heart pounding with desire. They were eye to eye in this position, no longer was she a little meek thing looking up at him. 

“You know what I want.” 

“But it’s more fun if you take it.” Her response made him started to undo his pants. 

The movement was quick as he took his fantasy into reality, fucking her in the corner of the library, no camera, no condoms, just pure desire. It might have taken him a moment or two to get his cock hard, but she barely noticed. She felt his spit coated cock rut inside her perfectly. 

“You know what I’m going to do to you?” It was hardly a whispered question against her ear. 

“I’m going to cum so hard inside you, you’ll be leaking my cum from your pussy until we get home.” He called his house their home even though she hadn’t moved in yet. “Then I’m going to fill you up again tonight and tomorrow and every night until I get bored. But you know I’ll never get bored of you, my dear.” She held back a whimper. 

“Then you’ll move in at the end of the summer. I’ll keep you as my little whore and you’ll continue to be a good little librarian here.” He started to move faster. “I’ll marry you in a year’s time so I’ll truly be yours.” He loved being hers. “Then I’ll fuck this cunt up with baby after baby. I think four would be well within your threshold.” He palmed her belly. The thought of being full of his children made her bite her lip. 

“You’ll be so happy. I’ll be so happy.” He grunted as if the thought of their shared happiness got him close to his orgasm. “I’ll work as a curator at a museum, preferably one with ancient weapons and about history. You’ll remain here, my little personal librarian. A mother. My little perfect wife.” 

She was so close. She whispered his name. 

“You’d like that, my dear. A family, love, discovering new things about each other every day. Would that sate your curious mind?” 

“Yes . . .” It was so soft and wanting of the future, the future he imagined. 

“Milk my cock then. Let it be the start of our future together.” He pounded into her making lewd noises in the corner. 

Her mind felt white as she unraveled around him. 

He gave her what he promised. 

Not only his cum, but the promise of a future of curious behavior and his utter devotion.

[yoursweetheartsrevenge]

"Write for yourself"

Brother, I literally have more than 2 million words sitting in my drafts folder instead of posted on AO3.

I write for myself. I post for community interaction.

[yoursweetheartsrevenge]

kinda want to lick him from ballsack to bicep but I'm sure I'm being really cool about it

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EWAN MITCHELL as Martin

Fontaines DC - It's Amazing To Be Young

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My commission by @imbunnysan

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Cowboy aemond and oc!!!

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History does not remember blood. It remembers names.

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Ewan Mitchell and Grace Collender

📸: Luna Carmoon

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If nobody's got me I know tumblr's got me. Anytime I need a hyperfixation download I know I can count on tumblr having anything and everything I need.

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EWAN MITCHELL & GRACE COLLENDER as MARTIN & JENNIFER aka SPIDER in the music video for It's Amazing to Be Young by Fontaines D.C.

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Ewan Mitchell looking good in Fontaines DC's newest MV "It's Amazing To Be Young"

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Your Blood, My Love - Chapter Five - For I Dream of Only You - Allara

Summary: Harrenhal was haunted. A beacon of darkness that attracted dark magic and monsters. When Alys and Allara Rivers’ birthright is stolen from them by a mysterious buyer, the sisters will stop at nothing to take back what is theirs, but who has called who to the darkness? 

Read on Ao3

Masterlist

Warnings: sexual tension, nudity, sleep paralysis, smut (male masturbation), MINORS DNI, 18+

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: Had to post in honor of the Blood Moon, however facing some writer’s block with this fic, so this will be going into semi hiatus until I work out the plot. I promise to return to this once I have more figured out.

I wrote of my own personal experiences with sleep paralysis so while not universal in everyone’s experience, the true terror of not being able to move has always fascinated me and terrified me. Let’s add in a haunted house and a vampire. Enjoy and sweet dreams everyone!

Chapter Five: For I Dream of Only You

She was to dream. 

In this place, her bed, soft and warm. The mattress sunk slightly in the middle from her weight and the weariness of tossing and turning. It was Allara’s wish to dream of Targaryens in the night playing their parts in an ancient contract. Instead she felt her mind wander uneasy. The spirits of Harrenhal had shunned her. 

They had once been great friends and companions, whispering in her brothers’ ears when they became bothersome or summoning delicious scents from unknown locations when she was sniffling and sad. With this devilish fiend prowling the halls and using her favors for his desires, they had turned to hiss like a frightened feline. She buried her lips into the pillow feeling the heat of flames at her neck. 

It was as if they were reminding her to seek her vengeance. 

“What good would it bring if Larys were dead?” She wondered aloud. 

She felt them shrink back with a sliver of frost on her lips. 

Allara licked her lips pulling the soft worn wools over her shivering form. She felt her lashes flutter against the flesh under her eyes. The day had been long despite her need to dream. She was tired and bothered by the state of herself. A part of her remembered how he had looked when he had spoke of his potential demise. 

The blood drinker had been afraid. 

Perhaps hundreds of years wasn’t enough. 

He needed longer. 

He needed to live. 

Tales told her blood oaths of families were hard to break. Blood needed to be spilled to break the covenant. The right blood would have to spill. Allara was destined to bring him the face of who was to be sacrificed. 

She had not met a single Targaryen from the second marriage, but she did read.

Gossip columns and trashy celebrity news sites loved to go on about the explicits of the rich and powerful. 

The Targaryens were a favorite topic of discussion especially with a legal battle pending in the wings. 

When her hair sprayed out dark and long against the pillow her body felt as if it fell through the mattress. Her flesh felt speckled with wetness. The water against her skin was not cold with ice, but warm as a bath in winter. Her chest downwards felt warm and wet as she sat across from a stringy haired looking young man in a hot tub. The crickets sputtered in the night ait as he pressed a green glass bottle to his lips, sucking the last intoxicating drops from the neck of the glass. 

More bottle of various shapes and sizes surrounded him. 

This was Aegon Targaryen. 

There was a quiet looking blonde girl swirling her fingers at the bubbles beside him looking uncomfortable. Aegon pulled at her little white bra fumbling with the straps. She pivoted her body a bit, clearly not enjoying his advances. 

“Oh come on,” He said slightly whiny. “Don’t be such a tease.” He hiccuped slightly blinking his eyes, clearing drunk. “Just,” He pulled her closer to him. “Sit on my lap. You’ll see how much I appreciate your company.” 

She appeared to have no choice. 

Allara moved in the water as if she were present. She stood up over the two as the young girl trembled on Aegon’s lap. Leave, she hissed in her mind pulling at the girl. Even as Aegon tried to pull her back to his lap he could not. She dreamily walked out of the tub and back toward the house passing a silver haired woman, hair down in a thick green set of long sleeved pajamas with gold stitching and a loose robe.

“Aegon.” The woman said. She was more than likely Helaena. She pulled tight the ties at her waist to secure the plush robe. “Mum wants you to -”

“Yes, there are lots of things our mother wants.” He scowled looking past Helaena at his retreating companion. “Does not mean she will get them.” He leaned back in the hot tub spreading his arms feeling the heat and jet streams work across his lower back. 

The young woman folded her arms looking to her brother. There was a sadness in her face Allara recognized, a soft sort of confusion and contempt for others around her. 

“There’s a black cloud sitting across from you.” It was then that Allara realized the silver haired woman was staring curiously at her, as if she saw her. “Be weary of the sharp company it keeps.” Aegon seemed to not pay attention to what he deemed as a cryptic warning. 

Helaena Targaryen’s eyes played across Allara as she sat frozen in the hot water observing the scene. She nearly seemed cat-like in appearance, staring off in the distance. 

Go to sleep Helaena Targaryen, she tried reaching for the woman’s mind across distance and reality. Her body seemed to ease at these words. It was as if she was giving permission rather than a command. 

There’s so much screaming where you are, how do you sleep? 

The words of the younger Targaryen made her shiver. She could not hear the screams so violently as Harrenhal still favored her as a Rivers witch. However a young Targaryen nearly all human and unfamiliar with the plights of the spirits of Harrenhal would hear the touch of agony. 

“They scream only for those who do not understand their torture, their curse.” She said aloud testing to see if anyone would hear. 

Helaena seemed to continue to wait for an answer. 

She had dreamy like abilities and an open heart, but was not quite fully alive to the nature of her gift, perhaps stunted by a cruel mother and ununderstanding father. 

“Let me have a wank and then I’ll be inside. You scared away my prospect of the evening.” Aegon let his hand travel further downward as Helaena looked away disgusted before heading inside. 

Allara was not keen to watch Aegon Targaryen touch himself to completion. Her mind wandered over to other prospects. 

“He refuses to come inside.” Helana said. She was inside, fingers sliding closed the door. 

The room was nearly three times the size of Allara’s living room. There was a large dining table and plush couches surrounding the indoor patio. A woman sat in a lace silk green nightie, her gold robe half opened. She pressed a black thick goblet to her lips, drinking deeply. From context, Allara inferred this was Alicent, the second wife and mother to the two adult children she was witnessing. 

 “Did he try to fuck Dyana again?” Alicent asked with a sigh. 

Helaena picked up a little stuffed pig with wings from one of the long couches holding it softly to her. 

“Only a little. She wandered off when she saw the cloud.”

“The cloud?” The older woman asked, confused. She taped her ring finger clad in her silver wedding band against the ceramic of the goblet. 

“Yes, the black cloud that was hovering across from the hot tub.” Helaena looked dreamily at Allara even though she could not see her. “It has traveled with me inside.” 

The woman mumbled something under her breath before downing the remaining contents of the goblet. 

“There’s a black cloud hanging above all of us these days.” She licked her lips. Allara could see the shine of red wine staining the woman’s white teeth. 

Allara reached over to touch her hand almost in reassurance. She felt a deep coldness at the surface of the knuckles. Helaena held the stuffed creature closer to her chest with a soft whimper. 

“What is wrong, my dear girl?” Alicent’s eyes looked up, her eyes turning an eerie yellow shade. 

“The cloud is bleeding.” 

At those words, Allara felt her body forced backwards into darkness. The darkness cradled her as her breath struggled. It was as if someone or something was choking her. The hold felt strong in her body. Allara tried to find her hands, to claw and feel something other than paralyzation. She tried to force herself out of the nightmarish experience. 

Sleep paralysis was not uncommon to her. 

However when she was younger the spirits would pull her out of it with small desperate hands. 

Loving hands. 

Needy hands. 

Their disappointment was evident in this moment as they refused to help her as she attempted to move. 

Come here, sweetness.

His voice beckoned her away from her own body. 

Her eyes adjusted from the darkness to see through the frosted glass of the shower. It was her parents’ en suite. She knew because a few times her mother had ushered her in when she had scraped her knee or bumped her head aiding her with kisses and bandages. There were stone tiles against the back wall, greyed and browned, but they were not what caught her eye. 

He was bare flesh looking up to the shower head letting the thick droplets of water pelt him. His long wet silver hair cascaded down his back clinging against deep rooted and rotting scars. She could see the stillness of the sapphire in his eye. 

His cock. 

Well. 

It too caught her eye. 

“I do not mind you looking.” He said with a soft voice. His tongue rattled off something in an ancient language. “Hmmm . . . “ His hand ran between his pecs to the base of him. Slowly he began to stroke himself. “To know you are there . . .” He moaned softly. “It is intoxicating.” 

Allara felt herself unable to look away from the sight. He was touching his cock, long and wet, thinking of her. There was a heat that rose in her soul, for her body laid a soft distance away, paralyzed unable to rest or wake. One hand of his pressed to steady himself against the space below the shower head. She saw his hand move faster on his cock pulling at foreskin to make him hard and needy. 

“Dream of me. Of the things I will do to you someday when you are willing and wanting. When you can no longer stop yourself from coming to my chambers.” It was a strange thing to hear him this way. It was as if she were intruding on a private moment, though she knew he was aware she was watching. 

She felt herself in the shower with him. Allara could hear his jagged breath as he drew closer to release. The anatomy of a vampire fielded question after question in her mind, but the shuttered longing told her enough. In this moment he was nothing, but a needy man like the rest of them.

Release for me, she whispered through dreams and desire. Her hand ghosted a top of his feeling for just a moment: the wetness of water, the heat of pre-cum, and the hard skin of his long lean cock.    

With a sharp hissing breath, he spilled his seed letting it drain with the water below. Her hand traced the sharpness of his body, the muscles, the open wounds never fully healed, the burns, so many burns against his chest and back. The Doom had scared him, sour and tortured. 

“Years I have not felt this, but here with you I stir with desire. Need. I have never needed anything more in my life than how I need you. Your power. Your -”

Her body fell into darkness. 

Pain struck her throat.

No. 

Lower. 

Her chest. 

A knife felt as if it raked between her breasts. 

She tried to will herself to move. 

Allara saw blackness, but heard wet feet against the floor. 

“Dohaeras, Vhagar.” He spat out with bitterness. “Lykiri.” 

Steaming saliva mixed with the open wound at her chest. She could feel small, strong hands pining her shoulders now, yet still her eyes remained closed. Her body remained stilled. She could feel wet tendrils of hair, coarse and long, snake against her flesh. 

The hiss came close to her throat. She could feel spittle and rage as fingernails gripped her. 

More ancients words spat from his mouth, stronger, deeper. A hiss escaped his lips. She felt a suckle on her chest. The pain felt pulsating until the hissing tumbled into a roar. The body atop of her pulled backwards thrashing and clawing sharp nails in the air so hard she could feel the slice of wind against her exposed flesh. He spoke again in that ancient language. There was more assertive hissing. She felt the hitting of a body to the wall, more grumbled ancient curled words. The body thumped and scampered off. 

“Hmmm. . .” She nearly felt him swallow. “I do not know if you can hear me, but you will be quite sore when you wake. I will have a nursemaid attend to the open wounds. You need not worry about her anymore. I have put her in her place.” He shifted his weight backwards. She heard it in the way he creaked against the loose floorboard. “I shall see you again when night falls. Please. Rest. It is my wish for you to be well.” 

She felt the room grow empty. 

As did her mind as true sleep began to over take her. 

[yoursweetheartsrevenge]

Disease - Chapter Eleven - Goodbye - Ettore

Summary: Ettore finds himself face to face with a new inmate, his ex. Will their tragic circumstances bring them closer together or be the end of them?

Read on Ao3

Masterlist

Warnings: smut, violence, murder, MINORS DNI, 18+

Word Count: 2.5K+

Chapter 11 - Goodbye - Ettore

His head was on her belly. His arm was draped around her prone body cushioning her in a squeeze of a hug. His lips gently kissed that beauty mark on her hand. 

“I should have used my words.” 

After months together on this ship Ettore had finally let himself break down. He didn’t know what their future held, but he knew he needed to tell her what had happened. 

“You’re right.” She mused pushing her fingers through his hair, nearly long enough to tug. “But I understand. Now I understand.” 

He had come to her tonight. 

Ettore had planned that he would enact his loose idea of a plan right before Dibs could figure out who fathered Amelia’s child. He hadn’t woken her, just laid his head on her belly, a bit lumpy and hard from the early stages of pregnancy. 

His baby. 

He recalled that over and over again before he told her. 

Ettore had been scared that night. Of himself mostly. He did love her. He always loved her, but something had broken inside him letting his monster free. The years of not taking control had taken over him as if he were a rubber band finally snapped. He took whatever loss of control to heart. 

That man had taken his girl. 

She had taken as well. It was in her right to take her revenge. He had felt that monster burn inside. 

He was so afraid when he finally let his hands from around her throat. 

He could do that to her again. 

Ettore WOULD do that to her again. 

There was too much love there to allow himself that sliver of happiness. 

He could not risk harming her again so he removed himself from the equation. He let his anger and hurt out in terrible ways on others. She wasn’t there to rein him in. Amelia wasn’t there to offer him his name as anchor back to the reality they shared together. 

He drove himself away to never hurt her again. 

Now he was here, resting on her belly filled with life. He was hurting her again this way too. Ettore supposed he couldn’t help himself in hurting her. Perhaps that was the price of love, a tug between hurt and absolute devotion. He nuzzled his nose into her skin, feeling her pet his him softly. 

“You’re here. You’re here now. That’s what matters most.” She continued to play with his hair and tickle his nose. Her fingers tugged at the warm edges of his ears. 

He whimpered a bit. 

“I didn’t forget you. I’ll never forget you.” Her voice was so soft and full of wanting. 

Ettore looked up at her from under his lashes. He suckled at her hand feeling his body react to her touch. If this was the last night they spent together he wanted her here and now. 

Just like this. 

He moved, a predator in only a small sense. She seemed to welcome his lips with open arms. He pressed gently to her so she could feel his hardness. Amelia lowered his boxers so that he was able to kick them off his ankles. Her fingers tugged at his ears again as he continued to kiss her. He couldn’t count how many times she said his name. 

Each time made his heart sing, skip beats. 

This was what it was like to be in love he thought. 

This was what it was like to love someone so much it made his heart hurt to part from her. 

“I will never leave you again.” He told her. 

He watched her face. Ettore wanted Amelia to believe him. He wanted her to know it wasn’t just him anymore. It had never been just him. From the moment he met her, he knew he had endangered himself to anchor himself to her. 

Her love had hurt him. 

Her love had saved him. 

Their love would kill them both if given the chance. 

“Stop acting like this is the last time.” She said when he sheathed himself fully inside her. Amelia’s fingers pulled at his hair. “It will work. It will all work out.”

Ettore could not save himself from falling into kissing her. His hips were slow to press into her. He had never been more careful with her body then he was now. He minded himself as he moved slowly into her letting his thumb tease her clit as he moved. With each stroke she whimpered against his lips that never left hers. 

His name was whispered against his flesh. 

“I’ll never leave you again. Both of you.” He did not press too hard into that little bump. 

He felt the tears gather at the corner of his eyes. The pleasure built inside him nearly boiling over. He felt her hand against the small of his back encouraging him to roll his hips against her a little harder. 

“I love you, Ettore.” Amelia breathed. Her voice was high and deliciously on the edge of her own desire. “It’ll work. We’ll be happy. We’ll be together. I never want anyone else. Only you. Only you, Ettore . . .”

His name. 

His name on her plush and raw lips was all he ever wanted to hear. 

Ettore didn’t want this love making to end. 

Yes, he knew he wasn’t fucking her. 

Ettore was making love to the only person who would ever love him, the only person HE would ever love. 

Her hips pushed up to meet him. Her lovely little sounds were so soft and beautiful as he cried. Fuck, he didn’t hate that he was feeling so good that tears were spilling from his face. When he felt her kiss and lick his tears, a pureness escaped him he did not know existed within him. He breathed out letting his eyes close, crying more as he released inside her, an orgasm that blinded him to all reality they shared together. 

Hers was small and controlled though he felt her little nails dig into her. 

Amelia peppered him with kisses not stopping the momentum even as they both came down from their high. 

“Don’t leave me.” 

“I won’t. I promise.” He palmed her belly. There was fear in Amelia’s eyes. He hated seeing that. He kissed her cheeks feeling how vulnerable he was naked on top of the woman he loved. “As long as I have breath in me -” 

She cut him off with a kiss. 

“But I take your breath away.” She teased with a sweet little smile that slowly verged on devilish. 

He watched her, the emotions wave in and out of her face. 

Uncertainty.

Hope. 

Love. 

Desire. 

Anxiety. 

Trust. 

This woman trusted him. She loved him. He could not fail her. 

He would not fail her. 

There was a dark silence that fell in the room. He saw Amelia turn her head toward the doorway of the the little room. He knew what that meant. His hand snaked under her pillow to grab at the scalpel. 

“You.” Was all Dibs said. 

Ettore acted. All his rage at the doctor for hurting HIS girl bubbled up to his fingers wrapped hard around the metal weapon. His entire strength pushed her against the wall. She struggled. Dibs was stronger then he imagined, but the scalpel buried within her collarbone. His soft cock pressed against her hip causing a bit of pain as he caged her against the wall and himself. 

She bit at his hand that went to cover hee mouth. Ettore twisted the knife into her flesh deeper feeling the hardness of her collarbone as the blade moved. Blood bubbled from the cut. 

“You hurt her.” It was a hiss. 

“But you chose to kill her, you fuckin’ idiot.” It was muffled, but he could hear it as she struggled to survive the wound. 

“No, we are leaving.” 

It sounded so much stronger out loud than in his head. His hand slunk into the doctor’s pocket for the key to one of the escape pods. He had been secretly studying the scamatics of the thing for weeks, instead of sleeping. He had broken into the offices he needed to gain this information. Dibs rarely had the keys except on certain days when she had opened the pods for yearly maintence. 

Tonight had been one of those nights. 

“You won’t survive.” He heard the uncertainty in her voice. He pulled the scalpel out, stabbing her. 

One. 

Two. 

Three times in succession.

“You can’t control us anymore. You’ll never hurt her again.” The body fell in a slow slump to the floor. 

He turned to Amelia, the bloody scalpel in his hand. She was crying, a soft flow of tears flowing from her face. 

“I didn’t want this for you.” 

“It was needed. I would do anything for you.” He was on his knees beside her, keys and bloody scalpel in each hand. He kissed away her tears. “Is that why . . . you killed him? Back then? You didn’t want that sin on my soul?” Her little nod was slow and easy. “You can’t save me, love. You can only cage me in.” He rubbed his nose against her, sniffing in her natural smell. 

It made him hard, just being here with her, smelling her sweat drenched flesh and salty tears. 

“Let’s go.” He whispered, giving her a sweet kiss on her temple. 

He dressed. He grabbed his boxers, rolling them over his cock which was half hard. He heard her little sigh and giggle. Amelia palmed his covered cock. He warned her not to. They were on a time limit now. They might have a lifetime of desire if they pulled this off. He found a pair of slacks and a dark black shirt. 

Amelia pulled herself out of bed. 

Fuck, she was gorgeous, long hair she pulled back with her little hair tie, white shirt that he could clearly see her pert little nipples, and soft low hanging black pants. He held her up under her armpit. She leaned against him even though she didn’t need much help. Her face snuggled into whatever surface she could get from him. 

Ettore could feel how hot she was. 

“I didn’t realize murder turned you on.” He joked as they passed Dibs body. 

“Not murder,” She cooed. “You protected me. You are protecting us.” Her eyes motioned down to that little bump covered by her slacks. 

“We’ll be okay, love. My beautiful girl.” Ettore kissed her forehead. 

They moved out of the room. 

The pair were careful when moving on the eerily silent ship. Their feet padded softly though Ettore felt they were too loud. Her little breaths were soft against his skin as she squeezed close to him. She was relying on him. It frightened him to realize in that moment two people would be relying on him. 

The responsibility of it hit him with a bit of a tremble. 

He could focus on that fear once they were in the pod. 

Ettore could focus on the rest of their lives once he smelt the dirt of earth again and not the fake -

Tcherny was standing between them and the entrance of the pod. He had a set of tools next to him. They had all been put away. He felt Amelia slowly pull the scalpel from his hand. The older man’s eyes slowly looked over Ettore and Amelia. They fell on Amelia’s belly. 

The two men made eye contact. 

***

Ettore was buckling her into the escape pod. He made sure the harness was tight, but not tight enough to hurt the baby. He stroked her little bump looking down at it. He let himself imagine it getting larger, feeling it swell with life, even feeling the little life kick within her. He ignored the blood that he now realized was staining his hands. 

“Do you think it’ll be okay?” There was the fear in her eyes again. 

“I don’t know.” He admitted. 

They would have to be in hyper sleep for three years while the pod made its way back to Earth. He had already plugged in the directions. He had settled on their time. He’d wake up a little earlier then her to make sure things were okay. Ettore didn’t know much passed getting them into hyper sleep. He certainly hadn’t thought of if their baby would survive. 

He hoped. 

Ettore really hoped. 

He leaned down to kiss her belly one last time. 

“I want it to be.” She said through teary eyes and a wide smile. “I want us to be okay.” He held the side of her face. Her cheek was so soft and round, not the swallow cheek he saw when she first got on the ship. He pressed his forehead to hers before kissing her there, then her lips. 

It wasn’t a passionate kiss, but one that held devotion, promise, and joy. 

“I love you, Amelia. No matter what happens. No matter what. Just . . . know that.” His thumb ran over her lower lip. 

He let her say one last thing before letting her go into a three year sleep for their journey. 

“I love you, Ettore. I came here for you. I am leaving with you and so much more.” Her fingers tickled her belly. 

He punched in the code to put her to sleep. Slowly her seat rolled back. A slick shield covered and molded to her body, protecting every aspect of her. His heart leapt into his throat at the thought their child might not survive the hyper sleep. That maybe they might not survive. 

If this was the last time, he was content with that. 

Neither of them were good people. 

Neither of them deserved to escape, to be happy, but they were selfish. 

They wanted to live. 

They wanted their love to survive.

He could be his best self with her. 

If they deserved to live, they deserved to live together. 

Once she fell into her deep sleep he moved to press in the pod’s course. It disconnected from the prison ship with a resounding hiss. Fuck, he wouldn’t miss it. He’d rather die in space than rot on that vessel. However, memories of their time there settled in him. 

He had reconnected with her there. 

They had conceived their child there. 

Those memories would stay with him forever. 

He settled beside her in his own seat. Ettore let the audio pilot of the pod begin to work as he was strapped in and slowly rolled back to fall into a three year sleep with her. He wished he could hold her hand. His fingers twitched to reach out to her. Instead he let his eyes focus to the cold white ceiling covered in a film of blue lights. 

It reminded him of the bar he met her at. 

The club with pulsing music echoed in his head as the shield covered him. 

He remembered whirling around to see her for the first time. 

She was against his type. 

Amelia was everything he didn’t want. 

In the end, she was everything he ever needed. 

She was perfect. 

She was his. 

It was his last thought before the sleep faded his vision to black.

Author’s Note: Despite the title of this chapter this is not the end. We have one more chapter, an epilogue of sorts. When I was writing this I knew I wanted a happy ending, not only because sad endings really put me in a funk, but because it was something I had not seen before in a story about Ettore (not that he deserves a happy ending in those other fics). I decided on this ending before I realized the actual logistics of the lore established (three years in space!). After my initial how do I get out of this feeling I decided it’s my story I’ll make up what I want lol High Life is already a pretty bizarre film so more suspension of belief is not uncalled for.

[yoursweetheartsrevenge]

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