—   FROM THE VOID, WITH LOVE    !

Part 2 now up!

Oooh, yes yes I know exactly what I want to write for these lovely Anon prompts! (edit: oh yeah, Aemond popped off in this one...I was expecting to be writing harsh words, and maybe threatening...but nah he uh kills them)

Aemond x wife!reader | crude language | protective Aemond | violence

Moonlight washed over your face, the cool night breeze rustling your skirts as you snuck outside the Keep walls. You knew he waited for you, just below the descending stone steps in front of you, awash in silver light.

You saw a figure in a cloak, hooded and tall, lithe of frame, waiting for you, his hand on the banister as he turned toward the sound of your hurrying feet. "Y/N." Your name on his tongue like honey as your husband extended his arm for you to take. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost leaving our rooms."

"Aemond." You chided. "That's only happened once, and I had Aegon as my escort, we were both thoroughly in our cups."

"Mmhmm." He guided you swiftly down the remaining stairs, out into the open streets of King's Landing, the Red Keep a looming fortress at your backs. "You were undetected?"

"I had to navigate around some guardsmen, but yes. No one knows we're sneaking off to the fire festival." You looked up at him from under your own hood. "Why are we sneaking, Aemond?"

"Anonymity is half the fun." He mused, squeezing your arm briefly. "I'd rather enjoy the festivities with my lady without peasantry taking notice of our presence."

Firelight up ahead caught your eye. As the two of you strode forward the quiet darkened streets gave way to raucous revelry. Small folk laughing and cheering as fire dancers whirled and spat flame. There was an open pavilion with a makeshift stage whereon actors flounced about in comedic costumes. Bussers carrying platters of drink and food navigated their way through the chattering crowd. The smell of baked goods and sweet delicacies teased your nostrils as you inhaled, sharing a smile with Aemond.

Aemond did not release his grip on you the whole time you indulged in as many festival activities as you could. At all times he had a hand gripping your cloak fabric or tangled his fingers with your own. More often than not, he would watch your face rather than the performances of the acrobats and fire eaters. You would be gazing at them open mouthed in wonder at their skill, then your eyes would flick to Aemond's face, and he would be studying your expression with a soft half-smile upon his curved lips, the firelight reflecting in his lilac eye.

As the night wore on, your feet began to ache despite the support of your leather boots. You were loath to leave, even as the crowd began thinning and the booths of food slowly turned in their wares.

A group of men, huddled together near a mossy stone wall, caught your attention as one of them said Aemond's name in a gruff voice. His fellows erupted into laughter at whatever he'd just said about your husband, and your fists curled into instinctive fists. Aemond's hand at your waist indicated he heard it too, and you glanced up to see he was staring at ground, his lips firmly pressed together as he concentrated on overhearing their conversation.

You both didn't have to strain your ears overmuch as the next words were clear to be heard, spoken in a deep drunken drawl. "He's lucky to have landed a lady like her."

His friends grunted in agreement.

Another man spoke up in a reedy voice. "Landed?" He scoffed. "Bedded is more like. What I wouldn't give to get a piece of her."

You noticed Aemond had stilled so completely, he had stopped breathing as his narrowed eye flitted to the huddle of men.

"Man like that Aemond Targaryen. Missing an eye and all that and still gets between the legs of something like her." A rail-thin man took a derisive swig from a bottle. "I would give her a good fucking and she'd be able to stomach my face."

"Get bent Tarful." His companion growled, pushing the thin man on the shoulder. "I'd love me the chance to put a bastard in her belly though."

"Aemond no!" You hissed, grabbing onto your husband's cloak but to no avail. The fabric was wrenched from your grip as Aemond strode forward, throwing back the hood of his cloak as he unsheathed his sword.

There were three of them, inebriated as they were, and only one of Aemond. You crouched to the ground, feeling around for a loose stone, anything that could be used as a weapon should the need arise.

The men didn't take note of Aemond's presence until he was almost upon them.

"What the shit?"

"Who the-"

"Oh, hells take me."

Horrified recognition slid across their faces as they took in the sight of Aemond's livid face. The prince stood rigid, a hand behind his taut back as he pressed the point of his sword into the eldest man's throat.

"You dare speak of my wife in such a manner." Aemond could barely speak for the overwhelming rage constricting his throat. "You dare have such vile thoughts about her."

His long silver hair shone under the moon, cascading down his back and over his shoulders, his violet eye aflame, clearly indicating who he was even to the drunken men before him.

The reedy man reached for a small dagger at his belt, drawing it and stepping toward the enraged prince.

"Foolish." Aemond seethed, barely glancing at him as his sword flashed in a blur of movement.

A spray of blood, the man crumpled. You gasped, looking away as you covered your mouth.

"Y/N. Leave." Aemond commanded, his tone still hard and imperious. "Head back to the Keep. I will catch up with you."

"Aemond..."

"Go!"

You scrambled upright, running across the deserted courtyard, only glancing back once to see the remaining two men cowering before the Targaryen prince, his long sword still extended, now dripping red.

Few others were still in the streets, and they paid you no mind as you hurried away, back up the hill to the Red Keep. Your stomach twisted with the memory of those men's violating words, and the sound of that body hitting the cobblestones with dull finality.

Aemond was gentle and kind when he was with you. You almost forgot he had the blood of Old Valyria coursing hot through his veins. His fury scared you as much as it thrilled you. You had never before seen this side of your husband. Now you understood a little better why the Targaryens were so feared and respected, the words of their family running through your mind.

Fire and blood.

Masterlist

Take Me To Church - Din Djarin/Reader Western AU (In Progress)

Chapter One: The Beginning

Chapter Two: The Kid

Chapter Three: The Surprise

Drabble: The Union Suit

Chapter Four: The Hill

Drabble: The Henhouse

Chapter Five: The Lesson

Drabble: The Rope

Chapter Six: The Rope, Part II

Chapter Seven: The Night Trip

Drabble: US Marshal Marcus Pike

Chapter Eight: The Camping Trip

Chapter Nine: The Confession

Drabble: The Worship Service

Drabble: Oil Baron Maxwell Lord

Drabble: Ranch Owner Jack “Whiskey” Daniels

Chapter Ten: The Demand

Drabble: Frontiersman Francisco Morales

Chapter Eleven: The Kerchief 

Chapter Twelve: The Mark 

Drabble: The Exploration

Drabble: The Letter

Chapter Thirteen: The Ask

Chapter Fourteen: The Hour

Chapter Fifteen: The Crest 

Frankie Morales Box Set

Double Feature

Be Kind, Rewind 

Roll the Credits

Afternoon Matinee

Title Menu

Post Credits Scene

Home Projector

Midnight Showing

Chick Flick

Home Video

Opening Day

Movie Trivia Night

Runtime

Movie Quotes

Movie Quotes: The Sequel 

Gratuitous Sex Scene

Top Gun

Wrap Party

Sound Effects

Dave/Nanny Asks

Pioneer Frankie

Need - a Frankie one shot

MONDAY 

TUESDAY

WEDNESDAY

Alright?

Author’s Note: My box has been flooded with requests and I couldn’t be happier! I’m not sure how long it will take me to get all of them done, so please be patient and I will probably get a master list posted in the next few days. I’m home sick today, so I will probably have a few posted today. I really hope that you guys enjoy this one-shot as I love it with all my heart, but I’ll probably say that about every one-shot that I write. Requests are open at the moment, so don’t be shy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prompt List

Roger Taylor x Reader

Requested by @acidrainslutt

4. “Are you safe?” “I-I don’t know.”

26. “Shit, you’re freezing, let’s get you warmed up.”

Word Count: 1,940

Warning: Swearing, fluff

The London streets were dark as Y/n stumbled down them, her heels wobbling on the cobblestones as she did so. Old buildings loomed around her, lights sweeping through the windows, lighting up the street. Wrapping her arms around herself, trying to shield her bare arms from the cold air, she turned a corner before coming to a stop. The buildings that lined the street didn’t spark any memories. When it came to her map of the town, they weren’t on it. She had no clue where she was. She sighed, turning in circles, trying to find something to anchor her to her location. None of the street names that she could see looked familiar. But then again, in her drunken state even things that were familiar to her seemed so foreign.

At that moment she was silently cursing herself for going drinking. She hadn’t gone alone, going to a new pub with a few of her friends. But as they started to knock back shots that seemed to get stronger each time, the group split up. Y/n remember that two of her friends had stumbled out of the bar together and another was lead to a back room by someone. That left her all alone in a smoke-filled room full of strangers. The rational part of her brain that hadn’t been fogged over by liquor, told her that it was best if she left, so she did. But her brain hadn’t told her that leaving by herself in a city full of strangers wasn’t a good idea. Not until she had gotten herself lost.

Keep reading

melting Ice - Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: You are about to marry Aemond Targaryen. Your arrival at the Reed Keep is greeted with coldness and you have a hard time settling in and coming to terms with marrying into this strange family. But after a restless evening you can't take it anymore and go to talk to Aemond. This evening brings you and your betrothed a little closer as he lets you see behind his facade.

Words: 2.971

Warnings: angst?, arranged marriage, insecure Aemond

A/N: Frist time writing Aemond // English is not my first language// no beta reader// Gif not mine // no use of Y/N// AO3

I hope you like this :)

You crawl through your stuff. You've been back in Red Keep for a week, but your belongings are not all unpacked jet.

The hot summer air radiate through the stones of your new home and you whipe away a few drops of sweat from your brows. You miss the light briese that always go through your cambers in  Casterly Rock. The heat in Kings Landing is muggy and brings the stank from the city and not the fresh air of the sea. But you're gonna have to get used to it. It's unlikely you'll ever see your home again. Not once you're married. This is the fate of thousands of Ladies in the seven Kingdomes . You all get shipped of to marry and never come back home.

You sigh. At least you won't marry a man who could be your father or grandfather. No, you're the future bride of Aemond Targaryen. Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Maybe you have luck with your husbands age. And you will become a princess. That's the dream of thousands of young ladies, and you can live it. From the outside it sounds perfect. Like a song. The reality is different. In reality, you are a pawn in the game of power, securing the loyalty and armies of your family for the Targaryens. This marriage is a reward for years of service from your family.

For your betrothed you are a burden. You're back here for a week and maybe you exchanged two sentences with the prince. He was in no way rude, but neither was he really warm. You got the feeling it was more of a inconvenient for him than anything else. He doesn´t want to spend any minute with you. He ignored your invitations to go for a walk or for a afternoon tea.

Instead he dumped you on his sister. Helaena, a sweet girl who is fixated on insects and with her thoughts everywhere except in the here and now. But she was the only one that makes you feel you are welcome here. She was the one who showed you around and invited you to tea, go on picnics, walk in the gardens or do handicrafts. She also introduced you to her twins. Sweet children that you can't keep apart yet.

The Queen only gave you a cold smile and explained her wedding preparations to you, she didn´t ask for you opinion of your wedding. But you think that´s the way your life is from now on.

Aegon, your future brother in law is an arrogant prince who likes to drink and spend his time with whores. Not one nice word comes over his lip just a rude remark about your appearance as the whole family greets you after your arrival.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath and rub your temple to get rid of the slight headache.

At Casterly Rock you felt trapped. A golden cage guarded by lions. Your cage is still there, only now you're being guarded by dragons.

Is this your life now? Lonely and alone surrounded by strangers? This is not how you imagined it all. You've known half your life that you would be Aemond's wife. The betrothal was make when you were just a little girl. And of course you were excited to become a princess. Your stupid little girl dreams were full of romance, love and your knightly prince with blonde hair.

And for a little while you had hope. When you were younger, you went to King's Landing with your mother to get to know your future husband. He was a sweet, almos shy boy, with a kind smile who had discussed history with you for hours or dance with you at a picnic. You thought your stupid girls dreams were coming true.

But now there is nothing left of the boy from your memories.

Aemond Targaryen had grown into a cold man who had an almost dangerous aura around him and observed everything with an arrogant distance. The sweet smile you remembered is gone. You're sure he hasn't smiled in years.

Will your marriage be like this? Married to a stranger?

You put a few of your writing utensils on your desk. Your thoughts go to the letters you wrote to Ameond over the years, but one day he just stopped answering you. Did you do something wrong?

Was this marriage doomed to failure from the beginning?

You sigh again and try to push your thoughts from the past away.

It had been a sunny day that slowly turned into a beautiful evening. The setting sun is still shining in your window. You've already had your dinner with your mother and now there's nothing left for you to do. But you are restless. The thoughts of your future life do not allow you to find peace. Gods you are a Lannister from Casterly Rock. A lion! And not a decorative piece that gets ignored and sidelined. Aemond shows no interest in you and you want to know why. The question of what you did wrong haunts you. In your home you were always surrounded by friends, the lords who visited your family praised your kindness and your beauty. You enjoy reading and you are sure that you are a pleasant conversation partner. However, your future husband seems to prefer to ignore you.

You feel lonely. As lonely as you've never been in your life.

No! Your life won't be like that! You refuse to accept this. If Aemond wants to ignore you, he has to give you a good reason for it.

You straighten your back and smooth down your skirts. With quick steps you reach the door and leave your chambers.

"My lady, where do you intent to go?" the guard at your door asks.

"I'm visiting my betrothed." you answer without stopping. The guard follows right behind you.

"You have been instructed not to leave your chambers alone."

"I am not alone. You are with me."

"But my lady..."

"Enough." you just interrupt him. You definitely won't let him change your mind. You will talk to Aemond! But after a few steps you stop. You don't know where the prince's chambers are. You turn slightly to face the guard.

"Where are the prince's chambers?" you ask.

"I must ask you to return to your chambers."

You grimace. "You swore to serve House Targaryen Correct?"

"Yes my lady."

"In a fortnight I will be a Princess of House Targaryen. So you also swore to serve me."

"But my lady.."

"Please."

The guard shifts from one foot to the other and shakes his head slightly. "I have instructions..."

"Fine. Don't help me, I'll just find the way on my own. I hope you're willing to follow me through the Red Keep all night." You turn around sharply to continue walking.

"The other way. Here." you hear after a few steps behind you. You turn around again and look in the direction the guard points .

You give him a smile. "Thank you very much."

You follow his directions and a short time later you find yourself in front of the prince's chambers. You take a deep breath and then knock firmly on the door. It takes a moment and you are invited in. As you attempt to open the door, your guard takes a few steps forward to follow you. "I want to talk to him alone."

"My lady it is inappropriate, you need a chaperone."

"Do you doubt your prince's honor?"

"Of course not!"

"So."

"But my Lady..."

You sigh. "I know I'm not making your job easy today, but I promise to do better. Just not today. I just want one private conversation with the prince. Please."

Now it's his turn to sigh. "I'll wait outside the door. Right infront the door."

"Of course. Thank you." You open the door and enter the prince's chambers. Aemond is sitting on one of the sofas, there is a cup of wine on the table next to him and there is an old book on his lap whose title you can't see. When he sees you he stands up surprised.

"My Lady." he says confused. You close the door behind you and curtsy slightly. You hope he doesn't insist that you curtsy every time you see him after your wedding, but that's not the topic of tonight. Tonight you want an answer.

“Is something troubeling you?” He sounds cold and not really interested, but you push aside the nagging feeling of insecurity. Maybe that was a bad idea after all? But you're here now. Now there is no turning back.

"Yes, something is bothering me." you answer. You are a lion of Casterly Rock. Hear Me Roar! these are your words. And you will show this dragon that you cannot be ignored. Aemond looks at you with a cold expression.

"How can I help you?" he asks annoyed. He's making it clear to you that he doesn't want you here. But you just ignore that. He ignores you, so you can ignore his wishes. You take a deep breath and straight yourself up. You make yourself taller than you are and scrape up all your self-confidence together.

"You do not like me." you say. Aemond's expression changes just for a second, then he wears his cold mask again. You hold his gaze.

"I do not know you." he then says. The bored tone makes you angry.

"And that's your fault." you throw at him. The prince rolls his eye.

"Did you come here to insulte me?"

You bite your lip. "No." you say quietly. "I want to know why you don't like me. I want to know what I did wrong."

Aemond's gaze goes over you. Then he turns to the side, reaches for his wine cup and drinks it. Then he takes the jug and refills his cup and fills a second one.

"Sit with me please." he says, pointing to the seat next to him. You take the steps to the couch and sit down. The pillows are soft, but you still sit straight and ignore the cup of wine in front of you. You suppress the urge to shift back and forth.

"So?" you press.

"You have done nothing wrong."

"Then why have you been ignoring me since I got here?"

"If you wouldn't interrupt me." he says in a strained voice.

You bite your lip again. "I'm sorry."

"Like I said, you didn't do anything wrong. I thought you'd prefer to have time for yourself."

"I had enough time for myself. I'm all alone here. And I would like to know my betrothed before I have to marry him. But you don't even give me the chance to get to know you. You disappear all day long. I don't know anything about you. The only information I get are the gossip from the servants." You feel tears welling up in your eyes, but you quickly blink them away. Aemond's jaw tenses with your words. But you're not quite finished yet. "I don't understand why. We used to write letters to each other and then you stopped replying. And since I've been here you have continued to ignore me. So give me a good reason!"

"I have give you my reasons." he says but doesn´t meet your eyes.

"No. That wasn't a good reason." you insist. That can not be it. Because he thought you needed time for yourself? Nonsense! There has to be another reason. Your thoughts are racing and before you can stop yourself you start talking again.

"Do you think I'm stupid? Not a pleasant conversation partner? Not worthy of your attention? What is it?"

"No of course not."

"Don't you think I'm pretty?"

"Oh please, you're beautiful." he says, sounding a little annoyed.

"So what's your problem?"

"There's no problem. It's just.." he interrupts himself and then takes a deep breath. "You must be very disappointed with this engagement." "With your behavior. Yes, I tried to explain this to you."

"No. Not with that. With the engagement to me. With a disabled prince."

You stare at him, stunned, for a few moments. "What?"

"Don't play dumb. You're beautiful, you probably had hundreds of requests for your hand in marriage."

"The two of us have been engaged since we were children. That's well known."

"Won't change the fact that you have a lot of admirers. Am I wrong?"

You furrow your eyebrows. Yes, of course, many men have given you compliments and little gifts and begged for your attention, but that's normal. You come from a rich, powerful family. You were never really interested in any of that. Why should you? You was already engaged. You had your dream prince. Until he stopped being a dream prince. Before you can answer Aemond talks again.

"I can imagine how embarrassing it is for you to have to marry a disabled prince."

"A disabled prince?"

"Aemond one eye. I know what people call me."

"And why do you think I care?"

He laughs joylessly. "Of course you care."

Anger rises within you again. "You judge me? Without knowing me? How dare you?"

You jump to your feet. Aemond winces. He probably didn't expect this reaction. You start pacing back and forth in front of him. "You think I'm unhappy with our engagement because you're missing an eye?You disappoint me."

"Everyone thinks that. You must be devastated. All your admirers and you are stuck with me."

"I´m not stuck with you. I was happy to be engaged to you. Until you turned out to be a complete idiot." you stop infront of him and glare at him.

"Remember who you talk to."

"I'm talking to the man I'm going to marry. Who obviously already made up his mind. Without knowing me. That's cruel."

Aemond is silent for a moment. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Then tell me. Tell me anything, no matter what. But we can't do it like this. We can't live like this. We can't ignore each other our whole lives. Or is that what you want?" you ask, realizing you sound desperate.

"No of course not." his voice is no longer annoyed, he sounds more tired. You get on your knees in front of him to be at the same eye level again. You hesitate for a moment but then place your hands on his knees. His eyes examine you carefully, but you don't avoid his gaze.

"So where did that sweet boy I met back then go?"

"That sweet boy you were talking about lost his eye and no one cared." his jaw tenses again.

"I wrote you letters. I asked you how you were doing. How you felt. You didn't answer."

"I didn't read it. I thought you were just writing it out of obligation."

"You could have ask me." you say.

"I guess I underestimated you."

"Yes, perhaps."

"I shouldn't have assumed something about you."

"No you shouldn´t." you agree with him.

Aemond takes your hand. "I shouldn't have ignored you. I should have gotten to know you."

"You can do better now."

"I will." he says. "Promise."

You smilie at him. The conversation went better than you could ever imagined.

"And I will start right away." he then says. You look at him confused. Aemond takes a deep breath and lets go of your hand. Slowly his hands go to the back of his head and undoes the buckle of his eye patch. The leather slides carefully from his eye. The blue sapphire sparkles at you. The scar is always only half covered by the eye patch, but now without it, the scar is even more prominent.

You carefully raise your hand, but before you touch him you stop. "May I?" you whisper. He nods. You touch his cheek tenderly and caress it. "You're beautiful." You say. You see the slight blush on his cheek. A smile dances around his lips.

"Thank you." he places his hand over yours and carefully removes it from his cheek. He kisses your knuckles.

"I just say the truth." Now it's a real smile at Aemonds face.

You straighten up and come back to your feet again. You take a deep breath to bring yourself back into the here and now.

"It's late. I should go back to my chambers."

"Yes. Would you like me to accompany you?"

"That won't be necessary. My guard is right outside the door." you nod towards the door with a smile. Aemond raises an eyebrow, but you don't explain further.

"What do you think about accompanying me to Vhagar tomorrow?"

"To your dragon?"

"Yes."

Nervousness and excitement rise within you. "I would like that very much." you answer and the smile dances around his lips again.

Aemond leaves the eye patch on the table as he walks you to the door. He opens it and your guard half stumbles into the room. He must have leaned against the door.

"My prince." he says and bows. You suppress a laugh. He really was right outside the door.

"I trust you to get my betrothed back to her chambers safely ."

"Of course my prince." the guard stutters.

"Sleep well my lady." Aemond now turns to you. He kisses your hand and this time the blush rises in your cheeks.

"Sleep well my Prince." You say.

You turn away and make your way back to your chambers. Your guard right behind you and you can even find the way without his help. You are hopeful about your marriage. Yes, a conversation doesn't solve all the problems, but it was a good start. It's not perfect yet but it's better. And maybe he and you can manage to have a peaceful marriage and maybe be happy with eachother.

hi, my sweet heart!

first of all i want to tell you that you are one of my favorite writers of all time, and your Aemond fics can be considered, by me, works of art!

your writing is MAGNIFICENT!

with all this, can you write an Aemond fic involving that scene, from episode 8, where Daemon is holding Rhaenyra's hand, showing affection and strength to her? And who is faced with that scene is Daemon. — His sweet daughter with his damn nephew.

— Two dragons, two rivals.

© do not repost or translate !

characters: Aemond Targaryen x (F)Targaryen!reader.

summary: how could two people, two dragons have so many things in common including the hatred they feel for each other?

warnings: incest, explicit language, explicit words, inspired by episode 8

word count: 2.537!

english's not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes!

"ñuha jorrāelagon, gaomagon gīda." (My dear, keep calm.)

Your heavy and distressed steps were echoed by the empty room, which was lit only by the cracks of light coming from the huge window. — It was quite capable of forming a harrowing circle on the smooth floor of the cold place.

Your hands were sweating and you played nervously with your fingers, trying to balance and lessen your anxiety. — It looked like you were going to release fire from your mouth at any moment.

By the looks of it, and you've been warned, your parents, along with your siblings, are on their way to King's Landing to settle some frictions, duties and debate who will inherit the greatest roles in the dragon house. — Well, you're not worried about that, that subject never interested you as much as you were the main heir to the throne.

The eldest daughter, first of your name, hated meetings about it because deep down you knew that being a woman you would never receive the same respect that a male heir could receive.

Destined since childhood to be married to your uncle, following in your mother's footsteps; Rhaenyra thought it more correct and direct to leave you in King's Landing, of course with your father's permission, who hated the idea but learned to agree with it over time. — Daemon made a point of sending ravens with messages, mostly in the Valerian language, to you on every moon.

The rebel prince would never leave his darling daughter alone among those vultures, as he always called them.

Of course you liked the news, seeing your parents and siblings was a gift from the good gods and you thanked them. — But soon, a heavy storm fell on his head at the memory of an infuriating fact.

Your father and your husband never got along. — Only the gods knew the insatiable desire of each one to want to kill each other. — Two men. Two dragons who defended their family with fire and blood, had so many identical physical and mental characteristics and also shared the reciprocal hatred.

Your father always made it clear how much he disagreed with, and hated, your husband in the letters he sent your, but a part of his heart admired your passion for the one-eyed man. — And it was impossible to deny that you and Aemond were, in fact, a copy of Daemon and Rhaenyra.

A heavy sigh deliberately escapes your lips and your head decides to turn towards the owner of that voice. — The only voice that could reassure you at that moment and make you feel lighter and less pressured and you needed support and, especially, your lover.

As you turn around, your eyes clash with the image of the oldest sitting in a leather chair, pigmented in pure black and reddish tones, watching all your steps and features that you make. — Every simple movement or even a simple swing of your hair, was perceived by Aemond.

"Come here, my love." — It was technically impossible to deny that request. Those simple words fell sweetly from Aemond's thin lips, and ended up conquering you and comforting your anxious heart. — With a reassuring smile that came to your lips quickly, your steps made their way to the chair where your dear lover was sitting.

Your dress, made of fabric blessed by the gods and dragons and beautifully crafted in shades of black and red, paying homage to your home, swept the floor along with your steps. — That dress showed and defined your beautiful curves. — Any of the seven kingdoms would say, in all honesty and honor, that you were a copy, designed by the gods, true to your mother.

And Aemond looked to the heavens and thanked all the good gods for having you.

As you approached, a sincere smile with a touch of understanding appeared on the older's lips and he reached out to grab your hand. — A gesture of pure affection and love. — Aemond's rough fingers stroked the palm of your hand, a few circular movements but slowly. Aemond's hand, which tends to be cold most of the time, was warm but still made you shiver.

"Everything is going to be perfectly fine, my wife." — Aemond reassured you, looking into your eyes. The eldest's one good eye admired you, and tried to pass a pleasant image. — "You know very well that you have my word."

Interrupting the simple but comforting finger caress, Aemond clasps your hand in his and holds it tightly, showing support for you. Even with all the friction, differences and threats between your family and Aemond, he never failed to support and protect you. — You belong together. Two dragons and only one soul, you two defined yourself with those words.

You delivered a smile that meant all your passion and admiration for Aemond, and he was able to understand that quickly. That damn man knew you like no one else.

The huge doors of pure wood along with some stone repairs are opened scaring you and taking your focus away from Aemond, and the same happens to him but the older man's hand still remains holding yours. — Soon, one of the guards, who escorted the door, enters.

"Majesties, excuse me." — The guard, whose name you didn't know, refers to your and Aemond's presence. He was young looking and a little nervous, maybe it was one of his first days as a guard. — "The presence, majestic and of high grace, of Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon already awaits the two of you"

Aemond did not fail to notice and feel the strength you exerted by squeezing his hand. It seemed that nervousness had attacked your entire body in a brutal and deadly way. — Your voice had disappeared, as if you had lost your way of speaking at that moment, and your husband noticed it immediately.

"Allow them to enter here, now." — The elder Targaryen commanded in a loud voice, causing the young guard to stiffen his stance and quickly nod to obey the order.

The huge and strong doors of pure wood, which blocked the image of the corridor, are opened again and soon your eyes can see some strands white, like snow, and very familiar. — At the exact moment, you can have a broad view of your mother next to your father.

Your heart was racing, it felt like it would burst out of your mouth at any moment and not to mention your eyes were teary and ready to shed the tears that were threatening to fall freely. It had been so long, so many moons and so many suns, without admiring and talking to your parents.

The first steps were Rhaenyra's and in your direction, she wanted to ignore her unfortunate brother's existence. The future queen hated that dragon ever since the event that caused his eye to be missing, and if Rhaenyra could; she would never leave you in that man's hands again. — But she knew she couldn't fight your feelings and the sacred seal of Targaryen marriage.

Keeping her posture and, knowing that she couldn't disrespect her brother and even in front of him, Rhaenyra faced him with respect and nodded to the youngest.

"My dear daughter and my dear…" — A not-so-long, tight sigh escaped Rhaenyra of its own accord. — "Brother."

Aemond did not show such a surprised or grateful expression or reaction with the presence of his sister, who has a feeling of reciprocal hatred and anger. The seriousness remained on Aemond's face, until he decided to watch his uncle's footsteps.

The annoying, unhappy sound of Daemon's well-crafted, presumably leather, shoes drifted past Aemond's ears. As if each simple, slow step was a deathly crack in the one-eyed head. — Aemond hated even Daemon's gait. — There wasn't one thing Aemond didn't hate about his uncle, besides his daughter; of course.

Gently and slowly taking your hand away from Aemond's, you approach your mother and don't miss the opportunity to hug her. Feeling your mother's comforting and warm affection again is a blessing to you and warms your heart. It was, in fact, an eternity since you felt that.

"I missed you so much, my sweet child." — She whispered in your ear, you could feel the affectionate smile and very typical of your mother. — "And you look so beautiful."

"I missed you too, mom." — After you reciprocated your mother, you slowly pulled away from the warm embrace that held the two of you together and finally got the chance to meet your father's eyes. Eyes identical to yours that, in one of your youthful memories; Rhaenyra said you destined the most beautiful eyes she could look up to in all the seven kingdoms, your father's.

Daemon ignored the heavy, deadly glare of the younger man who sat a few feet away from him. The rebel prince didn't care, not even a little, about that one-eyed drama. — He just wanted to have the opportunity and moment to meet again, correctly and as a father, with his beloved daughter And not even her husband could stop it.

"issa tala." (My Daughter.) — The tone of Daemon's voice took a little hitch, leaving her weak as if he were broken or even his voice totally incapable of uttering a miserable word. — But that wasn't it. Your father was thrilled to see you after so many years. — "issa dōna tala" (My sweet daughter.)

Even with his low, wistful tone, Daemon didn't lose his poise but he couldn't hide his genuine, compassionate smile when given the chance to hold your delicate hand. — Your hand that was in a reddish tone because of the countless times you rubbed and squeezed because of nervousness. — Your father understood that and didn't want to question it.

Holding your hand, Daemon's thumb caressed your fingers and analyzed some rings, pure silver, that remained lying there and, he couldn't help but analyze his engagement ring and be impressed with his nephew's taste. — The blood color stone, the color of pure red and the color of the Targaryens, of dragons; a ruby was between your finger.

"At least he knows how to put incompetence aside when it comes to choosing a ring." — A low and brief laugh came out of your mouth when he had the privilege of listening to that mocking whisper of your father. But, something catches the attention of Aemond, who was still not very happy with his uncle's arrival.

"I hope the trip was pleasant for you, uncle. From what I understand, the tide was calm, wasn't it?" — It was impossible not to recognize the teasing and sarcasm in the words that were uttered from Aemond's mouth, and he didn't even try to hide it. The weather could get worse but that was exactly what the one-eyed man wanted.

You turned your head towards your lover, wanting to question and scold, just by looking at that attitude, but again, it was impossible but you didn't stop watching him with narrowed eyes. — Your husband's single eye met yours but it was only a fleeting moment.

"I must feel honored and privileged to have conceived your concern for me, nephew." — Daemon returned in the same tone of voice. — "But i don't deny that i'd rather stay on the ship than here."

Remaining facing Aemond, you had a full view of Rhaenyra doing the same action you had previously performed on the one-eyed. — It looked like you two were in the middle of a children's discussion, that was an unfortunate and unpleasant moment to witness and participate; and besides being extremely tiring.

"I make a point of calling that ship for you." — Aemond retaliated with a thin and ridiculous smile.

"ao jurnegon raqagon riñar." (You look like children.) — For the first time that day, you had raised your voice but not in an aggressive or grotesque tone, but in pure reproach. Either you would get the attention of the two men or Rhaenyra would. — You decided to move away from your parents and return to your starting place, next to Aemond but this time, not so close to him.

Silence settled in that dark and cold room, with a tense atmosphere. — Better that than a childish argument and that could leave for something worse. — The Targaryen without one eye turned towards you with an expression, perhaps, regretful but he didn't dare to say anything at that moment.

"Glad to see you, my daughter." — Rhaenyra decided to end that silence but as if she was saying goodbye, and she kept smiling at you and continued to admire your eyes. — "Well, i'm glad to see you too, my brother." — She didn't leave Aemond's eye but kept her expression serious.

"It's good to have them back, Mom." — You returned a smile grateful for the return of your parents and praying to the good gods that your father and your husband kept their posture and did not argue anymore.

Aemond just let out his typical and common "Hm" and didn't show such a reaction or something strange, or a provocation. — You thanked him mentally for that and soon approached him again. Your act caught the attention of the king's youngest son and he missed no opportunity to join his hand with your, as he had done before Rhaenyra's arrival.

Daemon's eyes didn't want to believe what was happening in front of them, something he would never admit in his life. — It seemed that his nephew wanted to provoke him again, to make another argument happen and maybe worse. — But also for the first time in all times and moons, Aemond did not do it to provoke or defy his uncle. He did it for his beloved, for the way he shares his love and admiration for her.

And for the fact that you could be upset with him, Aemond opted for the way to apologize with the touch. A touch that seemed simple but had immense meaning.

Of course, Aemond didn't want to feel threatened in front of a person he despises so much, a person he characterizes as his rival, but he hated to keep and create these discussions in front of you. A feeling, considered rare for one who knew only the dreaded prince by sight, of regret settled over Aemond.

Aemond's thumb passed slowly over the ring, which he had chosen, and a sense of pride and passion surged through his chest.

"I hope that the days that remain here are pleasant and possible for you." — The surprising speech of the one-eyed prince was exclaimed and listened to with great attention. The boy's one good eye landed on your hand, and he again stroked the area. — "syt ao tolī, Daemon." (For you too, Daemon.)

After the last words, Aemond began to stare deeply at Daemon. Without an expression of sarcasm, or even anger, but that didn't mean that anything good had actually come out of the young man's mouth.

"and nyke hopi ao morghūljagon." (And i hope you die.) — He answered unwillingly. Rhaenyra, again, faced her husband with no desire to participate once more in a half-baked and totally childish argument. She was already completely exhausted and Daemon sighed heavily. — "We appreciate it."

Triple Frontier - Fic Recommendations

Main Rec Masterlist

@what-the--curtains

In a Week -> Agreeing to help out your long time friend Santiago by driving his military buddy up to a wedding turns into a sticky situation when a freak snowstorm traps you and Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales in a hotel together.

@ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa

Addicted to You -> As the sister of veteran turned freelance for hire Santiago “Pope” Garcia, you grew up close to his friends and ex-military squad. Frankie Morales always had your heart, in the same way you always had his–the two of you just never seemed to get the timing right. Trying to escape the violence of a military career based family, you turned to journalism and humanitarian work in war torn countries. But three days ago your crew was ambushed and after three days without any contact, Pope is getting the guys back together for a rescue mission.

@astroboots

Telltale Heart -> It’s what always happens in the movies; the man grovels, the woman forgives. There’s a passionate kiss; all is well, cue the credits with a heart swelling cinematic score. But somehow you’re unable to forgive him.

@themand0lorian

Four Guys Burgers and Fries -> You get a petty Instagram DM, and the boys try to life your spirits.

@echo-hiraeth

The Changing Table -> Part of the Ikea series. At eight months pregnant, you and your husband, Frankie are eager to finish up your nursery, he even asks his friends to come help out. However, it seems putting a changing station together isn’t as easy as you’d expect.

@say-al0e

All That Matters -> It was obvious to everyone just how much you loved Frankie but the last thing you wanted to do was come on too strong and ruin one of the best friendships you’d ever had. So, you were content to keep him as a friend rather than risk losing him forever. Frankie takes it upon himself to make the first move.

@storiesofthefandomlovers

Masterlist

Always Be My Maybe -> Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales has sworn off of relationships. He had his heart broken too many times in the past and he has learned his lesson. He knows that no woman could possibly love him enough to sit around and wait for him to come back from missions with no word if he is dead or alive so he decides to stay single and save everyone the trouble. However, his steely resolve disintegrates when he is getting drinks with Pope and notices you across the room. What happens when one night changes everything?

@alwaysbethewest

Why Did it Have to be.. -> day 12 of hyggetober ficlet challenge. prompt is “pets.”

@softpedropascal -> Masterlist

Frankie Masterlist part 1 / part 2

@dindjarindiaries

Thunder (Discontinued) -> When Frankie falls in love, he falls hard. But so does she. Luciana García—Santiago’s twin sister and, thus, one of Frankie’s best friends—knows that Frankie’s off limits. And so is she from him. Pope has made it obvious time and time again that they aren’t meant to be together like that. But nothing can stop the romance from brewing. Throughout college, throughout adulthood, throughout the shit they put themselves through—it’s still there, hanging in the air like distant thunder rumbling above them. And it’s only a matter of time until they give into the storm.

summer -> You spend a summer falling in love with Frankie.

@forever-rogue -> masterlist

Afterglow -> After having fallen in love in high school despite the two of you being an unlikely pair, you and Frankie make grand plans for a life and a future far away and all your own. But things…happen - change.

@foli-vora

More than words -> The one person who you thought would be happy for you finally getting with someone decent was your best friend. After all, he had set you both up. Who would’ve thought he’d be the reason it all falls apart?

@javier-djarin

Feels like Yesterday -> Elena “Luna” Bohannon and Fransisco “Catfish” Morales grew up inseparable. Out of their tight group of friends, they were the closest (except for Frankie and Santiago, of course). However, it seemed like the universe was against them - trying to keep them apart. By the time they were ready to share their feelings, Frankie was shipped off to bootcamp and Elena left for school. Both were suffering, alone, thinking of everything that might have been. Every night, though, Frankie would look up at the moon and remember the old legend: “Just as the Stars were wandering into the night, the Sun fell in love with the moon. How he wished to see her move than the fleeting moments he shared with her at both dawn and dusk. But they were a world apart.” Now, Elena has found someone; someone from both of their pasts that Frankie always envied. Frankie has come home for good, ready to start his life, but he can’t do it without her. Both Elena and Frankie need to face the difficult past they share before either of them can move on.

@littlepadika

Calling Home -> You are a receptionist at the VA. Frankie Morales keeps calling. Yearning ensues…

@miceenscene

Tis the damn season -> At one point in your lives, you knew Frankie better than anyone else on earth. When did that change?

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader mood board

Masterlist: The Hunt ; Night Off ; Neglectful Jealousy ; Devious Forgiveness ; Innocent Touch

Related Blog: @eraenaa (longer fics and one shots)

Your knight, Aemond, who was always by your side, no matter how much you tried to bribe him, he will not fall for it. He was always trailing you, refusing you to be out of sight, not because of duty but because he simply needed to be around you.

You knight, Aemond, who will always savor your scent whenever you are near him. Who would always find an excuse to touch your skin, may it be him offering his hand as you walked down the stairs or him wrapping his arms around your frame whenever the measliest of threats arose, disguising his passion as protection.

Your knight, Aemond, who would always stare down and intimidate any suitor of yours. Trailing closely behind as you tried to get to know them, always quick to go in between and meddle when he felt you were warming up with any lord or prince. Unable to stomach seeing you grow agreeable with your courtships.

Your knight, Aemond, who was always there the second you called for him. It does not matter if he has barely rested or eaten; the moment you send for him, he will be rushing down the castle halls, tending to your needs, no matter how insignificant or even frivolous they are. 

Your knight, Aemond, who would always listen intently to your babbling. Nodding along as you tell him your encounters for the day though he already knew because he was always by your side. Occasionally indulging you with his silver-tongued quips as he would sometimes be the one to share with you the latest gossip in court. 

Your knight, Aemond, who had been growing quite obvious with his affection for you. Sending you small tokens and flowers. He would often utilize the lie that the gifts were sent by an unnamed lord when, in reality, they all came from him. 

Your knight Aemond, who knew fully well that yearning for you would make no difference because whatever love you two would have for each other would be a love that would be denied and could not be, for how could a knight ever deserve a princess? 

Your knight, Aemond, who would settle to just being your sworn protector just as long as he had you near. Because as dreadful it was to see you be bound to another, nothing would compare to not having you near him; at those moments when he stood by your side, he indulged himself with a fantasy and pretended that you were his. 

SEX, DRUGS, AND ROCK. + EDDIE MUNSON

m.list / nav. / kofi. summary. you devise a plan to confess your feelings for your best friend Eddie, and things quickly escalate beyond your expectations. author’s note. just started watching S4 and haven’t even finished it, already drooling over Eddie. ya’ll know I love my awkward men with long hair my god he is so fine. everyone thank Bee below for proofreading <3

[ ❥ ] pairing. eddie munson x reader

[ ❥ ] word count. 3.3k

[ ❥ ] genre. mature, pwp

[ ❥ ] warnings. no S4 spoilers, best friends to lovers, language, mature theme, slight drug usage, pet names, begging, body worship, whimpering, oral (f), thigh fetish, boob sucking, save a horse ride a cowboy, bottom eddie, slight sub/dom, protected sex, me not knowing how DND works

You and Eddie had been friends since the start of high school. You were there for the weird shaved head phase and stood directly right next to him the moment he developed his everlasting smitten crush on Chrissy Cunningham. Alas, you were the first girl to ever actually talk to him, the first friend, and at the moment, his only best friend.

Keep reading

Hi hi! Okay so those song prompts are magnificent. How about ‘17. And at once I knew, I was not magnificent - Holocene, Bon Iver’

It would be good to have something where Aemond l sees the reader for the first time at a ball or something and his own little view that he is superior to others comes crashing down because he is in absolute awe of her? Feel free to alter/tweak/change whatever!

thank you so much @littlemisscaptainfandom ! i ran wild with this one. feral. i love the idea of aemond being outplayed because of his smugness, and the ball idea - enjoy!

request a song prompt!

Magnificent

Warnings: Aemond being in deep denial lmao WC: 3333 (nice)

Prompt 17: "And at once I knew, I was not magnificent" - Holocene, Bon Iver

He heard you long before he saw you – the uneven heel clacking of a noble’s daughter who had shirked one too many dance lessons. 

“No,” he heard a lilting voice laugh, impatiently. “Like this - right foot second, you dolt.”

Dolt indeed – the instruction was lost on the girl, whoever in the Seven she was. Yet another sacrificial lamb to lure the unwed dragon into marriage, no doubt. Even with one eye and a turned back, Aemond could practically smell her family’s pathetic attempt at temptation – a corset two sizes too small and a family ambition two leagues too large. 

The prince didn’t deign to watch the scene. He preferred the game of gleaning, observation – seeing without seeing. Creating the tapestry in his mind and tracing the threads to know which to pull to watch it all unravel. It had long been said by the Maesters that when one loses a sense, the others bolster themselves, and indeed, all he had to do was listen.

Aemond heard the Dolt relinquish a dramatic sigh. “It seems that I simply must retire to the fray then Elyana, lest I bring shame upon our most noble house.” 

The younger – Elyana – huffed.

“It would be wise. How father expects to make you a dragon bride, I will never know. You cannot dance, or sing, or embroider –” 

“Yes, and lest we forget my stunning lack of maternal instinct,” you lamented. “Remember when Darya’s little one bit me?”

Aemond smiled – smug, slight, vulpine. He was right, of course, as he always was. 

The sudden sound of shattered glass upon flagstones jerked Aemond out of his wager. He acted on instinct, as he always did, head whipping towards the drunken laughter and breaking his reverie. Behind him indeed stood two girls, as different as the sun and moon. The younger, dressed in fine lilac gossamer and silver, swiftly began to chase the bard and beg for another song. 

And then there was you. Aemond’s eye roamed your figure, appraising the rich, dark olive of your gown and its deep, square neckline – Braavosi velvet, he’d wager, a show of wealth to have such long sleeves of the stuff. A little demure for an attempted seduction, he mused. Perhaps her family thought to appeal to mother’s piousness. 

The prince would never admit that this was the longest he had stared at a woman. He simply wanted to improve his skill of gleaning, listening, to compare the observations he made with the reality before him. It was imperative to absorb every detail; the way that your gold pendant heaved with your shallow, shocked breathing, and the sliver of hair resting on your cheek. There was a power in your tensed shoulders - coiled, reactive, ready for the threat of weight. Aemond felt his fingers twitch against his will, a yearning to carry it for you. 

He snapped himself back to reality with an internal grimace - the dragon cannot lie with the lamb. The music had begun again, and you finally turned towards him, face blanching at his discovered proximity. 

“Prince Aemond,” you started, eyes wide, muscles coiled – caught in the courtly snare. 

The lamb is too stunned to curtsey, he mused, watching your quick fingers wringing the golden band on your thumb. You certainly were the most radiant of the sacrifices offered to him so far. Though, he parried, there would be little use in marrying a fool.

Aemond hummed, relishing in your panic for a few seconds longer than any decent gentleman would.

“I’m half-blind, not half-deaf,” he said lowly, taking a step closer. “One would do well to be wary of the court, my lady. You never know who might be listening.” 

Your eyes narrowed imperceptibly – a flash of something Aemond didn’t quite recognise, gone as quickly as it appeared. Idiots have trouble accepting their transgressions, he supposed, but her polite smile had something hidden behind it, like the dark side of the moon. Deep within the tides of the fray, Alicent observed the scene with a ghost of a smile. She watched the girl hide fire and intelligence in her muscles like a coiled serpent, and bitterly wished that she had the same instinct as a girl. Perhaps then she could have avoided her fate of staring at ceilings and dancing with dragons.

Her prayer was silent as she observed you, implored with eyes instead of the tongue: Keep buying your time, sweet girl. Her second son was much too perceptive not to see through your mummer’s moronity eventually – she could already see Aemond’s eye probing your mask.

“Aemond,” the Queen beckoned with a regal nod of her head.

Time. She thought, noting the way your minds danced around each other, palpable. Love matches were rare, mind matches even more so – but she could see the way you looked at one another. Time and choice. She would gift you the mercy the gods denied her. 

The prince pried his eye away from you with great effort, waiting for you to answer him. You remained silent, gaze unwavering.

Interesting. He conceded as he walked towards his mother. For a dolt.

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

Your eyes narrowed through the dim candlelight. The crowd ebbed and heaved like fresh seafoam, and you searched for your sister, your anchor in the waves, like the Oldtown lightower would a lost ship. In truth, you felt uneasy without Ely, your sworn shield against courtly attentions. It had been like this ever since you were children – a symbiotic relationship, the tide to your moon. She would sing and whirl through your father’s halls, a gossamer dervish, drawing the attention to herself and leaving you free to pursue your histories and hidden halls, and hone your sharp tongue.

You finally spotted the girl by a large table of ale, humouring a dark haired young lord who had not yet grown into his long limbs. You weaved your way through the crowd to reach her, forming a courtly, waxen smile to begin your manoeuvre. 

“Sister!” You gasped, watching Elyana’s dark eyes twinkle as she recognised your ruse. “Mother requires you at once–” You cocked your head, silently wondering how every little lord fell for it. “Something about Ser Randyll?” 

The little lord – Arryn, you’d wager by his gleaming brooch – blanched at the sight of your mother in deep conversation with Lord Reyne and his son. You stifled a laugh watching his chest puff up slightly at the challenge – your work was done. You pried your sister away from the little falcon’s talons, barely managing to stifle your laughing fit until he was out of earshot. 

“Seven hells, Y/N, it took you long enough!” she huffed, preening over your shoulder to make sure that the young Lord Lannister hadn’t seen the exchange and think her spoken for. She had always been a romantic, excessively so, even for her six and ten years.

You pinched her dimpled cheek with a grin. “That’s for having far too much mirth in calling me a dolt earlier.” 

Elyana rolled her eyes, batting your hand away. “It was your grand strategy, if I recall.”

“Yes, and I accounted for the pinch.” You said wickedly, before surveying the hall.

“A job well done I’d say, The Prince heard our performance. I even refused to curtsey. He’ll no doubt relay my idiocy to the Queen, and we’ll be home in no time at all.” 

Elyana regarded you pensively, gently taking hold of your hand. Her gentleness felt like a cage to you, sometimes – perceptive, inescapable. “You know you will have to marry one day.” 

Your sister watched your eyes flutter, soaking in your surroundings like a sponge. Your reply was barely audible over the internal hum of your own thoughts. “Not like this.” 

You had decided that long ago. You knew you couldn’t escape a married fate – all women were cursed with the knowledge of how their lives would go from the moment they stepped into their first etiquette lesson with the septa. But, if you were to be married, it would be on your terms.

Impossible, father often branded you, but always with a fond smile.  If you could not escape your fate, you would fiercely guard the little time you had with your freedom as the kingsguard would protect the king.

Though sometimes, when alone in the vespertine hush of your chambers, you could admit the presence of a longing in yourself, a desire to be seen for who you were by whoever you might be sold off to. Such longing is dangerous, you told yourself. Expect the swing of the sword, never mercy. Especially if you found yourself drawn to the wielder like a moth to flame – you were lucky to have honed your courtly mask so well upon seeing his handsome face. Though you had heard takes of the “one-eyed brute”, there was little account of  the beautiful shadow his cheekbones cast, and his knowing, surveying gaze. 

Your sister pulled you out of your thoughts, head nodding to a balcony alcove. She knew the price you paid for duty as the eldest. “Go. Take your refuge. I’ll be with mother.” 

You offered her a tired, grateful smile before wading through the crowd towards your sanctuary, too close to paradise to be aware of the shark circling. 

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

It wasn’t as though Aemond had been watching you. Mother had always taught him to be an attentive host - he was merely cultivating good will, bolstering support for the war to come. He watched you grab your third - no, fourth - glass of wine, an irritated huff escaping his nose. He supposed there was little use in lying to himself any longer - he felt pulled to you the same way he felt called to the skies. Perhaps this was the lust that seemed to drive Aegon to the depths of Fleabottom every night - maddening.

The more he watched you, the more his one good eye narrowed in bewilderment. Supposedly too dim to follow a septa’s simple instruction and notice the ears of court, yet cunning enough to weave your way through this nest of dancing vipers and their hungry sons. You could redirect the attention of a young lord with a single word, and charm your father with the raise of an eyebrow. You moulded the scenes that unfolded around you, parrying dance requests with a skill he’d only seen with Ser Cole and his morningstar. 

So why the overt blundering before him?  He leaned against the pillar, pensive. The only rational explanation he could fathom was that you had heard stories of him and thought to demean yourself as a marriage prospect. The prince scowled. Of course. What woman such as her would want a one-eyed beast as a husband?  Aemond felt his insides twist and his fingers twitch, barely containing the ire towards himself. 

Despite your repulsion of him, Aemond felt his curiosity turning ravenous in his stomach as he watched you approach your sister. He could not help but want to map you as The Conqueror once did his lands – even if you did not want him, he could watch your mind work from afar. So watch he did, as your sister held your hand in hers like water. He mapped it all to memory – your hushed words, the steely set of your eyes and jaw, your deceptive smile; a sliver of his favourite crescent moon.

The hour was late and the candles burnt low. Nobody would begrudge any of the young ladies for retiring for the night – the young Tyrell girl had already sunk so far into her cups that she had to be carried to her chambers like an overwatered rose. Yet there you slithered to the alcove, alone, alert with empty company and a full cup. 

Aemond had begun to follow you long before his mind registered the movement of his legs. He followed your trail through the flurry of bright skirts, drunk on the hunt. His long legs strode with a purpose that was lost to his conscious mind, stopping when he reached the boundary of the lush, red drapery. Aemond stood outside of your sanctuary for a long while before breaching it, in an act that almost reminded him of protection. From what, he did not know. A mangled dragon guarding its hoard, he thought wryly, before stepping onto the balcony with the silence of a predator. 

The prince wasn’t sure what he expected. A maiden in tears after being shunned at court, perhaps – he wasn’t sure how far you’d go to keep up the show. But there you were, in the furthest corner of the alcove, with your elbows on the dark stone and your eyes to the stars. He glanced at your now-empty cup before clearing his throat. 

You sighed imperceptibly before turning to face him. So you knew I was here, then. The thought made him hide a smile - the idea of you sensing his presence and ignoring him anyway, even if you tried to hide that fact. Insolent. He thought. Magnificent.

You bowed this time, with a tired, chagrin smile - an apology for earlier. “Forgive me, my Prince. It has been a while since my sister and I have been in the capital. The intricacies of court politics appear to be lost on me.”  

Aemond hummed, ignoring the way his innards clenched - my prince. He rather liked the sound of that. “Yet not so unhoned that you managed to avoid that Lannister whelp,” he paused, brow raised. It made him feel less shame to know he was not the only one you rebuked. “Not to mention that little Manderly lordling.” 

The Prince enjoyed watching you war with yourself - needing to keep your shield up, yet too tired and full of ire to keep up the ruse for much longer. 

“Evading them hardly requires a honed mind, my Prince.” You snorted. A clever answer. He thought. Too clever. 

“Aemond.” He corrected. You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious.  “If I am to play along with your farce, let the rest of it be real.” He amended, making his way next to you but never prying his eye away.

You breathed a laugh, toying with your rings again. “You see more with one eye than most do with two, Aemond.”

The prince hummed. “It is of little consequence. They still brand me “one-eye” after all.”

“Little,” you snorted again, a glorious sound. Real, he thought, the soft skin of your hand calling him as your voice did. Real enough to touch. “Perhaps everything seems little to the rider of the largest dragon alive.”

The mention of Vhagar earnt you a small smile - a true one that you couldn’t quite look away from. Somehow you knew that it was Aemond’s version of a face-splitting grin.

You basked in comfortable silence for a while, noting how he had placed you on his right side – away from his eyepatch. The revelation made you frown, but left your vision unobstructed. It gave you a better look at the way his hair fell, an estuary of molten silver. You committed his profile to memory - the sharp edges that were strong, true, until he suddenly met your eyes. For once, you were speechless - the lush darkness of the night and the sweet smell of gardenias were suddenly oppressive.

“I really can’t dance, you know.” You blurted. 

Aemond artfully raised an eyebrow in question. 

“Earlier,” you clarified. “what you heard.” You tucked your hair behind your ear with what you hoped was a self-effacing smile. “I really am a terrible dancer, it was no lie.” 

Aemond nodded grimly in understanding. “There is no need, my Lady, I understand your distaste for the match.” He stood taller, and tapped his eyepatch lightly. 

Aemond watched ten emotions cross your face at once, until you settled on the one that most puzzled him; anger. Your eyebrows furrowed deliciously, something he noticed you did before you wielded your barbed tongue, and your lips parted. He did not see how your heart caught in your throat, nor the way your hands almost sprung to hold his shoulders. You slapped your palms onto the cold stone instead.

“Gods no. No, that is,” you breathed, warring with yourself before finally conceding. “It is not you, Aemond. Nor the sapphire eye that likely costs more than my entire dowry,” you jested half-heartedly. 

You steeled yourself for honesty, looking into the sky once again and sneering in defiance at the gods who watched.  “If I am to be sold off, I at least want to choose my buyer.” 

Aemond’s gaze never left you, probing your truth as if he were caught in its net. He finally understood, and you knew he did. There was little that could be said, he thought.

Your eyes were almost crazed with a repressed frustration that was finally breaching the walls of your dutiful facade. A longing to be understood that matched his own. He saw fire – not that of ‘fire and blood’, but the fire of lightning. Beautiful, terrible, calculated in its strikes. Magnificent. 

You trembled as if to cull the rage from erupting out of you. Years of playing placater, unable to unleash the true potential of your mind and spirit. Aemond’s eye flitted down to the stone, observing the shaking of your hands.

He did the only thing he knew how to and rested his hand gently over yours, the same way he would calm Vhagar. Real, he thought. Warm. Much too warm. You calmed under his touch. He understood, you know he did – years at court culling your own ambition at the expense of duty. Aemond created the “one-eyed brute”, just as you created the “little dolt of a lamb”. 

You placed your hand over his. Horribly improper – it made you smile under the valleys of his scars and callouses. You wondered if you could map them in your mind as the maesters mapped the stars – a sky that was your own. Aemond felt your pulse thrum under his fingers and let it reverberate – his hands, his ears, his heart, his bones, it was all you. He knew you would have to leave soon enough, but for now, he would bask in you, knowing you’ve scorched him for life. 

“Aemond,” You said, hushed. “How far can a dragon fly?” You looked up to meet his faraway gaze, relishing in catching him off guard. His lips were slightly parted as he stared at your own. It took every ounce of his steel restraint not to pull you to him and show you the meaning of fire and blood. 

Instead, he hummed. “Vhagar has been known to make the trip from here to Dorne in a day, give or take - ”

He stilled at the interrupting shake of your head. If you had met his eyes, you would have noticed the questioning squint of his eye. Instead, your eyes were now trained above him, not wavering from the star-spittled sky.

“No,” you began, the gold of your necklace jingling as you craned your neck - as if the stars would be able to hear you better that way. “How high? Your maesters would not tell me.” 

Aemond stared at you for a moment, finally following your gaze upwards with a slight smile. You asked the maesters. Of course you did. The thought of you badgering them in the palace library filled him with a disturbing level of fondness. 

“Perhaps we could find out.”  

Your head whipped towards him, eyes sparkling in the dark. “We?”

Aemond hummed again, this time in affirmation as he took your hand in silent question. “If I’m steering Vhagar, who will take note of the scientific observations? Maybe you are a dolt after all, my lady.”  You squeezed his hand in your own, and your answering grin was like the sun. Magnificent.

Tangerine (Roger Taylor x Reader)

Request: can u do something rlly rlly fluffy with rogah?? like they’ve been friends for years and they both like each other (like, like like each other lol) but they’re both big dumb and it takes the other band members to finally get them together?? they’re like playing truth or dare or something and freddie dares rogah to kiss reader or something?????????? idkkk but thank uu

Pairing: Smile era!Roger Taylor x Reader

Word Count: 2,200+

Warnings: None, she’s cute.

N.B: This is me trying to get back to fulfilling requests, it’s been sat in my inbox for like 3 weeks I’m sorry sksksk. Also the title comes from Tangerine by Led Zeppelin, which was always introduced as being about love in it’s most innocent form. 

No beta, we die like men.

“Really, Fred?”

“Why not?” He cocked an eyebrow teasingly, opening a bottle of wine. “Scared of what might happen?”

You folded your arms over your chest, inhaling sharply at the challenge. “Why on earth would I be scared?”

“Oh I don’t know…” He said airily, pouring two glasses - one notably more full than the other. “These games often have a way of getting a little… Personal, wouldn’t you say?”

“The hell do you mean ‘personal’?” You tapped the side of your wine glass insistently. “Pour me a real glass, don’t be a wanker.”

Freddie obliged, making the drinks a little more equal before setting the bottle to one side. You were stood in his cramped kitchen in the shoebox flat he shared with Roger, topping up on alcohol. It was late on a Saturday night after a Smile gig, and the three of you, along with Brian and Tim, had piled into the tiny living room to carry on drinking after the show. The boys had grabbed some of the cheapest beer they’d been able to find from the off-license along the way, but you and Freddie had refused their offer of a few cans, opting to pour yourselves some wine when you returned.

You could hear Brian finger-picking some familiar tune that you couldn’t quite place on Roger’s old acoustic guitar, and as he played, the quiet chatter stopped. The other two were listening, probably trying to pick out which song he was playing. You turned back to Freddie, who sipped his wine pointedly, one eyebrow still raised.

“Besides, isn’t it a little juvenile? Truth or dare?” You shook your head incredulously. “What are you, twenty-four?”

“Twenty-three.” He corrected sharply. “And it isn’t the only thing around here that’s juvenile.”

“That,” You pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Was a low blow.”

You knew exactly what he was talking about. Unfortunately, a few months earlier, during another night like this where the two of you had gone to watch Smile perform, you’d made the mistake of revealing your feelings for his flatmate. Thankfully, it was while the two of you were drinking before the gig, so no-one else had been around to hear your confession.

“Are you two coming or what?” Tim called from the living room, interrupting the conversation before it could go any further. Freddie grabbed you by the hand, dragging you into the living room where you joined the rest of the boys, sitting cross-legged on their worn out carpet between him and Tim.

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