Ahhhhhh Thank You!, Smoked A Ciggie Outside Work And Just Thought About What The Targaryen’s Would

shiny and gorgeous

ewan mitchell on the tonight show with jimmy fallon. (2024)

FLAWLESS

warnings:smut, drug use. 18+ only please The bear but it's actually just linecook!Aemond x hostess!reader.  porn w a plot.

no beta we die or whatever

2014-7:40 Pm. 

You stand at the hostess stand, looking over the Ipad for reservations, you're absolutely swamped, it's a Saturday night in Knightsbridge, London. Barely seconds pass before the phone rings again, it's the same conversation you've had every weekend for the past year. “Sorry we’re fully booked!” 

“Do you know who I am?” 

“Yes! And here at RedKeep we thank you for being a loyal customer~” 

“I want to speak to the manager!”

 “Sorry the managers not here right now”

“Then who's next in charge?” Queue you, grabbing Daemon from the office, where he completely undermines what you're saying to the customer, allowing them to take a reservation from some poor couple who had saved up their money to taste the food from RedKeep, because it is good for business. 

Keep the loyal customers, he says, fucking asshole. You watch their smug faces grin as they walk in, pressed white shirts and silk dresses they didn’t fish out the bin from the local Guild care. Sometimes you smile and make your accent slightly deeper as you lead them to their seats. Other times you let them know it's you and lead them to the table directly by the bar, letting them hear the utter nonsense that Criston and Aegon spill behind the bar all night. 

But you always retreat to the back for your five minute smoke break, snatching the Marlboro reds from the office, Daemon winking at you as you shove your coat on in the winter. You let yourself breath in the only thing that keeps you going through your shift, music blasting from the shitty headphones that came with your phone and then crush half of it between the sole of your black doc martens, straightening out your black silky blouse, and wandering through the kitchen back to your stand, where you greet another customer with a smile faker than the diamond rings that protrude off the women's fingers.

You rub the tiger balm into the crook of your neck in the changing room, its 10:00 pm, kitchen closed about half an hour ago, and the chef’s are scrubbing the floor down on their knees, you thank god the only thing you have to do is inform Daemon of the reservations for the next week, fully booked until next august, they usually go down about then, people retreat to France and Italy for summer. Your shifts go down and you tutor rich brats who are failing their GCSEs. Spending summers writing essays about Macbeth for fourteen year olds who find nothing better to do than take their daddy's golf cart for a ride around their ridiculously huge back gardens in sussex.  

You hum to yourself, slipping of your blouse, the door opens and then is slammed shut. You turn, half naked in the changing room, your locker swinging open, Aemond stands with his nose pressed into his locker, you change into a band shirt and pleated skirt, pulling on high denier tights. “Are you coming tonight?” he whispers, it's soft, you watch him pull out his bag as you re-lace your boots. 

“Yeah, did Aegon get the weed?” you ask quietly, boots thumping against the floor as you stand, you grab your backpack from the floor, shutting your locker. 

“No Cregan did” Aemonds back ripples as he pulls on a black shirt, you watch his tattoos shift under it, he grabs his motorcycle helmet out of the locker, eye shifting to yours. You go to stand next to him. He pulls out a pack of Marlboro reds, original packaging, you wonder if they're fake, but the Polish words stare back at you, “want one?” he slips one into the corner of his mouth, pulling on his jacket.

You swallow, “Yes please” you take the cigarette and push it behind your ear, walking to the door. He follows. You push open the door, stepping out into the hallway, Daemon stands in the kitchen watching Rhaenrya sharpen the knives. You still refuse to believe they were ever married, her dad and him were such close friends it was borderline Insestuous. “I'm glad Cregan got it, Aegon always choses really weird strains, like unicorn poop? What is that?” 

Aemond shrugs and follows you out the back, you wave to Daemon and Nyra, door slamming behind you. Cregan and Aegon wait by your car, its scratched to fuck. From where Aegon had slammed the door into the tree. You don't even know why you own a car anymore, parking is so expensive in London, you only use it to get to work and home. You watch Aemond shove his helmet on and then leave the car park. Unlocking your car and letting the boys pile in. 

Cregan hits his head on the ceiling and Aegon falls into a mess of giggles in the back. You breathe in the scent of cherry, air freshener hanging from the mirror, Some arctic monkey's song comes on from the aux. You look to your left, Cregans on tinder replying to some bird. It would be rude to call him a slut but he gets around, he got some bird up north pregnant and now he has to send up money every month for a two year old he barely sees. You pull out, switching gears before starting your journey to Aegon's place it’s about half an hour drive into camden, you pass the punks on the bridge and pull in to the slip where Aegon's flat share is, he lives Aemond and a bunch of hippies that sell vintage clothes at the market. 

You run to the corner shop first, buying a bottle of cheap vodka and a diet coke. Then you walk back down the dark street, lighting the ciggie that Aemond gave you, a tote bag heavy on your shoulder, passing the bike and slipping down the side of the building opening the gates. The smell of weed hits you almost immediately. Cregan sits legs spread on the rattan furniture that Aegon stole from someone's front porch last summer. You don't know why he does it, his mum literally owns the restaurant. He earns more than enough. 

You slide up next to Helaena , she leans her head into your shoulder for a moment and then leans back, thumbs padding against her cracked iphone 5, Cregan hands you the joint its some cali strain this time, you rarely smoke. But Saturdays at the RedKeep are actually killing you. Aegon pulls out his speaker and decides to blast drum and bass. You steal the aux and play cigarettes after sex. Falling into the rattan sofa, pulling your Northface jacket around your legs, its fucking cold. Aegon's wearing his dressing gown and hoodie as he stands out the back door. You don't even know why you're in the garden, an hour passes and you find yourself sweating on the sofa, legs intertwined with Aegons as he spews on about some weird conspiracy theories; dragons being real, the lizard people shit. You talk about the ghost house when you lived in the isle of white for a year. And then you've had enough of talking so you head up to Aemonds bedroom to listen to music. 

Your socks run up the carpeted stairs, pausing outside Aemonds bedroom, you knock and hear him grunt a yes. You practically throw yourself into his bed, your phone bouncing from impact, he smiles at you, and you look at his mac playing on the bed, he’s watching reruns of misfits before it gets bad. 

“You know, Aegon always reminds me of Nathan? I can't watch it without thinking about him.” You sigh,“it's a shame because Robert Sheehan is really fit” Ameond hides a laugh, he's different now. He used to light up a room with his quick wit. But now he’s buried into himself, he just keeps retreating and retreating. You used to have this weird thing between you. It was all longing looks and brushed knuckles. He’d follow you outside on early morning shifts to have a ciggie, making you laugh, legs pressed against each other on the staircase. Sometimes you’d bring him coffee and he'd make you one of those fruit salads with all the fruit scraps, slices of mango and strawberry tops. Nights spent outside nursing a joint while Aegon sings incredibly loud in the lounge. No one was surprised when they saw you two getting closer, it's like fate really. Line cook and hostess. If it wasn't Jace it was going to be Aemond.

And then the accident happened. It wasn't Luke's fault, it really wasn't. Something had split on the floor, Luke wasn't wearing the proper shoes yet. He was just about to start his shift, so he slips, grabs for Aemond, His knife in hand just about to chop something, they both fall to the ground. You remember coming to grab Aemond for a cigarette and there was just blood everywhere. All over the white tiles. You remember thinking that he had spilt some kinda wine sauce, nearly laughing until he had sat up and his face looked like it was falling apart. He was shaking, too afraid to cry, and Luke was sent home. 

It was one of those slow days. So you had shoved him into the car with a napkin pressed over his eye. Taking him to A&E for stitches, he looked so different when he came out. He smoked a cigarette in your car with bloodstained hands. You hand squeezed his thigh as you took him home. Then days later you had picked him up from the hospital. White eyepatch over the gaping hole. They removed his eye incase of an infection. It wasn't salvageable, he had sliced right through the cornea. 

He wasn't at work for weeks, you remember standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting for him to come down and join the others, aegon had pulled you away after an hour. Too shy to head up there yourself and then months later you had taken a joint and pringles up to his room. He was just staring out the window, watching the sunset as Helaena  spun around with Cregan. 

“How was work?” he asks, you hand him a vodka coke, swinging your legs under yourself. 

“Fucking terrible, Daemon did it again” your hands runs through your hair. You look at Aemond, you can barely even notice the difference with his fake eye and real one, they got it spot on. “It pisses me off so much, like no wonder we aren't getting any new customers. When he keeps cancelling the bookings” Aemond shuts his laptop, he gets up and grabs a record from the pile in the corner, the needle hits the vinyl with a hum, it crackles around the room.  He's so different from his brother, you wonder where he gets it from. He's just softer. 

You miss his touch. He lies back down on the bed, hands over his heart, you're on your stomach, watching him breathe slightly, you wanna reach out and touch him, he watches you hesitate. “Sorry” he mutters. He runs his hand through his hair. Your eyebrows furrow, he looks away. 

“Why are you sorry?” you ask, you lean into your hands and watch him. Waiting for an answer. 

He pauses, chewing on his lips, and then his face settles, his lips back to the perpetual pout. “I know we had this thing between us, but you don't have to keep it going because you feel sorry for me” 

“Huh” your eyebrows raise, you almost wonder if he's joking, you wait for him to crack a smile, “ I~I don't know what to say Aemond, I don't feel sorry for you” you groan, your hands smush your face together and then you plant yourself into the side of his body. You feel him stiffen and then his hand comes back to smooth over the small of your back. Your face heats. “I ~ oh god” you look up at him watching his eyes twitch, “I always felt like you were just playing along with this whole thing, we had” you shift, pushing yourself onto your knees. “I've have this really stupid big crush on you, since I had the panic attack out back and you sat with me for twenty minutes even though Nyra was shouting at you.”

He sits up, your jaw shifts side to side, you wonder if you should just escape downstairs and sleep with Cregan instead. His hand reaches out to touch your thigh pulling back. He lets out a huff. “You’re fucking with me” he shakes his head. You shake your head back smiling.

“Wait a sec” you grab your phone and swipe back to a conversation you had with Healana months ago, you hand it to him. Watching his eye sweep across the messages. He smirks, and then scrolls down, your eyes widen, he laughs. 

“You can stop scrolling now” but he continues anyway smirk falling into a smile, “Aemond!” your own smile falls, “ Aemond, please stop scrolling” you grit your teeth. Your hand reaches to snatch your phone, But he pulls it away from you, you climb over his body hand on his shoulder, reaching out to grab at your phone. You feel yourself lose balance, you begin your descent onto his floor, but his arm grabs around your waist and pushes you back onto the bed quickly. He’s hovering over you, one arm on the bed the other lingering around your waist. 

“He’s gonna be the death of me” he smirks down at you. 

“Shut up” you huff, you bite your lips to stop you smirking, feeling heat rush to your face. You look up at him, watching his eyes glance down to your lips, you look at his. You’re so fucking high, and its not from the drugs. His hand brushes against your hip. Fingers pressing into the flesh, your skirt is flipped up, you don't even realise. It doesn't even matter because he’s already crashing his lips on your own. It's quick, chased and hard. You move together like you're running out of time, one hand brushing against your jaw the other pressed into your hip, you whine, hands running up his neck to his jaw, you're pulling him closer than what’s physically possible. 

He goes to untuck your shirt from your skirt, you part and pull it off over your head quickly, he takes in the curves of your body, tracing muscle and moles. “Nearly killed me today, walking in on you like this” you smirk under him, his hand brushed against your chest clad in a black lacy bra. You press his hands into your chest, he gropes and needs, his lips running down the column of your neck, you sigh under his touch, teeth grazing, lips nipping. 

Pupils blown, Aemonds hands fingers graze down from your chest to under your skirt, you pull him in for another kiss, teeth clashing together. Phone forgotten by the side of you. You feel his hands run down your legs, a finger hooks under the waistband of your tights, you lift your hips, propping yourself up on your elbows as he slides them down your legs, you part, standing and shifting them off. Aemond sits back and watches. The record crackles repeatedly through the speaker, and you lean down to pick one out. Carefully putting the vinyl into its sleeve. Needle back down, the music starts. “Your such a cliche” 

‘She planned ahead for a year… He said let's play it by ear’

“Shut up”,You slide yourself back into aemond’s arms, his hands run down your bare skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps, your own run down his chest and then tug at the shirt he wears. He pulls it over his head before you know it. Your hands trace the pale freckles skin, pressing wet kisses down his throat, he slides a hand around your thigh, pulling you to straddle him. He pulls your chin towards him, meeting him in another heated kiss.You moan as he grabs at the flesh of your ass, slipping his tongue into your mouth. Your back arches, your chest pressing against his. He trails his lips across your chin as he rolls both of you over, his hand grazes your inner thigh and you wrestle your skirt off quickly. 

He sticks his head in the crock of your neck, kissing tenderly. Hand brushing under your panties, he cups your cunt, swiping a finger through your folds, “Shit your wet” he pants, you feel him smirk against your throat. “This fo’me?” you nod your head, eyes half shut as you stare at him. Lips bruised and pouting. He eats up your whines with his lips as his finger traces your clit, your hands brush against his neck and then grip his hair. He slides a finger into you with ease. You moan into his mouth. He makes a come hither motion and slides another finger inside of you. Your back arches and he groans, pinning you into the bed. Your knee slides up and brushes against his hardness. 

‘Youre a doll, you are flawless ’

He stiffens, movements stilling. You smirk. His hands leave your body and you meet his lips again, hands brushing against his groin. You pull at the belt buckle. Pulling away from him to see what you're doing, he pulls your panties down your legs, head buried in the crock of your neck pressing hot kisses onto your skin. You fumble and then pull his trousers down, you can see the outline of his cock through his boxers. He grins down at you. You palm at his cock, watching him through your lashes. He sheds his boxers, you run your hand down his length loosely, thumb brushing over his tip. You watch him whine. “Condom?” 

“I'm on the pill.” You hum.

He pulls your body towards him, your crotch meeting his thighs, he leans closer. The head of his cock brushing past your folds, it feels like hours spent teasing you and then suddenly he pushes into you, feeling you stretch around him. “Shit your tight”,your hands grip his shoulders, mouth gaping open at how full you feel. 

“Fuck Aem” He begins to move slowly, you feel every inch of him, every vein brushing against you. He looks down watching you suck him in. His hands trace against the side of your body, stopping at your hips. 

Finger’s digging into the flesh. You feel so dizzy with pleasure. “Shit, so good fo’me” you clench around him, he lips curl upwards. “You like that huh?” you moan, feeling his cock brush perfectly against your walls. “So fucking pretty underneath me” your back arches. 

He pulls out and pushes you onto your stomach, you lift your hips, he hilts himself inside of you all at once. You feel him in your throat.you hands trace against his creased covers as he pounds faster into you. He pulls your back towards his chest. Hand grabbing at your chin. You look him in the eye. Biting your lip, you feel sweat run down your bodies, his hand slides down your front and runs tight circles around your clit. He leans in to kiss you. Pulling away with a string of spit. “Close Aem”

“Yeah? Already” 

You nod against him, his fingers brush up your neck, pinning your body into his, neck tilting. Lips brushing together. You feel him pulse inside of you. You feel the pleasure spread from your back until you can't hold on anymore. You clench around him. You can taste it in your mouth. You turned around and pressed into the covers by his body, he pistons into you chasing his high,You feel him falter, bringing his face to your own, he presses his sweaty forehead to your own. Chasing your lips as he cums. Your own legs shake from under him. He collapses on your chest. Teeth grazing against your tits. He smiles up at you,  you push his hair back from his face. 

“I really like you” he whispers, his hand meets your cheek, the pad of his thumb smoothing over your skin. 

“I'm glad” you smile, “because i really you” he pulls away from you, shrugging on some clothes and running out the room. He comes back with a wet flannel. Wiping the sweat of your forehead and then between your thighs. He kisses your shoulder and you watch him grab clothes out his drawer. You pull your socks on, and his adidas jumper, along with some joggers. The cuffs of his jumper slides down your wrist to your palm. You slide your phone in his pocket and wait. Aemond stands by the door. “You coming?” your eyes widen and you jump off the bed, grabbing his hand to pull him down stairs. 

The music is louder than usual and Aegon stares at you as you walk through the door of the lounge,“You finally fucked then” 

“Aegon!” Helaena  gasps, shoving a pillow at his face. You watch Aemonds face blush but push him into the direction of the back yard, picking up your coat and bag. You both sit on the rattan furniture, Aemonds arm wrapped around your shoulder as you roll a joint, he presses his lips to the side of your mouth as you lick the paper. It's not the neatest, but it's not Aegons, which usually look limp and bent. You push the tray of your lap and tuck your legs under you, leaning into his body. 

“Do you wanna go on a date?” 

You light the joint watching the cherry light, Turning to his side, he watches for your reaction. You smile, breathing in the weed and handing it to him. “Yes please” his lips curl. You pull your phone out his hoodie pocket, eyes widening as the texts to Helaena, light up. 

You: I literally need this man so bad I'm gonna have an aneurysm x Helaena: Istg, stop whining and talk to him all he does is ride his bike and go to work x

You switch your phone off and smile. 

Oh…

people who leave detailed thoughtful comments on fics deserve to go to heaven u deserve sainthood truly

RIP Shelley Duvall

Ewan: *is shocked when people move out of his way at the airport*

Also Ewan:

Happy October 🙏🙏, Danny comes for a visit:)

Repost to save an artists life🪽💕

Hayden talking about being autistic openly and in a positive light has done things for my inner child that I didn’t know I needed. Also makes me think about how she’s the first famous person that I’ve seen talk about their interests in a way that I can genuinely relate to.

Being autistic is hard but fuck I love being passionate and I’m glad someone that inspires me and creates/fuels my creativity feels the exact same way lol.

Aemond’s bed for research purposes

Before You Go, Before I Am Lost to the Ether

summary | On death row, Aemond Targaryen has one last visitor. (based on this request.)

pairing | criminal!aemond targaryen x senator's daughter!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! oral (f), multiple orgasms, daddy kink, angst, squirting, mention of death penalty, death row meal? this 🐱

wordcount | 4.4k

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

“Hey, baby.”

Aemond was enveloped by a cloud of smoke when you entered the room. It wasn’t a cell, per se, but rather an empty room save for a table with two chairs in the middle of it. No cameras. For a guy who was to die in less than three hours, he looked quite unbothered. 

Your ex-boyfriend, clad in a standard gray jumpsuit, was leaning against the cold metal of his chair, one arm hanging off the side. A cigarette dangled from his lips, smirking at you behind the tobacco curtain. It only grew wider when your frosty pink lips dipped into a frown.

“You fucking asshole,” you spat.

Ah, there’s his girl.

“Little Miss sneaked into prison to see me, ay?” he teased. His chest vibrated with a low chuckle at the sight of your scowl. Silver tresses swayed to the side as he tilted his head, running his good eye down your form. Gods, you looked good. “Came to say goodbye, sweetheart?”

“Shut up.”

He watched as you turned back to look at the door, before moving to sit opposite him. With a huff, you plopped down onto the hard, steel chair, setting your crocodile skin Birkin onto the gray cement floor. An equally dull table separated the two of you. The distance between you felt like an entire ocean, though Aemond knew it was nothing compared to the agony of being away from his dear girl for months while he lay awake in his cold, empty cell.

A silence encompassed the two of you, merely staring at each other. The tapping of your satin Pradas faintly filled it— the strappy ones. The kind Aemond liked. With his remaining eye, he took in the sight of you and tried to find which part of you changed.

You’ve forgone the blonde balayage you had retouched every 2 months, now sticking to your natural color. It suited you better.

Your lashes looked freshly done. Aemond could only imagine the 2-hour drive you always insisted on taking to meet your lash tech.

Were those new earrings? He liked them, they looked so pretty on you.

You’ve noticed him staring; it’s not like he was discreet about it anyway, but it made him clear his throat and sit taller. “How’d you get in?” he asked, taking another puff of his cigarette. You tutted at him as a thick cloud of smoke billowed from his lips and nostrils. You always disapproved of such a dirty habit.

“The prison warden here used to be part of Daddy’s security back in the day. Didn’t take much convincing to let me in, he gave me 2 hours,” you shrugged, looking at your nails. Your gaze shifted around, only sparing him glances. The smug look on Aemond’s face threatened to return, pride swelling in his chest at the thought that he still affected you this way. Curious, his eyebrow raised at your words, leaning his forearms onto the cold table.

“And does Daddy know you’re here?”

It was then you met his teasing, attentive gaze. The icy blue of his good eye was sharp, while the exposed gemstone twinkled under the harsh fluorescent light over your heads. You narrowed your eyes at him, mimicking his stance.

“Of course not,” you sneered.

If anyone were to discover your visit, it would be an uncontrollable scandal. It was already bad to find the daughter of the Senate minority leader, sneaking past maximum security into prison to see your ex-boyfriend, but said ex also had his face planted on every news channel with the broadcasting of his crimes.

Aemond Targaryen, disgraced son of former majority leader Viserys Targaryen! 

Despite his father being a prominent political figure for decades before his death, Aemond was rarely in the spotlight. He was much further down the line, and so much of the attention was always on his older siblings, all for different reasons. Nyra was always present by dad’s side for scheduled appearances, being advertised as the next Targaryen to follow in their father’s footsteps as his eldest child. Aegon was a different story, with sneaked photos of him drunk off his face at frat parties, salacious pap photos while in a hot tub with some girl at Aspen, and worst of all, being caught with thousands worth of illegal substances in his apartment. Aemond was known as the dutiful one, an excellent law student with stunning records that got him into Harvard, besides his name.

Another tense silence passed, though he could see your agitation growing the more your time ran out. You were here for a reason, he knew that, but you were never good at getting your words out.

“So,” he spoke up. “Why did you come to see me?”

You sighed, looking down to your lap. He couldn’t see it, but he could tell you were fidgeting. His fingers twitched, longing to take your hand into his larger ones. You opened your mouth to speak, stuttering at first. 

“I guess I just wanted to see you before you…” you trailed off, lips quivering into a frown. Aemond nodded in understanding. With a sniffle, you lifted your head to look at him. Your sad eyes trailed over his figure, no doubt noting how much weight he’s lost. He always had a thin frame, but with years of boxing, calisthenics, and various sports gave him a leaner, sinewy form, but he’s lost most of it since coming to this place. “They said you turned down your last meal.”

Aemond shrugged, pointy shoulders poking through the dull gray of his jumpsuit. The food in prison was rightfully abhorrent; the extent of their culinary expertise being a tray of grey sludge and crackers. Cigarettes, however, there seemed to be no shortage of. “No point in it,” he muttered. 

“You could have anything you want, you know.”

He was never one to indulge, but there was one thing he really, really missed— lemon cakes. The ones your mom made from lemons in her backyard. It made the glands in his jaw spring up in attention, filling him with a shock in his senses that he could only attribute to being alive. He was never religious, despite the Hightower blood coursing through his veins, but being so close to death had him thinking of the afterlife. He would like it if there were lemon cakes, where he could split them with you as you lay tangled up under the big willow tree in your family’s garden. Yes, he would like that.

“I had everything I wanted at one point in my life, then I lost it,” he said, looking straight into your wide orbs. He could sense the words threatening to spill from your lips, could practically feel them forming on your tongue. 

“Why did you push me away, Aemond?” you asked, voice starting to quiver with the emotions that threatened to overcome you. “I could have been there for you, through all of this.” His silver tresses swayed as he shook his head. Stubbing his finished cigarette onto the table’s leg, he aimed it at the trash bin situated behind him. It missed.

“I never wanted you to be a part of my mess.”

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “You didn’t give me a choice in the matter. What if I wanted to be part of your mess? I could have helped! We know people, good lawyers that would see that you wouldn’t end up here!” You had risen to your feet now, leaning over with your hands splayed on the table. Aemond could only listen as you yelled at him, letting out months of pent-up frustration about why he so suddenly left you stranding just before his crimes went public. He couldn’t have you involved, hence why he had broken up with you the moment he knew he was done for. 

Targaryens were always after legacy. Their blood spanned from fearsome dragonlords back in medieval times, written in history as great men equal to gods. Aemond couldn’t let his side of the family go down as nothing. With Rhaenyra campaigning against Aegon in the senatorial race, it was clear they had little to win against Viserys’ golden girl. His grandsire had delved into making sure Rhaenyra’s name would be tarnished well before the elections, anonymously broadcasting all of his eldest sister’s fuck ups throughout her youth— her disregard for learning the way of politics, numerous affairs that lead to the questionable parentage of her sons, including the shocking rumor of her intimate involvement with their uncle Daemon. Otto had men keeping a close eye on Rhaenyra and her family, reporting anything that would be of use, especially regarding their political moves. Some falsified stories also came into the mix, but the worst act of all, was when Aemond killed Luke in a car accident. It was an accident, it really was, but as he stood before court there was little evidence to prove otherwise. He was not an innocent man, but he had his reasons. 

Ever their family’s martyr, Aemond took the blame for all of it. 

Five counts of aiding and abetting. Eight counts of defamation. Four counts of espionage. One count of vehicular manslaughter. Sentenced to death by lethal injection.

“I’m a dead man already,” he said. A pang in his chest cracked what was left of his heart when your lips quivered as he said ir, eyes reddening with tears. Regretful, he rose from his seat, moving to hold you by the elbows. As much as your body told you otherwise, you broke away from his grip. His cheek stung when you struck him with your open palm, tingling with warm pain in the aftermath.

“How could you say that to me?” you fumed, hitting him in the chest with your fists. Aemond could only take it in silence, feeling more and more alive with your every strike than the past couple of months in isolation. “After everything we’ve been through, how could you throw it all away so easily? You don’t even mourn what’s been wasted of your life? Our life?” You’ve managed to push him back now, making him lean against the table. 

He caught your wrists, bringing you close to his chest. You found your place in between his thighs, face buried in the crook of his neck. Aemond pressed his nose into your hair, the familiar scent of your rose-infused hair oil invading his senses, grounding him. “It’s going to be alright, baby. It’ll be painful for a second, then it’ll be over. I’ll be fine,” he said, soothing you with a kiss on your head.

You looked at him, tears starting to pool in the corners of your lids. “What about me? You’ll be gone, and you’ll be fine, but what about me, Aemond?” you quivered.

With a sigh, Aemond cupped your jaw and pressed his forehead against yours. “Oh, baby.” 

You were right. He hadn’t even realized how selfish he’s been. The man had been too preoccupied with his family’s mess and everything that’s happened since to even wonder how he had affected you. And soon, he was leaving you for good. He had to thank the gods, and your father’s connections, that he was granted another moment to see you, to feel the heat of your flesh underneath his palms. He needed to savor this, make every second count.

His lips found their home in yours. They were sweet, and plump underneath his tongue as it prodded its way into your mouth. You responded in vigor, taking hold of the back of his neck to keep him close. The sticky feel of your gloss painted his pale skin with a light pink sheen as you descended downwards to his neck. He smelled like cigarette smoke, as expected, and the faintest of soap. 

Aemond maneuvered to switch you both, making you lean against the table while he sunk to his knees. Expert hands undid the belt on your trousers, letting them fall to the floor in a heap of brown houndstooth. His thin lips made their way up from your calf, the inside of your thigh, up to where a damp spot was forming on your lace panties. He longed to get a whiff of your essence, his aquiline nose fitting perfectly into the indent of your folds. You squirmed when his thumb trailed your clothed slit with a featherlight touch, rubbing on your clit through the fabric.

“Aem…” you whined. “Please, don’t tease. We don’t have time.”

Aemond hummed, tilting his head to bite into the plump meat of your thigh. A warm, calloused hand took hold of your leg, lifting it to hook over his shoulder. “Ask me nicely then. What do you say, baby?” 

Another whine from you as you tilted your head back. You were gripping the edge of the table tight, tethering on the edge of propriety. “Please, daddy.” His lips lift into a feline smirk against your thigh before deft fingers drop your thong in one motion. Aemond, never one to dally, plunged his tongue straight into your warm center. His hunger was evident. He slurped, licked, and sucked on you exactly like a man who was in his last hours on earth. It was sloppy, sweet juices making a mess down his chin. There was a desperation to it, an urge to leave his mark on both your mind and body that had him shaking his head from side to side as he nuzzled his sharp nose into your clit. The little motion had you whining, and the sight of you with your head thrown back made his cock stir when he peeked up at you. 

Shifting his mouth to suck on your pearl, two fingers dove into your pussy. You needed no time to adjust, seeing as the clear honey of your slick was dripping down his knuckles. Your nipples pebbled against the fabric of your black, sleeveless Ralph Lauren turtleneck, and you lifted the thin fabric over your head to play with your stiff nubs, spurring yourself closer to the precipice. Meanwhile, Aemond’s fingers fucked you with a breakneck speed, fueled with the urgency of wanting to see you fall apart. His mouth worked in tandem, sucking on your clit and circling with his tongue. Your walls soon began to squeeze his fingers rhythmically, indicating the beginning of your end. “Y’gonna come for me, baby? Come on,” he urged, delighting in your fervent moan when he curled his fingers into the rough spot within your walls.

“Y-yeah, daddy, I’m…” you stammered, cheeks steadily reddening. Your chest began to heave, followed by the quivering in your thighs. Telltale signs of something familiar. It sparked an instant excitement in Aemond’s chest, prompting him to never lose his pace. Your brows were furrowed adorably, while your hand gripped his shoulder in a poor attempt of getting away. Your efforts were futile as Aemond’s fingers stayed clamped into your walls as you squirted all over his hand. “Fuck, fuck!” A string of curses melted into the wail you pathetically tried to cover with your hand. The smug smirk on his face displayed his delight as your eyes rolled back into your school, tongue eagerly licking up the sweet juices covering his hand. 

“My perfect girl,” he praised, rising to his full height. The flesh on your waist was perfectly soft under his calloused palms, hands finding their home on your curves. Aemond planted kisses onto his lover’s cheek, capturing the salty droplets of sweat. “So fucking filthy. Was that all for me, baby?” 

A soft whimper was your initial response, nodding at him with wide, bleary eyes. “All for you, daddy.” Gone was the commanding aura you carried when you walked into the prison’s doors, reduced to nothing but an eager submission to one man only. You pawed at the bulge in Aemond’s pants, rubbing his erection in a manner that made him hiss. The standard-issued jumpsuit soon found its place among your designer clothing, crumpled to the floor with little regard. You had moved to lay your front onto the table, but Aemond had stopped you with a tut. He lifted the white, cotton tank covering his frame, before laying it flat onto the cold, metal table. He wouldn’t let your pristine skin get any of the grimy filth of sin this place was covered in. 

Body bent over and legs splayed open, the glistening wetness of your folds beckoned him closer. He gave his cock a couple of soft tugs, before directing his cockhead to your slit. In the familiar embrace of your warmth, Aemond found his home. It was then he realized how much he had been deprived of such ecstasy, with the slight gasp that fell from his lips as he buried himself to the hilt. 

Like an addict, he was soon lost in the ridges of your walls that massaged his length. His pace was unforgiving, eager to grant both of your pleasures in the limited time he had left. You were as eager as he, hips meeting his thrust with an equal enthusiasm. The quietness of such an isolated room was soon filled with the smacking of skin against skin, and the chorus of grunts and moans coming from the pair of you. 

“Perfect, fuckin’, pussy,” Aemond groaned, punctuating each word with a harsh thrust that would have sent you lurching forward if it weren’t for his grip on your shoulder. “Taking my cock so well. Is this what you wanted when you came here, baby? Wanted to get fucked in prison like a filthy slut, hm?” His free hand delivered resounding slaps against your ass that had the pump flesh rippling. A mewl echoed through the room as his pace remained brutal, just how you always liked it.

He might’ve thought himself already a dead man, a ghost spending his last hours in misery before the darkness overtook him, but Aemond had never felt so alive at this moment. He felt grounded, present. He had grown familiar with the numbing sensation of nothing, but he was feeling everything— from the tingle in his scalp, the heat in his veins, down to the fire that ignited his muscles. He was filled with life. 

The damp, stale air in the room soon began to grow musky with the smell of sex. The onset of your second release had you writhing under your lover’s tight grip, reaching back to grab onto his hips with a warning grip. “Gods, you’re gonna make me come!” you whimpered, yelping when Aemond gripped your hair to tilt your head back. His breath was hot against your damp neck, his teeth delivering a sharp bite into your skin to leave his mark.

“Yeah? Go ahead, baby, come on my cock.” With another harsh smack on your rear, you came all over his shaft with a cry of his name. His hips never faltered, fucking you steadily through your orgasm. The quiver in your thighs returned, knees almost to the point of bucking from the tidal wave of pleasure that washed over you. But Aemond wasn’t done with you. You were soon shifted to sit on the table, with the silver-haired man settling in between your thighs. He drove straight back into your heat, jackhammering his hips to seek out his release. You let him, of course you did, even meeting his thrusts as you held onto the table’s edge. He knew how sensitive you were, evident in the high-pitched uh, uh, uh’s that fell freely from your lips and the slight furrow in your brow. Your manicured nails dug into the outline of his abdomen, leaving streaks of red flesh against his pale skin. 

Aemond’s good eye was trained on the tantalizing view of your bouncing breasts, plump mounds of flesh that made his mouth water. He was at a point where he just merely wanted to indulge in every part of you, and he delighted in the fact that you would gladly let him. Aemond took your tit into his mouth, suckling on one while his hand fondled the other. If he looked down, he would’ve seen the white ring of your essence around the base of his cock, but he was already happy enough to have his face pressed into your breasts. Your grip on his silver mane kept him flush to your chest, your delighted sighs singing a sweet song in his ears. 

It seemed that Aemond’s desire to feel every ounce of your skin was not unreciprocated. Your hold on his pert, nicely rounded ass held him close, engulfing you in his warmth in the otherwise nippy room. Chest flushed against chest, his forehead against yours, Aemond breathed in your space. He panted into your mouth, lips lingering but not meeting as the tingle deep in his spine bloomed into a rising warmth. His cock twitched within your walls as he neared his precipice. Something tingled in his occiput, a swarming heat that threatened to wash down onto his lids.

“I love you, Aemond,” you breathed, before pressing your lips into his.

“Say it again,” he pleaded against your lips, voice almost to the point of cracking. “Please, baby, can you say it again?”

“I love you. I will never stop loving you.”

He came with a broken sputter, hips losing their rhythm as he emptied his seed into your womb. You both stayed in each other’s embrace for a peaceful, solemn moment, with your head in his chest as he buried into the crook of your neck. It was quiet as he chased his breath, but the quiet sob you had pressed into his skin made Aemond pull away to look at you in concern.

“Hey, hey, baby. It’s okay,” he soothed you, shushing your sobs with a kiss on your hair. Yet your chest still racked with sobs, mascara-tinted tears streaking down your cheeks. He wiped them all in haste, before cupping your face. “Don’t cry for me. You know it breaks my heart to see you cry.”

“How can you be fine with all of this?” you asked, lips quivering. Aemond sighed, pressing his lips onto your forehead before urging you to look at him.

“I’ve made my peace with it, with everything.” A scoff was your only response, harshly turning your face away from his grip as you looked off to the side. Your lover whispered your name in a quiet plea to look at him. Large palms, calloused from the steel handle of the weights in the prison courtyard, rubbed your thighs and squeezed the soft flesh. “You’ll be better off without me,” he reasoned. Your head snapped to face him in a blink, the sadness in your orbs turning to something akin to anger. 

“You’re a fucking idiot to think I could live one day without you.”

Aemond could only chuckle, one of a sad amusement. He pulled you back close into his chest, smoothing out the frazzled strands of your hair from the aftermath of your lovemaking. “You will, and you’ll be fine, I promise,” he reassured, chin resting on the top of your head. “Somebody’s going to make you much happier than I ever could. Someone who won’t hurt you, take care of you in ways you deserve.” He could feel his skin grow damp as salty tears fell from your eyes once more, quiet sniffling making known the agony you had endured for months away from him, and the grief you would soon face when he was gone.

Your hands took hold of his stubbled jaw, thumb softly caressing the sharp planes of his face. “How could I want anyone else when all I’ve ever wanted was you?” you breathed, striking an arrow straight into his bleeding heart.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, swallowing down the thick lump in his throat. It had been years since Aemond found himself close to tears, the last time being buried in insufferable pain from the loss of his eye. It held no comparison to the throbbing in his chest now, his good eye furiously blinking away the hot tears that started to prickle. It began to dawn on him the gravity of it all. He would soon be gone, and he would no longer have the chance to see you, touch you, hold you in his arms. Aemond was beginning to feel the spark of regret for how his life had gone, with how his brashness had cost him the safety of your love. He would have none of that now, not when he would soon be reduced to a body that no longer breathed, a soul reduced to ash. 

For his final act of devotion, Aemond removed the glinting sapphire in his left socket, before enclosing the jewel into your palm. “Here,” he uttered, closing your fingers around the stone before pressing a kiss onto your hand.

“Aemond…” you gasped, looking at him in disbelief. It was his most prized possession, and there was no other person he would have given it to except for you. You were as special as it were to him— his most beautiful jewel, his heart. 

“I want you to have it, won’t be worth anything to me when I’m dead,” he said, lips lifting into a sad smile. He watched as you stared into the empty cavern of his missing eye, breath shuddering as your fingertip ghosted over his scar. In a flash, you buried yourself back into his embrace. As he pressed his nose into your shoulder, committing the sweet scent of your skin to memory, Aemond let himself shed a tear for all he had lost. He still had so much love to give, filled with an overwhelming urge to shower you in its warmth, but he was out of time.

A knock on the metal door signaled the end. You redressed in silence, both of you not uttering a word that would shatter the vulnerable glass of your despair. A mirrored pit of dread made Aemond’s palms begin to sweat, as it made you unable to look at him lest you broke out into tears once more. With the last button on his jumpsuit fastened, Aemond watched as you dug into your bag. You pulled out a small, white container, fastened by a ribbon. “Eat this, okay?” you urged, a glimmering, pleading look in your eye that made Aemond nod. Another knock, more urgent this time. With a heavy sigh, you kissed him so deeply that it made his head float. His grip almost made you stay, made you want to fight through hell and back to have him set free, but you were powerless. 

“I love you. I’m sorry.” was the last thing he ever said to you.

You stepped out the door without so much one last glance at him, forcing yourself to look straight with a hand clasped over your mouth. He was glad you didn’t. Let his last memory of you be the one of bliss, with you deep into the throes of your pleasure. As the clock continued to tick closer and closer to his final moment, Aemond untied the ribbon of your gift. At the sight of it, a smile made his slim cheeks dimple.

Lemon cakes.