The Deal (Part 2)

The Danger of a Dragon

Pairing: Thranduil x wife

Summary: What if the reason Thranduil was so adamant about love meaning accepting death was because that’s what his wife did?

Not super long but I might do more parts?

               Faervelhel sat in her chamber, writing a letter to her kin in Lorien. It had been several years since she’d visited her mother, and she tried to make a habit out of writing her whenever she had the chance. A soft knock sounded from behind the intricately designed door, and seconds later Thranduil peeked his head through. He wore an urgent expression, one that made her lay her hands flat on the table.

Keep reading

I’m looking for a nimulot story that I read where they can see through each other’s eyes. Can anyone help me and tell me what that is called?

I can't believe there is no Charles Smith fanfic yet 😭😭 can't wait until season 4

Playing Hard To Get Pt 2

Summary: The aftermath of the club left you bruised, agitated and with a little more pocket change. Although you didn't get exempt from completing your report......you're not exactly by yourself when everyone excepts you and Armando leaves to go home.

Warnings: Guns | Rated R Words | N-word used | Suggestive language and actions

Previous Part: Pt 1

Watching multiple women walk out the back had everyone on their toes as they didn’t see you among them, but hearing one of the dancers say something along the lines of how BP was about to go crazy had Armando alarmed.

Beckoning one of the women over he sees her glance at her friend with a smirk before walking towards him with a sway.

Acting as if he was interested, he lets her dance a bit before questioning her about all the girls coming from the back.

“You see that pretty thang from earlier perform.”

Humming he waits for her next reply, hands practically itching to push her off of him.

“BP likes to get a taste from newcomers but don't worry about that baby we can have our own fun as well."

Before he had time to even react to her words, gunshots go off causing the whole club to erupt in chaos. Pushing the girl away he quickly pulls out his gun from underneath his shirt and head towards the dressing room.

“What the hell was that!” Rafe yells over the still loud music and screams of the once vibrant club patrons.

"Sounds like it came from the back room!" Armando responded.

Shooting a few bodyguards, he hops onto the stage and runs towards the direction that you exited through a few moments earlier.

Gun drawn he walks through the short hallway, senses heightened from the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

"You one brave Bitch to think you could just pull a gun on me!" Big Papa shouts, keeping a tight hold on your bruising wrist as he fights against you.

Turning the corner, Armando entered the room just as the suspects manages to backhand and disarm you. Falling back into the wall vanity, you groan at the stinging sensation from the impact.

"Don't you make a fucking move!" Armando ordered, shifting his gaze between you and the suspect.

"OH, I see now your ass five-o!" he growled, keeping your gun trained on you as the other entrance opens to reveal the squad entering with their guns aimed at the man.

"Put the gun down, you don't want to add more to your charges or worse leave out of here in a damn body bag!" Mike insisted, moving forward a few steps.

Reaching out a hand behind your back, you pat the hard surface in search of a weapon to defend yourself.

"Nah y'all pigs done came in and fuck up my joint and you think a nigga leaving here in handcuffs......fuck that shit!" Raged BP as he tightens his grip on the weapon.

"Shit! This nigga finna crash out, we need to do something now!" Marcus yelled keeping his gun on the suspect.

Making eye contact with Armando, you see him widen his eyes and mouth no as you grab your discarded purse.

"I'LL SHOW YOU A FUCKING CRASH OU-" before he could finish you hit his wrist hard with your purse and slam your heels into his groin area.

Dropping the gun, he falls to his knees clutching his private, while cursing you out with a high pitch voice.

Lunging forward you grab your gun and press it against his sweating forehead, "WHO'S THE MOTHERFUCKING BITCH NOW HUH!"

Shifting your agitated eyes up you see all the men staring with a pain-stricken expression.

"Damn Y/N I ain't think you was gonna do all that!" Armando gulped, slipping handcuffs around the groaning suspects wrists.

"What I have to work with what I got and plus he fucked up my weave!" you explained, removing your gun from BPs head to put on your silk robe.

Arriving at the precinct, you sit down in your chair and place your sparkling heeled feet on top of your desk. While setting your small tote in your lap to double check that no money didn’t fall out after using it as a weapon.

"Y/N I can't let you keep that." Rita stated walking over to you to collect the money for evidence.

"Come on Rita, the man messed up my hair and I'll consider this as compensation y'all know my beautician isn't cheap!"

Laughing Kelly steps in,“Hey! Y/N put that work in on that pole, she deserves every penny!"

Muttering thank you; you continue to count your money while smacking Rafe's hand away as he tries to steal a bill and pointing your heeled feet at Dorn's approaching form.

"Aye I'm just coming to collect that twenty you owe me.”

Smacking your lips you remove your feet from the desk and scoot forward to hand him his change, "Y'all bet not start that 'You owe' me mess, at least wait till I get my hair done."

"Only thing I want is you, baby."

Turning your chair in Armandos direction you give him a small glare as you watch him cross his arms while leaning against his desk with a smirk.

"Like I said tell that to your little work girlfriend."

"And Like I told you......I just did."

Moving away from his desk, he walks over to stand in front of your sitting form causing you to peer up at him with raised brows. Placing his hand on your arm rest he cages you in and leans his lips towards your left ear.

"Second warning, princess."

Shifting away from his warm looming figure, you gaze into his brown eyes and briefly peer down at his dangling chain.

"Those warnings don't mean nothing to me." you commented, leaning back some more to catch his reaction.

Blinking down at you Armando traces his eyes down your face, "You’ll learn after you receive your third one." he replied in a low tone, before standing back upright and walking back to his desk.

Shivering from his words , you glanced around to see the team gazing between you and Armando awkwardly.

"I thought we was still at the strip club for a second." Marcus mutters as he and Mike heads to the breakroom.

Right when you turn to your desk to start your report, you feel a bill being snatched from the stack in your hand and seeing a familiar tattooed form dash by had you growling out their name.

"Rafe! You luck my feet hurt to damn much to chase after you!" You shouted, quickly sticking your money into your bag and placing it into your drawer.

As time passes by you continue to fill out the information from tonight's case with tired eyes, everyone had already finished theirs and left......well except for Armando who was currently typing away on his computer.

Yawning you get up to walk towards the breakroom, bare aching feet being soothed by the cold tiles of the precinct floors.

Entering the room, you make a beeline straight towards the coffee machine and after pressing a few buttons you hop onto the counter beside it as the machine works it magic.

Closing your eyes you release a content sigh from the smell of the beverage beginning to waft through the air but while you take in this peaceful moment you failed to notice Armando's approaching figure.

Feeling hands brush against your thighs had you jumping and shooting your eyes open, only to relax a bit when you see Armando standing in front of you.

Running his hands down your exposed shimmering legs, he pushes them apart to stand in between them.

"Why you keep fighting against this?"

"Against what?" you asked stopping the movement of his tan hands, already feeling yourself becoming hot just from his simple touch.

“The possibility of us.” Armando answered, dragging you closer to the edge of the counter while keeping a soft grip on the back of your knees.

"I already told you before I'm not interested."

"You're saying one thing, but your body says another, mami." he remarked, moving his hand under your robe, and playful pulling at your thong strap.

Rolling your eyes, you try to scoot away from his overwhelming figure but his grip on your hips keeps you in place.

"What are yo-"

"Tell me if you want me to stop." he stated, cutting you off while pressing his front against yours.

"Arma-" before you could utter his name, your mouth drops open as he begins to press firm hot kisses down your exposed neck.

Mind becoming scattered you don't know whether to keep him close or push him away.

"Use your words baby.... let me know if you want me to stop." he muttered pressing his warm lips against your soft ones.

Digging your nails into his firm shoulders,he wraps your thick brown legs around his waist causing you to moan into the kiss.

However, the sensation of his hard covered member grinding against your thin thong had you pushing at his firm chest, "W -wait, Armando!"

Freezing his movements he sucks in a deep breath, staring you down hungrily while waiting for you to speak.

The nerves in your belly were going crazy from the way his intense dilated eyes trail down to your partially opened robe.

Looking back up he sees the dazed look on your face making him gently grab your right hand.

"Don't go quiet on me Y/N," he breathed bringing his lips to your bruised wrist.

"Tell me what's on your mind, baby."

Shaking away the lustful thoughts clouding your brain, you use your other manicured hand to move him back.

"You really wanna know what's on my mind?" you smirked, hopping off the counter and turning your attention to the coffee machine.

"Wouldn't have asked if I didn't." he taunted, rolling his lower half against your ass,resulting in you gripping the counter to prevent yourself from meeting his movements.

Wrapping his arms around your waist,he gives your flushed brown cheek a kiss and reaches a hand down to play with the strap keeping your robe together.

"Just thinking about how you went all day ignoring me and trying to make me jealous but the minute you seen me twirling on that pole you went back to begging." you commented, fixing you and him a cup of much needed coffee.

"Ain’t nobody was begging sweetheart,I was just simply returning the same energy you been giving to me." he growled ,extending his hand to grab the cup you prepared for him while releasing you from his hold.

"Oh yeah and what was that."

"Teasing me as if you want to take this to the next level but then acting like I'm just a 'colleague'. " Armando explained, keeping his eyes on you while taking a sip of the hot beverage.

"Oh, you're so cute to think that's how I tease." you added, heading back to your desk,no longer interested in drinking your coffee.

Following after you amused, he watches you log out your computer and gather your things.

Causing him to turn his attention to his own desk to complete the same motions.

Missing the sight of you sliding a certain piece of clothing down your glittering legs.

"If what you been showing me this whole time wasn’t your form of teasing then I can’t even imagi-”

Before he could finish, a soft material hits the side of his head making him freeze on the spot as his eyes land on your thong.

" See ya on Monday!" you purred, walking fast to the front of the precinct.

Snatching up the discarded thong and stuffing it into his pocket; he grabs his few belongings and quickly chase after your retreating figure with newfound desire.

"Your gonna learn to stop running from things you start, Y/N!"

Author’s Note🎙️:Hope you guys enjoyed I had to dig deep on Pinterest for that visual of Y/N stripper outfit😭 and I got carried away with typing a Mike Lowrey x reader one-shot😁.

Let me know if I should do one more part to this ⬆️.

Tag-list: @poppetbaby02 @livirosa@dyttomori @cibresworld @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @theclownmimi @blackgirlmagicforever @3amvaiya @thesizzler @bitchyglittersuit @leahnicole1219 @babywinter @housewifewithnohusband22 @undevidedattentionsblog @delusionalbutterfly @ky44 @thatwassofetch @pandorafrost @yeahnohoneybye

There isn’t enough stories on noir. Idk why 😞. But people write about homelander .. that I don’t understand. I’d love to see one of noir and starlight ❤️

OBJECT OF DESIRE.

Aemond Targaryen x female Reader

A raven from King‘s Landing has reached Runestone two moons ago, bidding for you to come to the capital though no distinct reason has been stated. The signature of your father below didn‘t give Ser Gerold any other choice than to get you ready and send you off, knowing he could not deny Daemon Targaryen. You quickly learn that the time has come for you to find a husband, however, the true object of your desire isn‘t the one your father has intended for you.

WARNINGS: canon typical incest/ Targcest, female Reader with Targaryen features (silver hair, purple eyes); see each chapter for individual warnings

WORDS: 18,979 K

NOTES: this will be similar to YTOTIPF in the sense that this story is based on a request I’ve received for Aemond x Daemon‘s daughter. I‘ll split in into three or four parts. If you want to be added to the taglist — please let me know.

PART 1

"With your father being so insistent for you to marry some lord he’ll choose and your refusal of it, you’re more than interested in entertaining another option. And it would be stupid of you to let the idea of elopement with a man who could actually give you some power slip from your fingers."

PART 2

"It's always sacrifice and duty. But what will you do, if it's put to the test?"

PART 3

PART 4

"Are you just a political ploy to Aemond? Or is there more to him rushing your wedding?"

(POSSIBLE) PART 5

Mini Taglist: @heimtathurs @fan-goddess @tsujifreya @melsunshine @drwstarkeyy @kazuyatokue @moonlightfoxx @bbgmonsay @thatmysteriousblog @ashovertheriver @black-dread @watercolorskyy @urmomsgirlfriend1 @lovelykhaleesiii @hypocritic-trash-baby @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowystark @connorsui @valeskafics

OOD Taglist: @vhwyrm @multyfangirl @toodlesxcuddles @chick-from-nz @guessm0del @dixie-elocin @eponaartemisa @bad-dragun @landlockedmermaid77

Can someone please give me a list of good romance stories , where he isn’t the killer? Sad there isn’t enough au stories on these two… I’ve noticed my favs were deleted over time 😭 can someone help me

Why Did You Do That? | Black Noir

Summary: Scarlet Witch!Reader X Noir are High School sweet hearts, She was completely normal or so she thought before she watch Homelander killing the love of her life. 

Warning: 'Child threatening'

Requested: Yes, don't know if they wanted to be tagged if so I'll do it later.

Y/N stood frozen in place watching her husband fall to the ground as his insides were ripped out by the man that claimed to be his best friend. 

"You should have told me." She hears him mutter to the dying body of Noir before turning and seeing her standing in the door. "Oh Y/N, suppose you knew too, didn't you?" He asked with a shakily chipper voice despite the tears begging to fall from his eyes.

"You did, didn't you, know that Soldier boy was my father." He informed. "That he was alive." 

She stood there unable to process anything past what she had just witnessed. hands shaking as she struggled to control her breathing. "You killed Noir." 

"He's not dead yet." Homelander corrected. "But he shouldn't have kept secrets from me, now Y/N are you keeping secrets from me." He asked again taking a threatening step towards her. 

"I loved him." She whispered a single tear falling down her face. "He was all I had, w-why would you take him from me?" She asked. 

Rolling  his eyes in annoyance Homelander gives and irritated smile. "Don't worry, you'll join him real soon." Glaring as his eyes glow red, faltering only when he noticed that her eyes were as well. 

Homelander let out a groan as he was lifted off the ground against his will, red wisps surrounding his form, as he fought to land on the ground his arms and leg began stretching outward leaving him star fished hanging in the middle of the room.

"Why did you do that?" You asked glaring at that the floating man. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" Homelander asked in between groans of pain. The sound of fabric ripping and joints popping filled the air that was absent of an answer from the red eyed girl.

Slowly Y/N lifted her hand, as soon as it became level with the blonde supe it was as if she could feel his body in the palm of her hand. She snapped her hand to the left watching as hiss body followed slamming into the concrete wall, then to the right wall, the floor and ceiling. Slowly she lowered her hand just in front of her presenting Homelander on his knees in front of her feet.  

Reaching out her other hand just above his chest Y/N watched as the red wisps appeared at her finger tips and into his body, before long she felt it.

"There it is." She whispered almost too low for even him to hear. "Your heart, I didn't think you had one...well you won't in a while." She said before she began twisting her hand slightly. Homelander's eyes widened at the pain he felt in his chest still not fully understanding how this was happening. 

"I don't mind if you scream," She said turning and pulling her hand back. "I want to know your in at least half the pain that Noir was in, that I'm in." She sneered watching as he gritted his teeth keeping himself from screaming. 

"No? Okay, well let me know if this hurts." She said preparing to rip his heart from his chest, before she could a hand lands on her shoulder. Snapping her head to the person she was more than shocked to see Noir standing next to her, looking down at his previously opened stomach she sees that his skin was closed up as his uniform was being put back together by the same energy that filled her eyes and danced on her fingers. 

She was doing that, looking back up to Noir's face she sees him shaking his head at her before looking at Homelander still groaning and on his knees. Noir grabs her hand and pulls her into his chest, as soon as his arms were around her waist the magic released Homelander as he let out a sigh of relief falling to the floor. 

"You can't escape it," Homelander called out. "Soldier Boy will still come after you." 

"Not if he want to live, he won't." Y/N says pulling away from her husband. "But he is coming after you, and once he does you'll see why Noir kept you from him." Noir gently grabbed your shoulder and began leading you back to the door of the room.

"I know your thinking about coming after us." Y/N said stopping but not turning to face him. "I can see you thinking about it and I want you to know that if you do I won't kill you...I'll kill Ryan, and then you will truly be alone."

Y/N and Noir made their way to the elevator the whole way she could hear him thinking, his mind going a mile a minute. "I don't know how I did it." She answered his unasked question. 

Looking down at her he thinks again. 

"I've never had any 'V' before, I don't even know if I could do it again which is scary considering I just threatened the child of America's number on psycho." She sighed out. "Maybe with practice-, I'm sorry I don't really want to talk about this right now, I thought I lost you so can we not talk and just...hold me please."

Without hesitation Noir wrapped his arms around his wife as she did the same, both basking in each other's embrace as they waited for the elevator to stop and the problems to come pouring in again.

The Nakedness Of Moonlight and Agony

Pairing: Aemond x Velaryon Reader

Tags: dark characters, mention of blood purity, mutilation (not described), vengeance, humiliation, not Luke-friendly, discussion of violence and humiliation as foreplay, vaginal fingering, p. in v. sex

Author's Note: this is a dark story, please mind the tags before reading and proceed at your own discretion.

On the night following the petitions, you decide to avenge the truth your father Vaemond Velaryon died for and to offer your husband Aemond the justice he deserves.

Aemond Masterlist

Weeping in the nakedness of moonlight and agony. —James Wright.

Your eyes were looking ahead of you, unblinking and unseeing, and the sound of Dark Sister cutting through your father's head was still rushing through your mind. You did not make a sound as your lady accidentally pricked you with one of the pins keeping your dress in place, and you did not hear her as she rushed to apologize.

"You should not come," Aemond said, his voice low and soothing, and you answered him without looking up at his worried expression.

"I shall come and stand in for my father's honor," you replied without warmth or coldness to your voice, and Aemond sighed. He gestured for your maid to leave, taking the cushion of pins from her. She bowed and scurried out, leaving Aemond to finish pinning your dress to your corset.

He did so with precision, a sort of silent reverence to his movements, the sort that his words could never quite carry. You had not been married long but he had always shown you the utmost respect, even more so when you shared with him the rumors that ran along the waves within House Velaryon—that of the true parentage of its heir.

He appreciated your taste for truth and honor, and you appreciated his—now both of you had lost blood to the lie that plagued the royal family and threatened to split the dynasty in two.

That is no true Velaryon. Her children are bastards, and she is a whore.

We know, Father. Everyone knows. Just look at them.

Aemond did not try to convince you, or even to order you to remain in your chambers as the dinner demanded by the king would take place. Instead he pushed the pins that would keep your steel blue dress fastened and its silver embroideries in display—shells and seahorses, symbols of the salt that ran through your blood.

"We shall remain proud, tonight," Aemond hummed as he pressed a firm kiss to your forehead, and you gladly took the arm he offered you.

You kept your head high as you walked into the hall, ignoring the looks of pity from the women and girls, and the way Daemon's mouth curled in a small amused smile. You nodded to Baela and Rhaena in respect for their mother's blood, loathing the fact that it would soon be diluted. You could not have cared less about which house Jace and Luke's father would have come from, an Andal or even a First Man, as long as its offspring didn't usurp the Velaryon legacy.

A boy from the land, a Strong, did not deserve to inherit from the greatest sailor there ever was. Driftmark had to pass to salt and sea, and to pretend that these dark-haired boys carried salt in their veins was an insult to all Velaryons. It was an insult to Ser Laenor, to the ancient ways of your line.

The Old, the True, the Brave, such were your House's words, and your father Vaemond had held to them until his dying breath, and you were left to avenge this motto.

You held on to your composure all throughout the supper, fury surely etched onto your features, but you hoped you appeared dignified enough that Rhaenyra would soon leave King's Landing with shame slipping through the cracks of her soul. Surely the Gods would punish her for her deceptions, one way or another.

However it wasn't the Gods who would set this plan into motion, but your husband himself, his fist coming down on the table before he rose, ever graceful, his cup in hand.

"Final tribute," Aemond announced, and with those words he knew he was sealing his fate and perhaps yours, his wife.

The rotting hatred he had done his best to conceal all these years was now tearing at the seams of his discipline, and the sorrow of his lady wife mourning her father was the last rip in the fabric of his patience. Vaemond Velaryon had spoken the same truth Aemond had lost his eye for, the one his father the king was too blinded by his own sorrows to see.

"To the health of my nephews. Each of them handsome, wise..." he exclaimed, poised on the edge of his own damnation, and the way your hand came to rest on his lower back, giving a slight push, emboldened him. "Strong."

He heard you breathe a sigh of relief, and his love for you roared in his chest, making him arrogant as he walked to Jace, his grip steady on his cup. You could barely conceal your own dark amusement as your husband loudly goaded Prince Jacaerys, and as he turned to you again, unfazed by the punch to the face he had just taken, Aemond’s eye was burning.

"I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, mother," he placated as he slid an arm around your waist and you gracefully came to rest against his side.

The both of you stood in front of Daemon, wrists poised on the pommel of Dark Sister, the blade that had cut down the only man brave enough to speak a truth that would alter the very fabric of history if not revealed.

"Come, husband, I shall see if the Silent Sisters have finished their work," you calmly led Aemond away, but he could tell of the fury and desire for vengeance that thrummed beneath your skin. He allowed you to pull him along.

Later that night, as your husband was deep into slumber, his body bared to your sight as his empty eye socket sat on display, his hair as silver seafoam on the pillows, you could not find rest.

Rather than the sound of Dark Sister piercing the air, it was now the mocking chuckle of Lucerys that kept rushing through your mind. Your pain was plain for all to see, and for all to imagine, and no one would ever begrudge you for mourning your father, but Aemond's pain was one of secrecy.

For nearly a decade now he had had to endure to indignities that came with the loss of an eye—the loss of a face one grew familiar with, the pain that often plagued his nights when storms came from the Narrow Sea, the shame he carried deep within and that often lashed out like a wounded beast.

You had often been on the receiving end of that violence, in the form of rejection and this formidable anger that came in biting words. You had never taken them at heart, only ever held him when he collapsed in exhaustion, sometimes hazy from milk of the poppy, and sworn to him that you would avenge him one day.

You sat up in bed suddenly, as if struck by the claws of the Stranger himself. "An eye for an eye," you murmured in the pitch black silence.

"Wife?" Aemond murmured, ever attentive to you, even in slumber.

"I need air and solitude," you replied, slipping from the bed and padding out of your chambers, feet bare on the stones. You knew he would not follow you nor question you, just as you did not pursue him when he wished to be alone with his pain.

A strange calm was in possession of your body, your long curls and braids swaying at your back as you made your way to the wing where the guests quarters were. The few guards ignored you, used to your nighttime wanders in the castle, unnoticing the dagger you had taken from your husband's belt on the dresser, slipped into your sleeve.

In the darkness, you waited for a few breaths in front of the door and counted the seconds until your fate would be sealed in blood and sin.

"An eye for an eye," you repeated to yourself, pushing in quietly and closing the door behind you, locking it.

"Jace?" came a boy's voice, heavy with sleep.

To your horror, two beds sat side by side against the great painted wall, facing the hearth and settees. Heart in your throat, your eyes fixed on the smaller form, unmoving under heavy sheets and covers, you walked to the second bed.

An older child sat up, the white face of Lucerys appearing under his dark curls, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Jace, is that—" he started, quiet so as not to wake little Joffrey, and his question choked in his throat as you pressed your palm to his mouth.

"Wake you brother and I shall turn the blade to him," you said, quiet and cold in a way you did not recognize yourself in. You sat on the bed, the dagger slipping from your sleeve into your palm, and you brought it up to the pale, quivering neck of your nephew by marriage.

"Justice has finally come to collect its debt, little Luke," you murmured, feeling your lips widen in a smile you did not understand—there was no happiness to such a collection, but if the laws of men didn't seem fit to punish wrong deeds, you would obey the Gods' laws.

Lucerys' eyes widened in horror, tears coming to them as silent sobs wracked his frame. His gaze fleeted back and forth from his sleeping brother to you, his throat trembling beneath the blade.

"Stay silent and he shall be safe. I swear to you, on the memory of my father," you vowed, slowly removing your hand from his mouth.

Lucerys' lower lip wavered and a wet plea came from his mouth, his hand coming to rest on your wrist. "Please, you do not need to do this, I will not tell anyone," he begged, and you made a soothing sound.

"Oh but you will, child. You will tell everyone of what I did," you crooned, marvel tinting your voice. "You will tell how the blade of justice came to you in the night, and that I was carrying it."

"You cannot mean that," he replied, terror and confusion creasing his brow.

"Oh but I do, little Luke," you chuckled. "Did you really think you could take my husband's eye without ever paying your debt? Did you really think that you could sully the name of my house with your bastard blood without fearing any wrath?"

More silent shudders shook his small frame, hot tears running down his face and wetting the blade where it was pressed under the line of his jaw, denting the alabaster skin. "If it is Driftmark that you want then I shall gladly give it to you. I do not want it," he bargained, his grip on your wrists tightening, his nails pressing half-moons into your skin. "I will speak to grandsire, surely he—"

"Lord Corlys is not your grandsire," you spat in his face, pushing yourself to your knees until you were hovering over him. "You are not a Velaryon."

"You are right, I am not," he sobbed, his free hand coming to press against his mouth, silencing the cries that he could not swallow. You watched as he choked, desperate to keep his panic silent, and a strange sort of heat curled in your stomach.

You suddenly regretted that Aemond was not here to witness such a pitiful sight and relish in it as you were.

"Now, now," you soothed, wiping the salty tears from his eyes with a gentle thumb. "Keep your wits about yourself, it is almost over."

Lucerys nodded hurriedly, forcing his chest up to accommodate deep, calming breaths, and soon his hand retracted from his mouth.

"What do you want, if not Driftmark?"

"I already told you," you replied gently. "Justice.”

"For your father?" he whimpered when the blade slowly made its way from his neck to his cheek.

"For the lie he lost his life for. For the lie my husband sacrificed his eye to," you said, your eyes once again losing focus—instead of tears it was rivers of blood running down the boy's cheek that you saw, splashing on your sleeves and pouring over the bedsheets. "An eye for an eye, as the Gods intended."

Lucerys pushed himself up, crying out, but you slapped a hand over his mouth again, hissing in disgust at the wetness that coated your palm. "Quiet or I shall cut it out from your brother instead," you hissed furiously, and Lucerys froze.

You watched as horror and humiliation spread across his boyish features, and the sheets grew dark at his lap, wetness spreading on the fabric.

You huffed, a corner of your mouth curling up in mirthless humor. "You are older now than Aemond was when he lost his eye to you, and yet you have nothing of the dignity he possessed, even at that age," you said with disdain. "Choose an eye."

Lucerys sobbed against your hand, both his eyes closing for a moment as he shook his head. "You're leaving the choice to me?" you asked. "How galant..."

You removed both your hands from him, and watched as he collapsed against the headboard, looking pleadingly to the side where Joffrey was still asleep, peaceful under pure white sheets. He flinched as you tore some of the sheets from the bed spread and rolled it into a ball, forcing his mouth open to shove it in.

Lucerys once again choked on his own breaths and pleading words, but you ignored him. Your mind was swimming with urgency, and you knew the vicious current taking you under would only relent once your dark deed was committed.

Holding him down, you brought the blade to his face, uncaring when his terrified screams broke through the cotton.

Aemond was awoken by commotion in the hallway, and as he reached across the sheets, he found them cold. He shot up, grabbing a robe from the foot of the bed and slipping it on his bare frame.

The stones were cold beneath his feet as he made his way across to the royal quarters, to his mother's chambers where several voices were coming from, some panicked and some incensed. Dread curled in his stomach as he stepped over bloody prints and stains on the floors, following their lead to the Queen's chambers.

As he entered them, he was suddenly brought back years prior to the Hall of Nines where his eye had been sewn shut.

Rhaenyra, her sons and her husband were standing around a weeping Lucerys, sitting on an armchair while Maester Orwyle was working on his bloody face with a needle. The boy cried out and whimpered pleadingly as he saw the silhouette of his uncle, and Aemond would have felt elated if not for his confusion.

Across from them, Ser Criston Cole and Lord Commander Westerling were holding his wife by the arms, Queen Alicent standing as a living shield in front of her daughter-in-law.

"Aemond," his mother gasped.

You looked up and your face brightened as you saw him—it was spattered with blood, as was the front of your nightgown, while its sleeves were drenched in it. On a nearby table, his dagger laid, painted in bright red from the handle to the tip.

"Are you injured?" Aemond inquired as he rushed to you, but Lord Westerling kept him at arm's length, a gloved hand to his chest.

"I did it for you," you said in wonder, looking up at him with love. Aemond was stunned, and even Cole slackened his hold on you, as you reached into a fold of your robe, procuring a crimson ball of linen.

Across from you, Rhaenyra heaved as you presented Aemond with it, and he steadily unwrapped the cryptic present. He breathed a trembling breath, ice going down his spine when he took in the bloody eye in your palm.

"An eye for an eye, you are avenged now," you murmured, the High Valyrian rolling easily off your tongue. This time Lord Westerling did not hold you back as you fell forward into your husband's embrace, burying your bloody face in his chest, cradling the severed eye between your two bodies like a talisman.

"The girl is clearly disturbed. A madness has taken over her," Alicent defended. "Surely upon seeing her father being slain before her very eyes, and his memory mocked at dinner," she cried out, looking at Daemon, and the man laughed darkly.

"I demand retribution," Rhaenyra exclaimed, holding her son's head steady as the Maester worked the needle through the jagged cut.

"And yet you were so eager to dismiss my own demand when my son was maimed!" Alicent thundered.

"A trial would surely set all minds at ease," a calm voice came from the doorway, and all turned to Princess Rhaenys as she spoke. Silence fell over the royal quarters for a moment, and only the sound of steel piercing skin could be heard, along with soft Valyrian being spoken in Aemond's chest.

Madness was indeed the word decided upon at the trial that the Lord Hand and the Queen held on the following day, the Council looking at you in pity and vague disgust. It was decided that the fragile mind of a sane woman could not conjure such vicious violence as Prince Lucerys told, and your own wavering words sealed your fate.

"I do not remember a moment of it," you vowed before the Council and Ser Otto's kind gaze.

"It is known for violent scenes to trigger a bout of madness in young, impressionable minds," Maester Orwyle explained, his nails still caked in the blood of the prince. "Violence will come to them, with no memory of the act afterwards."

"The debt has already been paid," Lord Jason concluded. "The girl's father is dead, and Prince Aemond's eye was taken many years ago. Surely those quarrels can be put to rest now."

However as Rhaenyra flew back to Dragonstone, Daemon glancing at you over his shoulder as they left the Throne Room, cradling Lucerys in their embraces, you knew a blade was coming for you sooner or later. You did not fear it, as you knew your husband's own blade would protect you, even though he had been cold and silent since his sudden awakening in the night, and the present you had made him.

As you entered his chambers once the trial had released you to the care of your husband, he was sitting at the foot of the bed, lost in a sea of thoughts you feared to step into.

Instead you stayed on the shore, praying he would come to you, and crimson tides would not keep you apart. "Are you not relieved, or at least grateful?" you inquired, a bitter taste flooding your throat like a mouthful of seawater.

"Why did you do it?" came the cold question, and Aemond remained perfectly immobile, save for his eye that rose to you from under its white lashes. "You risked death, or at the least dishonor or exile."

"I did it for you," you replied feebly, confusion bringing hot tears to your eyes. "I could not stand and watch your nephew mock you, after his very existence forfeited that of my father."

Silence was your only answer, Aemond observing you with intent, his shoulders squared as his elbow rested on his knees. He hummed quietly, and you decided once again upon the truth. "I lied," you murmured. "I remember every moment of it."

Aemond's lips parted and a shallow breath pushed past his teeth, harsh and short. "The only madness present in this castle is the lie that the king is too weak to recognize," you hissed, and at that Aemond shot up from his seat, coming to tower over you.

He pressed his palm to your mouth, stunning you for a moment, but the heat in his eye made you melt into his touch. "What a marvel you are, my wife," he murmured with reverence, and this time your hot tears were ones of gratitude.

He dipped his head to kiss them away as you moaned against his palm, savoring their salt on his tongue as flashes of crimson appeared behind his closed eyelid. He could not escape the sight of you covered in revenge, one you had pursued in his name and executed with steadiness.

His hand slipped from your sweet lips and he swallowed your next moan, his tongue sharing the salt of your tears. "I can hardly believe it," he confessed against your lips.

"And yet it is real," you vowed. "I would do it again, you needn't even ask."

"Tell me about it," he hissed, his tight grasp on your shoulders pushing you against the nearby table, and never before had you heard such heat in the vowels of his High Valyrian.

"He cried and pleaded," you recounted as Aemond hoisted you up effortlessly. "He begged so sweetly, and he was so terrified he soiled himself."

Aemond chuckled darkly against your neck, his teeth marking it with bruises as his large palm sought the warmth of your thigh beneath your dark blue dress. You pulled at the fabric, revealing your golden skin like the sands beneath the retreating sea on the shores of Driftmark. .

His mouth following the lines of your clavicles and breast bone down the collar of your dress, Aemond sought your wetness and your pearl, his parted lips twitching as he found it easily. He pressed firm circles onto it with his thumb as two of his fingers slipped into you, and you clenched around him, rocking into the pleasure.

"He offered Driftmark, but I would not take it," you continued your tale as Aemond pressed his hardness into your thigh, the stiff leather leaving delicious burns on your skin. "Justice for you is more important to me than any throne," you murmured, and Aemond's rhythm on you never faltered, the pressure of his fingers riding the edge of pain.

Aemond almost snarled as he took his fingers away abruptly, your wetness smearing on his clothes as he unbuckled his belt hurriedly, and you could only hold on to the edge of the table, your knees parted around his waist. You braced for the rough thrust you knew was to come, and you threw your head back as his cock pierced you, the sudden stretch making you mewl.

"Tell me again," he pleaded in a broken groan, his breath hot against the side of your face.

He started a rough, punishing rhythm that had you scrambling for purchase, the table dragging on the stones from the force of his thrusts. It was as though your madness of that night had passed to him and he was now crazed with lust.

"I took his eye for you," you repeated, your voice breaking with moans as the drag of his cock took your wits from you, dragging you down the pit of heat that Aemond had lost himself in. "I made him cry and plead for mercy like the bastard he is deserves. I did it to avenge you."

His gratitude came in the form of relentless waves of the most exquisite pleasure—you usually liked his slow, measured endeavors, but there was no stopping the storm of his passion now, and you found would gladly drown in it. You closed your eyes and allowed him to take you under, the delicious stretch of his cock and the drag along your sweet spot making your head spin and your pearl throb.

He chuckled again, dark and victorious, as the pressure in your core snapped and you clenched around his cock, your hips grinding up into his. You cried out, coating his cock in your pleasure as you pulsed, surrendering to your peak and its ebbing waves until you could catch your breath again and your eyes fluttered open.

"I did it because I love you," you said, gaze peering into his, and you watched as his peak took over him, his features twisting in ecstasy.

You sighed along with his broken whimpers as his brow creased and his lips parted, his eye blown wide. He looked wild and crazed, more devastatingly beautiful than ever, his white hair falling over his shoulders as his hips seized and ground into yours, his cock pulsing hotly inside you.

He fell forward into you and you remained in silence for a while, forehead to forehead and the thundering of your hearts settled. You hooked your legs behind his, cradling his head into your hands, trusting him to hold you up against the tabletop. "When they come for you, I shall be ready. I will avenge your father," Aemond vowed, the lilac of his eye reflecting in the seawater hues of your own purple gaze.

Dividers by @/saradika

This was requested by @crystal-syren and proofread by @arcielee.

Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed reading. Comment to be added to the taglist.

Aemond Taglist 1:‬ @snowystark @qyburnsghost @darkenchantress @itscatlien-blog @castellomargot

@cardi-bre91 @avengingangelfanfic @malfoytargaryen @mari0302 @iamfandomnerd

@hb8301 @pasta-rask @chattylurker @svtansdaddyx

@its-sam-allgood @amarillys92 @namgification @dahlias-and-marigolds

Aemond Taglist 2: @valleyof-goldenlilies @yentroucnagol @drakonflames @moris-auri @mysteris-things

@aemondsbabygirl @toodlesxcuddles @xxxkat3xxx @bunbunbl0gs @fullmoonworshipper

@whitedarkmoonflower @minttea07 @heavenly1927 @starzzgirl @i-mushi

@namgification @elleclairez @esmeralda-tupi @merovingianprincess

Aemond Taglist 3: @darylandbethfanforever9 @marvelita85 @partypoison00 @nina2697 @helaenaluvr

@llearlert @666cherrybby666 @girlwith-thepearlearring @theoneeyedprince @greenowlfactif

@whimsywilde @thenameswinter99 @blackswxnn @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @dixie-elocin @aemondwhoresworld

Reblog If Nestor Is Your Favorite Mayan