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#i've met him in person y'all
clivvy · 5 months
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how is anyone supposed to recover from seeing their friend go on the uk's premiere breakfast television programme to talk about having britain's biggest penis. like how am I supposed to go on moving boxes when the world is that much weirder than it was 5 minutes ago
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fisheito · 7 months
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really enjoy seeing the comments whenever i post sopping yakumo the reactions are immediate like all the yakumo enjoyers wriggle out of the dirt and experience Emotion together , loudly the chorus of AUUWWGHHHGHGHHH we are one
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pengillys · 29 days
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some men are batshit fucking crazy
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alexoreality · 8 months
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You might not have to hear this but some one piece ships literally don't make sense that it gives me the ick 🥲 (some ships i just respect and leave alone, i'll color them in blue.) (And the ones that give me severe trust issues is purple)
AceSan - ...okay... The smirk...? What else...? Trauma bonding?? What...? I mean, its cute, i can leave the ship alone and its fans. I think this ship stemmed from the way Ace was drawn looking at Sanji *my boy was greasy* Y'all are horny though.- (sorry. But they'll get along so well with supporting and stuff- TRAUMA. MY GUY. I KNOW IT WHEN I SEE IT 😭
HanLu - thats a grown ass woman.
LawLu - and thats a grown ass man. (But Luffy's 19- AGE GAP???)
ZoSan - i'm sorry HUH. The two men that insult each other 24/7 were being shipped??? HUH. (But they respect each other- I KNOW THAT??? BUT GODDAMN THE FICS DON'T GET THEIR CHARACTER RIGHT 😭 ZoSan is a well-liked ship, but don't consider them canon and that they'll kiss after Zoro defeats Mihawk)
ZoBin - THAT IS HIS MOTHER FIGURE.
SaboSan - ...They never met 😶... and what if they do? Trauma bonding again?... Y'all I'm sorry but huh- how. Legitimately I'M SPEAKING RATIONALLY, HOW THE FUCK WOULD TWO PEOPLE FALL IN LOVE??? THAT WAY???
UGH ITS JUST A 2D CHARACTER!!
Well DAMN YOU WEREN'T TREATING THEM LIKE THAT WHEN I WAS DISSING THEM??
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jittyjames · 1 year
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hi. sorry for ghosting for like two weeks. just thought i was dying for a moment no biggie. i turned twenty and my body/mental health was like NOPE. it's been a rough one but i'm back now (with new meds and a heart monitor lol i hate my life)
BUT i did get a lot of work done in the midst of all that mess, would you like me to post three works at once or spread them out instead? ill have to post them when im back home which will prob be tomorrow night but all i have to do is edit and post so!!!
(also sorry for the spam im about to do. my ask box is full and all of you lovely people have made wonderful art and fics)
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cas---2y5 · 3 days
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am i actually in love or just feverish and brain-foggy. find out after this commercial break
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ckret2 · 4 months
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So y'all know the Gravity Falls production bible that leaked three weeks ago. Someone in one of my discord servers pointed this out:
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And, naturally, that spawned an entire AU.
AU Concept: Ford was kicked out instead of Stan and takes a job as a trucker to makes ends meet since he couldn't go to college, while still studying the weird and anomalous however he can.
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Ford driving around from quirky small town to quirky small town, drifting through the liminal spaces of truck stops, meeting odd people in isolated diners, seeing strange things out on the road—a deer with too many eyes bounding across a two-lane highway, a flirty woman at a rest stop who doesn't blink or breathe, mysterious lights in the sky at night, inhuman growls on the CB or 50-year-old broadcasts on the radio—and taking notes when he stops for gas or food.
Aside from having gotten kicked out before graduating high school, Ford's the same person he is in canon.
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He's still an ambitious guy, and here "ambitious" means working hard and saving as much money as he can—so, a long haul owner-operator who spends weeks at a time on the road. (He goes through a LOT of educational audiobooks.) Plus, this is the easiest way for him to get to travel the country; and since it looks like his "travel the world" dreams with Stan are dead, he'll take what he can get.
Since he's never in the same spot long and carries his life in a truck, almost all of Ford's research is in his journal. His bag of investigation supplies has an instant camera, a portable tape recorder, a thermometer, a flashlight, rubber gloves, and a few zip lock bags—and that's about it. It has to share space with all his clothes, toiletries, and nonperishable food when he's on the road. He doesn't have much opportunity to closely examine anything odd he finds, unless he's lucky enough to run into something when he can stop for the night. He has to cram his paranormal research around the side of his full-time job.
He doesn't live in Gravity Falls, but he knows it exists. Every time he moves—to Chicago, to Nebraska, to California—he seems to inch closer. He currently lives in Portland and usually hauls loads between the Pacific Northwest and Chicago or New York. He stops at the truck stop outside Gravity Falls when he can and has gone fishing in town a few times. He doesn't have the benefit of extensive research to know that this is the weirdest town in the world; but it seems pretty weird to him, there are local rumors about the town, and he's had some weird experiences in the area.
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Plus, he can't explain it, but it's like the town's calling to him. He wants to move there, but it'd put him over an hour outside of Portland where the nearest jobs are. Maybe if somebody chucked him like $100k to build a cabin in the woods; but what are the odds of that?
He does know Fiddleford. Truck broke down somewhere and Fiddleford kindly pulled over to fix it on the fly. They looked at each other, had mutual knee-jerk "dumb trucker/hillbilly" reactions, and within ten minutes both went "oh wait you're the most brilliant genius i've ever met." Fiddleford's living the same life he was in canon before Ford called him to Gravity Falls—with his family in California, trying to start a computer company out of his garage—but they make friends and keep in contact.
One time Ford stops at a kitschy roadside knickknack store that also sells new agey magic things—crystals, tarot cards, incense, etc. He bought a "lucky" rearview mirror ornament that looks like an Eye of Providence in a top hat and hung it from his cab fan, and ever since then he's had weird dreams whenever he sleeps in his truck.
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Things I don't know yet: what Stan's up to; or why Ford's the one who got kicked out. I tend to believe that in canon Stan wasn't just kicked out because he ruined Ford's college prospects, but rather because the family thought he deliberately sabotaged Ford; so in this AU, Ford would've been kicked out over a proportionate crime.
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eaterofman · 11 months
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Yandere Coworker Harem x New Hire Reader: A Meeting with the CEO
Follow up to this post
Finally fed up with it all, you decide to leave... but you learn it may not be that easy.
Content Warnings: General creepiness, yanderes, financial manipulation, manipulation, power difference, gaslighting
AN: Holy shit the first part blew up, more so than any post I've ever made on tumblr... ever. Thank y'all, and I hope this lives up to everyone's expectations? Had to ignore a few asks since they were essentially the plot to this part, haha.
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As nice as Jake is... it starts to wear on you. The seclusion from your other coworkers, Warren and Jax's constant attention, it all becomes too much. This was the easiest money you've ever made, but it almost felt... condescending in a way. Seriously, you feel like you haven't actually worked in months, just given simple tasks to complete so that Jax could praise you. Otherwise, you felt like you were just eye candy set in a pretty office. No more, you figure. You make up your mind to go back to HR, it's been a long time coming. They either fix it, or you're gone.
With your mind made up, you return to Leon. He'd been so kind before, surely he'd help, right? As you explain your problems to him, he nods and gently smiles. In your distress, you don't notice his hand moving to cover yours, massaging yours comfortingly. You welcome the comforting sensation, overwhelmed to the point of not really considering the implications. You look into his dark eyes as you finish, silently pleading with him for help.
"That really is something. I'm sorry to hear your experience with the company has been so distressing. Tell me, do you have any proof?"
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His demeanor seems to shift instantly back to the colder man you remember from your first sight of him. His fingers rubbing gentle circles into your palm shift into a harsher grip.
"Proof? I-I mean, the cameras have probably caught something?"
You'd say there were eyewitnesses, but all of your other coworkers had been avoiding you. You barely even knew their names...
"Unfortunately, our cameras have been malfunctioning lately, I doubt they'd catch anything. Without any actual witnesses, I'm afraid I can't do anything for you."
"How can you say that without even looking? This place is insane- you know what? I'm just quitting. I can't take this anymore."
You try to remove your hand but he keeps it there. His gaze is suddenly ice cold. He lets your hand go after a few moments of tension, fingers lingering before you yank your hand to your chest.
"Ah, you could quit... but I'd really recommend against it. You'd of course have to pay the dues you signed in your contract, as well as any additional fees. I'm not in charge of finances, but my estimate would be somewhere around... 200 thousand or so?"
You gasp, blood running cold. 200 thousand?! You don't remember signing that, but you also don't recall really reading over the contract in your excitement. You try to think of a way out, surely there had to be some sort of loophole-
"Of course, there's always the option of asking the CEO to change your contract, but..."
You'd tuned anything after that out, insisting to meet with the CEO as soon as possible. Which, to your surprise, was almost immediately. Almost like he'd been... waiting for you? Leon himself lead you to the CEO's room, at the very top of the skyscraper your office resided in. As you're let in, you're met with the biggest office you'd ever seen. It composed of the entire top floor of the skyscraper, massive windows encircling the entire ornate office.
You really try to ignore the feeling that you're walking into a trap.
The CEO was patiently waiting for you. Like a king on a throne, he sat in the middle of the room in front of a surprisingly simple desk. You'd heard of the CEO, Kennedy Grey, but you'd never met him in person before. He had an air of sophistication around him, an older gentlemen with salt and pepper hair and a well trimmed beard. His suit was pristine and looked expensive, probably costing more than your entire yearly salary. He smiled, urging the two of you to sit. His eyes glanced over to Leon's, a slight smirk on his face as if the two were in on a joke you weren't.
"So, what brings you two here? I've heard very good things about you from Jax. Things are going well, I presume?"
You fidget, despite his welcoming tone, he felt oddly... menacing. Like you weren't supposed to disagree with him, even if he asked you a question. You begin to explain your issues, but are quickly stopped with a firm look of disapproval when you bring up the idea of leaving the company.
"Now now, we can't have that, can we? With your contract, that wouldn't be a very smart idea, would it?"
Before you can even respond, he simply continues to talk over you.
"No, no it wouldn't. And you've just been such a good worker, we'd just hate to lose you."
"Well, I was actually hoping we could talk about the contract, I just don't think it's fair-" you can barely get your thoughts out as he cuts you off again.
"Unfair? But my dear, you signed it. I'd just hate to get my lawyers involved... they're top of the line, y'know? Besides, you don't actually want to leave, you're just... stressed. What do you need, a paid week off? A bonus for your hard work?"
"No-"
"Well, now that that's done, let's get back to work, shall we? You'll have a bonus on your next pay-"
You've had enough of his condescension and interruptions, it's time for you to interrupt him.
"You know what, I'll take the lawsuit. You people are insane. You can have the money if you want, but I'm out of here."
As you get up, you find you can't. Leon has moved behind you, surprisingly strong arms holding your chair in, preventing you from moving. You look up at him in angered confusion, but he's sharing a look with Kennedy. You once again feel like you're missing an important part of an inside joke again. You try to struggle, but you're stopped as Kennedy interrupts.
"Apartment 101, Evergreen Apartments, right?"
"W-wha-"
"You know, I've been venturing into the rental market recently. Very profitable at the moment. I actually just bought a few buildings in your area, including your little apartment. Such a shame, you know you could do better, right? All you have to do is ask..."
He smiles at you as if this was a normal conversation to him, like he was doing you a favor.
"I guess that makes me your landlord now, if you think about it!" his smile turns colder, eyes crinkling like he's laughing at you, "That being said, I just don't see how you're going to pay for the rent increase without this job. I hate to do it, but it's a necessity, y'know? Cost of living and such."
He waves his hand like it's no big deal, like he isn't playing with your livelihood and threatening you.
"You could move out, of course, but well, word gets around, and I just don't know how the other investors in the area would react to your... history."
You feel dread well up in the pit of your stomach and tears in your eyes. He... has you. What could you even do? Moving out of the city would mean starting over, and that's if you could even find a place and a job to pay for said place, and paying for the lawsuit-
In your panic, you can only whimper, "I just... why? Why me? i don't understand-"
"That's the beauty of it all, you don't have to. All you have to worry about is coming in and doing your job. We'll handle all the rest."
You jump, having almost forgotten Leon was behind you in your panic. You go to open your mouth-
"Wonderful insight, Leon. Now that we're all on the same foot, let's get back to work, shall we?"
You can only numbly nod your head, too overwhelmed to continue fighting.
You're finally allowed to sit up and begin walking towards the door, trying to speed walk out of the huge room that somehow managed to feel claustrophobic. You just wanted out at this point, you needed somewhere to think.
As you step into the elevator, Leon staying behind in the office-thank god-you're interrupted one final time.
"Oh, and I meant what I said. If you ever need any assistance, anything at all, just come to me. All you have to do is ask."
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formulawolff · 8 days
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"keep 'em comin'" - m.v.
pairing: girl best friend!reader x max verstappen
word count: 2.3k
warnings: alcohol consumption, light marijuana usage, cussing, max munching on some cooter! (that will come later in the fic), enemies to friends to lovers, typical men behavior (being creepy in a bar), mentions of physical threats, kelly slander, THINGS ARE MESSY BETWEEN KELLY AND MAX (so if y'all don't like light infidelity/gray areas then don't read) yadayadayada (y'all already know the vibes)
a/n: hellllloooo! <3 this is my first time writing for max so if this isn't quite like him, i apologize in advance. this fic is based off of a request and i had to write about it since i've been feral for max (he finally took off that damned cap!) this may end up as a two or three part series. we'll see, we'll see!
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⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺
"i see the decrepit hag decided to let you out of her clutches tonight. congratulations for being able to be out and about in public without her breathing down your neck!"
the figure standing to your left scoffs, muttering a few incoherent words under his breath. he slides into the booth, propping his chin up with a hand. the other finds the glistening glass, a bead of condensation rolling down, pooling onto the rigid table.
"about that."
"what about it?" you arch a brow, lips connecting with the rim of your own drink, "max, did something happen before you left?"
he shrugs, brows pinching together as he sips on his mixed drink, a decadent yet smooth concoction of his favorite liquors blended together, "it's nothing serious."
"max," setting your glass down, you lean forward ever so slightly, his name louder than normal over the overwhelming mixture of voices and volume, "what. happened."
"oh you know," he waves a hand, careful not to meet your piercing gaze, "she's upset that i was going out to see you. that's all."
the moment max mentioned her, you knew exactly who she was.
she was kelly piquet. max verstappen's beloved wag. the woman who scooped him up the moment that clock struck midnight on his eighteenth birthday.
the woman you loathed more than anyone in the world.
but you wouldn't tell max that.
after all, you couldn't. the pair had been dating for quite some time. and although max wouldn't say it outright, you were well aware that she was not going anywhere anytime soon.
no matter how much the two fought. no matter how much she wanted to make your relationship with max as strained as possible.
your friendship with max had a rocky start. tumultuous, even. the two of you met when you were both seventeen, as your parents were mutual friends. since max was involved in racing, and you aimed to pursue professional photography, max's father suggested that the two of you get to know one another.
of course, at that time, the last thing teenage max wanted was some nerdy girl following him around. especially when there were other teenage boys involved. cool teenage boys who enjoyed to fuck around with fast machinery.
he teased you relentlessly, tormenting you whenever he could. he ridiculed your photographic abilities, scorning the prints or slideshows you provided. often times, he stated that your pictures were, "absolute shit" and your clip compilations "were not going to get you anywhere in formula one."
of course, you matched his energy. after all, you weren't going to take anyone's shit. you knew you had to advocate for yourself. you weren't going to make it in the industry if you weren't assertive.
eventually, your snapshots landed you a job at red bull. well, max did have a part to play in that.
after a couple of years, the dutch driver apologized for the way he treated you at the time, requesting a truce. the truce would consist of you sticking around as his personal media manager.
in turn, he would promote your work to the world of formula one and assist you in your way up the ladder in any way he could. he would land your sponsorships. he would chip in some cash here and there to get you more advanced software or equipment.
the only stipulation was that you had to follow him.
everywhere and anywhere he went. every event. every interview. every grand prix.
no. matter. what.
of course, with the stakes involved, you knew it was too good of a deal to refuse. with max's rise to prominence in formula one, you knew it was now or never.
so, you accepted his offer.
oh jos verstappen, what a bastard you were.
cause now, here you were in vegas, sitting across from the man you loved. well, the man you were in love with.
hopelessly and utterly in love with.
"that isn't unusual for her," you scoff, hands reaching for your purse, "i do have something that could lighten the mood!"
"and that is?" max's gaze follows your hand, making note of the delicately wrapped joint between your fingers.
"my friend mary jane!"
"you of all people know i shouldn't be smoking," the dutch driver shakes his head, yet proceeds to scoot out of the booth anyway, "i'll still come out there with you. i won't be taking any hits though."
"yeah, yeah," you wave a hand, "that's what they all say."
as you slip out of the booth, you feel max's hand connect with your lower back, almost guiding you through the throng of locals. a few of them chirp greetings to max, others chattering, creating a buzz within the air.
well, there went any sort of anonymity.
so much for keeping a low profile for the weekend.
yet, when in vegas, that was almost impossible to maintain. especially when you were a man of max's caliber.
the two of you manage to slip out, just before fans started asking for autographs. of course, max obliged to a few, signing a cap here and an arm there.
even though it was quickly approaching december, the air was mild, dipping in the low fifties. max hovers to your right, shuddering as a breeze rolls through. you curse as it quenches your flame, motioning for max to stand closer.
"can you shield me for a moment, pretty boy?"
"pretty boy?"
from the way the words tumbled from his mouth, max seemingly was not to keen to the idea of being referred to as pretty boy. yet, he inches even closer to you, providing a barrier as the lighter comes to life, igniting your delicate pre-roll.
"what else should i call you?" shrugging, you exhale, the smoke billowing into the night, "or do you prefer world champion?"
"how much did you have to drink before i got here?" the dutch driver cocks his head, his stare almost picking you apart.
"enough," you respond, lips curling into a devious grin, "don't act like you didn't like that."
"i did," he counters, "that's the issue here."
"and why is that an issue?"
"because we used to fucking despise one another. we used to tear one another apart. and now here i am, going out for drinks with you when i shouldn't be. here i am, looking forward to your texts or your snaps when i know i should be thinking about someone else.
fuck, even when i'm with her, my mind wanders to you. we're together all of the fucking time yet i crave you. i miss you when we're apart. what are you doing to me?"
before your mind can even formulate a coherent response, an individual saunters up to the two of you, drinks in hand.
it's an older man, approximately in his early or mid fifties. he's balding, as a few of the greasy hairs were poorly combed over. he was well dressed, but poorly groomed, as there was quite the scruff plaguing his feautures.
"good evening," his words are directed towards you, yet you couldn't help but notice the way his eyes were fixated on your joint, "i was wondering if the pretty lady could exchange a hit or two for a-"
"she's not accepting shit from you," max's voice is low, the driver taking another half step toward you, almost to shield you even further.
"c'mon man," the man drawls, the words slurred, "i wasn't fucking speakin' to ya. i was talkin' to her."
"and i'm talking to you," max's jaw clenches, "get the fuck out of here."
"and you are?" the man arches a brow, "surely not her boyfriend."
"actually i am," the words are forced through gritted teeth, the driver's fists clenched to his sides, "i'm her fiancé. i suggest you leave before i-"
"got it," the man exhales, rolling his eyes, "it was worth a shot. what the fuck ever man."
as he turns to head back towards the bar, you feel fingers find yours, intertwining together. max squeezes your hand gently, "are you okay?"
"fiancé?" relief ripples as you notice his demeanor crumble, "what was that all about? were you manifesting something or-"
"come on," max tugs at your hand, "let's go to another place. get a few more drinks. keep 'em comin'. keep the alcohol flowin', you know?"
"max," clicking your tongue, you frown as your realize your joint was burnt out, "what is going on between you and kelly?"
"i don't want to talk about her right now," the driver won't even look at you, keeping his focus on the glow and ambiance of the city, "we can talk about anything else but her. please. i don't even want to think about her right now. shouldn't you be relieved? why aren't you relieved?"
"because you look stressed the fuck out!" you retort, "and it stresses me out because i love you and i can't handle seeing you all bummed about some hag who is only using you!"
max freezes, your hand flying up to your mouth. heat floods your cheeks, heart thudding against your rib-cage as you realize what just came pouring from your mouth.
"did you just tell me that you love me?"
his voice is soft. dangerously low. merely a whisper, barely audible over the bustling noise of vegas.
tears well up, shame setting your body ablaze as you nod, biting your lower lip, "y-yeah. and i know i shouldn't-"
"shut the fuck up," hands meet with your cheeks, bringing you in close, "just shut the fuck up and come here."
in that moment, max's mouth finds yours. the kiss is tender, brimmed with nothing but passion, breathing life back into your lungs. it was grounding yet exhilarating, waves of euphoria crashing over.
he pulls away, forehead brushing against yours, "why haven't i done this sooner?"
"because kelly-"
"i don't give a fuck about kelly right now."
"give a fuck about me then," you murmur against his mouth, relishing the way his hands explore, roaming along your back, trailing down to your ass, "you think we should take this somewhere more private? before someone snaps a photo of max verstappen making out with his media manager?"
"that's a good idea," he nods, "i'll arrange an uber."
although it was merely minutes in the time it took between getting into the uber and making it to your hotel room, it felt like an eternity. yet, with the way max's hand gripped your thigh the entire drive, you didn't complain. the other hand held onto yours, pressing gentle kisses to your knuckles.
if only this was your everyday life.
if only things were different.
if only he fell in love with you first.
once the two of you were in the elevator, he maintained his composure, as there were other people stepping in and out. there was even a little boy, in awe that his favorite driver was staying in the same hotel as him. max was kind enough to gift him one of his beaded bracelets, a small memento from a win during the 2022 season.
if only that child knew what his favorite driver was really up to.
once that light on your keypad flashed green, his mouth was on yours, tongue gliding along your lower lip, practically begging for access. his hands were all over, tugging on your clothes, desperate to see what was underneath.
"fuck," there's a rumble in his chest as he lays on you on the bed, pinning you to the mattress.
"what?" you can't help but wriggle a little, slightly flustered by the intensity of his gaze.
"you have no idea how much i've thought about this," a dusty rose hue tinges his cheeks, "i-i almost don't know what to do now. i've thought about it so frequently that i had it down to every little detail. and now i have you here, right where i want you but i feel like i'm going to fuck this up and-"
"max," tender fingers sweep locks of hair from his forehead, "do what you feel is right."
"i just want to show you how much i love you. i need you to know how loved you are."
"i think i have an idea," the tip of your nose brushes against his, "is there anything i can do to help?"
"will you let me taste you?"
instinctively, your hips buck forward, legs spreading so that he can have access. you can feel his cock stiffen in his pants, pressing against your inner thigh, aching for some sort of relief.
"yes," you nod, "you can taste me."
"f-fuck," his jaw nearly goes slack as you guide his hand through the waistband of your panties, the pad of his index finger circling your clit, "you're this wet for me? already? my poor baby. all soaked and desperate for me."
"m-max," the way his name falls from your lips is intoxicating, "i need you."
"are you sure this is okay?" he pauses, eyes meeting with yours, "if at any moment you need me to stop, just tell me."
"you are more than okay. i promise."
fingers delicately unbutton your jeans, rolling them down your legs. in the process, you peel off your hoodie and shirt, tossing them to the floor.
just the mere sight of you half-dressed had him coming undone, his inhibitions slipping away by the second. fuck, you were so stunning. someone who deserved to be worshipped and cherished.
far more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.
situating himself between your legs, max's mouth roams, placing wet kisses all over your inner thighs, hips, and abdomen. his tongue flattens against your heated core, savoring the way you squirmed under his touch.
"you need me to taste you baby?" he coos, cocking his head.
"yes," you plead, skin hot to the touch, your clit engorged, folds slick with juices.
"hmmm," he hums, hands grasping your thighs to spread you open further.
"once i get these off of you, you're all mine. and only mine. got that?"
yet, there was one thing that happened to slip max verstappen's mind that night in vegas.
well, one woman.
the woman he referred to as his girlfriend, but the woman he was not in love with.
kelly piquet.
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desireangel · 8 days
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Dark Cherry [3] | Aemond Targaryen
Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader
Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.
Word Count: 6.9k
Warnings: MDNI 18+!! smut, angst!!!!!!, unedited, infidelity, revenge cheating, oral (m receiving), kinda slightttt dub con if you squint w/ Aegon x reader, Aemond is frustrating, so is reader tbh, slight deviation from canon? again, if you squint, soft!aemond if you also squint. But also---angry Aemond (rahhhhhh), tell me if I've missed any warnings!
Author's note: my APOLOGIES on the wait, y'all. Hopefully this scratches an itch!! it's 11PM here, which is the earliest I've ever posted a fic funnily enough. I also reallyyyyy appreciate the love on this series so far!!! Love you all. As always, please don't hesitate to comment or to interact or hmu in my inbox w/ me bc I LOVE yapping with you guys. Send in feedback or criticism (but like I'll cry if it's super mean) or some headcannons!! or even your best dad joke. Anyways, xoxo kisses!!! <3
Masterlist
Aemond Targaryen was an intelligent man. Yet for some reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been acting as the realm’s largest imbecile. 
Time and time again, Aemond had let his ego and his pride run ahead of his brain, and had failed to think of the effect that his actions had on people other than himself. Sure, he cared for those who were important to him. His sister, his mother, his grandfather, Ser Cole, Aegon (although Aemond may not have realised it) and even to some extent his wife. 
He realised, perhaps too late, that you may as well be a stranger to him. And at one point, Aemond had truly believed that keeping whatever unlucky woman he was to wed at arms length would be for the best. 
The first time he met you was insignificant. It was as per tradition and formality. Aemond’s interactions up until the wedding was mainly with your family, despite the efforts you made to acquaint yourself with him properly. You were much more timid then, shyer than Aemond had expected from the to-be wife of a weaponised prince. But then again, he had only assumed that a Lady like his mother would have been chosen for him; confident, cunning and strong-headed. 
At the time he had begun to understand you better, Aemond had lost track of himself. A sort of descent into darkness where he went from a young prince to a man, eager to prove himself at whatever cost. Satisfied by the control he gained through fear, strength and reputation. Now that he had stopped to think about his marriage, after you had left him hard and desperate in his own bed, Aemond came to realise a few things. 
You were a purity among the wickedness and politics of the Red Keep. An inherently good person and a woman of grace, kindness and compassion. He had already noticed the dwindling of those traits brought on by your new life, confined to the walls of a fortress that was littered with deceit, distrust and gore. Aemond was a far darker entity than you–he had accepted this fact after the first true conversation you shared. 
Corrupting you was both tempting and terrifying. Aemond had always been loveless–deprived of the affection he craved and deserved but also clueless about how to give that affection. And while he wished he could learn how to right himself and how to quell the carelessness of his temperament and the destruction that was left in its wake, Aemond didn’t know how to. 
Perhaps it would come naturally. He was a lot more open to that notion now, despite the fact that most of him was convinced he was incapable of such change. 
Aemond regretted–something he didn’t feel often–how he had pushed you away. Even if he had not intended to. 
Because now, he was starting to see you as you were. A woman who had far more of an influence over his emotions than he realised–a woman who he had begun to crave the affections of in such an intensity that it only served to scare him away from you. At one stage, you had been another stranger among the walls of his home bound to him in nothing but title but, at some point throughout this ridiculous game that he had stupidly encouraged, Aemond had started to see you as his wife. 
The whore that he had let into his bed was not actually a whore. It was a woman Aemond had known–a witch whom he had shared the pleasures of his body with before the two of you had wed. Alys was always eager for him and once, he would have returned it with his own enthusiasm. Not anymore. She was simply an easier option. A whore would never sully the sanctity of his chambers. It wouldn’t have made a difference if he had been honest and told you that Alys was not from the Street of Silk. 
To anyone who came asking, including you, Aemond would first admit to taking a whore into his bed than a lowly witch.
He cursed himself for letting his honour fall so short that this is what it took for him to wake up. For him to have tainted his loyalty to you, to have let a woman whom he could barely get it up for shatter the confines of his marriage, for him to have been left unwound with a hard cock, his hand and only the scent of you on his thigh to release the tension that was driving him mad. 
Aemond wished he hadn’t been so short sighted. He would subject himself to whatever punishment he deserved should it be the burn of a whip against his back or the sickening ache of starvation if you were to demand it. 
All of a sudden, in the days that had passed since your encounter on his bed, Aemond found himself looking for you throughout his day. He hoped you’d cross each other in the halls, cursed the world for keeping him too busy to spend an afternoon with you in the gardens, sworn at the war that was raging for binding him to his duties and keeping you apart. 
So at the first opportunity he had to take time for himself and for the first time in your short marriage, Aemond had called upon you to join him for afternoon tea.You stared at the young servant who had been sent to retrieve you, half wondering if you had heard the boy incorrectly. Had he called you simply one moon ago, you would have dropped everything you were doing to meet your husband for tea with a grin and a skip in your step at the prospect of finally spending time with him on his own accord. 
But now? It both excited you and infuriated you. 
You gave the boy a soft smile, holding your reserve together when his face dropped at your refusal. “You may tell my husband that I am otherwise attended to for my tea.”
It wasn’t a lie. You had important plans for the afternoon with the other Targaryen son. 
The servant stood still for a moment. “Yes, my Lady.”
“The rest of my afternoon is already engaged with the King,” you purposefully added, a mixture of adrenaline and excitement beginning to simmer in your belly. “Tell him I will take tea with him another time.”
You were walking away from your chambers before the servant had turned to leave. A part of you felt bad for him. Anyone would be wary of delivering rejection to a prince. It felt as if you were sending him to his death in a way, knowing that the seemingly innocent excuse was balancing on a wire that was already frayed. If the young servant had known of your sly plan for revenge, he would have spoiled his breeches. 
There was a chance Aemond would catch on straight away. There was a chance that he would take a little longer. 
Either way, so long as he caught on, everything would unfold in your favor.
Aegon had been waiting for you, a mischievous smile on his lips at the sight of you eagerly rushing towards him. He was an immature and distracted King, and he was definitely not without his flaws, but he had never been bad to you. Sometimes, you even appreciated Aegon’s efforts to involve you in conversation or to pull a smile out of you when you had clearly been distressed. Nonetheless, he was still an infuriating cad and you had often considered giving in to violent urges at the way he treated Helaena. 
Helaena. 
A stab of guilt in your gut at the thought of her. Sure, she had confided in you on numerous occasions and you knew she felt little care for Aegon’s outwards ventures with women but you knew she was saddened by the state of her marriage. And here you were, as wretched as the whore that Aemond had bedded. It was no different; you were doing the same thing as her. Only it wasn’t your job; you weren’t doing it for the money. 
The satisfaction of bringing Aemond down to the same level he had brought you to was all the motivation you needed. It would be treading a thin line but it would be worth it. 
“I had wondered how long it would take you to find yourself in my chambers, Princess,” Aegon’s voice held that boyish shrill he had never grown out of. The way he had stepped aside to let you pass, eyes holding yours through his lashes as he dipped his head with a grin. “For a cup of tea, of course.”
Comparing Aegon’s chambers to Aemond’s was instinctual. It was brighter here, messier and there was an unkempt feel to the furniture despite the servant’s having kept things relatively put together. A King’s chambers, it was; grand and large and adorned with all sorts of artistry. Aemond’s chambers had held a darker tone; presumably because Aemond was sensitive to light on his blind eye and somehow even the glow of light from the lamps were deeper and warmer. 
You liked Aemond’s chambers better. 
“It has been overdue, Your Grace,” you weren’t sure of that. “Thank you for indulging me this afternoon. I wager a King such as yourself is no short of duties to tend to.” 
Aegon scoffed, pouring himself a cup of wine as he watched you take a seat at the small settee from the corner of his eye. “My family seems to be taking care of my duties on my behalf. I am a king in nought but title, you see.”
There was nothing you could say at his unbridled honesty. Aegon was different to most of the people who presided here in that way. He cared little to hide behind a facade of false indifference and stoicism. 
He fell to the cushion beside you, close enough so you could smell the drink he balanced in his hand. Aegon laid back lazily, resting on his elbows and watching you as you sat pin-straight and brought the piping tea to your lips. “‘Tis not a concern. I would much prefer to have more comely company than those clueless cunts who sit on my counsel.”
“I do not doubt that, Your Grace,” you coughed lightly, growing alarmingly aware of the fact that you hadn’t thought about how this was going to play out. There was absolutely nothing that you knew about seducing a king. No less, a king with Aegon’s track record. “I beli-”
“You have been different,” He cut you off. Swiftly pushing himself up so that his face was beside yours, breath tickling the strands of your hair that had fallen loose across your cheek. Aegon’s lips were gently turned up as his eyes traced every curve of your face. 
Swallowing thickly, you will yourself to meet his eye with confidence. The curiosity in his familiar violet eyes was paired with an immature lust and you wondered if he had any idea how easy it could be to use his forward thinking cock against him were you a woman of cunning ambitions. You didn’t miss how his gaze flickered across your throat and towards the curve of your chest. 
But something in the way that Aegon looked at you in that moment, like you were a woman of such beauty that he would risk whatever consequences were sent his way just to feel your touch sent a slither of saddened longing across your chest. Not even your husband had made you feel as if you were so captivating. 
It made the knowledge of how ever long you’d be alone with him far easier to stomach.
“I do not know of what you mean, Your Grace.”
Aegon laughed, bringing his face so close to yours that the point of his nose touched against your cheek. His hand fell to rest flat just above your belly, brazenly close to where your dress tucked underneath the curve of your breasts. 
“I know well when a Lady is not…” he dragged his nose across your soft skin, eyes carefully watching your reaction. “Sufficiently satisfied by her husband.”
Your breath hitched at how quickly Aegon had set his target. “If you mean to-”
“Does my dear brother forego his duties for the comfort of whores, perhaps?”
Pursing your lips, you gently turned your face so that your lips were centimetres away from his, Aegon’s fringe brushing across your forehead. There was a ringing in your ears, a nervousness about how you were so close to betraying your husband and how you were unsure that you could handle the fallout of what was definitely about to happen. Things are much different for women; infidelity and adultery would be grounds for far worse than simply an annulment. This world was not so kind to a lady who partakes in the same treachery as a lord.
Above all, you were conflicted.
“It seems my husband is no different to any other man who does not hunger for his wife.”
“I hunger for his wife,” Aegon all but moaned at the way your lips nudged closer to his. He cocked his head to the side and pressed his fingers into your flesh. “But I am no fool, my Lady. Aemond has always been the sole object of your gaze. You are here for more sinister reasons, I suspect.”
You blinked. Why did these Targaryen princes so often seem to be one step ahead?
It was a relief that he had not moved away from your closeness. In fact, Aegon leaned further into it. His smile never faltered and he waited patiently for you, watching as you thought of your next moves. There was a flush of embarrassment that prettied your skin and it was clear that your facade was close to crumbling. Aegon was not a man you desired in such a way. Merely a means to an end. 
So you sighed, resigning to the fact that being honest with Aegon would be best. 
“You are right,” you muttered. He shook with a silent laugh at your bravery and the way your chin remained turned up. “I-I believe you are aware of my intentions, Your Grace. Will you have me dragged back to Prince Aemond’s feet or will you allow my scheme?”
Aegon was in front of you in a matter of seconds, bending down so that he met your height as you stayed seated. “I would risk meeting the wrath of a man whose temperament and pride are unchained.”
“Teach me how to make it worth it then, my King,” you held strong in forcing the tremble out of your voice. You didn’t want to bed him entirely–absolutely not. Just what you had seen through the gap in Aemond’s door would be more than enough and there was a bubbling gratification in your stomach knowing that Aemond would not be able handle what he had so easily served out. 
His hand held the back of your neck and he jerked forward to catch your lips, grunting when you turned your head from him. You couldn’t kiss him. You weren’t interested in kissing him–only fulfilling the steady thrum of excitement at the need to both experience what you had been teased with and show your husband that he should be sorry. 
In fact, and you were loathsome to even rationalise it, you felt sick at the thought of kissing him. And you felt a little drop in your gut at the thought of taking him in any kind of way but it was different. Less frightening than kissing a man you were trying so hard to convince yourself was sexy enough.
There was no man for your body’s desires aside from Aemond Targaryen-–
A deep breath and you looked at Aegon through your lashes, bringing your fingers to feel the softness of his lips. “I do not want you to fuck me, Your Grace. But show me how I may give you pleasure with my mouth. And how a man can satisfy me with his.”
Aegon became excited at your use of such foul language, his hand remaining behind your neck as he straightened and guided you roughly to his hips, groaning as your hands instinctively found his thighs and moved upwards. He was painfully hard in his breeches–he had been since the first moment you looked at him with that stubborn intent and purpose. 
There was a strong urge to push him away but you fought through it. 
“I am sure your husband is already searching for his brazen little vixen,” Aegon watched as you breathed heavily, your chest heaving and your soft breasts pressing against the tightly laced corset of your dress. “And I am sure you wish for him to find us. Very cunning of you, I must say.” 
His touch didn’t pull that feeling from you. The feeling of Aemond’s touch that had made you feel as if you were floating in lava and drowning in a molten heat that could only be quelled by him. But it made your blood rush down, growing sensitive between your thighs at the prospect of pleasuring a man who openly lusted for you and had no care for hiding it. 
Aegon didn’t care for games that shattered your self-worth. He didn’t care to make you feel lesser than a whore for your curiosity of how it felt to have a man tremble from your mouth. All he wanted was to feed his appetite for you–the beautiful Lady who he had envied his brother for having to himself.
“I want to learn how to do it,” you whispered, melting into Aegon’s guidance as he hastily fiddled with the embellishments on his tunic to undo half of it and push the velvet fabric out of the way. The laced belt at his waist was discarded in seconds and you took little time to pull him out of the confines of his breeches. “So I can–so I can show him.”
There was a certain light headed nervousness that you felt when you realised that you don’t actually know how to do what you wished to. It seemed easy enough when you watched how that woman had given Aemond her mouth but now that you were faced with trying it out yourself, you worried how you would fare. Aegon triggered a natural response from you, one that you had learned was instinctual of human bodies, but you just could not find him desirable. 
Momentarily, you doubted you could find it in you to disregard your aversion to the King. An aversion that suddenly became more pressing an issue than it was merely seconds ago.
Aegon must have noticed your apprehension because he guided you forward, the hardened length of his cock brushing against your face. He was breathing heavily when he spoke. “Lick it. Use your tongue first and then-fuck, that’s right-” you hesitantly followed his instructions, dragging the tip of your tongue across the sides of him, gentle flicks down to the base and then a long stripe up to the top. It was an invigorating thrill when you felt him throb against your mouth. His hips jerked when you hesitantly wrapped your lips around him. 
It was slightly uncomfortable but it was not a bad feeling. Aegon tasted musky and salty, and a little bit sweaty. You took a moment to find the best way to stop your teeth from grazing against him and started to move along him, watching as he threw his head back, eyes shut tightly. 
The image of your husband stayed ingrained in your head. Would Aemond taste the same? Would he feel the same on your tongue? Would his cock react to you in such a way? Would you enjoy taking him in your mouth more than whatever this was?
Shamefully or not, you let yourself pretend that Aegon was not the man standing above you. That it was Aemond instead, enjoying what you were keen to give him and praising you for being so eager to taste him. 
You wished so hard that it was Aemond instead, that for a moment, when you gazed upwards it was him looking down at you with his hair falling perfectly and his eyepatch discarded. Alas, it was King Aegon, who revelled in staring at you with an amusement coupled with bliss that only felt belittling. 
It did set your body into a light rush of arousal but you couldn’t stop the doubts that flooded your mind. Were you dishonouring the sanctity of your body out of spite? Were you betraying the man you almost loved just to have a jab at him? Guilty tickles grew in your ribcage but you distracted yourself from it, focusing on the way that Aegon steered your movements. 
“Shit,” he hissed. Aegon’s hand found the back of your head and he adjusted your pace how he preferred. “Use your hand. What doesn’t fit–hold it.”
It became slightly easier once you found your rhythm, following each instruction that Aegon gave, drinking in the way his thigh trembled under your hand that rested against it, holding yourself stable as you hollowed your cheeks. Whatever you did, it almost came naturally and Aegon seemed to be enjoying it far more than you had expected. 
But it quickly became too much–Aegon started thrusting in a way that didn’t match your movements and you gagged, eyes burning at the ache of him hitting the top of your throat. You made a noise, pulling off and gasping for air, whining as he tugged your mouth back to him and chuckling. Lungs burning, you tried to meet whatever pace Aegon was moving at in an attempt to make things more comfortable. 
You reminded yourself of why you were here. The image of Aemond, head thrown back and groans slipping past his lips as he let that woman take him in his mouth. The image of Aemond, head buried between her legs, the skin on his chin glistening as he smirked at you while pleasure another woman. 
The feeling when your courtly acquaintances who you once thought of as friends would slyly belittle you for failing to give your husband an heir, belittling you because word of his infidelity had reached their gossiping mouths, belittling you because the Prince who they loathed you for having was hardly yours after all. The looks that they had given you, the way that they snickered and sneered at your failures as his wife. Whispers you had overheard from Lords alike; that for such a pretty thing, you must have been dreadfully dull in the ways of pleasure if Prince Aemond of all men had resorted to whores. 
That was how they all saw you; a failure. Because it was never a man’s fault but always his wife’s. 
You loathe to think that Aemond harboured the same thoughts. But you would show him how mistaken he was and make him feel what you had felt so that he would regret it all. 
“Fuck-” Aegon let out a drawn out groan as he pushed your head down, pushing himself as far down your throat as he could. You struggled to breath and you gagged twice but let him move you as he pleased, a satisfactory moan vibrating against his sensitive skin when he threw his head back and grumbled about spilling himself down your throat. 
It was a chaotic moment. 
The protest of the kingsguard through the wall and the bang of the door slamming open and you didn’t even need to turn and look. Aemond was seething, barely given the chance to put the pieces together before Aegon simultaneously groaned and laughed, the salty taste of his seed gliding past a sensitive part of your throat and pulling another gag from you as you yanked yourself away from Aegon. 
Everything seemed to pause for a moment. And despite the obnoxious laughter coming from the King as he tucked himself back into his breeches, the heavy breathing of your husband and your gasps for air, everything felt silent. 
Your blood ran hot at the way Aemond looked between you and Aegon. Nonetheless you met his eye, holding your chin up and wiping a bead of Aegon’s peak from your lip. 
It felt good. Watching as Aemond forced himself back into his stoic resolve; only bothering to subdue the way his eye filled with the same betrayal you still felt in your gut at the thought of the whore who had been on her knees for him in an almost identical way. 
Stoicism and slow, simmering, silent rage. 
The air around you turned hot enough to light a candle. Aemond’s presence alone had proven to be enough to send you spiralling from the heat he encased you in whenever he was in the same room but this? You were choking, sick to your stomach and doing your best to keep your knees from buckling at his intensity. 
Aemond heard Aegon ramble out some hideous insult, watched how you frowned at him and heard the echoes of his cackle. But the ringing in his ears overwhelmed it all and he had no clue what his brother had taunted him with before his fist met Aegon’s cheek with a loud crack.
He didn’t bother sparing his brother a second glance. Aemond was stood in front of you and despite his obvious anger, he pulled you up from where you were seated with a gentleness which had your mind reeling. 
There was a threat hidden in his voice. “Come with me. Now.”
Perhaps you had made a mistake. The gentle fury in Aemond was terrifying and even though you knew he would never raise a hand at you the way he thoughtlessly did at Aegon, there were so many ways that a Prince could ruin you. 
You felt a pit of regret now that it was over and the curtain of lust had lifted. It was easy to see how simple it is to get lost in the touch of another but it was easier to see how simple it is to avoid it. 
There was satisfaction. And you felt it simultaneously with the adrenaline of being caught and the doubts of your actions. Princes and Princesses and Kings and Queens were so unaware of their hypocrisy until it was spat back into their faces. 
Aemond would never in a million years have understood what he was doing to you if you had just been a submissive little wife and forgiven him. But now? Now he would know. And now things would be balanced and your desire to hurt him as he had done you has been fulfilled. And now you could see how this marriage would really stand against such tests.
And now, you may finally know whether Aemond truly did not care for you. Because if Aemond did not care for you–or even in part; love you–then he would not be hurt and he would not be feeling such betrayal.
Right now, as Aemond silently walked you towards his chambers, hands fisted, jaw clenched tightly and his gaze fixed ahead, you were fearful of how things would fare. As strong as you wished for your resolve to stay, Aemond’s disappointment was showing you a new weakness. And his words, you knew, if they were used as weapons then you would stand little chance against them. There was a heavy weight against your lower back where his hand sat, pushing you gently so that you glided through the halls faster. 
It wasn’t a long journey back to Aemond’s quarters. But it felt like hours to the Prince, the nausea in his gut silencing him the entire way. He felt like a child again, presented with a pig instead of a dragon, the shrill laughs of his cousins and his brother striking him with flashes of humiliation. 
Again and again and again, Aegon would do whatever he could to see Aemond crumble. Aegon would always take Aemond’s dignity, his honour, his crown. And now he just had to take his wife? 
Aemond shut the doors to his chambers roughly and you were quick to put some distance between the two of you. There was a hollow ball of guilt and fear that caught in your throat but you couldn’t deny the elation at the mixture of emotions in Aemond’s eye as he turned to face you. 
It was a reflection of how you had felt upon finding Aemond in bed with another. He would finally understand. 
Only Aemond was worlds away from the damned arousal you had felt and instead it was replaced with a youthful dread, a panic that you had never seen from him before now. 
There was hardly a moment for you to register the harshness of Aemond’s grip on your bicep as he pulled you toward the bowl that was kept by his bath, filled with clean water and accompanied by a tray of freshening oils. He lightly shoved you toward it as he let you go, unfazed by the sound of shock that you could not hold back. 
“Wash your mouth,” he spat. Although your back was to him, you could feel how he suppressed the extent of his rage as he was ever so good at doing. “And then we will talk.”
You bit your tongue and did as he said, wincing at the ice in his words and the angry strain of his voice. There was a lot that you wanted to say, to scream at him. He was angry–and to some extent he had every right to be–but how could Aemond have expected you to be okay with something that he clearly could not take on the chin?
But the way he had held you, the tone of his voice and the harshness in his glare had you wondering if revenge was worth whatever comes next. Because, amongst the whirlwind of fear and guilt and regret was gratification and fulfilment. 
The prickle of Aemond’s glare had disappeared before you were ready to dry your mouth with a towel. Quiet as ever, he had snuck away and by the time you had realised, the sound of the door shutting and the click of the lock had notified you of his absence. 
Aemond had locked you in. When you had swiftly tried to push the doors open, unaware of where you would go and truthfully not intending to leave in the first place, it didn’t budge. And when you called for the kingsguard who stood at the other side of the door, you went unanswered aside from a curt reply that he had been ordered not to let you leave. 
So you had resigned yourself to sitting atop Aemond’s bed rather than the seating arrangements scattered around the rest of the quarters. It smelled strongly of lavender, leather and Aemond’s very own scent–the one that always had you on the verge of drooling. But it only sent your nerves into overdrive, afraid that the consequences of your vengefulness, no matter how satisfying it was initially, may be too dire to recover from. 
The thought of whatever Aemond had planned for Aegon was not nice. You were correct in assuming that your tryst with Aegon would only cut your husband deeper because it was Aegon. The depth of whatever issues these brothers shared was far beyond you but you had only assumed that all second born princes would be affected in such a way. And Targaryen’s were full of complexities, each believing that they were better than everyone. Even their own siblings. 
Aegon had known that his younger brother would become nothing short of murderous. But he had never been a man to avoid even the slightest of temptations. Both the idea of indulging in you and inflaming the ever unresponsive Aemond were far more than slightly tempting. It would be worth the bloodied nose, the split lip and the sick that he’d spewed over his shoes when Aemond had returned to grace him with an inhumanly strong hit to his balls. Somehow, Aemond had made that act of violence seem like child’s play with the threats that he had rained down upon Aegon. 
King Aegon, who simply did not know when to keep his mouth shut and had all but asked for it with the way he taunted Aemond with a sentence he never had the chance to complete. “Seeing as you cannot satisfy even your own wife-”
He wasn’t there long. Aemond’s angry mind was racing and he couldn’t think past the red of his rage. But Aemond still knew better than to stay where he would surely commit a treason he would regret. 
Whatever fury Aemond had unleashed upon Aegon in the short time he was away had seemed to calm him down. He was still clearly angry when he stepped back into his quarters but there was a far less frightening storm brewing in his eye. 
At his return, you had stood from the bed. The air was sucked right out of the room when Aemond stood right in front of you, so close that you could count the creases in the leather of his eyepatch. There was a tense silence in which he stared at you, waiting for you to fold but you only held your head high and met his gaze stubbornly. 
Minutes had passed before Aemond spoke. His voice was far softer than you had expected and he seemed to have settled down a bit as he dragged his knuckles across your cheek, only to grip your chin so that you could not look away from him. Aemond held you tightly but not tight enough that it hurt.
“Enough of this,” It was an order, stern and unrelenting. “No more. This was a step too far-”
You scoffed in his face. “A step too far? Had you not done the same thing?”
Aemond had never in his life apologised for anything. He never felt sorry. And he never wished to admit to his mistakes. But here he was, face to face with the effects of one of the biggest mistakes he had made. If there were anything he could have done aside from apologise, he would have done it. But it was the only thing that would ease the mess of guilt that had arisen inside of him. For what he had done with the whore and for everything he hadn’t done for your marriage. 
“It was a mistake. If I could undo it, I would,” I’m sorry. “This was childish of you. Vengefulness is unbecoming.”
There was a beastly disgust that Aemond felt when he thought of another man even looking at you. The image of Aegon’s cock in your mouth, his seed leaking from your lips made him want to burn the entire realm to ashes. Aemond’s eye trailed along your jaw, to your neck and then down past your stomach. Did Aegon touch you where only he was to touch you?
Fuck treason. Aemond would feed Aegon to Vhagar if he had indulged in your body. 
“It is more than vengeance. You would not have understood what I felt. How I suffered because of you and your whore,” you tried your best to keep your voice stable. The lump in your throat and the tears that blurred your vision forced you to pull out of Aemond’s grip and turn your back to him. “You promised me you would never do that. You dishonoured me. You insulted me. You hurt me–Aemond, do you have any idea the things that they say about me?”
Aemond frowned and you could not see how he reached for you, only to drop his hand back to his side. “I–”
“That I am a failure. That I am-that I am so repulsive and so dull that you cannot even lay with me to produce an heir,” you couldn’t help the sob that escaped you. “And I saw what she was doing to you, what you were doing to her. I could never even have imagined the existence of such an act that had given you so much pleasure-”
“There was no true pleasure with her.” Aemond mumbled. Pathetically. 
Pathetic was exactly the word. Aemond may have been good with a sword, in a fight, with his dragon and when strategizing wars. But he was a pathetic husband–a pathetic partner, a pathetic lover. And he had the urge to take out his good eye for being so mindless and so ignorant. 
Hindsight was his worst enemy, it seemed. Because in hindsight, Aemond would have done everything differently, right from the moment you were introduced to him.
“Lie. It was clear, Aemond. They are all right, are they not?” You felt him step into you, his warm chest against your back. Leather and lavender and him. “I have failed. My womb is still empty. The last time you visited my bed was moons ago. I know you do not love me, my Prince, but I have love for you. Men are not the only ones who need intimacies of the body–I needed that and you have never given me anything. Yet you gave it to her. I wished to hurt you as you had hurt me.”
There were no words that Aemond could find. So he settled for shaking his head and watching you as you sat yourself down on the edge of his bed, staring down at your hands on your lap. You were so wrong in your perception of him but he couldn’t find the words to explain that. But Aemond decided in that moment that he would show you, one way or another. He hesitated before sitting beside you. 
You couldn’t meet his eye if you tried. It was as if your body was telling you to stop talking, that these thoughts were too painful to share, feelings too abstract and tender to put into words. 
“It is wretched, I know–to have turned to Aegon,” you felt him tense beside you and against your better judgement, you placed a hand on his thigh in an attempt to give him some comfort. “I wished to hurt you but I also wished to learn. I thought maybe if I knew how to-how to do things that would make you feel good so that maybe you would feel for me as I have for you. Aegon said he could show me. It is ridiculous, I understand that now.”
Aemond took your hand in his, the heat of your skin against his was fierce for such an insignificant action. He hated that it was easier for you to turn to Aegon than it was to turn to him. “I could have shown you. I can show you so much more. If only we had been honest with each other from the beginning.”
“I thought you do not want me.”
He sucked in a sharp breath. It would be less painful to drive his own dagger through his heart. “I crave for you, my love. I was just too stubborn to admit it and too afraid of what it means. And I did not know how to show you how badly I burn for you.”
The sight of tears had never fazed him until they were yours. Aemond was not particularly pious, he prayed simply because his mother had raised him to pray, but he would be on his knees every hour of every day if it meant that he could take these feelings away from you. If it meant that he could take it all back and start over. 
“I am sorry. No more of this,” you said. “No more seeking out the touch of anyone else in place of each other.”
“I will be a better husband,” Aemond stated, as if he were telling it to himself as much as he was to you. “I will try for our marriage and our duty. And for you.”
“Your promises haven’t proven to mean much to me. All is not forgiven just because we have talked,” You sighed, but gave him a weak smile, turning to look at him. 
He gazed down at you with determination, his jaw tight and his eye glistening with tears that wouldn’t fall. There was no attempt to push you away when you reached up to take off the leather that covered his bad eye. You wanted to see him as he was, even if only for a moment.
Gods, he was beautiful. 
As you stood you forced your smile to turn lighthearted as you teased him through your heavy hearts. “Jealousy motivates you well, my Prince. I shall remember that.”
Aemond hummed, mostly serious as his hands tightly grabbed your hips. “Do not jest like that. I will not be able to look at Aegon without dreaming of murdering him for defiling you how only I should. I cannot afford such treasonous fantasies.”
There was a silent threat in his words. Nonetheless, you leaned down to his ear, gasping gently at the harshness of his fingers squeezing the flesh of your hips. Just his hands on your body alone set you alight. 
“Perhaps my husband should leave the door to his bedchambers open tonight,” you let out a small laugh at the way that he pulled you to straddle his lap so suddenly, gently nipping the skin of his earlobe. You weren’t quite done messing with him. 
“Is that so?” He smiled and you thought that it made him all the more beautiful. 
“Yes,” you smirked, when he groaned frustratedly at your next words, softly throwing you onto the bed. “I may wish to show you exactly what I have learned.”
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coastalcowgirl35 · 2 months
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Hat Thief- Tyler Owens Drabble
Note: I'm so obsessed with writing for him, if anyone has ideas please send them to me. Also I didn't edit it, sorry.
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You're lying in the truck with your boot clad feet out the window and Tyler's hat on your head. It's burning hot and he's taking his sweet time for some reason. Your white tank top and jean shorts are clinging to you uncomfortably. The AC in the motel is broken and Tyler has the keys. so you can't turn on the car.
"Tyler? Baby, you coming?" You call out to no avail. Evidently he's not even outside yet. You groan deeply and throw an arm over your face. Y'all aren't even chasing today, he wants to take you to his family farm to ride horses.
You've met his parents a few times, they're very sweet and loving and very proud of their son, which of course you understand. He a college graduate, internet famous, and a very selfless person. You truly can't get enough of him, even after dating for 3 years, you still get flustered when he flirts with you. And wearing his stuff, like the hat on your head right now, makes you giddy. You start to blush just thinking of him; his smile, his laugh, his voice, his hair, his hands, his abs, his thoughtfulness, his hugs and kisses, you are literally in love with every part of him.
You are snapped out of your thoughts when you hear the motel door open and close.
"Ty, that you?" You call out.
"Yeah baby, sorry I'll be ready in a moment! I'm just lookin' for something!"
"Okay!" You say as you hear his footsteps approaching the truck. He opens the back and starts moving stuff around. After a few minutes you sit up on your elbows and peer out the back window.
"Whatcha looking for Ty?" He makes his way around to the side of the truck and opens one of the doors.
"Have you seen my..." he trails off. You crane your neck to look at him, which is made difficult by your boots still being about the window.
"Your what?" You say, further confused by his grin. "What?"
"You little thief!" He cries out. "What?!" You say indignantly.
"My hat!" He responds, snatching it off your head. "I've been looking for that for twenty minutes!"
"Oh! I was wondering what was taking you so long!" You laugh.
"Stealing is wrong." He scoffs as he gets in the car. "But I will say you look damn good in my hat." You giggle at that and pull your feet in the car as he starts the engine.
"I love you Ty."
"I love you too hat thief."
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ovaryacted · 1 month
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─ Variant! Logan Howlett x fem! reader || WC: 1.4k
CW: None. Sort-of fluffy content/slice of life. Alcohol consumption. Kissing at the end. Just relationship dynamics and a growing yearning from grumpy Logan.
You knew I wasn't done talking about Logan right? Well, in this case, we are talking about Variant! Logan aka the Worst Logan from the Deadpool & Wolverine movie. I just got on the doc and thought about him, and this could've been a fic but this is what I came up with. This is also the first time I've written in this kind of format like "headcanons" but as you continue its basically a fic lol. Had to talk about this version of him because I am very fond of it and I loved him, truly. Anyway, hope y'all like it. <3
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Variant! Logan who gets introduced to you on Wade’s account and it’s a complete accident. You stumbled into the apartment asking for the bottle of wine he had yanked from you earlier in the week.
Variant! Logan who observes you from afar as you walk into the kitchen, reaching toward one of the higher cabinets to grab the bottle of prosecco you desperately wanted. The moment you turn around to spot a whole new stranger in the room, you pivot to Wade and ask “Who’s the big guy?”
Variant! Logan who gets pressured by Wade to formally introduce himself and shake your hand, fingers mindfully wrapping around yours as he catches your name after saying his. He notices the way you smiled up at him, bright and charming, before turning to give Wade a friendly kiss on the cheek and waltzing back out.
Variant! Logan who quickly begins to get used to your presence, frequently stopping by Wade’s place to drop off dinner, cooked pastries, and alcohol. Your cooking definitely beat the emergency pizza and sandwiches Wade constantly got for him. Not to mention you made a mean tiramisu he grows addicted to craving.
Variant! Logan who often spots you chatting with Wade over anything and everything under the sun. He can’t recall the multiple pop culture references you both shared, or how you managed to make him laugh with your corny jokes, but he’s not complaining.
Variant! Logan who sits on the left side of you when you come by for movie nights or to binge-watch reality TV shows with Wade. You’d be munching away at some popcorn, wearing matching PJs with him while Logan leans into his side of the couch nursing a beer.
Variant! Logan who catches your glances as you hand him the popcorn bowl to grab a handful. He reaches for it, large palm grasping several kernels and munching on them one by one. Your eyes met his for a brief second before returning to the screen, and Logan swears you were grinning.
Variant! Logan who is uneasy speaking to you when Wade isn’t around, not wishing to make you uncomfortable with his grumpy attitude. You don’t mind either way, walking into the apartment to drop off some food and a fresh bottle of Jack Daniels for Logan as a proper welcome present. He didn’t expect a gift, or for you to even be thinking about him at all, but he’s glad you’ve allowed him space in your mind.
Variant! Logan who is more comfortable talking to you in person outside of grunts and nods. Despite babbling like Wade and having an equally foul mouth, you could hold an actual conversation in comparison to the other. Hearing your voice was also a plus.
Variant! Logan who is surprised when you bring him a book you think he might like, something about contemporary American history that felt like something up his alley. It was the first book that got him back into reading, and slowly but surely, he finds himself reading a little every night when Wade isn’t snoring his ears off.
Variant! Logan who gets invited to dinner at your place with Wade tagging along, something to celebrate your job promotion. Wade is really only there for the food and the lemon pound cakes you saved, munching away and telling you about the dickhead he just stabbed not too long ago. And though Logan wants to pretend he’s there for the hard liquor you only reserve for him, deep down he knows he came for you too.
Variant! Logan who enjoys the quiet moments with you, sneaking away to your apartment when you offer and lounging on the couch with another book in his hand. You sit across from him on the armchair, quietly reading on your end. He doesn’t realize he’s staring until you look at him from the corner of your eye, forcing him to flip to the next page.
Variant! Logan who isn’t paying attention to the current film playing on the TV, another late movie night with The Godfather on the screen. Wade had already fallen asleep halfway through the movie, and you dozed off at the 2 hr mark. Your body had ended up leaning against Logan’s, naturally gravitating to his warmth and stability. He could have moved you to let you sit up straight, but instead he moves his arm from resting on the back of the couch to wrap around your shoulder. His breath hitches when you move in closer to him, and he thinks you can hear his heart pounding in his ribs.
Variant! Logan who catches himself peeking at you for longer periods of time. It didn’t matter if your back was facing him, or if you were too busy showing Wade the latest TikTok trend. His eyes always seemed to drift to you, and it would be worse when you caught him looking. He’ll blow it off and huff as if he were irritated, missing how you smiled to yourself from the interaction.
Variant! Logan who has to take shit from Wade teasing him over his obvious not so obvious crush. “C’mon man, just tell her. If you don’t, I will!” That conversation ended with the schling of Logan’s claws piercing into Wade’s leg. He’s pissed off, but Logan knows he’s right.
Variant! Logan who sits with you on the couch during one of Wade’s house parties, nursing a cup of whiskey as you enjoy your homemade cosmo. The two of you have already mingled with the rest of the party-goers, your social battery running dry. So you both decide to be in your own bubble, communicating amongst yourselves and making fun of Wade’s lame party hat.
Variant! Logan who nervously swallows when you laugh at his joke, playfully slapping him on the sternum, shaking your head and nearly dropping your red solo cup. He takes in your expression, commemorating it to his memory as your smile widens and you shift to look at him. Your hand didn’t move from its place on his chest, and he didn’t have any intention of telling you to remove it. So you leave it there for a while longer before drawing away from him. 
Variant! Logan who walks you back home after the party, using it as an excuse to “sober up” and make sure you were alright to ease his own anxieties. You talk along the way, and he ignores the flutters in his stomach from the close proximity. 
Variant! Logan who stands by your front door as you unlock it, asks again if you were going to be alright on your own to which you nod. You thank him, his heart beating at the way you looked at him, like you cared about him, like he mattered. He brushes it off with a shrug and digs his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
Variant! Logan who doesn’t stop you when you step closer to him to place a gentle and affectionate kiss on his cheek, the touch making a shiver roll down his spine. You were right there, temptation dangling in front of his face. His eyes ask you a silent question, letting you call the shots when you plant your lips over his, soft and mellow.
Variant! Logan who suppresses the moan that threatens to slip out, feeling the tip of your tongue graze his bottom lip and silently ask for entrance. He shouldn’t, not when the alcohol was still running it’s course. Hesitantly, he pulled away from you, holding your waist with one hand and the other caressing your forearm.
Variant! Logan who is quick to reassure you after your sudden look of disappointment. “Not like this. Maybe, when you don’t taste like vodka and cranberries?” You laugh at that, nodding and rubbing the tip of your nose against his. “Only if you make it up to me with dinner.” He lets you go after that with one last kiss, standing in front of your apartment door for a minute more to catch his breath before heading back outside.
Variant! Logan who walks back to the apartment with a stupid smile on his face, one that he doesn’t register he’s sporting until he stepped through the door to spot Wade cleaning up the mess left behind on the kitchen table. He mentioned something about lipgloss over his lips and the side of his cheek, only getting a grumble and a few curse words in return. Logan ignores him and goes to the bathroom “to take a piss”, spotting the remnants of your lipgloss over his aged features. He grins, making a mental note to look for places to take you out for dinner in the morning.
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©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!
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golden-moony · 5 months
Text
king of my heart | smau
pairings: lando norris x fem!reader | pato o'ward x fem!reader
summary: y/n is an F1 content creator loved among the grid and the fans, and more than one person ships her with lando due to how close they've always been. but when y/n goes to her first IndyCar race, the last thing she expects is being involved in rumours with another mclaren driver.
warnings: love triangle? kinda.
author's note: i might turn this into a mini series but i'll see how it goes. btw english it's not my first language so if there's any grammatical error please let me know so i can fix it, ty🧡 now enjoy!
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4
------------------------------------------------------
yourusername posted to their story!
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[caption 1; it's indycar weekend in Long Beach, babyyyy!] [caption 2; time for practice and snacks🌞]
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patriciooward
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liked by indycar, zbrownceo, yourusername, and 83,527 others!
patriciooward INDY500 colors and back in the streeetz🤩
user1 lookin' goooood🔥
arrowmclaren it'll look even better with confetti covering it😉 user2 admin knows a win is coming!! 💪
user3 Este es tu año, cabrón! VAMOOOOS 🇲🇽
user4 is it a requirement to be handsome to drive in mclaren? cause daaaamn
user5 same girl, same
yourusername black is the new papaya fr 🔥 can't wait for tomorrow!
patriciooward hopefully you'll be wearing #5 user6 OMG?!?!!!??? yourusername can't show favoritism! i'm a professional, sir patriciooward it can be our secret then 😉 user7 OH MY- HELLOOOOO? user8 landonorris come get your girl bro!!! user9 omfg mr o'ward i wasn't familiar with your game user10 y/n sweety, wrong mclaren driver landonorris 🤨 user11 she really said i want a mclaren, don't care which one😭 user12 and she's so real for that
user13 let's goooo Pato!! 🦆🧡
user14 y/n and pato's exchange?? NEW SHIP HAS ARRIVED!
user15 i feel like i'm betraying my roots but pato and y/n would be the it couple fr user16 SO TRUE user17 pato and lando deserve sooo much better.
user18 NOT LANDO REPLYING TO THE COMMENT 😂😂
user19 f1twt is about to have a blast with this one 🍿 user20 they already have #teampato and #teamlando hashtags going on 😭😭
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yourusername posted to their story!
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[caption 1; preparation for ✨qualy day✨] [caption 2; that's how you arrive in style]
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yourusername
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liked by pierregasly, alexanderrossi, shelovesformula1, and 76,088 others!
yourusername First IndyCar race ✅ can't explain how incredible this weekend was! I’ve had the pleasure of chatting to so many cool people, discovering so much about this series and meeting so many of you! 🧡 can't wait to show you everything soon 😘
user1 what a babeeeee 😍
frosenqvist so great to meet you! hope you come to another one again soon! 🏁
arrowmclaren we second this! user2 she's an indy girl now 😎 tkanaan especially after all the fun we had last night😜 yourusername oh i'll definitely come back for more races (and parties ofc🙊) user3 she's part of the family now! love to see it user4 mclaren team 🤝 us: being in love with y/n
user5 PATO INTERVIEW??!! WE WON
lissiemackintosh so happy to have met you!! 💖
yourusername can't wait to see u again 🥹 user6 MY FAVES 🤩🤩 user7 girls supporting girls 💞 user8 we need a colab!
landonorris y/n get out of there. That's not your family!
carlossainz55 y/n please hurry, the kid has missed you maxverstappen1 y/n please hurry, we can't stand him anymore maxfewtrell y/n please hurry, he gets whiny when you're not around alex_albon y/n please hurry, oscar is about to commit crime oscarpiastri that is correct, so please y/n hurry landonorris when i asked y'all to back me up, this is NOT what i meant 🙄 yourusername if it helps at all, i've miss you all 🫶 (except Lando) landonorris i hate y'all fr user9 this is the kind of content i pay my internet bill for 😂
user10 literal queen 👑
user11 she couldn't become lando's wag so now she goes to indy to try to find a man lol such a clout chaser
user12 girl stfu she's literally just doin her job user13 try not to sound so bitter next time 💋 user14 get a life, hater
user15 MOTHER IS MOTHERING
user16 i don't think we're talking enough about that last photo
user17 RIGHT?! Y/N X PATO LET'S GOO user18 nah y/n x lando >>>>>>>>
patooward Indy looks good on you 💯 i wonder who took that amazing first pic
yourusername credits to you, amateur😘 user19 you can't convince me they're not flirting user20 i truly don't know if i wanna be pato or y/n... i only know i'd hate to be lando rn 😭 user21 y/n and lando are the endgame user22 Y/N X PATO TILL THE END
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landonorris posted to his story!
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[caption; safe and sound where she belongs]
sooo.... y'all want part 2?
907 notes · View notes
imababblekat · 3 months
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Accidental Eavesdropping?
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Anon request, "Hey!!! Love your blog and your writing style, it’s amazing and so detailed!!! Can I request Bayverse TMNT Spider-man Au, where the turtles and spider-y/n are in a battle with Bepop and rocksteady. And in the last moments of the battle, spider -y/n saves the turtles but gets unmasked in the process. (They live) If you don’t want to do that idea! You can either delete this OR A moment where the turtles start talking about y/n and they don’t even realize that they’re talking TO THEM!!! This was funny to me for some reason lol 😂"
A/N: Aw thank you, anon! ;v; I went with the second prompt, btw. Leans towards Raphael x reader, but it's mentioned/hinted that the other turts also got the feels for reader. Any who's, I hope you enjoy! <3
◌(s,p) = spider persona◌
~xXx~
You're swinging over traffic, indulging in a rather quiet night despite the sounds of honking vehicles and other night life, when a sudden warm fuzzy feeling beams from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. It's not your spidey sense per say, but something akin to it, all you know is that it's a good sense and you follow it with glee. It doesn't take long before the feeling is buzzing and you see the source of the feeling chilling atop a pizza parlor. Well, more like sources. You let out a small giggle, noticing that the four ninja turtle brothers seem to be in some sort of deep conversation or debate.
"Hey guy's, what's going on?!", you greeted, swinging in next to a steaming Raphael.
"Oh you know, just the daily sibling teasing while we wait for our pizza to be made.", Donnie shrugged, watching as you and Mikey did your secret handshake.
"Yeah? Let me guess. . ."
The eyes of your mask squinted as you pretended to skeptically look at all brothers before looking at the glaring gaze of Raphael next to you.
"Is Raphie suppressing his emotions again?", you chaffed.
Said turtle rolled his eyes, shifting his weight to one side as he growled.
"Great, just what I need. And don't call me that."
"Come on, I'm sure I can help! What's up this time big guy?"
Leo chuckled, gaining your attention while Raphael sent him a warning glare from behind you.
"Raph's got a crush on our friend."
At this your eyes widened, a small gasp escaping you as you looked between the two eldest brothers in excitement.
"No way! Who?!"
You're question went ignored as Raph threw his arms up, cheeks flushing a light hue of embarrassment.
"All I said was they smelled nice, and y'all chuckle heads suddenly think I've been struck by cupid or some mushy crap!"
"You complimented them, Raph.", came Leo's retort.
"I compliment people all the time!"
Everyone remained silent, giving the hot headed turtle deadpanned expressions.
"What? I do. Right (s,p)?", he asked turning to look down at you.
You merely shrugged.
"Sarcastically maybe."
Raph huffed, leaning back against the buildings ledge, you hoping up to sit next to him.
"So is anyone gonna tell me who this mysterious person is or nah? Come on people, I want the tea."
Mikey, idly spinning his nun-chucks, grinned widely.
"It's our friend, (y,n)!"
You sat rigid, mask eyes wide once more.
". . .Who now?"
"Oh you haven't met them.", Donnie waved off, checking his turtle made watch to see the remaining wait time on their order.
Raphael clicked his tongue, still slightly aggravated about his brothers earlier teasing. Meanwhile, you still sat frozen beside him, staring into the abyss with a racing heart.
"I still don't have a crush on them.", he muttered.
"You complimented them on their perfume!", Leo loudly pointed out once more.
"Why is that so weird?!"
The two started to banter once more, Mikey enjoying the show while Donnie threw in a few matter of facts to weigh in on Leo's side. You, however, felt never more thankful than in that moment that you wore a full face mask. If it wasn't for the coverage, surely the ninja brothers would see just how closely the color of your face matched Raphaels mask right now.
Raphael growled, fed up with his brothers ganging up on him and his definitely non-existent crush on you. If they were going to call him out, then he would do the same to them.
"Maybe you guys should get off my shell and jump on yours first! I ain't the only one whose been makin' googly eyes at (y,n)."
You just about fell off the side of the building, hands gripping the edge of where you sat, knuckles definitely white beneath your suit. What is happening right now, is all you could terrifyingly but blushingly think.
Leonardo and Donatello were quick to look anywhere but at Raph, trying their hardest to not blush themselves at their brother's call out.
"I seen the way you put on the macho charm, Leo, bowing extra deep and all your swooning romance book crap when they come over. And you, Donnie, sputtering and dropping shit when they try to help you with projects and their hand accidentally brushes against yours. And Mikey. . ."
All eyes focused in on the youngest of the bunch who sat ready and waiting to hear Raph's jest.
"Actually, Mikey you're not that surprising. You think anyone who gives you food is a gift from heaven."
"Hey, it's not my fault their cinnamon rolls are so good!.", Mikey pouted, bottom lip jutting out adorably.
Leonardo shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning towards you.
"What do you think, (s,p)? Are we over analyzing or are we right?"
The boys eagerly waited for your answer, for your input. Surely someone from the outside would be able to better determine the situation the brothers found themselves in. Well. . .should have been able to more like, as the response you gave was not what they were expecting.
A rushed, "Igotgo!!!", was all they got before watching you thwip away at the speed of light, leaving the turtles to look at each other confused and quizzically.
". . .Wait, so you guys don't have a crush on (y,n) too??", Mikey questioned with furrowed brows, innocently confused by how they could not.
Raphael groaned loudly as he and his brothers devilled into another childish debate on why they totally didn't have feelings for you, a familiar smell that had sparked the argument coincidentally wafting lightly into their senses upon the wind in the direction of which you swung off.
~xXx~
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legitalicat · 5 months
Text
"Maybe I Could Learn to Love You" - Aemond Targaryen x Redwyne!Reader
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Grabbed the gif from sabrinaacarpenters
AN: To be real with y'all, We Become We from the Journey to Bethlehem soundtrack totally inspired this. I've not seen the movie but this song is blowing up on my tiktok.
Masterlist here!
Summary: Aemond could never choose to love another. Maybe you could learn to love him too.
CW: tooth rotting fluff, arranged marriage, I tried to be as neutral as possible for reader description, did use daughter 1 time and dear girl 1 time so presumably AFAB daughter, no other descriptors for reader, talks of wine
Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Redwyne!Reader
Word Count: 2.8k
When you were ten, your father was named to King Viserys’ small council. As the younger brother of Lord Redwyne, nobody had anticipated the idea that he would have much more influence than a prominent land owner. So when King Viserys asked him to come to King’s Landing and serve in a new position dedicated to agriculture, he accepted immediately and brought you in hopes of securing your future.
That is how you met the young Prince Aemond. He was not much older than you, a year at most. At the time, he was still recovering from the Driftmark Incident as the servants in the castle called it. There had been no hope for saving his eye, and so he was relearning to do everything.
Aemond Targaryen was smitten with you from the beginning. His mother had originally had to argue with him to meet you, as he was the closest person in age to you and perhaps in you he would find a friend. He had never been too fond of people, losing his eye doing nothing to help that. Yet, he had never been more grateful for his mother’s insistence than when he saw you.
It was only you and your father, your mother having died a few years prior. And Aemond’s singular eye focused on you exiting the carriage, much too distracted by discussing a book with your father to notice the Royal Family had come to greet you. When you finally did, your eyes widened, stuttering and stammering apologies about your rudeness.
“Please never apologize for your passions,” he spoke quickly. A bit too quickly, perhaps, as he thought about how that may have been the place of his father or even his mother. But already you had enraptured him and he would not make any apologies for that.
In the days and months following, his mother had arranged with your father that you and Aemond become companions. Unbeknownst to you, a promise had been made. Your father allow her son to be by your side and you would marry a prince.
All you cared about was having a friend. You had expected King’s Landing to feel rather lonely. You left behind cousins and friends in The Arbor. And while knowing that the King and Queen had four children, you had been under the assumption you would be kept separate. So, when your lessons with the Septa were held with Aemond, you were equally surprised and grateful.
Over the years, Aemond’s affections for you only grew. He loved spending time with you, requiring his every waking moment be spent with you. As you grew older and the need for propriety became an issue, he was more than happy to have Ser Criston or even one of the Cargyll twins to accompany the two of you. It didn’t matter to him what you did or who was around. If he had you, he was happy.
You had been in King’s Landing for six years when you were formally betrothed to Aemond, to be married within a moon of your eighteenth birthday. It took you by complete surprise. It made sense, you supposed. If you looked back on the years, you could see how your friendship with Aemond was considered a courtship. He was ecstatic at the news, you were neutral.
It wasn’t a bad idea. Aemond seemed to truly care for you. You knew if your marriage had to be political, better it be to a man such as Aemond. He was good and kind to you, handsome if you were asked to give your opinion. You did not mind his scar or the eyepatch he wore.
Aemond was only slightly disappointed by your lack of enthusiasm at your impending marriage. He figured it was nerves. Coming from a noble house but not being the daughter of its Lord may have caused them when you were presented with such an advantageous marriage. Or perhaps you were so overcome with joy that you were merely struck speechless. He did not mind either way.
It was on your eighteenth birthday that he learned the love he bore you was one sided. He had overheard you speaking to his mother as she gave you a gift. It was a piece of jewelry her mother had once owned, given to you as a way to welcome you. You attempted to deny it. And at her insistence, you confessed why.
“Aemond will be a good husband, but I do not love him. It would feel wrong to accept such a beautiful heirloom as such,” you had explained shyly.
“Dear girl, you marriage may not be one of love, but you are still joining my family. And you are someone familiar with my home, the home my children may never get to see. Perhaps in this, you can feel connected to our home and teach your children of it,” she explained, placing the necklace around your neck.
Despite the ache in his chest that you did not feel for him what he felt for you, he was not any less determined. He loved you. That would not change.
The day before your wedding, he approached you. You had been so busy in the last week, making final preparations for the day. You were nervous now. It was obvious when he saw you. And despite the fact you did not love him, he knew you still considered him your friend.
“Come with me, my love,” he said softly to you, a book in hand.
Since your betrothal, little pet names are all he called you. You never minded. In fact, you quite enjoyed it. You enjoyed the knowledge that every member of court who thought Aemond was cold could see that he adored you. It may have been wrong, but you felt so powerful in knowing a man such as he could be weak only for you. Perhaps that was why you never made a fuss. You were lucky, luckier than most, in having your intended so dedicated and devoted to you.
“Where are we going?” you asked him as he began to lead you down the corridor.
He brought you to the weirwood tree. It was often a good place for the two of you to catch a moment of peace. A guardsman would stand at the entrance to the gardens and pay little mind to the small touches Aemond let linger over you. Here, you felt safe and connected to your roots. Here, you felt as though you and Aemond truly were friends.
He sat on the ground, offering you a hand for assistance for sitting gracefully. He knew you were not one of grace, but he thought it cute that you were as coordinated as a newborn lamb. And you were ever so grateful for that fact.
“Lay your head in my lap and I shall read to you,” he told you quietly.
You were relieved to have this small moment of reprieve from the stresses of planning an event as grand as this. You had been coordinating with your uncle for the wine for the wedding, with Lord Tyrell for extra grains so that you may have your sweets, with many bards throughout the kingdoms to find one to play their music. The Queen and your father took some of the organizing off your shoulders, of course, but you needed this to be perfect.
And so, you laid your head in his lap. He stroked your hair with one hand as he held the book with the other, his deep voice reading the words of a love story to you. You looked up at him. He was truly handsome. The angles of his jawline and his prominent nose made goose pimples rise across your skin. His lilac eye was focused on the page and not you, but it soothed you nonetheless. And his hair…you could not wait until you were married so as to be able to openly touch it.
“You are staring awfully hard, darling. Do I have something on my face?” he asked, his eye flickering from the page to you.
“Remove it,” you whispered.
“We have been over this,” he said quietly. This conversation was the only time he ever seemed cross with you. His jaw clenched every time.
“Yes, I am aware you stated not before we were wed. But it is tomorrow. And I wait to gaze upon the entirety of my husband before I am bound to him before the gods,” you told him, offering a coy smirk.
“If you wish to gaze upon the entirety of me, might I suggest we move to my chambers?” he asked with his own smirk.
You could not help but laugh. He felt comfortable enough with you to laugh, joke, and tease. You were grateful that you could grant him this existence.
“Please, Aemond. How can you expect me to marry you and partake in what is to come if you do not trust me enough to show me you?” you asked him quietly. He knew you spoke of the wedding ceremony that was to be held, and how you feared it, but you had assured him you would do it for him.
You could see how jaw clench again, his nostrils flaring slightly. You had always felt the liberty to argue against him. It was one of the things he loved about you, how you forgot what was expected of you to speak your mind.
But finally, his hand withdrew from your hair as he placed the book aside. Perhaps you had spoken too freely and finally he was getting angry with you. Instead, his hands reached behind his own head.
He had the strap unfastened yet did not remove it. He looked to you. A genuine fear could be seen on his face.
“And if you decide it is too disgusting to gaze upon? What shall I be expected to do then?” he asked you in a quiet voice.
“It would not dissuade me from marrying you,” she told him. It was true, in equal parts because you knew there was no chance of that changing now and the fact you knew you were lucky to be marrying a man such as this. “Though I suppose I would order a bag be kept over your head. Or perhaps only approach you in dark rooms.”
It was a tease, you both knew it. But he was still worried about how much truth hung in your words. He didn’t want you to be disgusted by him.
Seeing how uneasy Aemond still was, you reached up and placed your hand on his. “You love me?” you asked him quietly.
“I could never choose to love another,” Aemond said quickly to you, confirming to you what you already knew.
“Then have faith in me that I will not turn or cower. Have faith in me that I want this marriage, this life, with you,” you told him gently as you began to slowly pull your hand away, bringing his along.
He allowed his hands to be removed, holding the eyepatch in them. The piece of leather had made its indention in his skin from being fastened too tightly. Your eyes then focused on the dazzling blue sapphire that had been secured in the socket.
Aemond noticed how your gaze softened, your entire body going lax. He began to quickly attempt to hide himself, feeling flustered as his pale skin flooded red. A panic built up in him.
“No,” you whispered, taking hold of his hands again. “Please. Do not hide this beauty from me. If you wish to wear it in public, I will stand by that decision. But it would do me a great disservice if you hid away such art when we are alone.”
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Your wedding was perfect, if Aemond had any opinion on it. Your hard work had paid off tenfold. Every guest had enjoyed the feast after you were bound to Aemond. It felt like your greatest accomplishment, proving you were up to this insurmountable task of marrying a prince.
When all the Lords were too overtaken by their food and drink to notice, Aemond took your hand and led you away from the main hall. For a moment, you worried about how it would look if you were to be seen alone together. Then you remembered you were now married and felt relieved, albeit a little stupid.
“Where are we going? We will be missed,” you said, giggling a bit as you followed close behind him.
“Most are too drunk to remember they have toes, I doubt we will be missed too much,” he assured you.
You followed him in silence. It was sweet, you thought, that he was eager to finally have a true moment alone with him. He allowed himself to be soft with you, something you adored. It allowed an ease to be felt between the two of you.
The two of you trekked through the entirety of the Keep. Upstairs, downstairs, around corners, and through doorways you didn’t know existed. Then he brought you through a last doorway that lead into one of the apartments that you had never before been in.
It was a room almost too grand to imagine. It was filled with an inexplicable warmth you had missed since first coming to King’s Landing. The furniture was the standard styles of all the Keep’s furniture, being obviously expensive and well crafted. What caught your eye was the subtleties of it.
Grape vines had been made to grow so that they hung over the windows. You could smell the salty sea water of Blackwater Bay with every small gust of wind. A bowl of peaches laid on the bedside table. The duvet on the bed was a deep burgundy as though it were made from the sweetest wine.
“It occurred to me that you have not returned home since you arrived,” Aemond’s voice entered your ears.
You had been too busy looking over everything to remember his existence. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were keeping and tears flooded to your eyes. The room felt exactly like how you remembered The Arbor.
He lead you to the windows, holding your waist with one hand. He kept you on his right side, his good side, as he did so. He looked down at you as you looked up to him.
“Part of your wedding gift is that I have ensured there will be no bedding ceremony,” he whispered while placing his hand on your chin.
“Aemond, I…there are no words,” you stammered out, as your eyes widened. There was no way you could imagine how it was possible. It was expected of royalty.
“Your other part, is this,” he told you. With a gentle grip, he turned your face outwards before removing his touch.
It was beautiful. The night sky littered with stars, the Bay extending into the horizon, forgetting the existence of the land that it was meant to wash away. Lights flickering had dotted the landscape.
“I fear I do not understand,” you whispered, looking to him confused. You realized he had taken his eyepatch off while you weren’t paying attention. Once again your breath was taken from you.
He looked from the beauty of the night to you. You were his own private beauty, one that he would get to keep for his entire life.
“I know you do not love me,” he told you, shaking his head when you began to say something. “No, no, I understand. And it does not deter me from loving you every moment of my life.”
“I want to love you,” you whispered breathlessly.
“It is okay if you do not. But my gift to you is a promise,” he said, his fingers running along your jawline. “I am the second son of a king who cannot remember how to chew his food, let alone care for his family. I have never held any lands, nor have I ever proved myself in battle. But my heart and soul are yours. We can go wherever you wish. I will build you a castle from the ground to the stars with nothing but my hands if you asked me to. I promise you I will spend every breath giving you every star. I will give you my entirety.”
You didn’t look away from him. Your heart was pounding against your chest, every moment feeling like you were seconds away from crying. Whenever you thought of love and devotion, this was what you thought of. He was willing to set the world on fire for you even without the promise of love.
“Maybe I could learn to love you, too.”
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swarvey · 2 months
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Can you do bachelor hcs where farmer is like super hurt? Like blood gushing from their abdomen or smth?? Like basically life threatening
when they think you're not going to make it | sdv bachelors x gn!reader
summary -> how some of the boys react to seeing you come out of the mines unconscious with nearly fatal wounds. warnings -> blood and injuries, panic attacks, harsh language
a/n: basically a more severe version of this series lol, i hope you enjoy!!! <3 alex's is probs the longest bc i was inspired heh, i started with alex and shane, but lmk if y'all want more!
alex
feels like his throat is closing in on itself when he sees you all beaten up in harvey's clinic
harvey has to yell at linus to get him out of the room when he keeps trying to reach you
completely panics at the thought of losing you
he just doesn't want to be alone again
it was no secret alex hated hospitals, and harvey's small clinic was no exception. he always tried to leave his appointments with the doctor as soon as he could, and although he would accompany you to yours, he preferred to stand outside until you finished. everything about the environment was too much for him, too painful.
so when linus — the local homeless guy he never really cared to talk to — caught him on the street and practically begged him to go to the clinic, he wasn't entirely convinced. only when your name slipped off his tongue did his eyes widen, his feet moving before his mind could catch up.
alex hated hospitals, and now he had a reason to hate them even more.
"y/n?"
his voice was barely audible as the world around him began to fade, only focusing on your paled face and the blood-soaked bandage wrapped around your torso. his breath got stuck in his chest, and an all too familiar feeling began to swarm him —images of his poor mother laying in a cold hospital bed, monitors beeping rapidly as the doctors failed to save her.
not again. please, not again.
"get him out of here!" harvey demanded, pushing him away from your body. alex blinked, realizing he'd moved past the doctor and was desperately trying to hold onto you. "alex, you have to step away, or else i won't be able to help them."
"stop it, they need me! let me go," he loudly protested. he knew it was childish; he knew he sounded like the same kid he was all those years ago, begging to see his mom one last time, but he didn't care. this was you, and he couldn't lose you. he couldn't lose anyone else.
despite his efforts, alex was swiftly dragged away by linus's unexpected strength. before he knew it, he was standing outside the clinic in the cool evening air, chest heaving as he tried to breathe.
"take some deep breaths," the older man said, somehow sounding level-headed. "it'll be okay."
"the fuck do you know?" alex snapped, voice wavering. "you don't know anything about what it's like, do you? what it's like to lose someone? to watch someone die?" his voice hitched, tears beginning to well in his eyes before spilling down his cheeks. "i can't do this. i-i can't do this again, not again, not after last time — i can't—"
"hey." strong hands planted themselves on his shoulders, and his panicked gaze met linus's kind eyes. "this isn't the first time i've dragged people out of the mines, alright? trust me, i've seen worse. they'll be okay."
"you don't know that," alex replied weakly. "they might not make it."
"they're strong, you know that."
"she was strong, too. my mom was the strongest person on this planet." more tears blurred his vision. "look where she ended up."
linus sighed, dropping his arms. "she was," he agreed, and alex looked up in surprise, "but this is different, alex."
"how do you—"
"alex." he turned, meeting harvey's exhausted smile. "you can come in now." alex nodded, wiping his face with his sleeve and giving linus a a grateful look before walking in.
your face was still pale and you weren't awake, but it was clear you were much better than before. a new, clean bandage covered your abdomen, and an iv was attached to your arm.
alex let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "so, they'll be okay?" he asked, sitting on the chair beside you.
"yes, with some recovery, of course," harvey said, sounding just as relieved as alex felt. "though, i would strongly advise not letting them go to the mines for a while. an injury like this won't heal quicky, and it will likely scar. please talk to them after they wake."
"got it, doc. seriously, thank you so much." with another smile and a nod, harvey walked to another part of the clinic, leaving alex alone with you. he kept repeating the doctor's words in his head as he grabbed your limp hand, watching your chest fall up and down with each breath. "you'll be okay," he whispered, though it wasn't you he was trying to convince.
as alex drifted off to sleep next to you, he silently reminded himself to stop by linus's tent the following morning.
shane
he usually acts pissed at you whenever you get hurt, but it's only bc he knows you can handle yourself
usually you can, anyway, which is why he's worried when you don't come home when you said you would
he's quick to leave the house and immediately starts looking for you (tries to convince himself you're just running late)
in complete shock when he sees you in dr. harvey's arms as he rushes into the clinic with maru beside him
shane glanced at the clock for the fifth time in the last minute, frown deepening when you still didn't appear in the doorway. he could practically hear you chastising him for being too dramatic, but he didn't care — you'd never been this late before, and a tugging feeling in his gut told him there was something wrong.
swearing under his breath, he threw on his jacket and left the farm, telling himself that you probably just got caught up at the saloon, or maybe you stopped by the community center. then again, you had mentioned you wanted to get back into fishing—
"maru, get the door!"
a cold wave washed over shane's entire body, making him halt mid-step.
all he could focus on was your bloodied face hanging from harvey's arms as he rushed you into the clinic, maru hot on his tail.
for a second, time seemed to stop.
then, he was sprinting to catch the door and run in after them, panicked words spewing from his mouth before he could even process his thoughts.
"what the— what the fuck happened? where did you even—? are they going to be okay, oh shit, are they gonna wake up—"
"shane," harvey gritted out through his teeth, "you need to leave, now."
immediately, shane stood his ground, jaw clenched. "i'm not fuckin' going anywhere, not 'til they're awake."
"shane," the doctor repeated in a softer tone, eyes pleading with him, "i can't work on them with you in the room. this wound is deep — i need to operate, and you can't be here."
"please," maru added quietly, looking more distressed than shane had ever seen the typically laidback girl. "th-they might not make it."
harvey gave her a look, but didn't deny her words. shane felt his stomach drop.
then, wordlessly, he turned and slammed open the door into the waiting room, forcing himself into a seat as he bit back panicked tears. maru's words kept playing back in his head like a broken record, and suddenly, shane realized he might have to face a terrifying world without you in it.
"fuck," he cursed, letting his head fall into his hands to hide the hot tears streaming down his face. at first, he thought he was angry — he always told you to be careful, that you shouldn't be running around so damn carelessly all the time, you're not fuckin' invincible. you never listened, of course, always spewing something stupid about doing what's best for everyone. after hearing that phrase more than a handful of times, shane thought it was pretty reasonable for him to be a little pissed.
in that moment, though, who the hell was he kidding? he was nowhere near pissed; he was scared.
you couldn't die, not yet — not when he just got better, not when he still had so much left to say to you. the thought of never being able to see your smile again made him nauseous, and he wished he could rewind back to the morning so he could tug you back into bed with him. stay, he would say. you're not leaving my side today, alright?
he knew it wouldn't have worked. he would still try, though.
shane didn't realize how long he stayed in the same position until the waiting room doors creaked open, his head shooting up at the sound. harvey greeted him with a nod, which he returned stiffly as he stood up.
"d-did everything go okay?" he asked, swallowing in an attempt to soothe his rough voice. "are they—?"
"they're fine," harvey replied, a small smile upturning his lips at the sound of shane's relieved swears.
"thank fuck, i don't know what i would've— it doesn't matter, can i come in?" he barely waited for a response before slipping past the doctor and finding your bed.
he caught maru on her way out, giving her another nod. she smiled, wider than harvey's, before making her way to the other room.
shane hesitantly grabbed your hand as he sat down in the chair beside you, scared he might break you if he held you too roughly. when you didn't stir, he laced his fingers with yours and held them to his forehead, pressing a firm kiss to the back of your hand.
"you scared the shit out of me," he sighed, shaking his head. "god, i don't know what i would've done if you— if i couldn't—" he couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence, resorting to giving your hand another kiss. "you better wake up, you hear me? i'll fuckin' kill you if you don't." he half expected you to answer. he could hear your voice in his head telling him to stop acting so tough, that you could see right through him.
instead, the sound of your steady breaths filled the room, and even then, shane felt like that was your way of telling him everything would be okay.
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