#my fic-ish

[talktonytome]

Alternate meeting au where Buck starts taking Jee to the library for story hour and subsequently, art club, bc Tommy, the hottest, sweetest man he's ever met, runs the club. Not that he doesn't love spending time with jee, but he practically begs Chim and Maddie for time with her when he finds out the next art club day. He's working up the courage to ask Tommy for a beer or coffee, when Chim decides to tag along, because seriously, this art club must be riveting!

Buck sulks a little and Tommy is both bothered and bewildered when he sees his old friend from the 118 with Evan, who he might have been crushing on, and incorrectly assumes Buck and Chim are together, seeing as Jee looks like Chim and it's Buck who usually brings her and ok, he didn't know Chim was into men, but you never know right? "Long time, Howie," he says clearing his throat. "Your daughter is adorable by the way.

"So how long have you two been together?" He gestures between Chim and Buck, whose faces morph into horrified expressions. They protest in unison.

Ew, no! He's my brother in law!

Absolutely not!

Tommy's sigh of relief gives Buck hope and ends up with a date by the end of the debacle.

(Will most likely turn this into a fic)

[faiell]

inspired by a scene from 9 1/2 days by @magpiefngrl

‘Harry?’ Urgent, clipped vowels, insistent at his ear. A cool hand shook Harry's shoulder, hot breath played on his cheek, and the smell of lavender tickled his nose. Without thinking, Harry raised his head and pressed his face at the source of the lavender smell, inhaling deeply. Dawn’s fabric softener brought him slowly back to himself. He opened his eyes to see he had his nose buried in Draco’s shoulder.

[fairandfatalasfair]

"Edwin can help" says Charles.

Crystal raises an eyebrow at him. He smiles sunnily.

"Edwin would sell me to Satan for one corn chip," she says.

Edwin, from his spot at the desk, lowers his book enough to give her a longsuffering look. "This feels like one of your obscure internet references," he says. He still says "internet" like the word doesn't belong in his mouth.

Crystal gives him a bland smile. "The internet isn't obscure," she says. "You just don't know anything about it because you're a million years old."

"One hundred twenty four," he says, because he's a pedantic little shit.

Charles is chuckling in the corner, because he has low tastes and thinks Edwin being a pedantic little shit is hilarious.

"At any rate," says Edwin crisply, "As a fugitive from hell, negotiating with Satan would hardly be in my best interests. Also, as a fugitive from hell, I have no interest in seeing anyone sent there unjustly, much less someone I have grown... attached to."

She feels her smile warm a little at that, and turns her head so that Edwin won't see. Love you too, Edwin.

"Finally," he concludes, "I am dead, with no need to eat, and therefor have no use for corn chips. This accusation does not make sense."

Crystal chokes at the affronted dignity in his voice, but pulls her expression back under control, only turning back to Edwin when she's sure she can look disdainful without her lips twitching. Charles dying of laughter in the corner isn't helping, but she manages.

"It's a meme," she says loftily.

Edwin's longsuffering expression turns pained. "Half the time, I am sure you are making these things up to aggravate me," he informs her.

She isn't, but only because the reality aggravates him plenty without any embellishment.

"Is it working?" she asks, and finally lets herself laugh when he picks up his book again and glares daggers at her over the top of it.

[teasodium]

that moment when you are the eldest sibling n you coerce your youngest sibling with snacks so they can give emotional advice (ghibli redraw also >;3)

silly fun idea that i may follow up one day with Mikey info dumping about Edo period queerness.

[iamnmbr3]

Things Draco Malfoy has Done in the Muggle World During His Postwar Probation

Attempted to order from a menu by speaking to it

Almost breached the Statute of Secrecy due to mistaking someone using clap-on-clap-off lights for a muggleborn using wandless magic

Got into a heated argument with the actors in a commercial because he thought the people in the tv were talking to him

Refused to walk in front of a car for fear of bumping into the invisible animals that obviously pull it

Panicked and responded "I have no idea what you're talking about" when asked what the "magic word" is

Complained that his telephone is broken because it periodically emits a loud ringing sound for no apparent reason

Run into Harry Potter unexpectedly in a pub, dropped everything he was holding, and automatically caught it with wandless magic without thinking, thus breaching the Statute of Secrecy in front of 47 muggles and the most famous Auror in Britain

Run into Harry Potter again in the same pub, thanked him for getting him out of those misuse of magic charges and apologized (again) for all of the more unpleasant bits of their history

Accidentally on purpose run into Harry Potter yet again in the same pub to find out why he comes to muggle London so often and how he's doing and to let him know that he's not remotely interested in whether the rumors in the Daily Prophet that he's split up with Ginny Weasley are true (they are)

Met Harry Potter in a pub for drinks to chat about old times except not the sad bits at least until they've had a few

Taken his muggle friends out to a pub that he definitely chose at random but which coincidentally Harry Potter also happens to be walking into so they might as well all sit down together

Had to admit that he may have mentioned him a few times when Harry is shocked to discover that all of Draco's muggle friends seemingly know his name despite the fact that he isn't famous in the muggle world

Met Harry and Harry's friends for drinks and somehow actually had a good time and not been vengefully poisoned by Ron Weasley or cursed by Hermione Granger or stabbed by Neville Longbottom or anything else dreadful

Had to explain to several bemused people that when Luna Lovegood says that they used to live together she doesn't mean they were involved romantically

Invited Harry Potter back to his flat and proudly shown him that he now knows how to make a telephone stop ringing (you just lift it up for a moment and then slam it back down and that fixes it) and then told him off for laughing

Visited Harry Potter at his flat, also in muggle London though protected by the Fidelius Charm for extra privacy, met a very small and excitable owl and had a protracted but good natured argument about which of them was actually better at Quidditch (because obviously if Draco had had a Firebolt he would have won every match)

Got his wand back and immediately transfigured everything in his flat just because he can and because it feels so good to use magic again and then cast Rictusempra on Harry because clearly Draco is the superior dueler and also because he likes the sound of Harry's laugh

Kissed Harry Potter.

[fandomrose]

Sunday - Love Hypnosis

Sunday hypnotises you (consensually) to relax you.

No spoilers.

No description of reader or readers troubles so project what you are personally struggling with as you see fit.

No angst just fluff. I thought this concept would be cute. I've seen many a yandere Sunday hypnotises you, and that's great but consider - consent and fluff.

(This isn't a jab, I too enjoy a yandere fic from time to time but I also want to see fluff and I haven't seen this done in a fluffy way yet.)

I don't know why I'm mildly obsessed with this man but I am. (Cough Cough, I read maximum ride as a kid and now I automatically fall in love with winged characters. Cough Cough.) I need him to hypnotise me please and thank you.

(I have a few fics in the works that I need to finish but I'm struggling.)

As usual enjoy. Love ya 💙

"Darling?" Came the light and airy tone of your beloved. Though there was a hint of worry in his voice as he took in your face down, slumped form. "Are you alright?"

He could tell very well that you were not alright. But he would coax an answer out of you one way or another. Though the only answer he received was a groan.

"Darling." He sighs but chuckles at your obviously aggravated self. "Allow me to help you." 

Your body goes limp as you let him move you from a sofa to your shared bed. "My darling. Tell me what's gotten into you."

He chuckles as you groan out a single word relating to your issues. "Life."

"Oh, my darling. You'll let me soothe you for the night won't you?" He only felt it was right after the many nights you had soothed him. 

Patient, kind, understanding. Three words that when asked by others what you think about each other, you'd both say about each other. A pure give and take without a scoreboard, that's how you operated. You were both busy or stressed for one reason or another so that's how things had to be.

The simple love you shared was enough most days but sometimes things went wrong.

Sunday had performed hypnosis on you before so he knew it worked but he'd never engage unless you agreed. You knew the question he asked meant he wanted to soothe you via hypnosis, and with the state of your mind you would happily agree. 

"Please do." 

He wouldn't offer if he didn't have the energy you knew this, a rather large argument took care of that when he'd overworked himself then passed out after hypnotising you once and a medic had to be rushed in. Needless to say, you weren't happy with his carelessness. And seeing how upset you were he agreed to be more careful with his health.

You didn't want to think anymore so as you lay there looking up at him with your tired eyes and weary mind, he smiles. He caresses your face and hair before taking a deep breath and reciting that familiar chant.

"Oh triple faced soul, allow me to take hold of this one's mind and soothe them of all worries and burdens. The word Beloved will be the catalyst for control."

With that simple incantation your mind belonged to Sunday for a short while. Your mind felt fuzzy and slow but not unpleasantly, the way it would when you achieved complete relaxation. 

Like he had done before, he would take you through your nightly routine with this hypnosis.

"Beloved, follow me to to the bathroom." He helped you up while your body automatically followed his words and stood up. 

Walking was about the most complex task you could complete, he wasn't Xipe Themself, so his power only went so far. 

"Beloved, lift your arms." 

You do as told and he aids in stripping you, ready to be cleaned. 

"Beloved, sit on this stool and close your eyes." 

You again do as told his voice muffled through the layers of hypnosis, but soothing nonetheless. "I am going to wash your face first darling." He always narrates what he does before doing it as not to startle you.

You felt a cool, wet, cloth glide over your face and you can't help but sigh with satisfaction. You feel it gently caress your cheeks and softly rub your eyes tickle behind your ears. You hear the cloth being rinsed and wrung, the muffled sounds of the water soothing you further.

"I am going to wash your upper body now darling." And, as before, you feel the damp cloth glide over your neck and upper body, letting him move you has he sees fit. Soft humming coming from him lulls you deeper into his hypnosis. The cloth glides down and caresses your chest before moving to wash your back. You'd make sounds of relaxed satisfaction if you could but your exhausted body coupled with the hypnosis has made your brain devoid of any thought or control. Just how you want it. 

He moves back to the front of you with a new cloth. "Beloved, spread your legs, I need to clean you." 

Your body complies without hesitation and that's what he does, making sure to be extra gentle around this sensitive area. He is thorough but doesn't linger long this time, not wanting to spark anything in you this evening.

Standing to switch the cloth again, "I'm going to wash your legs and feet now darling." Still being as gentle as ever his hands and the cloth slowly makes their way down your legs massaging them as they go. A light massage is given to your feet as well before he finishes and pats you dry with a towel before he deems your body clean.

"Beloved, open your mouth wide." 

He orders next, your mind too fuzzy to think of what else could be doing. You hear more water then feel a hand on your chin. "I'm going to brush your teeth darling." Then light scrubbing of your teeth and tongue can be felt, he is thorough with this area too. Not wanting to be the reason you have cavities he takes his time. Not too long later he finishes with you. You can hear things being put away and muffled sounds of him walking around you, maybe inspecting you. Before he stops in front and, 

"Beloved, open your eyes and stand up. Its time to go to bed."

You're led back into the bedroom now that he is satisfied that you are clean. "Beloved, are you ready to sleep?" 

Compelled to answer, you do. "yes"

"Beloved, do you want to sleep with me?"

"Yes"

"Good, let's get to sleep then shall we." 

The sounds of fabric and draws is all you hear for a moment before he guides you into bed with him. 

"Beloved, lay down." 

When he's satisfied you are comfortable You feel his soft skin against yours, the wings on his head lightly brushing your face in reverence before he pulls them back. It isn't often he blesses you with his naked body, the vulnerability gets to him at times. 

Once you've laid down and he's pulled you close he asked one more question.

"Beloved, are you ready to be released from hypnosis?"

"Yes"

As the words leave your lips he begins the incantation to remove his influence on your mind. 

"Oh triple faced soul, this one has completed this ones tasks and can now be freed from the shackles of my control with no burden."

Everything goes still as your senses return slowly, reacclimating you to reality. A few minutes pass of him softly stroking your head and neck while you come back to him.

"Thank you Sunday" a soft whisper conveying how grateful you are before you promptly pass out the exhaustion and relaxation hitting you full force as you melt into the bed and his arms.

"Oh my beloved, I'd do anything to see you happy and relaxed like this more often. I am grateful for all you do for me so it's only natural. I love you, so much my beloved."

He whispers to your sleeping self, pressing small kisses to your forehead, cheeks and nose. Watching the small twitches at the contact makes his evening and he feels like he too can finally relax.

[catelyngrant]

So I'm thinking about the Fourteenth Doctor, and the bi-generation, and how he may have come to an end. What happened to him after those years he spent with Donna and her family, and with so many other friends on Earth (oh, I am headcanon-ing, friends), existing day-to-day and beginning to heal? After he learned how to let himself be loved, and shown compassion, and forgiven—and, eventually, learned to love, forgive, and care for himself? What happened when, at the end of this journey, his regeneration energy (I assume?) traveled back (in some hand-wavey fashion) to become the Fifteenth Doctor, who is born out of that love and forgiveness and compassion and is ready to move forward in the universe?

Fourteen becomes Fifteen—but what about the TARDIS?

Fourteen's TARDIS was created for the same reason Fourteen was: they needed to slow down, to be gentle. They needed to find a home that wasn't moving at the speed of light. So maybe this TARDIS is a little gentler, too. Maybe she's a little more careful of herself and her charges.

When Fourteen takes Rose to Mars, they land right where they're supposed to, and Rose sees wonders. Nothing bad happens, and they return home five minutes after they left.

When Shaun wants to see a football match from 1988, he opens the TARDIS door and she takes him right there, flying all by herself, to Fourteen's chagrin.

When Fourteen takes Mel to New York, they have adventures that don't involve running, or hiding, or screaming with anything but laughter. When Fourteen takes Jo, Ace, and Tegan to the Jurassic era, the only danger he faces is when he makes an age joke.

When, after Sarah Jane dies (yeeeears in the future, tyvm), Fourteen takes Luke, Maria, Clyde, and Rani to see Florana—the place he promised to take Sarah Jane all those years ago—the TARDIS chooses the safest, most beautiful moment in time for them to honor her memory.

When Donna and Martha and Yaz and Shirley sneak in for a joyride, they have the time of their lives, and the TARDIS covers for them. (Fourteen suspects, but can't prove it.)

When Fourteen is struggling, and chafing at life on Earth, and just needs to run, to fix things, to solve puzzles, to get away from the day-to-day of it all, the TARDIS lets him. She takes him so many places he's never been before, and they're all beautiful and wild and remind him what he loves about the universe.

(He tries, a few times, to go places that might bring him pain, and she gently refuses.)

And every now and then, someone will try to get in. This TARDIS doesn't have a key; she just opens to those in her care, and refuses entry to those she doesn't trust. She is safe, and so are they.

When Donna's in her eighties and can't get around as easily, the TARDIS takes her where she can manage. When Rose is overwhelmed with the pain of the world, the TARDIS takes her to places where none of that pain exists, and lets her stay as long as she needs to.

They live magnificent lives, and the TARDIS takes care of them. And then, at the end of it, Fourteen is ready for what comes next, and he becomes Fifteen. There's only one Doctor again.

But this TARDIS...

I think she stays, right in the corner of that yard. She leaves and then lands so precisely that roots and ivy grow over her. The Doctor is gone, and eventually Mel and Sarah Jane and Jo and Donna and Martha and everyone that traveled with the Doctor once upon a time in a different TARDIS are gone too.

But Rose is still there. Luke, Maria, Rani, and Clyde are still there. Their families, their kids. The TARDIS opens to them, and shows them the universe. She takes them only where she chooses to, and it's always exactly where they need to go.

She always takes them home, to the garden that once belonged to Donna Noble.

The Doctor finds new companions. Some of them come home to Earth after awhile, but they're not stuck dreaming of the universe. You showed me the furthest reaches of the galaxy, Sarah Jane said. You showed me supernovas, intergalactic battles, and then you just dropped me back on Earth. How could anything compare to that? We get a taste of that splendor, but then we have to go back.

These new companions, they return to Earth and their lives there, but every now and then, they swing by that old house that the Noble family has lived in for generations. They say hello to this old/new box, and she invites them in.

They don't have to say goodbye to the universe. She's right there in Chiswick, waiting for them.

And sometimes—on rare occasions, when they need it, or when he (or she, or they) does—she takes them to the Doctor.

[pjs-everyday]

lol the girls side of the dorm isn't safe either-- leave ya shit out for 48 hours and it's ochakooo's ✌️😊✌️💕

cheeky thief comic: part 1 // closeups // bakugo's shirt // part 2

[toxintouch]

TOUCHSTARVED WISH LIST:

✦ Vere going absolutely feral after he sees the MC getting hurt ✦

It's a Soulless that hurts them?  The monster barely gets a swipe in before Vere is on it.  He's ripping it apart with his fucking teeth.  He can't stop growling, even after the thing is already dead, blood dripping down his face, splattering his chest, smeared all over his chains.

He's a force of nature - beautiful and deadly in equal measure.  

His ears are going to stay pinned back for a while.  He can't relax.  MC can try to calm him down and comfort him but his disposition won't go back to normal until he's satisfied.  (Satisfied with patching them up, fussing over them in a way that's just this side of an insult.)  He'll take them to bed, but only in the most literal sense.  (He just wants to listen to their heartbeat with his tail wrapped around them until he feels better.)

 . . . But what if it is a human who does it? Say, someone from the Senobium… 

Vere wants to blot them from the face of the earth but he can't.  Not with the collar on.  He has to resort to trickery or manipulation if he wants MC's assailant to stop.

 (And he has to act unaffected.  He can't let on…)

 It's absolutely maddening because he could squash their attacker like a bug if he wasn't so chained.  He wouldn't have to watch this happen if -- he shouldn't have to watch this happen, they're his -- but he can't stop it, not the way he wants to.  His hackles are up.  His claws absolutely itch with the need to tear this vermin to shreds.  His handlers will write it off as hunger, blood lust.  (They'll be right, if only partially.)

Bonus Points: Vere seeks Kuras' help willingly in order to save MC's life.

 The MC getting grievously injured…

Vere picking them up bridal style and carrying them to Kuras' clinic. 

He doesn't wait in the line.  (Not that there's going to be much of a line, people scatter like rats once they see his face.)  

He'll break down the goddamn door if he has to.  He doesn't say a word, just snarls at Kuras and refuses to be removed from the room while MC is treated.

 (Does he fume in the corner the whole time?  Or does he hover near Kuras, distrusting the angel, accepting the proximity despite his distaste?)

 Kuras doesn't say anything either.  He just gets to work.

[talktonytome]

[girlsdads]

since this blurb will never see the light of day now that i accidentally deleted it while trying to edit it half asleep last night… i just need y’all to know the gist.

cw: exhibitionism, voyeurism??, maxiel being nauseating

(this is not a polished piece of writing)

POV nameless red bull social media team intern. he gets tasked with finding max and daniel to do one of those silly little reels where they’re answering trivia questions about the track they’re at or smth, gets warned that he might find maxiel in a… ahem… compromising position, intern thinks hahaha yeah they’re always doing something weird wink wink nudge nudge doesn’t think much of it bc they couldn’t possibly have meant….. (the intern is very new).

anyway poor intern knocks on the door of max’s motorhome and hears daniel’s voice saying to come in, thinks oh okay great they’re both in there i’ll kill 2 birds with one stone etc etc, opens the door and Hey! there’s 3 time world champion Max Verstappen getting his back blown out by once-again teammate (let’s gooo ricbull) Daniel Ricciardo! intern is stammering and embarrassed beyond belief and barely able to get out “i- i can come back another time…” but daniel gives him that megawatt smile and is like “come on in mate, we understand when duty calls, right maxy?” max just whines high in this throat and blinks at the intern like he’s not really seeing anything at all.

the intern stares as daniel pulls out of max gently, he can’t look away from daniel’s bare, Huge, still hard, lube-wet cock and prays to every entity in the universe that he doesn’t start to get hard. max just lays there making pitiful noises as daniel throws on a red bull polo that’s actually max’s if the breadth of the shoulders is anything to go by. he pulls on a cap over his clearly sex-mussed hair. daniel scoots on the couch, still naked from the waist down, to face the intern who has gingerly pulled up a chair. daniel twists to the side and reaches up to grab max by the hips and pull him closer, pushes his thighs apart and hooks 3 fingers into max while turning back to the intern and putting on his pr smile. “fire away!”

the intern just sits there holding the phone dumbly watching daniel stroke max from the inside with his right hand and gesture to him with his left. the intern glances down to where max’s soft splayed thighs and little pink cock are clearly visible at the bottom of the video frame. “they’ll close-crop it,” daniel assures him. the intern nods but then he’s like what about the sound…??? bc max is just exhaling raspy moans and whimpers and surely the video editors can’t be that good?? but daniel gazes adoringly down at max and is like “he can be quiet, he’s a good boy, aren’t you maxy?”

max immediately zips it, daniel does the trivia video fingering max slowly the whole time. the intern flees the scene asap but he’s barely closed the door behind him before he can hear max fucking moaning again. he adjusts himself in his pants and hurries off to put in his 2 week notice.

[lunarharp]

What led to this (orufrey comic, cw an uncomfortable/creepy scene)

[flimsy-spine]

my favorite madney scenes: [4/?] ⇢ Buck, Actually, 2.08

[anna-scribbles]

anna-scribbles your latest art post (faceless Emilie and the Emilie painting) made me go through your 13 tag, and now I am feral with desire for that fic rotating in your mind

ahh thank you!! 🫶 I offer you a recent bit of writing on the subject of emilie agreste

[blushweddinggowns]

Idea expanded, overtly adorable and protective Kas Eddie with established relationship Steddie.

Steve is obviously devastated when they find Dustin and Eddie. But he refuses to leave his body there, despite how horrifying and time-consuming it is to take his boyfriends dead body back up to the surface. And Steve just spirals, reduced to a crying mess that can barely do anything but sleep most days. And Eddie's body is sent to the morgue.

Where he wakes up at. He wakes up in a cold cabinet, horrified and confused. And what woke him up was the noise. The wet, squelching noises of his body knitting itself back together. But it's not just fixing itself. It's changing. And adding things that Eddie doesn't understand. But it fucking hurts.

And Eddie starts to freak the fuck out. He manages to kick open the cold locker he's in and he's still freaking out. Because now he realizes he's in a morgue. But he's not dead damn it. But he's different. And confused and scared and all he wants is Steve.

So he goes to him. And that's how Steve almost dies of a heart attack when a naked freezing should be dead Eddie taps on his window at three am. But he let's him in, of course he lets him in. He's so happy to see him he doesn't even question how huh maybe letting in your dead boyfriend who now has black veins, wings, a tail, and upside down looking scars is not a good idea.

But common sense doesn't matter because all Eddie does is hug him and cry. And it takes a while for both of them to calm down. But when they do Steve starts asking questions, none of which Eddie can answer. But it doesn't matter because he's here. And he's different and weird, but he's still him.

But he is different. Stronger, scarier, with teeth that can sharpen and nails that can morph into claws. And he's also more...touchy. And protective. And is glued to Steve's side, doing weird shit like smelling and licking him in random places, and nibbling on the back of his neck. And it takes Steve a minute to realize that he can freaking purr now. Not that Steve's complaining. He'd live in Eddie's lap forever if it meant he got to be with him.

Steve doesn't tell anyone at first because he's afraid someone might rightfully make the point that being in love with a maybe demon was not a good call. But the Party finds out anyway when they realize he's no longer sobbing every ten seconds. Everyone takes it well enough, even if they have to get used to Eddie involuntarily growling at them whenever they got close to Steve. But they figure it out. And now they have someone who isn't Eleven who can kill upside down monsters with ease which is a plus.

Even if he does this weird thing where he drops nearly every demon corpse he gets his hands on at Steve's feet for praise, always purring like the hybrid monster cutie he is when Steve tells him how good he is at protecting all of them and thanks him with a kiss, the bitter taste of black demon blood in Eddie's mouth be dammed.

[lauraneedstochill]

The object of my desires

summary: You overhear Aemond making a snarky remark about the way you dress. You decide to teach him a lesson. warnings: friends to lovers (both are idiots), a dash of angst, a lot of teasing, things get very heated (NSFW), with a sprinkle of softness. words: ~6500 (it was supposed to be shorter but they started making out...) author’s note: the idea first popped into my head months ago when I saw this post. also, for the longest time I’ve been thinking that “you are the bane of my existence” monologue is a perfect fit for Aemond — and yet I haven’t seen a single fic* using that quote?! so I finally decided to give it a try.

If anyone asked you to describe your relationship with Aemond, you would’ve said that the two of you were almost friendly. The almost part was the trickiest one to explain because, even though both of you acted very content with the way of things, you still couldn’t help but think that you wanted something more, no matter how much you’ve tried to deny it.

You got to know him through Helaena who you befriended when you were ten and six. A year older than you, she was the weird girl no one wanted to talk to and you approached her out of curiosity but soon learned that she had a cheerful nature and quite a nimble mind. She loved your sharp sense of humor and energetic wit and the two of you became close, your contrasting personalities complimenting each other very well.

Your introduction to her brothers was brief and for a couple of months, you didn’t interact with either of them. She’s been married to Aegon for four years back then and even though he immediately didn’t strike you as a faithful husband — always a cup away from being wasted and shamelessly gazing at every maid’s legs — he mostly looked harmless. Aemond, however, was the exact opposite — guarded and collected, he kept his distance from everyone, making it clear that it was his choice. You could only get a good look at the prince when you were passing the training yard, and a couple of times you found your gaze lingering on him — on the lean body and tense muscles, on the way he moved the sword with ease. In those moments you felt the danger radiating off him, yet it never scared you away. But you knew better than to fawn over the prince who seemingly paid you no mind.

A significant change came on the evening of Aegon’s ten and ninth birthday which Helaena begged you to come to — you weren’t fond of big events but couldn’t say no to her. For the most part, the feast was tolerable as you’ve spent it by her side, making glib remarks about the guests, much to your friend’s amusement. But when the celebration died down and all the nobles began to disperse, Aegon, drunk out of his mind, decided to make advances toward his wife whom he ignored for the duration of the evening. His approach was harsh and unexpected, and the look on Helaena’s face shuttered your heart. 

“Your grace, your manners escape you,” you tried warning him, shielding your friend but Aegon was too wasted to notice your fiery gaze. In his inebriated state, he probably mistook you for a maid as he grabbed your arm in an effort to shove you aside. Next thing you know, your fist connected with his nose — and then Aegon was lying on the floor, eyes wide and blood gushing down his face as you stood next to him, fuming. Before he could think of an answer, Aemond appeared out of nowhere — just in time to drag his brother away, while the drunkard was hurling insults at you in a frenzy. Only when they left, it dawned on you what you just did. 

You expected for the king’s guard to come for your head in the morrow, but instead, a few surprising things happened. First, you learned that the boys didn’t rat you out, making it look like they were the ones who got into a fight. Aegon did apologize to Helaena and from that day, his temper softened as he never dared to repeat his mistake. But, most importantly, Aemond took a sudden interest in you.

Overall, his behavior stayed the same, but you regularly caught him looking in your direction, and every time you saw each other, he made sure to acknowledge your presence. He never initiated the conversation first, only sometimes curtly voicing his opinion, yet you noticed him paying attention to your chattering with Helaena — and you could swear that a few times he suppressed a laugh at your jokes.

The mystery veil that the prince was surrounded with sparked your curiosity, and you wanted to crack down his guard, to get a chance to know him. The opportunity presented itself one day when Helaena and you came to watch Aemond train. You saw him and Criston arguing as the prince was late to his studies but Cole refused to let Aemond leave until he wins the last bout. Whether he wasn’t in the right mood or had something distracting him, Aemond kept losing, and his teacher only pushed him further, relentless in his attempts.

“Ser Criston, you’re putting yourself in harm’s way,” you chimed in, making the man turn to you with a chuckle, while Aemond gave you a tired look.

“May it be that the finest swordsman of the realm is simply avoiding his responsibilities?” you suggested with a light grin.

“Mayhaps he is in need of some encouragement,” Cole teased. 

“Well, I would’ve volunteered to share the burden of learning with him,” you remark. “If only he could win this one bout,” you added, keeping eye contact with the prince.

It took Aemond about two minutes to knock his opponent to the ground which made Helaena gasp in surprise while you were trying to hide a smile. Without a word, Aemond came to you, and the two of you went to the library. On your way there, he kept silent, but you were not intimidated at all. When you walked into the room, Aemond hesitated as if giving you a chance to change your mind. But you boldly turned to him:

“If you mean to scare me with the prospect of studying, I should warn you that I’ve read more books than you can count,” you informed the prince.

It was the first time when you saw him smiling — widely and shamelessly, looking very smug.

“You are full of surprises, my lady,” he grinned. “Do you mean to challenge me?”

It turned out that Aemond liked challenges, and you enjoyed being one. Since that day, you got into the habit of joining him in the library and the prince would accompany you in his free time more often than not. You would dare him to read faster, to fight harder, to engage in conversations — or sometimes to simply have fun. Whenever you had a reason to disagree with him, he was always respectful and found himself entertained by your way of thinking, which made your discussions and even arguments span for hours.

As years went by, you kept playfully bantering back and forth, and Helaena told you that you were the only one allowed to act like that around her brother. You couldn’t understand what his motives were but it was hard to deny that his company was pleasant. Aemond grew up into quite an eligible bachelor and his attention did flatter you, even though he never crossed the line. Sometimes you even dared to entertain the thought that maybe — just maybe — Aemond had a soft spot for you.

Until one day things took a turn. Helaena’s twentieth birthday was meant to be just another celebration that you would’ve skipped if it wasn’t for her. The only way for you to pass the time was dancing which you’ve actually come to love in recent years, enjoying the rhythm of the music that helped to lighten your mood. Your dear friend mostly preferred to sit back so you were often compelled to find yourself a company that would be bearable, at the very least. That evening, you got acquainted with Jacaerys Velaryon, the boy being younger than you but almost a foot taller. He approached you with a small smile on the pretext of knowing Helaena, and you soon learned that he was a good dancer. But the best thing about Jace was that he spend most of his time talking about his betrothed, Baela, who he was absolutely smitten with. The girl sadly couldn’t be present as she had to stay with her dad, who recently sailed home, and the dark-haired boy couldn’t keep his mouth shut. All the time while dancing he was either gushing about her or asking your advice, which you found adorable and gladly chatted with him.

Throughout the feast, you felt Aemond looking at you, probably more than usual. You knew that he wasn’t fond of dancing and even though his gaze on you felt rather good, deep down you wished that he was the one you were spending time with. After a couple of hours, however, you saw his usual spot empty, and the prince was nowhere to be found. For some reason, you got a very bad feeling and, after leaving Jace to take a break, you went to Helaena. She informed you that Aemond left not so long ago, adding that it looked like her brother was upset about something.

That’s how you ended up roaming through the castle halls, giving in to the unsettling feeling churning in your stomach. Passing by one of the chambers, you suddenly hear voices and realize that it's Aemond talking to his brother. You don’t mean to eavesdrop and were about to turn around — but then Aegon mentions your name.

“You are foolish to wait for so long. You could’ve at least asked Y/N for a dance,” his remark is followed by gulping sounds. Is he ever without a cup? You hold back a giggle — which quickly disappears when you hear Aemond’s answer.

“I prefer not to waste my time on such futile activities,” and his voice is unexpectedly grim.

“You may want to reconsider when the lady has every man’s attention. Even the Strong boy was pretty much drooling,” he chuckles, and his words make your brows furrow as you are certain he has no ground to suggest that. You’re a moment away from drowning in doubts, but the younger prince brings you back to reality.

“I suppose it’s hard not to, with the way she’s been dressing lately,” Aemond deadpans.

He says it with a flat tone — yet it feels like a punch that knocks all of the air out of your lungs. There’s a brief pause — and Aegon sounds almost sober when he asks, with a hint of surprise in his voice.

“And what about her dresses?”

“I found them to be... rather bawdy. Although I’m not impressed in the slightest,” Aemond forces out.

Your heart sinks at his words, cheeks heating up. You wait for him to say anything else, to give an explanation, at least one reason for his accusations but there is none. Aegon laughs — and you feel sick to your stomach, realizing that you cannot bear listening to their conversation any longer.

You walk away as quietly as possible, with cotton feet and your hands shaking. You rush past the hall and out of the castle, tears pricking in your eyes. Only once you are all alone, embraced by the silence of the night, you take a deep breath of air. Aemond’s words are ringing in your ears, loud and clear. You look down at your dress in disbelief: the neckline is basically non-existent, your arms are fully covered, and it barely shows any skin at all. And yet he thinks this is inappropriate? 

Your cheeks are wet and burning yet you feel anger bubbling in your chest. You never thought Aemond could be cruel — and yet it’s him, out of all people, who let those vile words slip out of his mouth like they meant nothing. Like you meant nothing to him. For years, you heard people calling him cold-hearted and arrogant but you were naive to believe that the prince made an exception for you. Out of all the mistakes you’ve made so far, this one might’ve been the most painful one.

Your outrage spreads like a wildfire as you think back to every interaction you’ve had with Aemond, his every glance and every word that fooled you into thinking that he cared. Was he secretly criticizing you the whole time? How many other jokes did he make behind your back? Who even gave him the right to judge whether your dresses are acceptable or not? As if he is any different from all the other men whose brains turn into mush when they get a glimpse of a female body.

You stop dead in your tracks when an idea suddenly forms in your head. It’s very uncharacteristic of you — at first, you hesitantly brush it off, thinking that it’s not wise to make any emotional decisions. And yet the idea keeps nagging at you for the remainder of the night and for a few hours you ponder if you should take such a brazen approach. But then his unkind remark pops back in your memory — over and over and over.

By the time the morning comes, you make up your mind.

He says he isn’t impressed in the slightest? There is only one way to find out for sure. On the very next day, you take Helaena for a walk in the garden, well aware that her brothers will accompany you as Aegon doesn’t have anything else to do and Aemond prefers to take a stroll after his training. Your dress is close-fitted yet modest, not an inch shorter than necessary. It is not about the dress but what’s underneath it — and the object in question clinks lightly with your every step. You show it to Helaena right away and she finds it delightful, the jingling only making her smile. Then her siblings come to join you, you curtsy but barely spare Aemond a glance. You don’t ask a single question about his day, instead taking interest in Aegon. The older prince gives you a suspicious side-eye but welcomes the chatting. It doesn’t take long before he notices the sound, too.

“Am I the only one who can hear the clinking? I am almost certain that it’s not just in my head,” he debates.

“Oh, it’s Y/N’s doing,” Helaena beams unsuspectingly.

“Apologies, my prince, it’s my aunt’s gift that caught your ear,” you slow down and take a few seconds to make sure you’ve got everyone’s attention.

And then, with one gentle motion, you pull up your dress — ever so slightly, just enough to show your ankle and the thin bracelet wrapped around it. The jewelry is made out of gold and it instantly catches the sunlight, casting warm sparkles on your skin. It’s decorated with tiny coins which make a jingling sound as you slowly turn your leg from side to side.

“I thought it was rather pretty. Don’t you think?” you only look at Aegon.

“Umm yes,” he gulps. “Rather pretty it is,” the prince mumbles, and then his gaze shifts to someone else. You don’t need to turn your head to know who he’s looking at. Instead, you continue with your walk without a care in the world.

“I should ask my aunt to bring you a similar one, my dear,” you suggest to Helaena and she eagerly agrees.

You have a few other gifts for Aemond, too. Next time you opt for a different bracelet — with no coins and no jingling, a simple golden chain. But your dress is a tad bit shorter and the jewelry catches everyone’s eye with ease as it looks like a ray of light curled around your ankle. You deliberately walk through the training yard, arm-in-arm with Helaena. You give Ser Christon the brightest smile, and he politely nods in your direction.

“Good morrow, ladies.”

“How’s your training coming along, Ser Criston?” you ask, and it feels strange to talk to him instead of Aemond. You bitterly remind yourself that you apparently overstated the value of those conversations.

“I’m afraid, we are hardly progressing. Mayhaps you will keep us company? I fear, we are in need of some cheerful words,” Cole shoots a glance at the prince who stands by, his eye fixed on you.

“Aren’t we all, Ser Criston,” you tilt your head at him. “But it seems like my pursuit of lessening your burden did nothing good,” and before he can ask anything else, you walk away, ignoring Aemond completely.

Helaena senses that something is off, giving you a worried look.

“Is there anything troubling you?”

“Not when I’m with you, my friend,” you reassure her and force your smile to look as believable as possible.

Partially, it is true as her company always brings you joy and you don’t want to sour her mood by recalling Aemond’s words that wounded your pride. You refuse to admit that he also grazed your heart. In a week, you accept Helaena’s invitation to join them for breakfast and you decide to up your game. It’s the perfect time of year for sleeveless dresses but the one you pick also has a daring addition: two thin cuts under your armpits. They are barely visible but when you put your arms up, it’s easy to distinguish the contour of your ribcage and the softness of your skin peeking through. You sit by Helaena’s side, easily keeping up with the conversation and not glancing at Aemond once. After the food is taken away and everyone starts wandering around the room, you get up to fix your hair, standing not too far away from the dining table as you raise your hands and run your fingers into your hairdo.

“May I offer assistance?” Aegon leans on the wall next to you, his mouth curling into a smile.

You roll your eyes and are about to shush him when he quietly adds:

“I know what you are doing,” you turn your gaze to him, and he winks at you. “From the look on my brother’s face, I can tell you that it’s working.”

You fight the urge to look at Aemond.

“I’m afraid I can’t share your concerns,” you are fiddling with hairpins absentmindedly.

Aegon shoots a glance over your shoulder and then back at you.

“He seems pretty bothered to me. Also pissed, but that may be my doing.”

“Look at you, my little helper,” you ramble as the cool air sneaks into the cuts of your dress, and you slightly quaver.

“Well, if you are ever in need of a helping hand...”

“I will not hesitate to stick this pin into your eye,” you cut him off.

“No need!” Aegon throws up his hands, cackling. “I’d like to keep them both. So I can have a better look at my brother’s reaction when you do... whatever you plan on doing,” the shit-eating grin on his face tells you that he is enjoying this.

But when you turn around and suddenly make eye contact with Aemond, your own enjoyment fades. You notice his frown and the probability of you being the reason for it doesn’t bring any satisfaction. You let Helaena lead you away, feeling his gaze on your back as you walk out. You do not yield to your emotions, continuing with your plan, as days turn into weeks, and then a month goes by without you as much as sharing a word with Aemond. Truth be told, you want nothing more than to stay away from him at all costs but you will not give him the satisfaction. He said he didn’t like the way you dress — and you make sure he sees every single dress you are in. You stay within the bounds of decency as you definitely have no intention to disgrace yourself, and none of your dresses are borderline scandalous, contrary to what any prince may think. You deign to let him see the curve of your neck with your hair up high, the bending of your shoulders and the sunkissed skin of your arms, the arc of your knees and mere glimpses of the upper part of your legs. You leave the rest to his imagination — granted, he has a good one considering how much time he spends reading.

During the second month, his patience starts running out.

In the years you’ve known Helaena, you learned all the ins and outs of the castle, so you manage to avoid Aemond at first, vanishing from his sight when needed. But, as time passes, you notice that he is tempted to talk to you, and escaping that possibility becomes harder with each day. One morning, when you walk into the yard, Aemond abruptly stops his training upon seeing you, and the two of you just stare at each other for a second, both startled and holding your breath. You are saved by Ser Criston, who calls for the prince, distracting him, giving you a chance to leave, and you all but run away.

After that day, you temporarily cease your visits to the castle, deciding to take a break and make up weak excuses to Helaena. Only now that you were apart, you realize how much you miss Aemond’s physical presence. His sudden, fleeting touches — to help you out of a carriage or to steady you after a fit of laughter, your hands brushing when you share books, his fingers sometimes lightly grazing your waist for the reason you are yet to know. You haven't talked to him for days, let alone felt him in your close proximity, and yet he's constantly on your mind. Somewhere in the midst of it all, you wake up at night realizing you yearn for him terribly. You wish you could go back to that damn evening of the feast, to confront him right away, to maybe get some clarification. But now too much time has passed and you’re too wrapped up in... whatever you plan on doing, so your ego insists that giving up isn’t an option.

When you receive the invitation for Aegon’s name day, you are ready to decline, but then begrudgingly decide to give it one last chance. You practice the look of indifference, the nonchalant tone, the proud gait, and you pull out your best dress. It’s green and the color is so bright, it dazzles the eyes, the material light and flowing — and yet, when you put it on, it feels incomplete. As you look in the mirror, the vivid tone of the fabric suddenly reminds you of something else. It’s a secret you once heard, a hushed conversation between the maids, one of which walked in on the prince when he wasn’t wearing his eyepatch. You only ponder for a minute and then reach for the jewelry piece that definitely will be hard not to notice. The castle is crowded, and you are one of the last guests to arrive. Bracing yourself, you pause at the door for a second. Ser Harrold, who stands there, lets out a surprised hum. “Should I take that as a sign of your disapproval?” you jest, watching his reaction.

“I wouldn’t dare to judge,'” he gives you a polite smile. “But I’m afraid all the men present are at risk of losing reason.”

His comment makes you chuckle and you step a bit closer, letting him take a better look.

“I thought it would match the occasion. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Ser Harrold, gods bless him, keeps his eyes on your face. “As always, it is, lady Y/N.”

It gives you enough confidence to walk in, appearing in all your glory.

The dress is a perfect fit, with a slit down your right side and an open back. The front neckline isn't deep but in the middle of it there’s a thin silver chain with a big, glittering sapphire — and the gem lays perfectly between your breasts. It’s only natural that everyone’s gaze is immediately drawn to the blue spark, all the men in the room gazing at it, voluntarily and not. But the effect their attention has is nothing compared to the wave of heat that warms your body when you feel a very particular gaze finally landing on you. You look right at him — and you catch him gawking, his lips slightly parted as he stares at the sapphire, too, almost in a trance. His hand is gripping a cup of wine with such force, you can see the whitening of his knuckles. When Aemond sharply glances up, your eyes lock for a second, and you look away first. So much for him not being impressed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Jace waving at you to come sit with him, and you do not hesitate, letting the one-eyed prince out of sight.

You feel like his eye doesn’t leave you for a second.

You are barely able to sit still while dining and let out a sigh of relief when it’s time for dancing. You rush away from the table, thinking it will provide you with a distraction, and you will be glad for any partner if only he can move his legs and keep his mouth shut. You go to the end of the line, lost in your thoughts, and when you finally come to a stop and look to the other side — you see Aemond standing in front of you.

The tall prince with his hands clasped behind his back, wearing all black, stares at you in a way that makes the crowd around you disappear.

When the dance starts, you step toward each other, and he speaks up first. 

“I couldn’t help but notice your absence. I find myself wondering what is the reason behind it,” his hand briefly touches yours, your bodies following the music.

“Your question is confusing, my prince. As I was merely doing you a favor,” you swap partners but Aemond only looks at you.

“Your leaving hardly favors me,” the prince says when you’re in his arms again. You feel a flicker of anger rising inside but keep your voice down.

“I was actually counting on you being relieved,” you snort, not looking at him. “Since, as it turned out, you were so displeased with my bawdy dresses,” with these words, you step away from him once more.

A minute later you come back to his side but don’t let him say a thing. 

“I’ve always thought bawdy was just another word for a whore. So I suppose I should be glad that you at least had some decency to not stoop so low,” when your eyes meet, you think you’ve never seen him so hurt.

Before he can come up with an answer, you are out of his reach. Then you circle back to Aemond again, and this time your tone comes out hasher.

“I also wonder if you would be so brave to say all that to my face. But it seems that your bravery falters when confronted with the need to speak plainly.”

The rhythm of the music works in your favor, because whenever Aemond tries opening his mouth, you’re swooped away from him, and it gives you time to tighten your self-control. You think you should resent him for his silly words, for his heavy gaze, for him knowing how to dance even though he never once did that with you in all these years.

But you have no resentment for him. All of a sudden you realize what you are actually feeling.

And then the dance comes to an end.

You only curtsy out of politeness, averting your gaze.

“I will not vex you anymore, my prince.”

“Wait, I should —,” he tries to take your hand but you swerve away from him.

“I already promised the next dance to someone else,” you lie. “You are finally free of my company.”

At that very second, when you glance at him before leaving, he looks absolutely heartbroken. Or maybe you just imagined it in an attempt to ease your own pain. Your feet carry you to the library on their own accord, and you’re too distraught to notice until you are already inside, in the dusty silence of the endless shelves. You take a hold of the nearest one, trying to catch your breath. You barely get a minute of solitude before you hear footsteps approaching. And it’s kind of pathetic how easy it is for you to guess who it is. “Your tendency to run away from me is quite unnerving,” Aemond walks in with rapid strides, his voice laced with emotion you can’t read. 

His words, however, trigger your reaction in no time. 

“Maybe it is because I do not want to be in the company of someone who hurt me,” you turn to him, and he’s already only a couple of feet away. The dim lighting illuminates his silver hair, the outline of his broad shoulders, his eye is boring into you. He looks so beautiful in his frustration, your chest tightens at the sight.

“I would’ve apologized right away if only you let me speak,” the prince retorts.

“Did something hold you back from apologizing sooner? Or were you too preoccupied with being outraged by my clothing choices?” your heart skips a bit at the intensity of his stare but you refuse to break the eye contact.

“I never said I was outraged.” 

“You weren’t thrilled, either, you made that very clear.”

“You know nothing of my motives because you refuse to listen to me!” he raises his voice and it startles you. But he doesn’t sound angry.

Aemond is standing at arm’s length — and you can clearly see that his face expresses no signs of annoyance or hatred. Instead, he looks at you with longing.

The air in the room feels heavy.

You run your tongue over your lips to moisten them, and Aemond’s eye darts to your mouth.

“We can agree on one thing,” he drawls, his eye locking with yours again as he moves closer. You take a step back — and feel pressed against one of the shelves.

He speaks with his tone low:

“...You vex me to no end.”

With another step, Aemond towers over you, and when you look up, your faces are only inches apart, and his flaming gaze envelops you.

“You are the bane of my existence,” Aemond breathes out. “And the object of all my desires,” his voice breaks, and you feel him inhaling sharply.

His words are akin to a match that lights up a fire deep in you, the muscles of your stomach tightening involuntarily. With one finger he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you can’t help but lean into his touch, your breathing shuddering.

“I’m haunted by your image everywhere I go,” he rasps, his nose brushing yours. “Night and day, I dream of you,” his index finger moves under your chin, close to the pulsating point on your neck. You feel the heat spilling into the pit of your belly, and you want nothing more than for Aemond to kiss you.

“I was raised to act with honor, but that honor is hanging by a thread every minute I spend in your presence,” he whispers vehemently, his words hot against your mouth. 

You are dizzy, breathless — and craving him. Everything else is forgotten, erased, nonexistent. It’s just you two.

“You are all I can think about,” you confess with a strangled voice, looking at Aemond through your lashes — and it sets him off.

His lips capture yours in an instant, claiming and burning with need. He pulls you closer, his hands on your back, and yours go up his shoulders to lock behind his neck. Aemond kisses you deeply, hungrily, sweeping his tongue over your lower lip and then sliding it in, intertwining with yours. One of his palms moves lower, outlining the curve of your hip, glides over your leg — and into the slit of your dress. He grabs your thigh, his thumb landing on the inner side of it, and he starts slowly massaging small circles on it. Him touching your bare skin elicits a moan from you and in the heat of the moment, as your mind goes blank and you can only focus on the pleasuring sensation, you spread your legs, and his finger slips higher — to the place where you want him the most.

He breaks the kiss in surprise, and you wait for it to dawn on him. To realize that you are, in fact, completely naked under the dress. You can feel arousal pooling between your legs, your body prickling with anticipation.

“I was under the impression that you owe me an apology,” you unabashedly murmur, looking him straight in the eye. 

You don’t know if it’s a challenge or a plea — at this point, you do not care. Apparently, neither does Aemond, as he takes no time hoisting your leg up to his waist for better access, firmly holding it in place. Your respite barely lasts a few seconds before you feel his other hand cupping your sex, rubbing his fingers through your folds. You shut your eyes, gasping for air, as he unhurriedly smears your wetness — and then his finger dips into your core, the sensation making you shiver.

“Aemond,” you sign, your body trembling with desire.

Trying to inhale, you get a whiff of aroma, a mix of leather and salty ocean breeze — and all at once, you are surrounded by him. His scent, his warmth, his scorching touches, the taste that’s left on your lips. He leaks into your every cell.

Aemond nuzzles into the crook of your neck, leaving wet kisses there, his finger picking up the pace.

“I’ve missed you,” he avows. “So fucking much,” he lightly nibbles the skin above your collarbone. “Missed hearing you say my name. Say it again.”

He doesn’t need to ask twice — and the interweaving of letters rolls off your tongue with each breath:

“Aemond”

“Aemond”

“Aemond.”

His name fills your mouth, leaving no space for air, your throat tight and breathing rapid. Aemond’s lips move down to your shoulder.

“Oh, the things I want to do to you,” he haltingly rambles, and the implication makes you clench around him, dragging a low groan from the prince.

He leaves a trail of kisses following the silver chain down to your breasts. The gem feels cold in contrast to your skin, and even though your head is clouded with lust, it triggers a memory. You move one of your shaking hands to his face, guiding it up to look at you again.

“I want to see the real thing,” you whisper, gazing at his eyepatch. “Let me. Please, let me.”

His hand between your legs doesn’t stop its movement but the one on your thigh trembles. You are too caught up in the moment to think straight, and before he can answer, your fingers roughly remove the leather patch.

The sapphire glows like a beacon, the cold blue of it is dazzling and piercing through your blurred vision. The tones and shadows are interlacing, cyan melting into azure and dark blue, and it’s mesmerizing. Seeing him like this, stripped of his restrain and his disguise, is the most intimate, precious thing in the world.

“Gods, you are divine,” you moan, panting.

You catch a flash of emotion in his eye — before you can take another breath, his lips are on yours again. This kiss is steady and fervent, and while his mouth melts into yours, Aemond adds a second finger. It slides in with ease, and he builds up the speed that makes you swallow air. He’s terrifyingly good with his fingers, with his every move, precise and fast. 

“Aemond,” you whimper in his mouth, but his lips keep chasing yours, and you can only follow, letting him take your breath away again and again. You lose track of time, lose yourself in his arms. His face is always close to yours, he breathes in every moan you make and keeps his gaze on you, watching you squirm, your cheeks flushed and lips quivering.

You helplessly whisper his name, and it comes out as a prayer, the coil in your stomach ready to snap. Aemond gives you a breathless smile.

“You do not need to beg me, ever,” he says in a husky voice. “I will give you anything you want,” with these words, he presses a thumb on your pearl, resuming the well-known circling motion, making you choke on air.

It takes merely a few seconds for you to come undone, the wave of pleasure blinding and crushing over you. His lips are at the corner of your mouth, ready to cover it should you make any loud sound, but you drop your head back, mouth falling slack in a silent cry.

His fingers slow the pace until you let out a quiet whine, and he removes them, carefully lowering your leg. You feel fuzzy-headed, trying to catch your breath, a few beads of sweat rolling along your hairline. One of his hands gently falls on your back, rubbing soothing patterns on your skin.

“I truly am sorry,” Aemond admits.

You chuckle lightly. “I think you already made it up to me.”

Despite the hint of humor, there’s an anxious feeling stirring in your abdomen, and you are afraid to open your eyes to meet his. You don’t know what’s to come and you dread the emptiness that will follow if he leaves.

Aemond tenderly cups your face with his hand:

“Mayhaps my intentions were not clear enough. I do plan to properly court you,” your eyes snap open at his words.

There’s a brief pause before he adds. “But I still need to apologize for my behavior because you deserved none of it. I was unfair with my judgment as I let jealousy get the best of me,” he sounds genuinely remorseful.

You glance at him in confusion, the gears turning in your head for a moment, and then you realize.

"You were jealous of Jace?!"

Aemond looks down at the floor, and there’s something endearing in his evident embarrassment. With your thumb and index finger you caress the jut of his jaw and make him look at you again.

“Aemond, I can barely consider him a friend. And the boy can only think about Baela, he speaks of her as if she is the light of his life.”

“I know that feeling," Aemond doesn’t hide his smile anymore when he’s with you. He brings your hand to his lips, and the sincerity of his words tugs at your heart. He leaves kisses on your knuckles, and you’re overwhelmed with happiness spreading in your chest.

“Do you get that feeling every time we argue? Or when I challenge you?” you inquire with a giggle.

His laugh vibrates against your skin. When Aemond meets your gaze, there are no doubts and reservations left, no room for denial.

“My biggest challenge was not to fall in love with you. I failed miserably,” he puts both of his hands on your waist, drawing you closer. “But I will humble myself before you because I cannot stand the thought of us being apart ever again,” Aemond presses his forehead against yours.

“I don’t plan on it,” you trace his scar with your finger, giving him goosebumps. “But you do know there still will be days when we vex each other to no end?” your voice is barely audible.

He moves his mouth to yours and, before bringing your lips together, he whispers:

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And neither would you.

the author doesn’t know how to shut up: — the dress is from “Atonement” (although I imagined her neckline a bit differently); — I haven’t written smut in a very long time so... I hope it was okay? any thoughts and comments will be very appreciated because I’m nervous about this 🥺 (not gonna lie, this was kinda self-indulgent so I hope that at least some of you will enjoy it, too!)

* I know there is an amazing fic called “bane of my existence, object of my desire” by @ jasonsmirrorball — I love it to pieces and highly recommend it! 💕 💚 my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!