#BECAUSE SHES A RAY OF SUNSHINE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lauraneedstochill · 1 year

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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, Aegon gets punched (but he redeems himself), a lot of teasing, things get very heated (NSFW: it is smut but not very detailed so don't get your hopes up), 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, lady Y/N,” 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 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 Velaryon 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're 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, Y/N?”

“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, lady Y/N. 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.”

“Y/N, 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 meters 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.”

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 clit, 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, Y/N,” 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 super 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!

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mushroom-for-art · 1 year

Text

Nvm we're back to movie au because I'm feeling soft featuring obviously our fav @oogaboogaspookyman horrid little bastard who is no longer a horrid bastard but is now a well mannered British little bastard beloved we love the difference

Accident

It happened very quickly. An incorrectly secured light fixture crashed down onto set smashing and destroying the background pieces scattering glass everywhere and set alight. The fire spread beginning to burn all the props due to the paint that was used, background pieces set alight in a blink, it crawled up the background canvases and spread across the rafters, the lights cracking fizzling out with loud bangs sending the building into darkness and panic.

A support beam collapsed over a fire escape as employees screamed and panicked they ran around coughing desperate for an exit one of them grabbed a fire extinguisher to put out the source but was grabbed by the monochrome Mewtwo who snarled about it being an electrical fire from the light you idiot. May coughed her lungs becoming tight as she looked around with difficulty through the quickly gathering smoke and smog, she was in a panic stuck to the spot. She could see her brother lying on the floor, his head was bleeding. He'd been knocked out as a dark Mewtwo stood over him trying to get the debris off of him.

Screams of panic ringed in her ears making her head throb, why weren't the sprinklers turning on? Oh god were they going to die in here? Burn alive due to inadequate safety measures. There were so many people and pokemon here too many lives that'd be too much death. Coughing screaming yelling panic. More people were collapsing or lying down to escape the smoke for air as it filled up the room heavily weighing down on them all. She couldn't let everyone in here die!

The monochromatic Mewtwo felt the tingling of psychic energy in his fingertips like electricity and before he could yell at May ask what the hell she was doing- he was outside. They were all outside. He spun on the spot levitating slightly looking around in a frenzy, the building crackled and the fire raged on. Everyone was out. No. Not everyone.

"May!"

He yelled quickly flying overhead scanning through the crowd of people that had been teleported out the building he flew down towards her manager, the odd dark hued mewtwo with crystals embedded in her body.

"Wheres May?!"

He half asked half demanded as the Two tended to Matts injuries.

"Is she not out here? I saw her eyes glowing?" She asked shushing Matt who groaned and pushed him down gently when he tried to sit up groggily asking where his sister was.

"If she was out here I wouldn't be asking where she was!"

The frustrated monochrome two snarled at her before looking back at the building in growing horror as he heard a loud creak realizing that she was still inside and hadn't been able to get out.

Without really thinking he flew rapidly at the building, being a ghost had its advantages as he phased through the wall keeping an incorporeal state to avoid the effects of smoke as he looked around frantically. The building was thick with black billowing smoke that rolled in waves blocking his view. He couldn't use psychic to move it as it had nowhere to go and it could shove air into the fire. He frantically scanned around, focusing to sense her aura.

In his altered vision he spotted a faint orange glow that began to flicker and falter weakening and quickly flew towards it, she was on the floor passed out either from smoke inhalation or exhaustion from teleporting that many people out of a building with her already weak powers or both. He became corporeal and coughed against the smoke and the horrible heat as he wrapped his arms under hers to haul her up to carry her.

"I'm not letting you die here you blithering idiot,"

He chastised as he pulled her up attempting to hold her and realizing she was heavy as dead weight and the growing smoke in his lungs was weakening his strength, not to mention the flames were creeping in starting to stretch out and lick at his tail and legs in a way that would likely burn. He snorted frustrated, he pulled her up, arms wrapping around her waist as she made a soft mumble noise.

He realized that flames were closing in, his eyes were watering from smoke and heat as he coughed, he could become ghostly while he had the strength but then he wouldn't be able to interact with her, he could save himself but he wouldn't! He wouldn't just let her die here and save his own skin. He hissed as a flame splashed against him snarling towards it before coughing, breathing becoming harder. He heard another long drawn out creak, and a snap, and a fall. Another support beam came falling down right on top of them, he dropped to a crouch holding his body over hers desperate to summon any strength left into a barrier or any kind of protection.

Another crash could be heard from the building, it took multiple staff members and Pokemon to hold back Matt and Darkness, Matt screamed and yelled profanities at them telling, no, demanding them to let him go because his sister was in there. Darkness also shouted at them to see sense that both the mewtwo in that building inch closer to death every second they waste stopping them. They both went quiet as a large flame burst out from the roof of the building with a loud BOOM.

Matt crumbled in the grip of the people restraining him, falling to his knees as he began to sob in despair and pain. Darkness could only stare forward at the raging flames and thick smoke.

It took hours for the fire department to put the flames out, they were aggressive and unrelenting and the thick smoke meant the trained personnel needed to swap out to a safe distance to regain their breath. When the fire finally dimmed to a manageable flicker it was growing dark, the fire had started in the afternoon…

Search and rescue began their job and once more Darkness was restrained, she wasn't trained like they were, they knew how to move rubble without causing it to collapse elsewhere potentially crushing any survivors, she did not. She could only watch in frustration as they slowly methodically did their job. She'd refused care due to her wounds already healing from the synergy energy, Matt had to be given light sedatives for his aggression so he was more, agreeable, about being taken away to be seen for his head injury and assorted burns.

A Gurdurr and Medicham worked together, the Medicham scanning the surroundings with psychic energy to get a mental blueprint of the chaos and carefully instructing Gurdurr on which parts to lift to safely deconstruct the wreckage without causing it to collapse. The Gurdurr carefully threw aside a large ceiling concrete slab before vocalizing to the Medicham. A swirling white and black dome like shape sat planted into the ground with debris piled on top of it. The Medicham vocalized to the other pairs to come help as they began to remove the debris, the human supervisors coming along too, as the broken building was removed the dome seemed to reduce in opacity becoming semi see through.

Inside May and the monochromatic Mewtwo clung to one another desperately, his eyes were shut with dark psychic energy pouring out from the sides of his closed eyes waving and flowing out. May's eyes were wide open but unseeing, completely whitened over and glowing faintly with her psychic energy. Neither of them seemed aware of the situation both just clinging as the dark and white psychic energy protecting them both swirled around them both desperately wanting to protect the other, forming one rather indestructible long lasting protect.

When the last piece of debris was safely removed one of the human search and rescue members gently knocked their knuckles against the very dense protect dome, "can you two hear us?" May's eyes faltered into half lids her psychic energy sparking and fading from her eyes and the dome, she blinked slowly and blinked again before slumping completely limp in the monochrome ones arms as her grip slipped from him, his eyes opened in a start the dark psychic energy overflowing from his eyes darkening the dome over as he snarled before he blinked realizing that it was help. His psychic energy gently blew away in a breeze before he shivered at the cold.

The psychic search and rescue members lifted May's unconscious body onto a stretcher to be taken to an ambulance while the people attempted to look the monochromatic one over. He shoved them away flying up and wobbling slightly in tiredness but followed them into the ambulance taking up the relative seat in the ambulance next to May as they began trying to help her much to Darkness' frustration at the audacity. He slapped away attempts to look him over, snarling at the ambulance worker to focus on the unconscious one, not him.

——————————————————————

The monochrome ones' leg bounced irritated and frustrated as he sat in a chair next to the orange hued Mewtwos hospital bed. He'd been forcefully seen to, so his wounds were bandaged up and he'd been given oxygen and instructions to not go near lung irritants and just to take cough drops for his throat and rest and get sleep. However sleep he would not do, he'd been up all night besides her having left his own bed watching over her in her room, her smoke inhalation had been worse than his as was her burns, she had a breathing mask on to help ensure she got enough oxygen which also acted as a filter that helped remove the lingering smoke in her lungs with each exhale. He'd dragged a night nurse into the room in a panic when he noticed her condition becoming worse, her over exhaustion leading to sickness and a fever so she'd been put on some drip fluids too due to how weakened she was from over exerting herself with her powers.

He'd paced the room multiple times, aggressively straightening the curtains to ensure no moonlight crept in and disturbed her, made sure the blanket properly covered her and tucked her in, fluffed her cushion, checked her medical sheet and that she was hooked up properly multiple times. As of right now he was gently holding her wrist, his fingers pressing faintly to feel her pulse, just to be sure the machines were correct that's all. He sighed softly hanging his head as his leg bounced, the TV in the room mumbled nonsense that he couldn't make out as he was actively ignoring it, especially as it was talking about the fire, his fingers moved down her wrist brushing over her palm hesitantly choosing to rest his two main fingers in her palm pressing them against her hand and squeezing with his thumb at the back of her hand, an unsure hand squeeze without committing to a full hand hold.

He was beginning to grow frustrated ready to aggressively sort her room out again when her thumb twitched and the best it could, squeezed his fingers against her palm. He looked up to see her eyes barely open as if her eyelids were incredibly heavy which they probably were for her.

"Who's getting sued…?" Her voice was incredibly small and croaked before she coughed realizing she definitely shouldn't have spoken. He panicked slightly moving his hand and getting a glass of water for her saying gently,

"hey hey easy,"

He carefully adjusted her bed position so it slowly lifted her into a slanted sitting position not perfectly upright just so she'd still be resting and comfortable, he carefully helped pull back the breathing mask and held the glass to her lips with psychic encouraging her to take small sips less she start coughing again, refusing to move his hand from where it gently half held hers.

When she'd drank about half he put it down and replaced the mask as she breathed and smiled at him, her hand shifted and squeezed his properly holding it, "if you wanted to hold hands you could've asked, didn't need to burn a building down." She made a soft laugh as she squeezed his hand again, her usual cheery joking self despite what happened.

His mouth opened slightly and shut in surprise both at the fact they were now just squeezing each others hands and that was embarrassing and also the accusation though empty.

"I'll burn this whole goddamn building down,"

He chuntered unhappily before pausing and looking back at May.

"Hold on, no, you do not get to get out of this so easy by joking around, what the hell were you thinking?! You could've died?! Why didn't you teleport yourself out with everybody else!"

Admittedly his tone was a lot harsher than he'd meant it to be as May stared at him in surprise before her eyes looked away from him.

"I'm, sorry, I wasn't really, thinking about saving me, just that I couldn't let everyone else die. And even then you still got hurt," her voice was soft and guilty.

The monochrome one stared at her a bit before looking away he went to open his mouth to speak.

"Wait, where's Matt? Is he okay?! I saw his head bleeding? Did he get help?!" May tried to sit herself up and he gently but firmly pushed her back down.

"Your brother is fine he's in another room getting spoiled by some male nurses, now would you STOP thinking about everybody else and fucking think about yourself in this?! You have horrid burns, you inhaled so much smoke and you got a feverish sickness because your body was so weak and overworked! What if I hadn't found you or realized you weren't outside with us?! There's a very real chance you could've died in that fire! I could've- we. We could have lost you. And you have a lot of people who care about you. So why don't you?"

May gripped the bed sheets uncomfortably as she sat there again avoiding his gaze as his eyes softened and he frowned at her. She shrugged uncomfortably and he could see her struggling for the words and the anxiety prickling inside her. He gently squeezed her hand waiting to give her a fair chance to answer.

"....I just don't find that there's much to care about.." Her voice was riddled with guilt as she struggled, "I know, well just, I know compared to a lot of others that I'm, different." She moved her spare hand vaguely, "and, that, made it hard to connect to people, and as well I'm weak, I mean a mewtwo who can't even use her powers properly for herself, pft. Don't have much going for me overall. I know I'm, loud and optimistic and seem confident and sure but, I don't really like myself. Not really. I don't know. Maybe some horrid self pitying self obsessed part of myself believed I didn't really deserve to be saved like everyone else so that's why I wasn't teleported out too, and I guess maybe that self absorbed part of me went well look at that now we can't do anything because you used up all your strength and you're going to let yourself die because you're so pitiful and weak just to what make a point." She shrugged awkwardly, grabbing at her shoulder, "you got hurt because overall I'm a bad person, too obsessed with myself, I mean I'm a lot luckier than other people. I'm much better off than other people and yet here I am feeling sorry for myself and not liking myself. How selfish is that?" She squeezed her own shoulder to self soothe as the guilt began to creep in. "God I'm sorry, I shouldn't have dumped all that on you, here I am again being the biggest selfish, no, no I'm sorry I'm, spiralling you don't need to hear me insult myself because that just manipulates you into having to pity me and tell me it's fine and it's okay when it's not an-"

He moved the mask using his free hand to put a finger on her lips to stop her spiral rambling as he frowned at her softly.

"I don't think you're selfish, I don't think you're physically capable of being selfish, mostly because of your lack of healthy boundaries, but also because you're a good person and sharing and being kind is part of your nature. You're not a bad person for being unhappy even if you think you should be. You're more complex than just the happy May you always are with people."

He moved his finger but pointed threateningly when she opened her mouth.

"No shut up, I'm still talking. You know how I know that you're a good person even when that voice of doubt tells you you're wrong? Do you remember how we first met?"

May blinked but nodded, opening her mouth before being shushed again.

"Shut."

She smiled playfully, closing her mouth to listen.

"You came right up to me when I was lurking in the background with your drink and two brownies from the food table and you smiled at me and introduced yourself right to me, you said you were absolutely over the moon to meet and be working with me, that you'd seen my other shows upon learning we'd be coworkers and that you thought I was really talented and amazing. I know back then I just stared at you as you offered my one of the brownies you'd taken saying you got me one since I was so far away, you know why I was staring? Because you were the first person I've ever worked with to walk right up to me and introduce themselves with unfaltering kindness and warmth."

He glanced away as he spoke.

"The reason I was so far away is because a lot of the time everyone on set that I'm working with is absolutely terrified of me, which I get, it's the eyes I think. But you didn't seem afraid at all."

He looked back at her.

"You have probably brightened so many peoples' days by existing, and I know that voice probably tells you that you're different or weak or secretly evil or whatever insults and feelings you've internalized, but you bring out so much kindness to everyone no matter what."

May squeezed his hand unsure of how to even respond, mouth opening and closing as she struggled. His other hand came to hold hers squeezing her one hand with both of his.

"When you're better, I think we should look into some therapy for you because if you couldn't teleport out because a part of you believes you didn't deserve to be okay then I am really deeply concerned about that because I never want you in that situation again okay?"

May nodded softly as he squeezed her hands again softly confirming an "okay." He smiled softly at her as he gently put his forehead to her hand that he still held.

"You're a big sweetheart ya know, even if you are a horrid drink stealer" May softly spoke and he chuckled knowing she was deflecting slightly now with humor as she usually did from heavier topics but clearly speaking fondly of him.

"Hmm. Just don't go telling anybody."

"I won't." She squeezed his hands the best she could. "I think you're real great too you know, I'm glad you're in my life you do make it better." And he smiled softly to himself.

#I could've-we. We could've lost you #I'm not letting you die here #My writing #Mewtwosona May #@oogaboogaspookymans ???#@oogaboogaspookyman oc #Tw fire #I gave them loreeeee I gave them back storyyyy oh noo I'm soft they're soft the joke ship thoughts they're getting me AAAHH #I am dragged away into the ocean lmao #??? Is big soft on May. That's HIS little ray of sunshine thank you very much she gave him brownie #Also May honey are u okay (she is not)#May is the kind of character who seems fine happy perky friendly optimistic loud joyful and she absolutely hates herself #Like I mean working in movie biz probably does that to you but also the autism coding and the powerlessness #To some degree yes the self loathing hatred of I don't deserve saving their lives are more important/god you self important self pitying #Self sacrificing proving a point cause you're the WORST horrid voices did contribute to her inability to escape #But also she was heavily prioritising everyone else and drained probably all her PP in teleport #Like everything she does is mentally criticised by herself because actually you're just faking everything. Bitch.#Baby girl that is called the mental illness #??? Like plz get therapy holy shit I'm worried about you #And also 👀🤔🤨 kinda sus #And waiting around at her bedside? Sus lmao #He CARES he has a lot of care in him lmao likes this person a lot #Also deflects with humor a mood #Originally Matt was meant to attempt to get in the room and ??? Was gon slam the door shut and lock it because no he's not sharing May yet #And May was gonna jokingly call him an overprotective husband like aw my hubby has spoken he's so protective lmao while he's like shshshh #Also lmao I love that movie?? Gets the dialogue like font change but not the bold XD it's my way of differentiating only bad boys get bold #Also!! He cares so much I'm screaming #Fungal Spooks Studio

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