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eraenaa · 2 months

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Most Ardently

Inspired by Pride and Prejudice

Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Synopsis: Prince Aemond Targaryen had accompanied his younger brother to Highgarden in hopes of securing Daeron a wife— he did not expect he would want to secure a wife for himself as well.

Warning: Not Proofread, Enemies to Lovers, Jealousy

Word Count: 3,702

Aemond walked stiffly as he was about to enter a hall filled with merriment. He only wished to go to Old Town with the purpose of visiting and checking upon his younger brother’s well-being as requested by their mother— he had no wish to be dragged to Highgarden and attend a ball hosted by its Lord. Aemond walked behind Daeron as they entered the hall, all eyes upon them. All attendees bowed when they passed— all showing respect to their princes except for one. Aemond saw you by his right, a chalice in your hand, whispering to a girl beside you with a grin on your lips— completely disregarding the presence of royalty.

When you finally realized that everyone around you had grown quiet and the music had stopped, you turned to face forward—locking eyes with the unique gaze of Old Valyria. Quickly curtsying as you remembered it was the protocol, bowing your head and breaking your gaze from the prince who only had one eye. His name seemed to elude you. You knew of Prince Daeron well, the prince having spent the week’s end in your family’s keep, hosted by your lord father because he was courting your elder sister. You seem to forget which brother Prince Daeron now walked with— was it Prince Aegon or Prince Aemond?

“Which prince is that again?” You whispered to your sisters as your father scanned the crowd in search of you two to be presented to the esteemed guests. “That is Prince Aemond,” Your sister answered. “He looks miserable, poor soul,” You whisper, making your sister shake her head in amusement. “Miserable, he may be, but poor, he most certainly is not.” You frowned at your sister’s words. “I was told he has twice the inheritance than any of his brothers— even though he is only the second born, he is greatly favored by his mother and grandfather. That he is set to inherit Dragonstone once Prince Aegon is King.” You hummed and could not think of a reply as you two were finally seen by your father and were whisked away to be presented to the princes.

Music flooded the room once more as you stood before the princes. A lone eye would intermittently fly to your frame as your father spoke. “Prince Daeron, my daughters, you already know of.” Your father began, and you wanted to playfully roll your eyes at your sister as the moment she and the younger prince locked eyes, a blush ran on both cheeks and a giddy smile plastered on their lips. “Of course, and my I introduce you two to my brother, Aemond.” Prince Daeron smiled as he was delighted to be accompanied by his older brother.

You and your sister curtsied once more, smiling expectantly at the newly arrived prince who simply stood stiff as a board and offered no signs of recognition to you nor your sister. Simply blinked as his lone gaze would shift between the two of you. You wanted to frown, but your sister who knew you too well took hold of your arm and lightly pinched it as a communication to keep your expression neutral.

As the song ended and a new one began, you and your sister, along with the prince who courted her, went off to the side to chat whilst your father spoke formally with the One-Eyed prince whose gaze would fly over to your group with each moment passed. “I apologize for my brother— he is just not keen on large parties… nor small ones to be honest,” Prince Daeron explained. “And so you decided to take him to a ball instead?” You asked making your sister nudge your side, fearing that you spoke offense but Prince Daeron simply laughed. You passed your gaze where the older prince stood, seemingly glaring at the room, passing his gaze around the sea of people as if they had wronged him.

Prince Aemond found his way and stood next to his brother once more. Silent as you three were enveloped in conversation. As a new song began, you smiled as you watched the younger prince escort your sister to the floor for a dance. You passed your gaze to the prince, who stood stoically beside you, unmoving except for his eye. “Do you dance, Prince Aemond?” You inquired, his lilac eye still scanning the room filled with glee— judging as everyone around seemed to be intoxicated with joy.

“Not if I could help it,” He coldly responded. Not even turning to you as he spoke. It was then that you finally let the confused frown slip your face. But you shrugged him off and walked away, determined not to let his demeanor dampen your mood. Aemond’s eye followed you as you walked off, a small smile on your lips as you admired the merriment around. It did not matter that you were not asked to dance; you were completely fine to watch your sister get more acquainted with the youngest prince of the realm, who had been courting her for the past three moons.

After two songs passed, you found yourself resting your feet behind a pillar, your presence unbeknownst to anyone who walked past. “She is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld,” You hear the familiar voice of Prince Daeron speak and you could not help but smile at how enamored he was with your sister. You hear Prince Aemond hum, and you peek from behind the pillar to listen more into the princes’ conversation. “And her sister is very agreeable, do you not think so? She is of celebrated beauty here in the Reach.” You smile at the younger prince’s recognition of your beauty but quickly vanishes as you hear Prince Aemond’s response. “Perfectly tolerable, I dare say, but not handsome enough to tempt me.”

You scoff to yourself as you hear their footsteps depart. Greatly offended by the prince’s words. Your tried to proceed with the night and forget you had heard his offensive words. But as you were forced into the chatter of a group with him, you could not help but let a hint of animosity show. “I wondered who first discovered the power of poetry in driving away love?” You ask as your mother embarrassingly recalls you and your sister's past suitors who were keen on writing you sonnets after sonnets but never fully committing to marriage. “I thought that poetry was the fruit of love?” Prince Aemond asked, the group hiding away their surprise when the prince finally spoke and joined in on the conversation.

“Of a fine, stout love, it may. But if it is only a vague inclination, I’m convened one poor sonnet will it stone dead.” You replied as you gazed at his lone eye that would fleet away, unable to hold the intensity and teasing mirth in your orbs. “So what do you recommend to encourage affection?” He asked, finally holding your gaze as you felt a smirk rising to your lips. “Dancing, my prince. Even if one’s partner is barely tolerable.” You smiled and curtsied, watching as his eye flooded with the realization that you had heard what he had said. You walked away before he even got a chance to reply. His gaze followed you as you blended into the sea of guests.

When the night ended, you told your sister what you had heard while hiding behind a pillar. “Count your blessing, sissy, if he liked you, you’d have to talk to him.” She says as she brushes your hair, gently squeezing your shoulder. “Precisely, as it is, I wouldn’t have danced with him for the whole kingdom, let alone dreary Dragonstone.” You tried to laugh it off and brush away the wound he had inflicted on your pride. After a few moments of silence, your sister spoke once more. “I still cannot believe what he said about you,” she muttered as she finished brushing the fine locks of your hair. “I could easily forgive the prince’s vanity if he had not wounded mine,” You say as you tucked the strands of your hair behind your ear, gazing at the mirror. “Me? Perfectly tolerable? He’d be lucky if anyone who had half of my beauty would find him tolerable,” you scoffed with a roll of your eyes, making your sister laugh at your pride and confidence that muddled with each other. You sighed and stood, “I do not wish to think more about the One-eyed Prince. Good night, sister; I shall see you when morning comes.” You say and kiss her cheeks before leaving her room.

When morning came, Prince Daeron was quick to send an invitation to you and your sister to visit him in Old Town. An invitation your sister giddily accepted, and you politely declined— no want to see the One-Eyed Prince once more. But as your beloved sister was taken by fever whilst on her journey there, you had no choice but to follow her.

“Lady Tyrell, Your Highnesses,” They announced your arrival, and you walked into the room. Biting the inside of your cheeks when Prince Aemond abruptly stood from his chair and bowed. You quickly curtsied and turned to his brother, “So good of you to come so quickly; your sister has missed you terribly.” Prince Daeron said and walked towards you. “Follow me, and I’ll escort you to where she rests.” He said, and you followed him out of the room but gave one last look at his older brother before doing so.

Aemond silently trailed behind the two of you. His mind was plagued by your eyes, by your voice, by your smile. His brother had no intention of sending an invitation for you to come to Old Town, but he had infiltrated his thoughts and lightly manipulated him to send the invitation, which you declined, disappointing the prince. It would be cruel to him to admit that he saw your sister’s illness as optimal because now you had no choice but to join them in Old Town. “Oh, sissy,” You fretted as you saw her lying on the bed, pale and had a damp cloth on her forehead.

“Thank you for taking care of my sister so diligently,” You said to Prince Daeron, who gave a nod and a smile. “Of course, it’s a pleasure she’s here,” You smile at the prince you suspect would be your brother through marriage soon enough. “I shall give you two privacy— if you are in need of anything, do not hesitate to ask,” you smile and nod, watching as Prince Daeron reluctantly removes his gaze from your sister. “He is completely in love with you; I’m quite certain of it.” You smiled at your sister and took her cold hands in yours to warm them. “I’m so glad you’re here; I feel such a terrible imposition.” You laugh, “Please, the prince seemed thrilled that you are here being ill.” You smile, and your sister shakes her head.

“I’ve come to know of something the other day,” She said, piquing your interest as you thought she would share gossip. “Apparently, your invitation was sent for by Prince Aemond,” Your sister smiled, but you did not mirror it. “He is the one who sent you an invitation— he wishes for your presence.” Your sister further explained as she saw concussion in your eyes. “What for? To insult me once more?” You say bitterly. “Oh, sissy, you cannot let one’s transgression sully your entire image of them. People are bound to make mistakes— I’m certain Prince Aemond did not mean what he had said.” You rolled your eyes and stubbornly shook your head. “It does not matter if he is the one to send the invitation or not— my only purpose of coming here is to see how you are.” You said, and thankfully, your sister no longer brought the subject up.

Days passed as you were in the presence of the Princes as you waited for your sister to recover. You found yourself engaging in more arguments than conversations with the Prince, whom your sister said was the one to send you the invitation. If not engaged in lively arguments, both of you would simply catch each other’s eyes. Gazing at each other silently, secretively until caught.

You were in the parlor with Prince Daeron, playing a round of cards, when his brother came in with a book. “You waste your time with the frivolity of gambling,” You feel yourself frown but quickly take hold of your expression, turning to the younger prince whose turn it was to disagree with his brother. “It is just a bit of fun, brother. Not everything in life must be overly serious. Come, join us,” Daeron said and discarded in the middle of the velvet table.

“I’d rather read of civility than play cards and be at the threshold of a scoundrel,” Prince Aemond stated, his eye flying to you. Resisting the urge to smirk as the furrow in your brow returned as well as the pout on your plump lips. When your eyes locked, he raised his brow in question. “Anything to share, Lady Tyrell? Any musings or disagreement you’d wish to discuss with your prince?” He hummed, tone almost teasing. You knew he was baiting you, and if you had more energy that day, you’d happily take it, but you shook your head. “None, Your Highness.” You say, slightly disappointing the prince, for the only opportunity he had to speak with you and keep your attention with him was through your arguments.

When supper came, you entered the dining room expecting two princes, just like the other nights. But only the One-Eyed Prince waited for you. You quickly curtsied as he stood, “Where is Prince Daeron, your Highness?” You inquired as you were assisted to sit by one of the footmen. “My brother says he wishes to retire early tonight— it would be just us… if that is agreeable with you. If not, then say so, and I’ll take my supper in the servant’s quarters.” You looked at him with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out why he was still challenging you. “I am completely fine with any arrangement, my prince,” You say and proceed with the overly quiet meal as the prince and you shared no word but only stare at each other— challenging gazes that neither fell victim to.

The following morning, your sister had recovered enough for the both of you to head home. No anger wanting to impose and overwelcome your stay with the princes. “Prince Daeron, I do not know how to thank you,” You hear your sister say in gratitude, “You’re welcome anytime you feel the least bit poorly,” You bit back your smile as you followed your sister to the carriage. “Prince Aemond,” You cursed stoically— only doing it as he was a prince, and it would be impertinent not to note his presence. You turned to Prince Daeron and let a smile slip your lips, curtsying to the prince you hoped to be your brother in marriage in the near future.

You raised your leg to step foot in the carriage but were slightly startled as you felt someone take hold of your left hand, assisting you in boarding the wheelhouse. You turned to the prince, who took hold of your hand. Aemond quickly savored the surprise in your eyes and how your plump lips parted before relinquishing his hold of your hand and returning to the keep without another word, stretched his hand that touched yours as an unfamiliar tingle consumed it.

It was not a week later that you returned to Hightower, where another ball was to commence. You and your sister walked, arms linked, you wearing the green of your house whilst her the yellow, both of you had flowers adorned in your hair. “Will this perhaps be the night you will finally be a prince’s betrothed?” You teased and laughed as your sister’s cheeks bloomed with color. “Do not get my hopes up, sissy; it has been three moons since the Prince had first started courting me… in all honesty, my faith is running thin.” You frowned and shook your head. “Do not speak as such, sister. He is in love with you— I am quite certain of it,”

You straightened your back as you neared the hall's threshold, the hosts standing before it to welcome their guests. “I—I’m so pleased you’re here,” Prince Daeron told your sister whilst your gaze was traveling the room, distracted and trying to ignore the challenging yet indifferent gaze of a lone lilac eye. “And how are you tonight, my lady?” Prince Daeron asked, but you were too preoccupied. “My lady?” He called once more, and your sister elbowed your side. “Are you looking for someone?” Prince Aemond drawled, and you shook your head at his inquiring eye, glancing over to where your gaze was. “No, not at all,” You said and quickly curtsied to enter the hall, an eye following you as walked away.

Aemond tried to refocus his gaze to anywhere or anyone else but he could not. It had been steady on you since the moment you arrived, watching you whilst you were chatting with a group of girls you had known since childhood, when suddenly you were approached by a young man from house Redwyne, and a gnawing feeling in his gut announced itself as he saw a smile bloom into your pink lips as you gave your hand to the young man who escorted you to dance. Aemond’s hold on his chalice tightened as he saw you giggle with the man who spun you around and dared to keep his hold on your waist. The prince saw red as he watched the man dip down and whisper something in your ear, earning a sweet, bashful blush on your cheeks.

The prince dug his nails into his palm, quickly moving to the sea of dancers to take your partner's spot before anyone else would have a chance to dance with you— before anyone else would have a chance to hold you. “May I have the next dance, lady Tyrell?” The prince asked the moment the first song ended. You looked around the room as most eyes were on you, a peculiar scene as the stoic prince, who seemed to detest dancing and preferred to stand by the side, asked you for a dance. You licked your lips before answering, “You may,” You quietly said.

“Did I just agree to dance with Prince Aemond?” You whispered to your sister, who had a teasing smile on her lips. “I dare say you will find him very amiable, sissy.” Your sister smiled, and you shook your head. Stubborn and still holding a bias against the second-born prince of the realm. “It would be most inconvenient since I have sworn to loathe him for all eternity!” You rambled but could not help but laugh at your fate. Your sister joined along and pulled you towards the dance floor as the second song was to start, and two princes waited for the two of you.

You were stood across the One-Eyed Prince. His stance is still stiff, and you began to wonder if he’d be any good at dancing. Aemond bit his tongue as you curtsied before him, your dress and lowered stance giving him a slight view of your bosom. He clenched his jaw and willed any thought of impropriety may leave his thoughts and body.

“I love this dance,” you say as you circle around the prince, his eye following your every movement. Aemond would note that they would waver upon his gaze if it were anyone else but not you. “Indeed, it is most invigorating,” he answered, slightly cringing to himself if that was the proper response. There was another moment of tense silence between the two of you, you sighing as you were starting to grow accustomed to it, but in all honesty, you’d rather talk that night, even if it were with him. “I believe it is your turn to say something, my prince.” You say and feel your lips twitch upward as you have the devilish thought to tease him.

“I talked about the dance; now, you ought to remark on the size of the room or the couples present.” You say as you feel his hold on your hand tighten ever so lightly. “I am perfectly happy to oblige you, my lady. Please advise me of what you would like most to hear,” You let a smirk slip your lips at his sardonic response. “That reply will do for now,” You said as you focused on the dance. But you could not truly do so because it seems your whole being was intent on focussing itself on the prince. The way he stared you down, the way his lithe body gracefully glided with the dance, the way it felt to hold his hand. It would shame you to say that after the dance, your body felt alight, and the beat of your heart ran almost alarmingly in your chest.

You excused yourself from the crowded room, finding calm outside in a marble gazebo. The structure barely lit and only illuminated by the light of the moon. You rested your back on the cool pillar, hoping it would ease the inner heat that torched your body. You closed your eyes and tried to control your ragged breathing and raging thoughts of the One-Eyed Prince.

“Lady Tyrell,” You jumped in your spot, eyes growing wide as you were startled by the prince's presence. “My prince,” You breathed out, uncertain why he had followed you. “In vain have I struggled. It will not do.” He began to speak rendering you more confused. “What… your highness, I—“ He shook his head and dared to step forward. You stared at his eye, lilac darker in the dim light.

“My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell I admire and love you.” Aemond watched you as your lips parted and your fine eyes filled with utter shock. “Most Ardently.”

#house of the dragon #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #pride and predjudice 2005 #pride and prejudice #jane austen #house tyrell #house targaryen #enemies to lovers #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #mr darcy #elizabeth bennet

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hender-ka · 2 months

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Idk why, but this is so Bridgerton/Pride and Prejudice coded. Now nothing can stop me from writing this story about a single and grumpy lord, bye

(edit: the reader will be curvy, bye)

#pedro pascal #joel miller #delulu #pedro pascal tlou #sag awards #bridgerton #lord #javier peña #fake scenarios #stories #fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #pride and prejudice #mr darcy #pride and predjudice 2005 #lets go mr Darcy

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ladybirdswritings · 4 months

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Pride & Prejudice - Coriolanus {Young} Snow x Reader

Summary: You’re birthed into a lively family in dire need of financial stability. As the eldest, you’re paraded around to be married and much to the dismay of your mother, you deny every hand offered. Yet unbeknownst to you, a man of great power and influence, Mr. Snow, is lurking in the shadows, waiting for his chance to have you. Steamy Pride & Prejudice retelling with young snow and you! Alternate universe, au!snow <3

Notes: I hope u girlies eat this up, getting scrapped otherwise </3 — as always, thank u for leaving comments and loves as it keeps me motivated!

next chapter

one

You’d much rather be at any other breathing, standing tower of gold trimmings and cracked pillars in existence.

At any building filled to the brim, simply overflowing with tiered skirts and lively grins… offered hands and gentlemen donned in fine suits, pockets suffocated by their own riches.

Yet you cannot be; for mama has ordered your presence to be most dire and mandatory. Although you did consider fleeing for the highest hilltop or feigning ill, you knew well that mama would find you or see straight through your falsehoods.

“My my, you look as though you’ve got something unsweet taped to your vicious tongue.”

You scowl at the blonde goddess most confusingly known to be your sister, and she only flips a ringlet of gold behind her poised shoulder.

“I think it to be quite clear how dreadful I find this. No need to observe aloud, sister.”

Her mischievous sapphire orbs glow with enjoyment, face pink and flushed — skin glistening under the gold lanterns flickering above.

You’ve watched happily from your seat, she’s sure to have danced with at least twenty men now.

No wonder mama has no fears or worries about Jane. She is just guaranteed to run off and be married within the upcoming season, it only makes for less of a distraction for mama— she’ll be glued to you like quill to paper.

It is not as though men do not want you. Oh, they do. Most ardently.

The trouble is only that you do not want them.

How horrible it is to be confined to four lonesome, frayed walls with nothing more than your books and your wit to keep you company. Married to a man who will most certainly be your senior, who busies himself with trivial matters and leaves you to be cold at home.

You would much rather drown yourself in the river stix than face a fate so melancholic.

You wish to be an odd thing, to run away into a cottage and spend your days parted from the people who surround you. You will read books of men made from dreams and you will find comfort in knowing that you will not be wed to a man who will only discontent you.

Of course, that would bring great shame upon your family, ruin them. So it seems you will end up a spinster or a governess. Both fates, although not as you may hope in your dreams, still offer more joy.

“Forgive me for having fun. It is not why I displease you however, perhaps if you picked your pretty head up from that book and stopped waving the hands that greet you away— you would know this. Mama has sent me. The duke, his sister and a dear friend of his have arrived here. Here! At our party, can you believe it?”

You huff out a sigh laced with annoyance, flipping to the next chapter of the dilapidated thing in your hands.

“No, I truly cannot.” You mutter, yet you cannot spare the fresh page even a glance before it is snatched from your clutched fingers.

A first edition, it shreds from its spine and erupts a gasp from both you and Jane. Mama’s cyan gaze is cold and anxious, feigning a tight smile.

That one was your favorite.

You do not lift your head, you do not notice the three towering men who look down upon your reserved oak wood bench in interest. Mama clutches the duke’s palm in an embrace of suffocation, yet you do not pay it even a little mind as you drop to your knees in your pretty dress to find the strayed page.

“My god, where are your manners — girl! Please do not pay her rudeness any attention, she gets sickly over these things. Sweetheart, up now— we can buy you another.”

Her voice is cold, devoid of any admiration. It is a lie, too. Your family cannot afford even a singular chapter of a new novel, let alone a first edition. You should be the one plagued by frustration, yet you feel as though it is you who is doing something wrong.

Even so, your eyes search the floor with great fervor, landing on a polished leather shoe which suffocates chapter twelve.

You wince, preparing all the words you can to kindly request the stranger lifts his big foot off of your paper. Yet they dissipate in the back of your throat.

The man, he bends at his knee as he frees the old thing from his sole. Your eyes lift to greet him, then.

He is a mess of blonde locks, unruly compared to that of the others with hair long enough. Theirs are tamed with ribbons, his only sits atop his head. His eyes are a cold color, one you cannot explain. They are commanding, fueled with great intensity.

Beyond all of this?

He looks most certainly miserable.

He does not wish to attend tonight, one glance proves this.

He spares you no words as he passes you the paper, eyes locked upon the contents of it. He offers you a hand of assistance, too.

You ignore it, wincing at the disgust your mother expresses.

You need no aid as you lift to your feet and dust the old thing off, he follows you — becoming a tower taller once he stands.

Jane, you are grateful now that she is still here. She laughs most uncomfortably, placing a polite hand upon your shoulder as she snatches the page away. Far more gently.

“My dear sister, may I introduce you to your grace — sir Sejanus Plinth of Newbury. Alongside him, his sister — Grace Plinth and their dearest friend, Coriolanus Snow, also of Newbury.”

You know well that you’ve just about boiled a vicious pot of scorching water, one you’ll have to face the many consequences of. A quick glance stolen toward mama proves it.

With a soft sigh, you curtsy to the men before you. A show of respect which you most certainly do not have for them. They are just as unimportant as the others, grand status or not. Including the miserable looking blonde with cold eyes.

“Lovely to meet you. This is truly a grand gathering you’ve all put together…” Sejanus offers with a smile of pearl. You peer up at him, his eyes stealing quick glances at goddess Jane.

Mama goes off on a tangent about how much she adores hosting gatherings as much as attending them — and it’s all a mere buzz in your ears.

Your eyes shift toward the sister, Grace. She’s scowling at you… how peculiar.

“Jane, forgive me if this is far too forward but — I would be most honored to be the last dance you partake in this evening.” Sejanus swallows back his nerves, wincing at the sound of his own voice. Sweet Jane doesn’t bother torturing him, she only nods a shy head.

“Oh, come Grace! I must show you how my youngest daughter performs on the grand piano!”

You feel poorly for the scowling girl who is whisked away by mama. Jane and Sejanus follow alongside them, but part as soon as the music begins.

Both of your palms come to a clasp— shifting weight on your heels as you watch Jane twirl and giggle a golden sound, so beautiful you are certain it could bring each and every single gentleman in attendance to their knees.

Well, except the miserable Mr. Snow.

Your eyes drift to him then — and you catch his gaze already locked upon your stature. He averts it hastily, staring at what looks to be the far wall after he is caught.

Does he plan to lurk here like a shadow’s phantom for the entirety of the evening?

“Do you dance, Mr. Snow?”

His jaw is a sharp — tense thing. It clenches in surprise at your voice. He doesn’t spare you a glance as he answers.

“Not if I can help it.” Is but all he offers before returning to a miserable state of silence again.

By god, to garner more than a mere word is equivalent to the act of tugging teeth loose. You purse your lips, turning your head away to find another question you could offer.

You do not bother, however.

For the first time in all your life, in all the seasons you’ve suffered — you wish to dance. Not because you find it to be fun or any more stimulating than a novel but; rather because you would be far more joyous away from him.

Beyond this, it would make mama less angered when the gathering reaches its end.

You do not offer him a word of parting before you plunge into the lively crowd. A man with blonde locks, not quite as icy as Mr. Snow’s own tousles, offers his hand.

You lose yourself in the rhythm, pretending to be that of a girl in one of your novels. Whisked away by a mysterious, dancing stranger who offers more than just a meaningless hand.

You pretend the blonde is to be a grand lover, one who will care for you beyond material needs. Beyond what is expected and a bore.

You pretend, and when the song ends — so does each and every one of your mindless fantasies.

To normality once again…

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calcifiedunderland · 7 months

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Pride & Prejudice: A TWSTed AU

ft. Overblot Gang x GN Reader

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single leader in possession of power, fortune, and intellect, must be in want of a partner.”

“Pfft-“ you snorted to yourself, flipping through the pages. “What kind of story is this?”

Earlier that day, you and Grim had decided to clear out one of the rooms at Ramshackle. After a brief jump-scare from Crowley (who showed you how to make furniture out of a magic hammer?), the two of you were now on your way to making a ‘Guest Room.’ Finally, gone were the days of your friends groaning about your dusty couch and cobweb-filled living room!

But that also meant that the boxes in the room had to be moved out. Most of them held thread-bare cloth and other dusty knickknacks, but a few held books that looked as though they hadn’t been held in ages. Out of sheer curiosity and boredom (and the fact that Ramshackle had no internet whatsoever), you cracked open one of them and started reading, with Grim snoozing soundly on your lap.

“What are you reading, Prefect?” One of the Ramshackle ghosts wafted to you, resting on the armchair back behind you. You turned the book to read the cover, frowning, “Prejudice and Pride, by Jean August. It’s kind of ridiculous.” You ran a hand over the dusty cover, “I think we had something like this in my world, too.”

The ghost immediately grinned, “I remember this from when I was alive!” He dove in front of you, taking the book and flipping through it at phantom speed. “This was one of our required readings! Ah, you living folk miss out on the classics,” he sighed wistfully. “Here, this was the best part!”

You took the book and read through it. It seemed to be a love confession, where the main male lead was telling the female lead how much he ‘ardently admired and loved her’ and failed miserably.

“Wow, that’s cringe,” you winced, skimming the page. “And also unrealistic. I mean, who falls in love with someone they hate? And who starts a love confession with ‘you suck, but I love you anyway I guess’? Why the hell would they think that would even work?!” You and the ghost laughed, and continued reading together.

~•~

“The Prefect is… interesting, but not enough to tempt me!”

He remembered telling his dorm mates this exact phrase, after bristling at a group of underclassmen gossiping amongst themselves. It was no secret that you and he were close - after several overblots at school, it would’ve been impossible not to be. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. It wasn’t like he laid awake at night, thinking about you right? How ridiculous would that be!

Meanwhile in his room, several hours later, the young dorm leader frowned, feeling restless. It was already close to sunrise, but he wasn’t able to drift off to sleep despite the exhaustions that came with leading an entire dorm. Instead of sleep and his impending responsibilities, his mind drifted.

Over the school year, he’d been able to push down his feelings (Sevens knew it was easy, and his overblot proved it), but now, it was impossible to deny it. This will not do, he thought, huffing irritably and sitting up in bed, absently rubbing his temple.

In vain, he’d struggled. But it couldn’t be denied, and despite his best and fiercest efforts to negate it, his feelings couldn’t be repressed. You’d proven yourself to be an unrelenting figure at Night Raven College - someone who he thought would be insignificant compared to his talent and renown. And yet. And yet.

Somehow you’d wormed your way into his life, to where it hurt to think of you as insignificant. Because how could an extraordinary person like you ever be insignificant? In his pre-overblot days, he was stubborn and yet still too prideful to even consider another way of thinking. But then you came along, and made him question everything, from previous prejudices to his own bittersweet pride.

You, who fell unceremoniously out of a coffin during the sorting ceremony with a little blue fiery cat, and scurried around the school running errands and odd jobs. You, who was once a passing glance, who became one of the things in the school he looked forward to seeing the most. You, with your heart of gold unshaken by the trials and tribulations thrown at you, day after day.

The feeling dawned on him, settling heavily and uncomfortably in their entire being. As the sun began rising, his mind reeled and he closed his eyes, the light bathing his room in a soft, pleasant glow. A warmth enveloped the room, but then a sudden chill ran down his spine. It was then, that he realized it:

He truly and ardently admired and loved you.

Now, he simply had to tell you so.

Now, dear Prefect, take his hand:

The Rose Red Tyrant: R. Rosehearts

The Usurper from the Wilds: L. Kingscholar

The Merchant from the Depths: A. Ashengrotto

The Schemer of the Scalding Sands: J. Viper

The Beautiful Tyrant: V. Schoenheit

The Keeper of the Underworld: I. Shroud

The Ruler of the Abyss: M. Draconia

———

notes: i really hope this wasn’t too cringe towards the end with the P&P refs but here we go! Seven chapters to plan AH, I can’t believe I twst-ified jane austen 💀

Chapters are coming soon!! A few are in the works!

Thank you to everyone who was interested in this idea!! What started as some brainrot has become bigger brainrot lmao, I fully appreciate it~

Take care shrimpies!!

———

Taglist: @eclecticprincecollector

@ars-tral @cerisescherries, @thehollowwriter, @twst-eeps,

(If your user is in bold, I wasn’t able to tag you for some reason 😅)

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xianyoon · 2 months

Text

body & soul.

alhaitham x gn!reader. inspired off that pride & prejudice scene. 0.7k words.

the dense morning fog is quite the sight to see, you think to yourself, trudging through the grounds of the estate. you barely make out anything apart from the white fence that had been your guiding light for the past quarter hour, muddied boots making embedded footprints in the steps you take. it is frighteningly cold, but there seems to be a particular kind of coldness within you this sombre morning. it feels almost–

empty.

as if you soul was longing for something. you know very well what it misses, but how is it that you can miss something– no, someone, so dearly – if they had never been yours at all? he was never yours, he could never be; although you wished quite the opposite. as if you'd ever make those intentions known to him.

speak of the devil, alhaitham. you could vaguely make out his broad silhouette, shadows in the fog becoming larger as he walked towards you. your boots seemed to refuse to move – frozen in the very presence of this man. alhaitham now stood before you, his towering stance seemingly softening at the sight of how cold you were.

the unspoken question hung in the air as he stared at you, not unkindly. why were you out here, at such an unfathomable time of the morning?

”i couldn't sleep.” you exhale. the air feels a little colder, an obvious sign of the coolness the two of you shared.

“nor i.” he lets a small smile grace his features before taking a quiet breath. ”my aunt–”

”yes, she was here.” you nod. there was no need for trivialities.

the silence seems to only amplify after your four words, slowly filling in the crevices of the conversation – until alhaitham steps forward.

“how can i ever make amends for such behaviour?” he whispers, addressing the elephant in the room. a brave step – one you couldn’t have bore to take. what amends, alhaitham? how do you dare to speak of amends you could make when you have done nothing wrong in my eyes?

“after what you've done for kaveh, and i suspect, for nahida also, it is i who should be making amends.” you look back up at him, almost uncertainly. you wonder if you should revert your gaze back to the earth.

you see him sigh softly. gather yourself together, alhaitham is something you can glimpse at, by the weary look on his face.

“you must know, surely you must know, it was all for you. you are too generous to trifle with me. i believe you spoke with my aunt last night and it has taught me to hope as i’d scarcely allowed myself before.”

hot, salty tears gather, threatening to spill over. please, don’t you dare to betray me. you've betrayed me once.

“if your feelings are still what they were last april, tell me so at once.” alhaitham continues. he straightens his back, looking at you straight on now. he looks … glowingly different. almost empowered. “my affections and wishes have not changed, but one word from you will silence me forever, i promise.”

no, alhaitham – how foolish it would be to think that it would have changed. do you not see it? how the light returns to me the second i hear you speak, how i stop to listen to you even when my soul remains obstinate – my affections will never allow themselves to be changed, they belong to you, and you alone.

“if however, your feelings have changed – i would have to tell you, you have bewitched me body and soul, and i love... i love...”

”i love you.”

oh.

“i never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”

oh, alhaitham. there is no doubt about it now – salty tears have won their freedom, flowing down your cheeks only to be caught and thumbed away by his hands. he holds you so gently; do you deserve this kindness, little bird? do you deserve to be held so dearly?

you look at the spark of light in his eyes – it is warm, inviting, loving. he loves you. there is no doubting it anymore. you whisper those three special words into his chest, burying your head into him when you feel him nod and rest his head atop yours in acknowledgement. he feels ... safe.

i love you.

“well, then. your hands are cold.” you chuckle wetly, holding his hands tightly in yours. and maybe, just maybe –

he squeezes your hand back tighter.

"it's quite alright. i trust that your touch is enough to warm them."

#long post #― latest brew.#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x gn reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x gn reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham fluff #pride and prejudice #genshin drabbles #genshin fluff #astronetwrk

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jobean12-blog · 1 year

Text

Work in Progress

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Word Count: 2,456

Summary: You and Joel have been dancing around each other for some time now but with a little push from Ellie and one very good book, Joel finally gets his head out of his ass.

Author’s Note: Because the thought of tonight’s episode is already hurting my soul I just needed some soft Joel. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by my sweet @firefly-graphics thank you lovely! 🥰

Warnings: soft fluff, good books, some sass :)

GIF NOT MINE: Credit goes to @loregifs thank you sweets🥰

Joel Miller Masterlist

You stand outside the door, hammer in one hand and the other on your hip as you stare at the wood with frustration.

“Son of a bitch,” you mumble.

The ground is finally clear of snow but it’s still cold enough that you can see your breath condense in the air every time you let out of huff of exasperation.

You squeeze your hands together, willing them to warm inside the gloves that are far too large, and continue glaring at the wood as if it will somehow just miraculously come together.

“Need some help darlin’?”

At the sound of his deep and gravelly voice you spin around, hammer held up in defense and eyes wide.

He gives you a wary look and holds up his hands in surrender.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I was lost in my head. How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to see you’re havin’ a rough time,” he answers, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

Your shoulders slump and you drop the hammer to pull off your gloves before sitting yourself on the small porch of your house.

“Definitely rough,” you admit. “I don’t really know what I’m doing and it’s not like I can watch a video or go to Home Depot.”

You kick out your feet and lean back, giving Joel a wry smile.

“Lucky for you darlin’ I know what I’m doin’.”

You raise your brows. “Really?”

“I was in construction before…” he says and waves his hands around. “I can help.”

You hop up with renewed energy and wipe your hands on your jeans then hold out the hammer for him.

“I’m trying to make a bookshelf,” you explain.

“Should be easy enough,” he says casually.

“But we need to start from the beginning,” he muses as he looks over what you’ve done so far. “This is a mess.”

“Gee thanks,” you grumble. “Tommy said I was off to a good start.”

“Tommy?” Joel questions. “He doesn’t know what he’s doin’.”

“But you do right?”

Your tone is cheeky and you shoot him a grin.

He stares you down with a gruff look. “Yeah.”

“What are you doin’?” he asks when you start to saw a new piece of wood.

You look up, shielding your eyes from the sun and say, with a bit of sass, “what does it look like? Cutting the wood.”

“Is that how you cut wood?” he asks.

“How else would I do it?” you retort, standing up and holding his glare. “Don’t you just…cut it?”

“Ok. Give it,” he says and opens his palm.

You contemplate stabbing him with it but instead hand it over the saw.

He grips it tightly and leans over, placing the saw in the right spot before looking over at you.

“Don’t do this…” he says and then he starts to move the saw erratically. “One you’re gonna hurt yourself and two it doesn’t cut the wood straight for shit.”

“Well, it seemed fine,” you snark. “Lemme try!”

He gets up and gives you back the saw. The second you place your hand on it he says, “stop!”

“But I didn’t…”

You don’t get to finish because he drops down next to you, pressing into your side and wraps his hand around yours. The action makes the rest of your words catch in your throat and you immediately feel the warmth of his body.

“Like this,” he says, moving your fingers to show you how to hold it properly.

You stare at his profile as he adjusts your grip and when he turns his face to see if you’re paying attention you quickly look away and nod.

“Ok start cuttin’.”

You begin to move the saw but his other hand comes down on the top and stops the motion.

“Easy,” he says. “Fluid movements.”

He doesn’t remove his hand from atop yours on the handle and starts to push and pull the saw with you until you get the motion right.

The wood falls into two pieces, each one precise and level.

You look over with a roll of your eyes.

He shrugs with his mouth and his shoulders then releases the saw and stands to watch you.

“Let’s see you do another,” he says.

“Fix that grip! And keep that saw level!”

You internally groan but do as he says and before you know it you have another piece cut and ready.

“They definitely look better,” you mumble to yourself.

“What was that darlin’?” he croons.

“Nothing!” you snap and get back to cutting.

The sun is at it’s peak by the time you have the bookshelf together.

“Not bad,” Joel says. “It’s definitely better than what you had goin’ on.”

“Definitely,” you agree. “Can you help me get it inside?”

“Not yet,” he starts. “We have to sand it down first or you’ll get splinters.”

“Right. Of course. Sand it down,” you repeat trying to pretend like you knew that.

“Are you guys still going at it,” Ellie chimes as she walks over.

Joel just stares at her from under his bushy eyebrows but you give her a bright smile.

“We’re almost done. We just have to sand it down.”

“Looks good,” she says, shaking her head in approval. “Aren’t you gonna paint it?”

“That’s a good idea!” you say excitedly. “Do we have any paint Joel?”

Joel just looks between you and Ellie before grumbling something incoherent and walking off.

“He’ll be back with paint,” Ellie assures you with a grin.

You’re just placing the last book on the shelf when there’s a knock at the door. You contemplate your book organization as you walk backward toward the door and open it before you even turn your head to see who it is.

“Do you always open the door without checking who it is?” Joel asks.

“Huh?” you reply. “Oh! No!” you say defensively. “I was just…it wasn’t that…forget it.”

“That’s a lot of books,” he says as he walks in and eyes the shelf.

“And you should read one,” you state, fingering the bindings before grabbing one. “Here.”

He stares down at the book.

“Pride and Prejudice,” he reads. “Didn’t they make this into a movie?”

“Ellie says you need to read more.”

He scoffs with a shake of his head but slowly reaches for the book.

“Come on, let’s start now.”

“But…” he stammers, tensing up.

“Do you have something better to do?” you ask, pursing your lips.

His mouth opens but no words come out and when you plop down on the couch and pull him next to you he doesn’t protest.

You open your book and remove your bookmark. When you feel his stare you turn his way before looking down at the closed book still in his hands.

You put yours down and take his, opening it to the first page then placing it back in his hands.

“Relax,” you say quietly. “You’re allowed to take a break and this is a really good book.”

He holds your gaze for a few more seconds before letting out an exaggerated sigh and looking down at the page.

You don’t know how long you’ve been reading but you can start to feel your eyelids grow heavy, the hours spent working on the bookshelf and the comfort of Joel’s warm body dragging you toward sleep.

“Oh wow, she’s out!” Ellie whispers when she walks in and sees you asleep on Joel’s shoulder.

“Has been for a while,” Joel says, closing his book.

He carefully lifts you off of him and gently shifts your body so you’re laying on the couch then covers you with the blanket. He rests your book next to you and stands.

Ellie can’t hide her smile as she asks, “how is it so far?”

“Hmm?” Joel says his eyes still on you.

“The book,” she says, her grin widening. “How is it?”

“Oh yeah, good, good.”

“How come you’re not reading?” you say playfully as you sit yourself on the stool next to Joel.

He looks up from his drink, his eyes like a soft caress as the sweep over you from head to toe.

“Long day,” he answers and downs the whiskey.

“Reading helps with that too,” you tease.

Joel’s eyes linger on you even when Tommy saunters over and offers you a drink.

You gratefully accept and update Tommy on your bookshelf endeavors.

“So he built it for you?” Tommy asks, as he motions to his brother and his eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Well I helped and I learned some stuff. I might even be able to do the next one myself.”

Joel makes a small scoff over the rim of his glass before taking another sip of his newly poured drink.

“What was that?” you sass, “I thought I was doing well!”

“You’re doing alright,” Joel drawls. “But if you want it to stand up straight and hold books you might want my help again.”

You stare open mouthed at Joel, only turning away when Tommy cuts in with, “he just lookin’ to spend more time with ya.”

Tommy winks at you and laughs at Joel’s grumpy glare before he disappears from behind the bar.

“I think I did pretty good for my first shelf,” you say with a haughty tone before finishing off your drink.

You slide the glass away from you as you stand up and when Joel turns your way you lean in close and whisper, “and if you want to spend time with me all you have to do is ask.”

The door closes behind you and Joel deflates, hanging his head in his drink.

“When are you gonna tell her?” Ellie asks, appearing out of nowhere.

Joel jerks his head around in surprise and narrows his eyes.

“Tell her what?” he grumbles.

“Come on Joel…” she prods, giving him a knowing look.

“What are you goin’ on about?” he retorts, not meeting her eyes.

“Just do it. Stop being scared.”

“I’m not scared,” he says defensively, finally turning to her.

“Yes. You are,” Ellie states. “You like her and it scares the shit out of you.

With a sigh she continues, her voice softer. “But you know you deserve to be happy right?”

He has no answer to that and just takes another sip of his drink.

“You better say something while you have the chance,” she warns, her words of wisdom said with the authority of someone far older than her age.

“What the hell are you doin’ in here?” he asks, completely ignoring her comment. “Kids aren’t allowed in the bar.”

She pins him with exaggerated sigh and a roll of her eyes before holding out Pride and Prejudice.

“I just came to give you this. You’re almost up to the best part. Finish it. Maybe it will knock some sense into you.”

She pushes the book into his chest and he presses his hand over it. She leaves with one last pointed look and he grinds his teeth as he mulls over her words and fingers the pages of the book.

It’s late, far too late for anyone to be out and about so when you hear the soft knock on your door your heart jumps into your throat.

You push the blanket from your legs and set down your book before walking quietly to the window to look out.

Joel is standing outside your door, his hands in his pockets as he shifts back and forth on his feet.

You open the door with a smile. “It’s late. I wasn’t expecting anyone,” you say in greeting.

He clears his throat. “Uh, I can come back darlin’. I didn’t want to disturb you, just wanted to tell you I finished the book.”

You beam at him. “Really! Come in! Tell me everything.”

He walks past you and shrugs off his jacket, moving to the small fire to warm his hands.

“It was good,” he says.

When you don’t respond he drags his eyes from the fire and looks at you.

“Good?” you repeat, walking over and grabbing the book from the back pocket of his jeans. “GOOD?!”

You go to the shelf and carefully place it back in its spot, perusing the other titles while you continue to rant.

“That’s it! GOOD? That’s all you have to say about one of the most classic love stories ever written! Maybe I need to give you something totally different, Stephen King? Something more exciting…?!”

You’re still looking at your books when he slides up behind you.

“Are you gonna let me finish darlin’?” he whispers along the shell of your ear.

You spin around, finding him so close that you feel his warm breath caress your skin.

“Ok,” you breathe out.

“I like Elizabeth. She’s smart and fiery and she’s better than any of those haughty rich folk,” he says as his eyes wander over the features of your face.

“And Mr. Darcy?” you ask with a small smile playing on your lips.

“Mr. Darcy,” he starts, “is an arrogant prick who didn’t know how good he had it until it was almost too late.”

“You really did like it then?” you ask, your appreciation clearly evident.

“I loved it.”

You let out a small squeal when he presses you into the bookshelf and you flatten your palm to his chest to steady yourself.

His eyes drop to your lips as he tilts his head and inches closer.

“I have so many more that I think you’ll love,” you whisper.

“Is that so darlin’?” he smirks.

“Well now that I know you’ll actually finish one,” you counter with some sass.

A muscle in his jaw flexes and he trails his fingertips along the curve of your hip.

“I finished it for you,” he says softly.

“So you’ll finish another one for me then…?”

Your hand on his chest slides higher and grabs the collar of his shirt before dipping inside the open buttons to feel his warm skin.

“You’re driving me crazy darlin’,” he murmurs before you feel the soft press of his lips.

His hand smooths up your body and his rough and calloused fingertips ghost along your neck, tipping your head back as his lips leave your mouth to trail down the delicate column.

You gasp his name and he swallows hard, letting his nose run along the length of your throat before his lips brush your collarbone.

Your head falls back and you feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin before he takes your chin between his fingers and pulls your mouth back down to his. Your fingers delve into his hair, pulling him closer, and his restraint vanishes, his hands frantic to touch every inch of you.

@blackwidownat2814

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller the last of us #joel and ellie #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pride and prejudice

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frost-queen · 3 months

Text

Pride in a thunderstorm (Reader x Anthony Bridgerton)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

Church bells rang as the few last of the ton arrived a church for a Sunday mass. The Bridgerton’s being one of them. All dressed in their Sunday’s best. Violet ran her fingers quickly through Hyacinth’s curls that looked out of place. Francesca noticed Colin’s tie hung sideways as she tapped him against his shoulder. Colin turned confused to her as Francesca pointed at his bow. Colin looking down widened his eyes in a brief panic and started working on his tie. Francesca sighed slapping his hands away so she could adjust it for him. Benedict was chatting with Eloise as they neared the church.

Gregory walking composed by Anthony. Anthony had his hands behind his back as his gaze rose resting on a person amidst the crowd. They were on you while you stood with your parents and many siblings. Four to be exact minus you. Five children in total. All girls of various ages. You stood with your eldest sister Julia. One would say the fairest out of all of you. Lillian and Kitty laughing loudly beyond themselves. The ever so quiet Mabel stood beside your father, looking down. Anthony quickly pulled his gaze away, feeling himself stare to much at you. Good thing you hadn’t noticed it.

All of you got in motion heading into the church. You mother flashed a smile with her fan at the preacher as it made you roll your eyes from embarrassment. Julia and you took a seat on the right side of the church. Julia’s ever so bright smile faded. You let your knuckle brush down her cheek, whispering encouraging words to her. She turned her head to you with a saddened smile. You knew it was a façade to hide her true emotions. One she hardly showed to anyone, too shy for it. Grabbing her hand you moved it to your lap. Mabel came sitting beside you as the rest of your family took a seat on the row behind you.

Lillian still snickering as your mother had to shush them. Your father looking at the preaching stool, waiting for the mass to begin as he didn’t notice the world around him burning. On the other side the Bridgerton’s took a seat. Anthony sitting himself down with Benedict and Hyacinth beside him. Violet sat a row behind with Colin, Eloise, Gregory and Francesca. The preacher went to his stool as the church went silent. All eyes to the front. He began speaking as his voice echoed from the walls. The roofing so high as it bounced his voice around.

You squeezed Julia’s hand tighter knowing just how heartbroken she was from Lord Bingley leaving her hanging. Leaving London without a word after every moment with him was magical. For the first time your sister had felt so in love with anyone. Lord Bingley being just the sweet character she needed. Yet now he had left leaving Julia heartbroken. Unsure what the sudden reason was for his departure in the midst of the social season.

The words of the preacher barely reached you as you were too deep in thoughts. Trying to think of signals you had missed. Something that would indicate that Lord Bingley did not like your sister. No that was out of the question. His affection was as clear as day. He only looked at her, he had no eyes for another. So what could make him leave. Had someone said anything to him? You kept breaking your head over it, thoughts spinning.

From behind you, you heard Lillian yawn and your mother lecture her about it in hushed voices. It made you take a deep breath, wondering why some of your family members were the way that they are. Julia had her head low as your eyes widened. Slowly turning your head to her. Her shoulders moving in shocks. She was sobbing quietly. You barely saw her cry. You wanted to place your hand on her shoulder as she got up. – “Sorry.” – she said to you, making her way for the back.

Keeping her head down so no one could see her tears. – “Julia.” – you whispered worried. Now that she had gotten up, you had a clearer view of the benches across. Amidst them the Bridgerton’s. All their eyes were turned to the front yet one pair was looking away. Staring right back at you. Anthony Bridgerton’s eyes were focused on you rather than the preacher. Suddenly something snapped inside of you. A connection made. You got up yourself taking a run for it.

It all came together like a tide-wave, crushing you underneath it. You left the church heading outside. Outside you panted loud needing air. A rumble sounded in the sky, making you look up. Lifting the hem of your dress up, you ran. Ran to get away from it all. With no destination in mind you just went. Running down the path that led you away from the church. The church grew smaller behind you as the rumbling in the sky continued. Before you knew you felt droplets on your head.

First a few than more. In a matter of minutes it was raining. The hem of your dress mudded. You reached a bridge that went over a stream as you went over it. Going to unknown places. The rumbling got louder as you were drenched. Mostly out of breath. In the distance you saw a pavilion. You decided to run for it running over the grass fields. Your shoes splashing in the squishy earth. Touching the stone of the pavilion you panted loud. Chest rising and falling out of control to steady your breathing.

Everything was wet. Your dress dripping on the dry stone leaving a pattern of wet. Slowly your breathing steadied when you leaned against the stone wall. Glancing to the side, you got startled by a sudden figure. Anthony Bridgerton standing drenched before you. His gaze fixated on you. If one was tentative of them they would see the yearning behind them. – “Miss Y/n.” – Anthony spoke out of breath. Your first reaction was to look down.

Avoiding those charming eyes of his. – “I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer.” – he continued making you slowly lift your head up to him. – “These past months have been a torment.” – he outed. – “I came to Rosings with the single object of seeing you.” – he went on without giving you a chance to speak. – “I had to see you.” – he breathed out as you kept staring at him.

Perplexed and full of pride. – “I have fought against my better judgement, my family’s expectations all these things I am willing to put them aside and ask you.” – he kept speaking taking no notice of your feelings or desire to say something back. The prejudice inside of you growing at the arrogance of his attitude. Having no concern to you as he so loudly expressed himself without a warning. – “To end my agony.”

Finally you cut through his words. – “I don’t understand.” – to be clear his rambling was getting difficult to understand where he was going. – “I love you.” – he confessed in a matter of seconds. He fell silent as you could only stare at him in shock. – “Most ardently.” – he added upon your silence. He swallowed nervously, shifting his weight on his feet. – “Please do me the honour of accepting my hand.” – he asked, almost beggingly. Your mind was still spinning trying to process the heavy confessions made in a matter of minutes.

“My lord I…” – you began looking briefly down. – “I appreciate the struggle you have been through and I am very sorry to have caused you pain.” – you answered lifting your gaze back up with a slight hint of attitude. It was something you couldn’t hide away. – “Believe me it was unconsciously done.” – you finished with. The sarcastic undertone clear now. Anthony’s gaze had slightly hardened upon you. – “Is this your reply?” – he asked deeply. – “Yes, my lord.” – you responded immediately. – “Are… are you laughing at me?” – he wanted to know taking a step closer to you.

His posture suddenly hostile and defensive. – “No.” – you said loud. – “Are you rejecting me?” – his voice suddenly more agitated. – “I’m sure that the feelings which, as you’ve told me, have hindered your regard will help you in overcoming it.” – you answered bitsy. Not backing down from his sudden change in character. He took a quick breath with a simple nod. – “Might I ask why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus repulsed?” – he wanted to know. – “And I might as well enquire why, with so evident a design of insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your better judgement!” – you ranted out.

“No believe me…” – Anthony fired back. – “If I was uncivil, then that is some excuse!” – you interrupted him needing it to be your turn to rant to him. – “But I have other reasons! You know I have.” – you exposed to him. – “What reasons?” – Anthony asked visibly confused. You slightly shook your head at the ignorance of him. – “Do you think that anything might tempt me to accept the man who has ruined, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?”

Finally Anthony realized it. He was gawking at you as the realization hit him of his actions. – “Do you deny it, Viscount Bridgerton?” – you asked. Anthony could only stare. – “That you separated a young couple who loved each other, exposing your friend to the centre of the world for caprice and my sister to its derision for disappointed hopes. And involving them both in misery of the acutest kind?” – you ranted needing your anger to be outed. It was all so clear he was the very reason for your sister’s unhappiness. Separating them when they were so clearly in love. How every could you marry such a man.

“I do not deny it.” – Anthony responded clear. His response made you feel disappointed. – “How could you do it?” – feeling yourself get emotional from the heartbreak he has caused your sister. – “Because I believed your sister indifferent to him.” – he explained. – “Indifferent?” – you nearly shouted out in disbelieve. – “I watched them most carefully and realise his attachment was deeper than hers.” - Anthony answered to further explain his actions.

“That is because she is shy.” – you called out to him. – “Bingley, too, is modest and was persuaded she didn’t feel strongly for him.” – he replied loud. – “Because you suggested it!” – you accused. – “I did it for his own good!” – Anthony called back. – “My sister hardly shows her true feelings to me!” – you shouted at him. Anthony was silent, staring at you. His gaze slowly lowering to your mouth.

You smiled half trying to persuade yourself of the silliness of this conversation. That this was the way for Anthony to act so rashly. Because your sister was shy. It was almost laughable. – “I suppose you suspect his fortune had some bearing…” – you began as you just thought about it. – “No! I wouldn’t do your sister the dishonour!” – Anthony shouted back. – “Though it was suggested.”

“What was?” – you answered up most confused. – “It was made perfectly clear that an advantageous marriage…” – he started to explain as you interrupted him rudely. – “Did my sister gave you that impression?” – your voice shrieking a pitch higher. – “No! no!” – Anthony quickly defended. – “No… there was however, I have to admit the matter of your family.” – he went on. – “Our want of connection?” – you yelled at him furious.

Anthony turned his head away slightly vexed or bothered. – “Mister Bingley didn’t seem to vex himself about that!” – you called out to Anthony getting all worked up and thrown back into the discussion. – “No, It was more than that.” – Anthony replied looking back at you. – “How, my lord?” – you asked crossing your arms. – “It was the lack of propriety!” – Anthony confessed loudly. – “Shown by your mother, your three younger sisters, even, on occasions your father.”

The sky rumbled loud behind you as it had not stopped raining behind you. With shock you looked back at him. You knew your family wasn’t the most perfect, but they were still family. Anthony started to notice the impact of his harsh words about your family. – “Forgive me…” – he said in a softer tone. – “You and your sister I must exclude from this.” – he apologized with a soft bow of his head. The two of you were lost in each other’s gaze for some moments.

With a soft breath you felt yourself be drawn to his body. Wanting surprisingly to be closer to him. – “So how will you mend this?” – you offered, not wanting your dearest sister to remain in her unhappiness. – “Mend this?” – Anthony asked bluntly. – “Yes, your actions led to the unhappiness of my beloved sister. Wouldn’t you wish for a righteous when it involves one of your siblings?” – you suggested bringing his family into the matter.

“Well yes…” – Anthony stuttered out, briefly stunned with the ultimatum. – “Then set it right!” – you ordered taking a step closer to him. Anthony neared as well. – “Perhaps these offenses might have been overlooked had not your pride been hurt by my honesty…” – you told him. – “My pride?” – Anthony called out stunned. – “Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your circumstances?” – He replied getting up in your face.

It was intimidating how close he was to you. – “And those are the words of a gentleman.” – you replied angered at how he was looking down on you. – “From the first moment I met you, your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others…” – you went closer to him, forcing yourself closer to his face as it made him back a bit away. Intimidated by you now. – “made me realize that you were the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed upon to marry!” – you called out with fury at him.

The rumbling went quieter in the background. You were panting a bit from having expressed yourself so openly. Anthony tilted his head a bit letting his gaze go from your eyes to your lips. He hesitated bringing himself closer to you. You felt yourself lean more to him as well. Suddenly yearning with desire. He hesitantly pulled back turning his posture away from you.

It made you exhale loud, shoulders slouching as the moment was broken off. Anthony paused letting his finger brush over his lips. He turned back around as it made you look back up to him. Wondering why he had turned back. He stared right at you. Slightly shifting his posture as a hunger set in his eyes. A more demanding approach as he went back to you. Confused you followed the movement of him, allowing your posture to face him fully. He grabbed for your waist and neck, pressing his lips onto yours.

Your eyes went wide as you did not intended this. His lips kissed your forcefully demanding to be satisfied. Slowly your eyes closed, kissing him with passion back. The rain had stopped leaving a dampness over the meadow. Anthony pushed you up against the stone, continuing to kiss you as if his life depended on it. Every inch of him wanted to love you, loved you. You were kissing him back till you suddenly opened your eyes. Pushing him off you and taking a run for it.

This was inappropriate. You had just declared to this man you could never marry him, yet here you were showing him just how much you wanted him. Then there was the matter of your sister. He was the cause for her unhappiness. You couldn’t this to your sister. Anthony watched you leave, with a deep breath. He touched his lips. The very lips that had kissed yours.

Something he couldn’t believe he had done. He had always been so civil, yet now it appeared his yearning for you took the better hand. He knew right now you wouldn’t want him. So he just had to make amends for the sake of your sister and yours. Hoping his act of kindness would bring you back to him. Where he most desperately wants you to be.

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vivalarevolution · 2 months

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𝓥𝓲𝓼𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽'𝓼 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮

Viscount Aemond Targaryen x Curvy Stark Reader

Summary: She had never seen Viscount Targaryen , nor she ever exchanged a word with him. But that changed one evening, after which the man unexpectedly began to appear everywhere she looked , not letting her mind forget him. Even for a moment.

A/N: I'll admit I had a lot of fun creating the whole idea, mainly because a lot of inspiration was taken from the Bridgertons as well as from Pride and Prejudice, but I think the title explains it all. I can only hope you will like it as much as I do and you will enjoy reading it.

Please remember that english is not my native language and mistakes can happen.

Work contains smut.

Viscount Aemond Targaryen. A man known to few. With a mystery hidden behind his lavender eye, with a hair color of the December snow and a face cold and sharp like a stone.

He radiated both seriousness and arrogance, and with every word he spoke there was a sense of crude indifference to all those he considered unworthy of his presence.

And yet , despite all this , despite his status and sense of superiority , he stood here, stood and looked at the woman he couldn't have.

Her skin looked as soft to the touch as the most expensive velvet , her hair smooth and glistening , were pinned up and styled , highlighting her face , which was adorned with full , kissable lips and rosy cheeks. Her curvy body hidden behind the material of an expensive dark purple dress left little to the imagination , letting his eye and mind feast.

But whenever he tried to force her to level gazes with him her eyes seemed to run away from him. She never submitted to him. Instead, she chose to hide from the man, which made him want to hunt her, suddenly being more determined than ever in his life. And just as he was about to seize her , trapping her in the snare of his long arms , a female hand grabbed his shoulder, halting his movements.

-Mother - he said through a clenched jaw, looking at the older woman out of the corner of his eye.

-Where are you going Aemond? - she asked , wrinkling her eyebrows in consternation -Your betrothed has just arrived , don't keep her waiting - she confessed , shifting her gaze towards Floris Baratheon , who was standing at the other end of the ballroom.

-There are matters , which I must attend to. Immediately - he replied in a controlled and cool tone of voice, gently pushing his mother's hand away , leaving her before she could stop him physically or verbally.

His steps, like himself, were full of control and composure without betraying his true intentions even for a moment. Intentions that were able to crush him under the weight of future consequences, which, despite everything, seemed of little importance to the viscount ,especially when he finally found the mysterious woman who has clouded his senses with her mere presence.

She stood on the balcony , gazing at the night sky , letting the moon illuminate her immaculate face , giving her person an almost angelic glow.

But when Aemond crossed the threshold , placing his foot on the marble slab , the stranger's gaze almost immediately turned in his direction , finally allowing him to drown in the depths of her eyes , which looked at him with intrigue as well as a shadow of irritation.

-Who are you? - she asked , looking for an answer in the features of his face , unfortunately unsuccessfully.

-I should ask you the same question Miss- he stated , walking slowly towards her.

-And yet it was not I who burned the imprint of my eyes on the stranger's body - remarked the young woman , turning fully toward the viscount , now facing him -You did sir. And now you have decided to follow me.

-I did not follow you - he replied , placing his large hand on the stone railing , giving her a feeling of almost being trapped , by how close he was to her now - The truth is that I tried to find you.

-Since you have achieved this goal , what more do you want? - she asked almost in a whisper , studying his face , which was decorated with a long scar and a sapphire in place of the left eye.

-Your name. I want to know it- he said as quietly as she did , bringing his face closer to hers.

The air around them suddenly seemed to become hotter and heavier.

-I will tell it to you…if you tell me yours sir- she replied ,breathlessly , not knowing why.

-Aemond Targaryen - he said almost immediately wanting to know the name of the stranger, who with each passing second made him forget about the bride that waited for him downstairs.

-You're a viscount - she pointed out, placing her hand on his chest to create a previously non-existent distance between them.

Aemond furrowed his brow and took her wrist in his palm , feeling her quickening pulse under his fingertips.

-Are you worried that someone will see you with me? - he asked her with a shadow of amusement on his face.

-I'm worried about what a man like you wants from me , when he is about to marry one of Borros Baratheon's daughters - she stated , stepping away from the stone balustrade , forcing the viscount to let go of her hand.

-I simply wish to learn your name - he answered , repeating his earlier words.

-Y/n Stark - she said , finally revealing her identity, causing a satisfied smile to appear on the viscount's face, which disappeared as quickly as it appeared as she continued - Now if you'll allow me, I'll go my way and you go yours, and we'll act like this encounter never took place.

-Your secrets are safe with me , I assure you Miss - he reassured in a serious tone.

The woman's gaze fled from him for a brief second, as if she needed to think deeply about something. After a moment she shifted her gaze back to him, looking into his violet eye with stoic face.

-Goodnight lord Targaryen - she said before she left the man, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

When the silhouette of the woman disappeared , he wanted to follow her , but stopped himself , turning his gaze in the opposite direction. Yet he could no longer focus on anything other than the beautiful female he meet at the ball to celebrate the engagement, his engagement.

And he wasn't the only one.

It seemed that he was everywhere she was. No matter what she did , no matter where she went , his figure always appeared in the corner of her eye. He haunted her mind as much as she haunted his , and despite how much it tormented both of their souls , she kept her distance , running away from him like a game , while he was the hunter , hunting her. With each of their encounters being closer and closer to catching her.

Until finally there was nowhere to run , nowhere to hide. The only thing left was confrontation.

They met again at the ball , in the same place where their eyes first met , the first time they heard each other , the first time they touched each other's skin.

But this time the man wasn't alone.

Floris Baratheon held on to his arm , smiling shyly at the people who were watching the viscount and future viscountess.

And Y/n was one of them. Her eyes stared at them with a shadow of longing , that the young woman did not even try to hide.

-Are you all right sister? - asked her older brother, standing by her side since the beginning of the ball , watching her closely.

-Yes , yes - she whispered , turning her gaze toward the man, -I just need to get some fresh air.

Cregan sent her a concerned look but did not stop her , silently watching as she left the residence in a haste.

Her breathing seemed to become heavier by the minute , and her footsteps got more and more aggressive.

The realization of what was happening to her began to sink inside her brain. Miss Y/n Stark had fallen in love with a man who belonged to another.

And if fate hadn't mocked her enough , the bane of her existence appeared when all she wanted was to forget.

-Miss Stark - Aemond greeted her , standing still as she turned to face him.

-Viscount Targaryen - she replied , with distress in her tone -Why are you here?

-I saw you leave in a hurry - he explained , scanning her face, which had a grimace of fatigue on it -I wanted to make sure you were okay.

-Why? - she asked , frowning her eyebrows -Why you do this when your betrothed is inside , waiting for you. Why do you do all this? These unexpected encounters , fleeting glances. Why my lord?

The man suddenly appeared by her side. He was so close that their breaths mingled and there lips almost touched.

-Because I care about you - he confessed with seriousness in his voice , looking hard into her eyes.

-You don't know me. And I don't know you - the woman said , stubbornly trying to push away the viscount , but in vain - We can't love each other , we can't.

-And yet, despite your proclaims , I can no longer eat , I can no longer sleep , I can no longer breathe without letting you consume my every thought - he proclaimed , capturing her cheek in his large hand -You haunt me in my dreams , you haunt me during the day , you haunt me when I'm with my family , you haunt me when I look directly into the eyes of my betrothed - he growled , brushing her ear with his lips -You can deny it , but at least don't make me do it , don't make me continue to suffer without you by my side.

Y/n felt as if something had possessed her.

His words made her finally forget, but unfortunately not about him, but about the outside world that was so close to them, almost at her fingertips.

She let the viscount finally taste her full pink lips, embraced her wide hips in his rough hands, and dragged her to the carriage standing just behind them, locking them inside. The interior of it suddenly seemed so small , as their bodies pressed against each other.

His palms, large and warm, touched her in places that were forbidden to him, but in his movements there was not a shred of thought about the later consequences, only uncontrollable lust.

-From the moment our eyes met, I knew that I had to possess you, that I had to make you mine - he whispered into her neck, gliding his nose over her pulse, brushing the skin of her neck with his tongue again and again, leaving wet marks behind.

The woman moaned quietly in response , closing her eyes and tilting her head , making herself putty in his hands , which he took advantage of by pushing her onto the seat ,kneeling himself on the floor of the carriage , with his large hands running over the white material of her dress , therefore revealing the smooth skin of her legs , which he sensually kissed, leaving an electrifying sensation that caused her to shiver.

Her eyes closed involuntarily when the viscount's lips found their way to her heated and moist inner thighs , while his fingers melted into her firm bum , lifting her curvy body so her ankles could fell on the man's broad shoulders.

His teeth found their place on the woman's undergarments, tearing them in one strong movement, which caused the cold air to hit her sensitive womanhood, that trembled under the sudden change of temperature.

-Aemond - she whispered , calling him by name for the first time - What are you doing? - she asked, looking down.

-I want to taste you - he muttered , kissing her ankle - I wonder if you taste as sweet as your lips do - he said , slowly pulling up her long gown , so that nothing would block his view of the woman before him.

Before Y/n could respond to his words , his tongue touched her swollen clit , swirling it around the pink pearl , making her uncontrollably thrust her pelvis forward , imprisoning the man in the softness of her thick thighs.

Aemond , in response , growled , clamping his hands on her firm flesh , drawing her impossibly closer , feasting. His mouth explored her femininity , kissing and licking every part , leaving nothing without his attention . He was bestial , greedily drinking her juices , which tasted like the sweetest dessert of his life , as his eyes stared at the woman in front of him , who was consumed by convulsions of pleasure that tore their way through her body , making it burst into flames that consumed her mind.

The viscount watched with delight as she broke under her first orgasm of the night, licking everything she gave him , feeling under his fingertips how her muscles went limp , and seeing how her eyes became clouded by uncontrollable desire.

-Aemond - she said breathlessly , desperately grabbing his jaw , trying to pull him close to her.

-What is it my sweet? - he asked , purring like a cat.

-Please…please…make love to me, Aemond - she begged, brushing her lips against his, tasting herself on them, combing her fingers between strands of his white hair.

In response, the man embraced her curvy body , securing it in his strong arms , positioning the lovers so that this time he was resting on the seat , placing Miss Stark on his legs , immediately proceeding to assault her neck with slow kisses, while his hands crept to her throbbing entrance , which was waiting for him , embracing him tightly as he inserted two fingers into her , sensually moving them.

-So warm and tight - he muttered into her ear , biting its lobe - Full of desperation and need.

-Don't make me wait…I beg you…I can't stand it - she whimpered , burying her face in the hollow of his neck.

Viscount took her flushed cheek in his hand , making her look at him while his other hand skillfully unbuttoned his black pants , freeing his thick and long member , which he directed at her wet entry , entering her slowly and carefully , looking deeply into her eyes.

She felt like she could feel him in her throat. He rammed her insides , mixing the feeling of pain with pleasure , spreading it from the top of her head to her toes. She moaned, whimpered and mewled, letting him move her as he pleased, making her see stars. His member was hitting sensitive places that were never known by her, making her walls clench tighter and tighter against him.

The second orgasm that overtook her body felt overwhelming , yet he kept moving, wanting to feel the sensation of her thight walls clenching onto him for as long as possible, before he did what he wanted from the moment he saw her. He maked her his.

Y/n moaned softly, feeling the sudden heat that poured from inside of her , right between her wet and sticky thighs. Holding the viscount by the neck, she pulled him even closer, snuggling into his muscular body.

Everything seemed to quiet down around them. The windows of the carriage fogged up through their passionate act , and the air became hot and suffocating. However, they did not care , they were too busy melting into each other's embrace.

But this changed when she heard his words , whispered directly into her ear.

Will you marry me , miss Stark?

#house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon smut #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #bridgerton au #pride and prejudice au #my writing #hotd #asoiaf #aemond targaryen fanfiction #viscount!aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x plus size reader #curvy!reader #aemond targaryen x curvy!reader #aemond targaryen x stark!reader

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cocteaucherry · 2 months

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trials and tribulations .2

summary- falling in love with your sworn enemy was not something you planned.

cws- p&p au/ bridgerton au, inaccurate use of regency language, 18+, misogyny, sexual tension, future smut in later chapters, slow slow burn, LENGTHY descriptions, ooc Suguru, suguru x f!reader, accidental groping, not proofread

taglist- @mandysfanfics

a/n-(I wanna go ahead and apologize for putting this out so late, I truly wasn’t prioritizing this part as much as I needs to ^^ but I hope you enjoy more treats coming soon)

“Y/N it wasn't that awful.”

“I feel as if I were choking, can't believe I made a fool of myself in front of him.”

“There was more than one man there.”

“Don't humor me, Mr. Geto glared at me as if I was a stain on his perfect coat.”

Shoko groaned as she laid flat on the blanket you laid out, usually you a Shoko spent your days outside when finished with chores, and seeming as it was blooming through spring it was perfect.

“He's just a highly disciplined man I guess.”

“But it's no excuse to be so rude and conceited.”

“He's a wealthy man- he can basically do anything.”

“Whatever..” you mumbled plucking a blade of grass from the ground to hold in between your fingers.

Although no matter how many times you say “whatever” you could truly never get Suguru Geto off your mind, it angered you whenever he’d make an appearance, most recently in your dreams.

Waking up abruptly to only groan and try to drift off into sleep, maybe if you just stay inside you’d never see him again.

“Y/N! Letter for you!”

Your hands halted from sewing immediately placing the sharp needle down, “From who?”

Your mother smiled giddily as she gave you the letter, the thick paper and the large G seal told you everything you needed to know.

“Dear, Y/N,

“We really enjoyed your company and presence at our estate last Friday, we’d really appreciate if you could be present tomorrow for a more formal tour of the estate,

Yours truly,

Satoru Gojo

“Wow..” you were breathless having to lightly beat your chest to restart your fear-stricken heart, “This is-”

“Amazing I know, this is your chance y/n! No more chores for you I need to make sure you're in pristine condition”

You were put on bedrest for the rest of the day.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

The estate looked a lot different in the daytime, the lamps at night just fully added onto the mystical ambience but now it was just ethereal.

You had worn a nice emerald gown, contrasting perfectly with your updo, you weren’t being led through the manor alone though one of his many servants led you down the halls.

“Sir Gojo will accompany you shortly, he’s slightly busy at the moment.” The man smiled pushing his glasses further on his nose, the man had short dark hair and somehow looked old but young at the same time.

You smiled bowing politely as you glanced around the globe shaped room, “I’ll be waiting.”

“Great, if you need anything miss you may call me Ijichi,” he bowed curtly before walking down the pristine hall.

Seems like everything needs to follow a code in this place.

You thought to yourself as you stepped towards the very large window, the clouds had gathered to a moody gray but the flowers still flowed wistfully.

Somehow the walk here wasn’t as tantalizing as you thought.

If you weren’t as engrossed in your thoughts you would’ve felt or heard the presence that approached behind you.

“Nice to make your acquaintance again miss l/n”

Jolting slightly you placed your hand on your heart, “you frightened me Mr-“

Wait you knew that voice.

You turned slowly hoping to be met with the familiar snow white locks but were instead met with black hair tucked tidily into a bun and a strand of hair falling above his forehead.

Of course..

“Mr Geto,” you pushed out a fake smile trying your best to convince him and yourself that you were delighted to see him, “Delightful to see-“

“Why are you here?”

Wow, okay, very polite.

“Sir, Gojo wanted to give me a tour of the estate.”

He stared at you with narrow eyes as he smirked, “Impossible, Satoru has been ill for the past days.”

“…”

“Uhm, excuse me but..- I don’t think erm-“

“Please stop with the stuttering and spit it out.”

you let out a seething sigh composing yourself, “I was sent a letter.. stating himself he’d like to give me a tour.”

“I heard you the first time,” he groans quietly, rubbing his temple irritatingly.

You both stood in a suffocating relative silence before he surprisingly broke the silence, “I will give you a tour of the outer areas of the estate, that is all I can do. I'm very busy at the moment.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head in agreement, this man couldn’t be kind to save his life but you’d take anything at this point.

“I’d love to.” A small smile appeared on your face but before you could see his reaction he turned walking out of the room, “Follow closely, I don’t have time to waste.”

You hurriedly picked up your pace as you followed after him, hopefully a change of scenery could help the mod.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

The wind had picked up as you and Geto continued your walk outside, flowers and lush trees surrounded the back area, a path of white colored flowers falling into a different path.

“White flowers lead to the garden, purple to the fruit groves.” Geto kept his hands behind his back at all times as he stared blankly forward, occasionally glancing at the now darkly gray sky threatening to spill at any moment.

“Woah..” the tone of shock came from your lips with a smile, “this is incredible.”

Geto’s jaw ticked as he stopped dead in his tracks feeling a small droplet of water fall on his forehead, “It truthfully is the standard of the Gojo’s, they’ve truly never known poverty.”

So they’re born into this, “it’s truly an amazing feat.”

he sighed quietly, feeling the light drops of water beginning to fall, “let’s get inside, looks like it’s gonna pour heavily.”

Your smile fell as you nodded quickly, beginning to walk back towards the steps of the back door Geto following in pursuit.

You were just content that he had engaged you in conversation, as you began your descent up the stairs something felt wrong and low and behold.

You lost your footing on the slippery steps.

A yelp left your mouth as you prepared yourself for the tumble and for the insults coming from Geto, you quickly shut your eyes.

Except you didn’t fall, you were caught.

You slowly opened your eyes to see and feel a pair of strong hands, one beneath your breast and one on your waist. A blush creeping on your neck feeling the warm sensation on your body.

You stared up in horror at Geto’s petrified face immediately pushing yourself off of him, the blush on the tips of his ears gave him away as he cleared his throat. “I-Ijichi should be able to help you inside.”

You hummed in response trying to contain yourself as you attempted to calm the blush and hoarseness in your throat, “I-ll get to it.” You watched your step more carefully rushing through the back door.

Once you were in the clear you met out an exasperated sigh clutching your hand to your chest, “Mr Ijichi!” You whispered hoarsely beginning to walk through the hall.

What was this feeling? What were you feeling? Surely this was embarrassment correct?

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu x reader #x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto angst #gojo satoru #suguru geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto x female reader #pride and prejudice #bridgerton #regency #slow burn #jjk smut

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sorchathered · 3 months

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Pride, Prejudice, and Flyboys

Pairing- Bob Floyd x reader

Warnings- Smut, minors dni, language, drinking.

Summary- Bob can’t stand Siren, she’s been the bane of his existence since he met her…but maybe it’s more?

My second post for ibffm 😈 enjoy! Thank you @attapullman for making January all about our favorite WSO!

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He’s pretty sure he actually hates her. His mama always taught him to never say that about anyone but right now he can’t be bothered to be gentlemanly. Siren is by far the most annoyingly perfect person he’s ever met, effortlessly funny, excellent at her job, beloved by everyone she meets; the list goes on and on and Bob wishes someone had at least one bad thing to say about her. She’s even a morning person for god sakes, bouncing into the training room most mornings with coffees for the whole squad, oozing sunshine as she greets everyone.

No one gets it, Bob has always been such a kind soul but ever since Siren joined the squad as Hangman’s WSO Bob’s attitude has been abysmal. They went to Top Gun together and the naval academy, most everyone knew they’d had some sort of love/hate relationship but couldn’t ever seem to figure out just what it was that caused such a rift. She had always been so nice to him but Bob just couldn’t reciprocate. She was perfect. At everything. It all came easy to her, and it brought out something inside Robert Floyd, jealousy? envy? He couldn’t put his finger on it he just knew it was unfair, to her and himself. Comparing himself to someone else was something he’d always done, whether it be someone’s good looks or ability to handle social situations but not once since he’d come back to Fightertown had he questioned his abilities in his job. He’d been slowly becoming more sure of himself here, letting his guard down and integrating himself with the squad, finally feeling like he belonged. Then he stepped into work two weeks ago and there you were, perched on top of a table laughing with Phoenix and Hangman like you were old friends. Phoenix had called him over excitedly, something in your demeanor had caused her to think you two would be fast friends but it didn’t take much to realize that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

He walked up to them anyway, feet feeling like lead and nausea rising up in his throat as you whipped your head towards him. “Bob! Come on over and meet Bagman’s new back seater!”

“Oh we already know each other” you’d replied coolly, and the shift in energy was palpable.

“Siren” he said curtly, nodding in your direction but refusing to look you in the eye.

“I feel like I’m missing something here? You guys date or something baby on board?” Hangman’s gaze was curious, clearly enjoying the drama.

You both sputtered in shock, Bob simply flipping Hangman the bird and turning on his heel to find his seat with what could only be described as disgust on his features.

“Absolutely not! We just uh, we knew each other during the academy and top gun the first time, I don’t really know what it is, he just never really seemed to like me.” You looked down at your feet now, wishing the floor would swallow you up.

Drills went well the following week, you and Hangman seemed to make a perfect team, it had been suggested you become his WSO after the uranium mission, Maverick had been impressed with his flying from the beginning but knew Hangman needed to learn to be a team player. That’s where you came in, and to say the two of you were thick as thieves was an understatement. It was like you and Jake had known each other all your life, and almost sibling like camaraderie between you.

———————————————————————

Friday finally comes and everyone gathers at the Hard Deck, celebrating your joining the team and the end of a long week of training. You are the life of the party, playing pool and laughing over whatever show you and Fanboy have been binging, seamlessly fitting into the group like you’d been there all along.

Bob is beyond annoyed. He tries to fix his face but the permanent scowl that resides there won’t budge; he’s never had much of a poker face and if he’s honest he doesn’t really give a shit if he’s hiding his disdain. Do you just get along with everyone? Everyone seems to constantly be singing your praises and it’s like nails on a chalkboard having to constantly hear your name as the topic of conversation. Phoenix startles him from his thoughts as she sits down next to him with a beer, following his eye-line to confirm he is in fact staring at you.

“Ok Bobby what the hell is the problem? I’ve never seen you like this, Siren enters the room and it’s like someone shit in your cereal. She seems super nice to me so tell me what I’m not seeing?” She and Bob have come so far the past few months, gone from teammates to best friends and she is thrown for a loop seeing him in such a state.

“Do you really not see it? I mean come on she’s annoying as hell.” Phoenix doesn’t buy it, giving Bob a chastising glare and he finally folds. He knows better than to fight with her like this, she always wins anyways.

“I- ugh fine. She’s just always rubbed me the wrong way. I’m sure she’s fine truly, but she was constantly talked about in our academy days, she set the standard and no one was ever as perfect according to our instructors. It just feels like I’ve been competing with her all of my navy career and to have her here when things have been going so well felt like the rug yanked out from under me. I don’t want to hate her, but every time I see her I’m reminded of all the things I’m not and it drives me insane.” He slumps down in his chair clearly embarrassed and Phoenix feels an overwhelming amount of sympathy for her friend.

“I think if you actually tried to get to know her you’d be surprised to find that she thinks the exact same thing about you.”

Bob looks at her like she’s slapped him, shock written all over his features. What the fuck did she mean? You felt like you were in constant competition with him as well? He rolled his eyes at her after looking at you across the pool table, there was no way in hell he was feeling an ounce of sympathy for you tonight. You were a top gun nepo baby, your father’s name synonymous with the likes of Maverick and Iceman. Everything had come easy to you so why the hell Nat would think anything different was beyond his reasoning.

“I appreciate the need to keep the peace Nat, but I can’t say I buy it.”

She just shook her head and let it be, she’d truly never seen Bob like this before and it looked like it would take a miracle to get the two of you to sort out your issues.

As the night begins to wind down you make your way over to Bob’s table, a little liquid courage had you deciding it was now or never; time to find out why the soft spoken man everyone loved seemed to hate everything about you.

You plop down into the seat next to him, bringing him to the present as he looks up with a groan when he realizes it’s you.

“Can I help you Siren?”

Eyes the size of saucers at the tone in his voice you suddenly wish you could evaporate into thin air, why did he always have to be so damn mean? You’ve never been anything but kind to everyone, it just didn’t make any sense for him to treat you with so much vitriol.

“I need to know what I did.”

“Pardon?” He looks up with a grimace trying to process the situation at hand.

“What did I do Floyd? Seriously, I have never been anything less than friendly to you all these years and you treat me like I’m shit on the bottom of your shoe. What gives?! Just tell me what the hell I did so I can apologize and maybe we can get past this.” You’re shaking a little and your voice had carried more than you’d planned, noticing that your group behind you seems to have taken an active interest in what’s happening between you two.

“I’m not doing this.” Bob lets out a dark chuckle, eyes full of poison sliding from his seat, making his way to the door.

You look around behind you at your squad, beet red with embarrassment and frustration. How dare he?! God Robert Floyd was such a prick and you weren’t giving him the opportunity to treat you like this for one more minute. Slamming your beer down on the table you stalked after him towards the door, following him out into the parking lot.

“You don’t get to just walk away from me like that asshole! I asked you a question and I want a damn answer.”

He stops short in his tracks, was busying himself with unlocking his truck when he spins around to face you.

“God you really can’t just let this shit go can you? You really want to know why?”

“Yeah I really do”

He runs his hand over his face now, malice clearly etched in his features.

And then he pulls you forward and slams his lips to yours.

You were pretty sure you were dreaming…or maybe you’d died because this certainly couldn’t be happening in real life right? Robert Floyd, bane of your existence for almost a decade had you pressed up against the side of his old GMC Sierra, thigh wedged between your legs while you ground down on him and let him lick into your mouth.

You couldn’t stop yourself if you wanted to, he felt so so good and the noises and moans the two of you were making were bordering on obscene. You thanked whatever diety was watching out for you that he had parked in a dark corner in the lot, crashing waves muffling most of the noises coming from you both. You arched your back to press closer to him and he began his descent from your jaw sucking a mark onto your neck as your hands threaded through his soft brown hair and tugged. God he was so hot, how had you never noticed he was so hot? He smelled amazing and he was an insanely good kisser, but of course you’d always thought he was perfect at everything; part of the reason he frustrates you so much if you’re honest.

He pulls back to look at you, has the gall to look smug at the fact that he’s worked you up like this and you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Your foreheads are pressed together, and you feel him whisper against your lips

“Y/N you need to stop me now if you don’t want this, otherwise get your ass in the truck, we’re going back to my place.”

You feel so dumb right now, he’s rendered you speechless and all you can do is nod at him and slide into the bench seat of the truck. Shit, you really are about to go home and let Bob Floyd fuck you senseless.

———————————————————————

The drive isn’t long, maybe ten minutes but you can barely focus on anything but his hand on your thigh, rubbing slow circles into you, just close enough to tease but not enough to give you what you want. He pulls into the drive roughly, slamming the truck in park and yanking you out of the door, hands roaming everywhere as he tries to herd you into his little townhouse.

Once he has the door closed it’s a frenzy of teeth and tongue, pawing at each other to try and get the other naked as quickly as possible, you barely make it to his bedroom, self control non existent. He drops you down onto his mattress and you pull him forward, rubbing your body all over the length of his, desperate for any kind of relief for your aching core. He slides a hand up to press into the column of your throat as he spreads hot filthy kisses up your chest towards your mouth.

“You drive me absolutely insane, can’t even sit in the same room with you without wanting to fuck the attitude out of you, s’that what you need pretty girl? You need me to fuck you stupid?”

You can’t help but let out a pitiful moan and buck up into him, you never thought for a minute you’d be in this situation with him but now that you have him like this you know you’ll never want to do anything else.

“Tell me what you want Y/N, you’ve always got so much to say but now you can’t even string together a sentence? You poor little thing you need this so bad don’t you? All you gotta do is ask baby I’ll give it to ya.”

You close the gap between the two of you, slotting your lips against his and sliding your tongue into his mouth, rubbing your needy wet pussy all over his thigh and whining at the feeling, so good but not quite what you need.

He presses your hips down into the mattress stopping your ministrations and reaching up to catch your chin between his fingers.

“I know you heard me if you want it sugar you ask for it, I’m a patient man we can sit right here all night and I won’t touch you again until you’re begging for it.”

Chest heaving, pupils blown out full of lust and hair splayed out across his pillows he thinks you may be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, but he’s just fine teasing you until you give him what he wants.

You look up at him ready to be defiant but fail miserably, his perfect hair is a mess, glasses askew and his body feels like heaven on top of yours.

You refused to fold so easily, he’d been mouthing off at you all night so it was time he got some of it back, sliding your feet to the mattress over his thighs you flipped him onto his back on the mattress, your manicured fingers gripping his chin, forcing him to look at you.

“You’re so bossy Bobby, maybe you’re the one who needs to be fucked stupid hmm? I wonder if any of those little tag chasers you’ve brought home have ever taken control of you like I can? Think you can keep your pretty mouth shut and follow orders? Lay still like a good boy and let me ride your cock?”

He blinks up at you now, he had a smart ass remark all ready to go but the second you ground your pussy down on him he was putty in your hands, couldn’t begin to articulate how hot is was to let you take the reigns, so he simply put his hands behind his head and grinned up at you.

“Go ahead baby, use me. I’ll be good for you.”

That’s all you needed, sliding him between your folds and teasing him by grinding your clit against him. He was big, and your thoughts scattered thinking about how next time you wanted him in your mouth, God you hoped there was a next time.

He had said he’d be good for you but he didn’t account for just how good it would feel, attempting to stay quiet by balling his hands into fists and biting his lip until it felt like it would break the skin.

He might go insane from this, he’s used to relinquishing control in the air, but in his intimate life he’s always demanded the upper hand, the need to be in charge overpowering the ability to submit. But here you are, stripped completely bare for him and riding him so slowly damnit he’s never been more turned on in his life. He’s not blind, you’re absolutely gorgeous; he’s seen the way guys check you out but the rivalry between you both was always so palpable it never occurred to him to want you like this.

You’re playing with your nipples and grinding into him slowly, moans spilling from your lips and Bob knows he can’t take much more of this, needs you splayed out so he can fuck you like he wants. He watches you close eyes, throwing your head back and he takes the shot, gripping you by your hips and flipping you both again. You cry out as he snaps his hips harshly into yours, grabbing at both your wrists with one of his big hands to pin them above your head, leaning in to catch your lips with his, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth. He planned to make this quick and dirty, a one time thing to get you out of his system but the more he hears your little moans and whines and kisses you while your pussy pulses around him, he lets his mind wander to how it might be to have you like this whenever he wanted, lets the domesticity of having you in his bed and his arms make him impossibly harder. Why didn’t you two get along again? He couldn’t find himself coming up with one reason that made sense as you let him abuse your pussy with his deep thrusts. You couldn’t hold a coherent thought anymore, clenching down on him after he hit that spot that had you seeing stars you suddenly gushed on his cock, surprising the two of you as he slowed his movements, slack jawed and in awe of the fact that you’d just squirted all over him.

“Jesus Christ such a good girl, pussy’s fucking drenching me” he ground out, yanking you up by your throat to suck on your tongue as you moan and gasp into his mouth, you’d never done that before for anyone; not even when you were getting yourself off and you wanted it to happen again and again. “Oh Bob” your cried out, pushing yourself down on him to meet his hips, the two of you working in tandem to please each other, somehow the situation evolving from a one night stand to something more. You knew now that you’d had a taste of him like this you’d be addicted, how could you ever be satisfied with anyone else when he was fucking you like his life depended on your pleasure?

You wrap your legs around his waist and begin to grind into him, neither of you caring much about control anymore. It feels too good and the need is so strong to chase your release. He’s pulling you close to him now, pressing your chests together and sucking a mark at the spot behind your ear, whispering praises about how good you feel, and you can’t think of anything but how beautiful he is and how badly you want him to cum for you.

You’re close again, so close to the edge and he can feel it, leans in to kiss you once more, lightly wrapping his hand around your throat. You hold his gaze as he tells you he wants to come with you, the pressure from his slender fingers restricting your airway so deliciously euphoric. You can’t say anything, too scared of the implications and the intimacy of it all so you just nod as he runs his hand between your sweat slicked bodies to rub tight circles against your clit. Black spots cloud your vision as you arch into him, calling out his name in pleasure like a prayer until you begin to go hoarse; he groans as you clench down on him and he thrusts one more time with a shout as he comes for you.

You both lay wrapped in each other, lost in thought trying to catch your breaths. All too soon he pulls out but before he heads for the bathroom he stops to push a sweaty lock back from your forehead, and you can’t help but catch his hand and kiss his wrist. He grins that stupid crooked smile at you as he makes his way to the bathroom and you collapse back into the sheets.

“Oh my fucking God” you think to yourself with a jolt; “I’m in love with Robert Floyd.”

———————————————————————-

While you come to that startling realization, Bob is having his own meltdown once he gets the bathroom closed. What the hell had he gotten himself into here?! He’d had it all planned out on the drive over, the both of you would just fuck the tension out and try your best to get along for the duration of the time you had here. He hasn’t accounted for just how good it would be, how when the time came for you to separate all he’d wanted was to wrap you in his arms and let you snuggle into him. He didn’t think he’d catch feelings.

Stepping out of the bathroom he catches you trying to shrug yourself back into your clothes, digging around for your phone in the bottom of your purse and you startle a little, straightening up and giving him a little smile.

“I uh, sorry I don’t want to be in the way so I’m just gonna grab an Uber and head home.” You look lost, not like your typical bubbly persona and his heart clenches in his chest knowing you are worried he wants you to go.

“You- you don’t have to go honey, ‘sides I think we might need to sit down and talk about all this.”

He sticks his hand out for you to take and leads you back to his bed to sit down and you take a shaky breath, trying to look anywhere but at him. He hears you whisper something, and turns your face to his hoping you’ll say it again.

“I asked you uh… what does this mean, what are we doing?” you said quietly, nervous energy radiating from you now, you’ve never felt off your axis quite like this but then you’ve also never realized you were in love with your enemy before. Was he really your enemy though? Or had he always just been out of reach? You knew you’d admired him, wished you could be friends but now- now it was something else entirely.

His expression was soft, something truly beautiful in the openness he was emanating as opposed to the wall he always put up when you were around. Taking both your hands in his he sighed, he still couldn’t quite find the words but anything was better than continuing to pretend he didn’t want this.

“I think I’ve had this all wrong y/n. I had it in my head that I hated you, that you were someone to compete against and I set myself up to be a complete asshole to you so I didn’t have to admit what it really was. Some of it was jealousy I’ll admit it but it really was so much more. I want you, more than just one night and I know, I know I have been an absolute piece of shit but if you’ll let me I’ll spend as long as you’ll let me trying to make it up you.”

You feel lightheaded, heat sending tingles up your spine and your body moves of its own volition, surging forward to kiss him. The clarity of it all is blinding, how could the two of you gone this long and not seen it? You were perfect for each other, wasted so much time riling each other up when you could have been doing this. You feel a giggle bubble up from your chest as you pull away from him now, the corners of your eyes pricking with tears as he quickly presses kisses to wipe them away.

You spend the weekend wrapped up in each other, ordering food and watching movies, letting Bob fuck you on every surface of his house and covering you in what feels like love.

————————————————————————

Monday morning he drives you back to your apartment to shower and change before work, which results in the two of you nearly being late because you can’t seem to keep your hands off of each other. Stepping into the hangar to take your seat you’re greeted to a sea of shocked faces, rather than making snide comments or cutting eyes at each other the two of you are in great spirits, even going so far as to let Bob pass you a granola bar from his pocket because he’d been two busy railing you earlier to eat breakfast.

Hangman is the first to open his mouth, because of course he can’t leave anything alone for too long. “What the hell is going on here? Is it Opposite Day or some shit? You two are being way too nice to each other and it’s freaking everyone out.”

You just grin at him and pat him on the arm, “We talked out our issues Jakey, it’s all gonna be smooth sailing from here.”

Phoenix doesn’t buy it for a second, pulling Bob over by his ear, deciding that she’ll force it out of him.

“What kind of twilight zone level bs is going on? Friday night you two were at each others throats and we didn’t see you again after that…oh my god. OH MY GOD!” She shrieks out and Bob clamps a hand over her mouth, begging God to suddenly make his best friend mute for the rest of the day, ears and cheeks turning bright red as he shushes her.

“Nat goddamnit I’ll tell you everything but I swear to God you have got to keep your shit together.”

He makes her wait until lunch, wants to be away from prying eyes and ears knowing it would spread like wildfire if the wrong person found out.

“I fucking knew it! I knew it wasn’t just some rivalry bullshit, oh my God are you guys together now? Do you love her? Ahhh this is so amazing!” She squeals as she digs into her salad, bouncing in her chair like a little kid.

“First of all I don’t know. It feels like we are, but I’m leaving that in her court. I’ll do whatever makes her happy. Second of all that’s none of your business woman let me figure this out on my own time, it’s still new. When I need a wedding planner I’ll let you know” he says with an eye roll and affectionate shove to her shoulder, he truly does love having her in his life, even if she is a serial meddler.

He catches you from across the mess hall, you were stealing fries off Jake’s plate and laughing over one of his stupid jokes. Feeling his gaze on you made you feel warm all over, you looked up at him and winked in his direction and just like that he was a goner. How had he missed out on this for so long? He’d had you on every surface in his home and he was still so insatiable, could barely hold it together when you texted asking if he could come over after work to have dinner.

———————————————————————

Pulling into your driveway after what felt like the longest day of training so far, you began to peel off your flight suit and top leaving you in just your bra and underwear, scrolling through the delivery app for something to eat when you heard him knock at the door.

You swung it open to let him in, turning on your heel to check what time the food would be in.

“I ordered from that Thai place we had lunch at a few weeks ago, got a little bit of everything so I just figured we could share.”

“That sounds like heaven baby but I think I need a snack before it gets here.”

And that’s how you ended up spread out on your kitchen island, Bob’s face buried between your thighs as he ate at you like his life depended on it. You had come undone more than once and he refused to let you go, you tasted so sweet he couldn’t get enough; lapping at you nearly had him getting off just knowing he was pleasing you. You felt too sensitive, every nerve in your body on fire but unable to stop bucking up into his face begging for him but not knowing what exactly you were asking for. He pulls back to grin up at you, beautiful blue eyes full of mischief as he lets out a chuckle at how far gone you are from just his mouth.

“Come on baby girl, give me one more, you sound so pretty I know you’ve got one more in ya. Taste so good sweetheart, I need you to cum one more time.”

He dives back in and the damn breaks as you felt your third orgasm wash over you, release soaking his face and he finally lets you up, helping you off the counter and into his arms. You felt boneless, legs trembling and barely able to stand as he kissed you, running his hands all over your body and letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You grazed your hand along the inside of his flight suit tied at his waist and he groaned deliciously into your mouth.

“Hold on baby, let’s feed you some dinner and then I’ll let you ride me ok? We’ve got lots of time to make up for but I want you to have enough energy to handle it”

He was such a cocky son of a bitch but you knew now he could back it up. You’d sat in his lap on the couch while you shared dinner, taking turns feeding each other and watching a movie. He didn’t know if he could ever let this go now, everything about you had him obsessed and despite manhandling you not even an hour ago he was nervous as hell to seek out the answers he needed. What if this was just a friends with benefits situation? He knew he’d been an absolute ass to you and couldn’t blame you if you just wanted to fuck around but he so desperately wanted more.

You’d noticed how quiet he had gotten, movie forgotten as he was spaced out lost in thought. Nudging him with your elbow you laugh at the mock annoyance on his face, he was so beautiful and you still couldn’t believe the two of you were really here now.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours Floyd? You seem like you’ve got some heavy thoughts you’re struggling with.”

“Ah- it’s nothing sugar, I just spaced I promise I’m here it’s ok.”

You don’t believe him for a second, so you decide to prod him a little more. You pull his face in with both hands and kiss his cheeks, then nose, then press a soft peck to his lips.

“I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be baby, pretty please tell me what’s wrong? You bat your eyelashes at him and he melts into a puddle. You’ve got him totally wrapped now and he’s pretty sure he’d burn the world down to keep you looking at him with that sweet look on your face.

“I know we haven’t talked much about what this is and I don’t want to pressure you but I don’t know that I can be as casual about this as I’d hoped. I’m pretty sure I’m hooked on you y/n.”

Oh shit, you were definitely swooning. Like old timey love story swooning. How had he not realized you were crazy about him too?! You wound your arms around his neck and giggled as you pressed kisses all over him.

“I’m completely and totally yours Robert Floyd, now make love to me all night. Let’s catch up on all that time we wasted being idiots when we could have been together all along.”

He had to laugh at that, the two of you really had been complete fools, he’d been an arrogant ass, too prideful to admit that you were everything he’d ever wanted. Later he’d take you apart all night if you’d let him and then bring you coffee in bed before work the next morning. Fill your car up with gas, make sure you drank enough water and love you like you’d never dreamed you could be loved. It hadn’t started as some fairytale love story but it was turning out to be something even better, something lasting. Something more.

Tagging-

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#top gun maverick #bob floyd #international bob floyd fucks month #robert bob floyd #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun bob #bob floyd smut #bob floyd fan fic #robert bob floyd x reader #bob fucks #pride and prejudice

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lauraneedstochill · 1 year

Text

My first choice (part 2/2)

summary: Aemond thinks you are way too good to be Aegon’s best friend. But you are enough for the one-eye prince to fall in love with.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen and F!Reader words: ~ 8500 (this is why I divided it into 2 parts lmao)

warnings: friends to lovers, more angst (death of a parent, attempted harassment), hurt/comfort, an embarrassing amount of softness, Aegon is the smartest one for once (and I’m trashing Jason Lannister again!) author’s note: this is heavily inspired by “Little women” (2019) and Amy March in particular (read the rest of my long-ass explanation in part 1). again, I apologize for the angst! it gets worse before it gets better

Part 2. In a room full of art I stare at you

It's hard to pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with Aemond. Maybe you were too blind to notice until it was too late or maybe you were doomed from the start. From the moment when the boy, who everyone deemed to be intimidating and reclusive, bent down to you to offer help without any hesitation. The second-born son of the King, tall and close-mouthed, surely had more important things to do than waste time on a strange girl crying over her stupid dress — and yet, he only showed you solicitude, asking for nothing in return.

You thought that mayhaps you owed him, and were seeking the opportunity to return the favor. Or at least that’s how you tried to justify the fact that you were looking for him every chance you got. You often found a reason to chat with Aemond during dinners and feasts, feeling bad for him spending time on his own — and you learned that he was very easy to talk to. You made sure to visit the training yard if he was there and sometimes stayed to watch him train for hours, even — or especially — when everyone else already left. His tenacity and strength had certain allure but under all those layers, you saw a lonely boy whose only friend was probably his dragon.

Despite the circumstances and his preferred solitude, Aemond never rejected your company, however sudden it might have been. Even when Aegon foolishly suggested playing hide and seek one evening, bored out of his mind, and you busted into the library and stumbled upon Aemond, who looked like he had no interest in silly games. And yet, when you awkwardly asked for the best place to hide at, he guided you to the enclosed area of the reading room. It was dimly lit by just a few candles and, somewhere between feeling uncomfortable and getting scared, you reached for his hand. He didn’t pull away. Furthermore, he stayed with you and cheered you up with stories about Old Valyria, making you forget about any childish fears.

As the two of you have grown older, you often heard people being frightened by Aemond’s disposition but you found there to be no ground for that. He’s never been rude to you nor had he lost his temper, regardless of circumstances — and the day you saw him without the eyepatch for the first time was the prime example of that. It was getting late and Aegon had too much to drink and, while running around in a drunken stupor, he cut his hand somewhere in the yard. Luckily, the wound wasn’t too deep but he was bleeding and refused to get help, against your best wishes. He was babbling that scars adorn a man — and then, in an attempt to escape you chasing him, he barged into Aemond’s chambers. You ran in merely a second after, with explanations at the ready, and were met with his younger brother standing there, looking startled. It took you a second to realize he wasn’t wearing his eyepatch.

“My scar will be easier to hide,” Aegon giggled, not recognizing the gravity of the situation.

It was the only time you had to make an effort not to slap him in the face. You thought it was mostly a secondhand embarrassment, which was part of the experience of being Aegon’s friend, but the look on Aemond’s face, hurt and humiliated, also made your heart ache.

“His scar is a reminder of his bravery and the strength of his character that he should only be proud of,” you gave Aegon a death stare. “Yours will be a reminder of your idiocy.”

It seemed to work as his smile vanished and he even muttered an apology, leaving hurriedly to call for the maester. When you turned to Aemond, he already had his eyepatch on, and you fought the urge to come and take him by the hand again. You didn’t want to bother him at such a late hour, so you opted to offer an apology, too, and leave him be.

“His behavior was unworthy. But I meant what I said,” you turned to Aemond on your way out. “And the sapphire looks very pretty,” you could swear you saw a trace of a smile on his face but you chose not to think much of it.

With every encounter, sudden or not, and every conversation, most of which were too short for your liking, you were making more room for Aemond in your heart. You should’ve known you were a lost cause when you actually told yourself — out loud, with hands grabbing the edges of your table — “I will not fall in love with him.” At that point, you already did. He always worked so hard to be seen — and you only had eyes for him all along.

You hid your true feelings well enough for anyone to take notice — but your father was no fool. He also knew better than to meddle with whatever your thinking process was. So he watched from afar for quite some time, until you started catching his curious glances on you every time you went to talk to Aemond. Predictably, after yet another feast he could not resist bringing up the topic.

“Did the royal menace have too many cups of wine again? Haven’t seen him this evening,” he adored Aegon whole-heartedly, and you suspected that their shared love for crude humor was the main reason for that. You didn’t mind.

“Wasn’t that many, actually,” you chuckled. “But he asked me and Aemond to help him to his chambers, said he wasn’t in the mood today.”

“Well, you seem to really enjoy Aemond’s company. I assume that the feeling is mutual?” he looked expressively at you.

Your face grew hot at his words. You also felt your heart break just a little.

“We are merely friends,” you told him, your smile too tense to be believable.

There was a shadow of concern in your father’s gaze, followed by a sad sigh.

“You will let me know if anything changes, though?” he mustered a smile in return and his was much brighter than yours.

“You will be the first one to know,” you promised as he came closer to bring you into a bear hug. You never spoke of it again.

Surprisingly, the only other person who seemed to have suspicions about the nature of your and Aemond’s relationship was his father, the King. You didn’t think he was aware of your existence, and even when your friendship with Aegon grew stronger and you became a regular guest at the castle, you soon realized Viserys barely paid any mind to his younger kids’ whereabouts. You would catch a glimpse of him in the halls and curtsy out of politeness but didn’t expect him to notice. You got too comfortable with his absence — so much so, that one day, when Aegon was carrying your supplies and humorously complained about the lack of art in the castle, you blithely suggested painting a portrait of the King. The last thing you expected was for said man to step out of the corner.

“I would be delighted,” he cut right to the chase. “Lady Y/N, isn’t it?”

He didn’t look scary up close, his face wrinkled and a tad too tired, but quite benevolent. He simply asked if you would be content with drawing him on the Iron Throne and you agreed, just as easily. Truth be told, you didn’t think he would follow up on his offer — being the King and all that, but he sent a carriage down to fetch you literally the next day. Viserys took the task with juvenile ardor, bombarding you with questions — what pose to take, what paint do you use, how quickly will it dry and how did you learn to draw. After he was satisfied with the answers, he changed the subject.

“My wife considers you to have a positive influence on my eldest son,” he pointed out with ill-concealed interest.

“I deeply appreciate her trust but I believe that he is capable of changing on his own,” you corrected him courtly.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he disagreed with a mischievous grin. “I’ve only heard good words about your guidance. It seems that you rein him back so easily, you would’ve made for a fine wife.”

You silently groaned at his comment.

“Your grace, I can assure you, our relationship is strictly of a friendly nature.”

“Oh, I know, I have seen you two,” he said, laughing, and when you peered at him, you saw that it wasn’t his usual uncomfortable-looking crooked grin but an actual genuine laugh.

“Shall you ever lay an eye on any other of my sons,” Viserys continued, much to your surprise. “Do not hesitate to tell me,” and his face suggested he knew more than he was letting on.

You ducked behind the canvas so he didn’t see your heated cheeks.

His suggestion lodged in your memory and even though you wouldn’t dare to actually approach the King, you held out hope that maybe he would give Aemond a similar hint. But months passed, Viserys’s condition drastically worsened, and for whatever reason, he never mended the relationship with his children. And eventually, your hope was gone.

You didn’t lie to Aemond when you told him about having power over who you love. But you failed to mention that said power has its limits — and doesn’t guarantee that your feelings won’t be one-sided. You learned that lesson the hard way when you had to face up to the reality you were in. Your love for Aemond seemed to be as infinite as the ocean — and you had to fit it in a fragile vessel of your heart. At first, you felt the waves raging at the mere glance of his, at every gesture of his goodwill or just upon hearing his voice. The storm of your feelings would splash over the rocks of your self-control but you survived the roaring torrent of love, time after time. The rough ocean grew calm over the years as you came to terms with being in love with someone who didn’t love you back.

You did choose to harbor feelings for Aemond, and you had no regrets about that. But when adulthood came with its own responsibilities that you had to focus on, all your energy was put into finding a husband. You were aware that your choice would have a major impact on your family as their stability depended on it. You approached the issue in a cold-hearted manner, prioritizing the duty above all else. Mayhaps, you were too calculated in your pursuit, and that was how you ended up accepting the courtship of a man who had nothing to give but his wealth.

When it comes to Jason, he never ceases to evoke a few feelings, too, but none of them are pleasant. His arrogance is the first thing that catches the eye — he’s wrapped in it and wears it with pride as if it’s another title of his. You often have to bite your tongue and fake a smile in response to his dismissive remarks and borderline vulgar comments. It doesn’t help that his self-esteem is inflated beyond your comprehension, and if only he could put his own face on their House's sigil, he would. You are grateful that he keeps his hands to himself but you notice him getting quite handsy with the maids, and it gives you an unsettling feeling. His behavior is so disdainful and frivolous, you have no doubts that once you are married, you will be merely an accessory to him, a pretty wife to show off to his friends without taking your opinion into account. Showing off is the one thing he does best — and each time you can’t help but compare him to Aemond who doesn’t even know how to take a compliment. You find yourself thinking about the prince every time Jason comes by, and these thoughts help you get through tiresome promenades with the lord and endure boring dinners with him.

But after your last conversation with Aemond, you force yourself to stop thinking about him altogether. That decision is remorseless but you believe it’s for the better — or at least that’s what you convince yourself to think after you run out of the garden and into your carriage, only caring about getting home as soon as possible. You pretend that nothing happened, lying to your parents that the prince was too busy and you had to return earlier than planned. And then you lock yourself in your chambers, with hand clamped over your mouth to muffle the sound of crying. A small part of you hopes that Aemond will come to you the same day and explain himself. But he doesn’t. When you don’t hear from him for another two days, you come to the conclusion that he regretted his sudden outburst. And that his words actually held no meaning.

Cutting Aemond out of your life does seem to be attainable with some time, and you perceive it as just another task, another skill you can master. But getting him out of your head seems like an impossible goal from the start. You are so used to keeping memories of him, cherishing each and every one, you can’t just erase them all at once. You try your best, you do so with ferocious persistence, but there’s always some annoying little reminder ready to surface and catch you off guard at the most inopportune moment.

It gets even harder when four days later you find yourself sitting next to Jason who is even more presumptuous than usual. At this point, you feel like your nerves are at the limit, so you can’t even find it in yourself to keep up the act. You push your food around the plate, jumping from one pointless thought to another: the tasteless meal, the barely visible crack in your cup, the revolting tone of the lord’s voice. You feel your mother staring at you, clearly displeased with your attitude, yet Jason is oblivious, too wrapped up in bragging about his winery — or whatever else he is talking about, you have no idea because you stopped paying attention about twenty minutes ago.

You think if you stay by his side any longer, you will be physically sick.

So you get up from the table — may be a bit too dramatic for your own liking — and muster out a weak excuse:

“My apologies, I am in need of fresh air.”

You leave before anyone has a chance to stop you.

It seems like an act of disobedience but there’s so much freedom in it, you feel that you can finally take a breath. And you do exactly that once you reach the balcony, several corridors away from the dining hall that felt stuffed with Jason’s ego. As you stand there, soaking up the last rays of the sun, you can’t ignore the obvious question — how is it even possible to marry someone you absolutely cannot tolerate. You never had illusions about the nature of your relationship with him but you at least hoped there would be some ground to build your future on. At yet, right now it looks like you are trying to lay a foundation in the quicksand. For a man of a noble lineage, Jason knows too little of what nobility actually is, and you have enough self-respect to not give him explanations. The prospect of marrying him makes your duty feel like a burden, and you contemplate if you should even take the risk.

You are lost in your thoughts until you hear a thin voice:

“Do you know where the sun lands?”

You turn to find your sister Alyna standing at the door, in her long white nightgown and barefoot, her eyes unnaturally large for her baby-like face. She always talks like that, too thoughtful for her young age, and sometimes she reminds you of Helaena. There you go, another connection to Aemond.

“I do not, my sweetling. Wherever that place is, it’s a well-guarded secret,” you comb her curly hair with your fingers as her curious eyes study your face.

“Maybe it doesn't want to be seen,” she deduces. “Just like you don't.”

Her ability to get straight to the point sometimes blindsides you. It’s also quite liberating to talk to someone who hasn’t yet learned the skill of pretense, and she may be the only sibling of yours with no ulterior motives or hidden agenda. Alyna tilts her head, signaling that she isn’t enjoying your touch anymore — and when you remove your hand, she says, out of the blue:

“Just like Ser Lannister doesn’t.”

You stare at her in bewilderment, and only then notice that the hallway behind her is empty. It dawns on you that Alyna’s nanny Dorea is nowhere to be found. She is only a couple of years older than you, meek and quiet, her trusting nature ever so defenseless — but she is also very pretty. Too pretty for her own good, as your mother likes to say.

You feel a wave of nausea again. This time, it’s followed by a sense of dread curdling in your stomach.

“What did he do?” your voice comes out unusually calm, in striking contrast with how you are really feeling.

“I heard him talking to Dorea outside my chambers. I wanted to join the conversation but he asked me to leave,” her brows slightly furrow. “He said there are some things I am not supposed to see.”

It may be the first thing you and Jason can agree on, you think. It is also the only thing because you certainly will never agree to marry him — and that realization frees you of any false politeness and self-restraint.

“What are those things?” Alyna naively asks, shifting from one foot to the other.

“I shall go and ask him,” you pat her on the cheek. “But you stay here, alright? I will be back before you know it.”

Usually, it would take about a minute to reach your sister’s chambers, but you cover the distance twice as fast. You are a couple of feet away when you hear muffled voices — one is demanding, the other one is scared, and both are well-known to you. You grasp the situation in no time and run to quickly open the door. When you walk in, you feel a flare-up of anger at the sight: Jason grabbed Dorea by the hips, trying to pull her closer, as she weakly protests, her palms pushing at his chest in an attempt to get away. The squeak of the door makes them turn their heads to you, and you see the distressed look on the nanny’s face.

And then their gazes fall behind your back, and Dorea gets horrified.

You easily guess the reason for that — your younger sister isn’t very good at following orders. So Alyna mumbles, standing next to you and looking at her nanny:

“I do not think she likes it.”

“Neither do I,” you throw Jason a baleful stare. “Let her go and get out.”

He removes his hands — so carelessly, it almost seems like he’s offended by your suggestion of his wrongdoing. Dorea immediately comes to your side, ashamed and distraught.

“Did he hurt you?” you inquire, helping to adjust her dress.

“Lady Y/N, I think you misinterpreted — ” Jason tries to say but you shut him off.

“I am not talking to you,” you scowl in his direction. Your face softens when you ask Dorea again: “Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head, sheepishly trying to explain:

“I didn’t do anything, I-I didn’t want to, and he said... He said he is a lord and I sh-should be flattered.”

Not only did Jason has the audacity to pull that off but he also wanted to do so at your little sister’s chambers — and you simmer at the thought.

“I believe you,” you gently stroke her shoulder. “I promise you will never see him again.”

“These are some unrealistic expectations,” Jason sneers, walking to you but his grin dies down when you look at him again.

“I know your opinion of women isn’t very high — trust me, the feeling is mutual — but you cannot seriously believe you will fool me,” you sense that now he isn’t pleased with your attitude but you don’t care. “When I told you to get out, I meant it. You are not welcome in this house.”

“That doesn’t sound like a wise decision to make if we are to be wed,” Jason contemptuously hisses.

“Then I guess the wedding is off,” you glare defiance at him. “But whoever you end up marrying, I hope she outlives you. Just so she can spit on your grave,” the last part is meant only for him to hear.

And he definitely does as his face reddens with rage. Jason roughly grabs you by the hand, and your nose fills with the stench of wine when he speaks:

“You are in no position to make demands,” he drawls. “Your family is in debt up to its ears, you little halfwit, so I suggest you choose your words very carefully.”

While he doesn’t see it, Alyna looks between you two, and, out of the corner of your eye, you notice her frowning. She doesn’t do well with conflicts as they upset her deeply, which can only trigger one reaction. Before you can say anything, a high-pitched scream shatters the room, echoing through the whole house.

Jason removes his hand within a second, looking shocked, but Alyna stands innocently with her mouth closed as if nothing happened. Your parents come to her chambers in the blink of an eye.

“What is wrong?” your mother looks at you all uncomprehendingly.

“Ser Lannister got lost,” you cooly explain. “He is already leaving.”

“And why is that?” your father glares at him with suspicion.

You want to spare Dorea the humiliation so you pause for a moment, trying to come up with an excuse. But Alyna has no understanding of what a maiden’s honor is — and she loudly proclaims:

“Ser Lannister was touching Dorea, and she didn't like it.”

No one in the room needs an explanation for that.

“You shameless scoundrel!” your father roars at Jason, who unsurprisingly isn’t as courageous as before.

“Ser, there clearly has been a mistake — ”

“It was a mistake to let you in,” your father rudely interrupts him. “You won’t set foot in my house ever again. Get out of here before I make you!”

Jason doesn’t need to be told twice and storms out of the room as your father’s gaze follows him. He stands with hands clenched into fists, his nostrils flaring with anger.

“Pompous jerk,” he mumbles under his breath. “And to think that I was willing to give him my daughter’s hand...!” his voice breaks, hoarse with ire, and you notice a vein pop on his forehead. You have never seen him so furious.

“He’s been dealt with,” you cautiously say to ease the tension. “That shouldn’t be a cause for your concern anymore.”

He turns to you, his eyes bloodshot and breathing heavy. As you step closer, you hear whistling sounds with his every breath, and his gaze gets absent. You realize that something is wrong as he opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out.

“Father, are you alright?”

He places a hand over his heart, trying to inhale, a look of fear in his eyes. The chain of events is too sudden to comprehend: his breathing begins to wheeze as he squirms, falls flat on his back and convulses.

And then your evening turns out to be way worse than you could’ve ever imagined. A week later Aegon wakes up at an ungodly hour — and he’s fueled by sole determination to put an end to everyone’s misery. Surely, he must be the only sane person in his house since all his family members seem to be oblivious to what is going on between you and Aemond. Aegon, however, can use his eyes for their intended purpose — and it is clear as day to him that you and his brother are in love with each other.

He caught on to that pretty fast, although the signs were not that obvious at first: you often smile to people purely out of politeness and Aemond may not show his true feelings even under threat of death. So Aegon kept secretly observing you two, taking note of fleeting glances and light touches, of the way you would relax in Aemond’s presence, the way he was always too eager to help you with whatever you needed, and how you two would gravitate toward each other. Both his brother and his best friend were annoyingly stubborn about making their own decisions so Aegon didn’t mean to interrupt — or at least he tried not to. But when your evident mutual pining stretched into years, Aegon started losing his patience.

In the beginning, he initiated small things, asking Aemond to come and greet you (“Oh, I just woke up! And you are already dressed for the occasion”), to deliver you his hand-written message (“Yes, it is incredibly important and I trust no one but you!” — it was his doodling of Aemond), to keep you company during the feast while Aegon stepped out for a moment (he didn’t come back). He asked him to switch places at dinner (so you and Aemond could sit together), to help find the books you wanted (“All those years of you reading should be good for something”), to pick up the portrait of his children (“They are your nephews, is it so hard?! No, I am not being dramatic!”). A couple of times he even pretended to be way more drunk than he actually was just so you and Aemond could help him to his chambers and spend some time alone in the process. None of that worked. At some point, he seriously contemplated locking you both in a room but then came to the conclusion that you would rather team up to find a way out than confess your feelings. Truly, it seemed hopeless, and Aegon thought that maybe he should give up.

But as of recently he couldn’t help but notice that something was clearly off between you and Aemond, although the younger prince refused to talk about it, and you simply stopped visiting the castle. He decided to give it a day or two, hoping that you would sort things out and refusing to even consider the opposite. A week passed and nothing changed, and Aegon cannot bear looking at Aemond’s sour face any longer. So the older prince comes up with a plan.

He is unexpectedly the first one at the breakfast table and everyone who walks in shoots him a surprised glance. They are amazed even more to see that Aegon isn’t drinking which is as rare as a miracle. Aemond comes last and he is the only one who doesn’t notice the change, too wrapped up in his thoughts. Another thing that goes unnoticed is the gleam of sadness on their mother’s face.

Five minutes in, Aegon clears his throat to attract everyone’s attention.

“So, I was thinking,” he drawls loudly.

“That does not sound good,” Otto mutters, unimpressed, which Aegon chooses to ignore and continues.

“Lady Baratheon’s poor taste in men shouldn’t be an obstacle in our way of reaching the grand goal.”

“Which is...?” Otto asks while the younger prince doesn’t move an ear.

“To find a lady worthy of my brother, of course!” Aegon tries his best to say it with a straight face.

Aemond spares him a glance:

“I didn’t know you took much interest in that.”

“I always have your best interest in mind,” Aegon slaps him on the shoulder earning a disgruntled hum in return.

“I was just thinking if we should go over the list of requirements once more,” Aegon suggests.

“I don’t have a li— ”

“Of course you do!” another slap. “At the very least, she should be of a noble kind. Am I right?”

“Sure,” Aemond absentmindedly agrees.

“And we are definitely looking for someone who is keen on reading.”

“Yes,” Aemond rolls his eye and looks at his plate, already showing no interest in the conversation. That is exactly what Aegon wants — and he starts talking a bit faster:

“Someone with a flexible nature...”

“U-hmm.”

“And with a kind heart...”

“Yes.”

“A great listener...”

“Uh-huh”

“Who will attend to your every need...”

“Sure.”

“And may even be of indescribable beauty...”

“Hmm.”

“...And you will still be miserable because you love Y/N.”

“Yes,” Aemond says without thinking — and then it’s too late to take his word back because everyone’s eyes are already on him. When he turns to his brother, Aegon has a shit-eating grin on his face:

“You are welcome.”

Alicent looks genuinely confused:

“Aemond, but why haven’t you mentioned it?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question for years,” Aegon snorts, and Otto raises an eyebrow.

“Years?” his grandsire questions.

“I almost gave up on him,” Aegon keeps talking while his brother just sits there, eye glued to the table.

“She was the one who drew the portrait of our father,” Helaena cheerfully speaks up. “And he kept it.”

“He did,” Alicent nods and gives her son a sympathetic look. “Aemond, she is an admirable young lady. No one would have spoken against it if only you — ”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Aemond cuts her off, averting his gaze. “She is to be betrothed to Ser Lannister, and I do not intend to ruin her plans.”

“You cannot be serious!” Aegon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Shall you find the courage to propose, she will immediately reject him!”

“She already did,” Alicent avows, to everyone’s surprise.

Aemond looks up at his mother in an instant:

“Did she?” he asks in disbelief.

Alicent gives him a wan smile:

“A week ago, yes. It is rumored that his behavior... left much to be desired,” she explains half-heartedly. Her face, however, doesn’t show any signs of happiness.

“That seemed like a reason to celebrate but it doesn’t sound like it,” Aegon looks at her questioningly, and Aemond tenses up in anticipation.

Alicent dithers as her face falls, eyes getting woeful and voice feeble:

“Her father fell ill that very day. Some say he got too upset with the whole situation, and I...,” she takes a deep breath. “I received a message this morning. He passed away three nights ago.”

Everyone falls silent, their faces showing shock that is quickly replaced by sadness.

“Seven hells,” Aegon mumbles.

Aemond doesn’t utter a word, feeling his heart sinking. He knows that you’ve always been your father’s daughter, and the prince cannot even begin to imagine how heartbroken you are right now. He should’ve been there for you, he thinks, full with remorse and guilt.

“You should go,” Aegon turns to him, not a hint of jesting in his voice. “We may give her some time to grieve, but I will gladly take Sunfyre out for — ”

“Why would you need to?” Aemond gives him a puzzled look. “I can take Vhagar.”

Aegon emits a long-drawn groan and says to no one in particular:

“And to think he is the smartest one? I am having doubts”, he then glances at Aemond with reproach. “I am sure her mourning family will not at all get terrified at the sight of your monstrous dragon.”

His brother mulls over the idea.

“It is not safe to fly drunk.”

“I will be stone-cold sober.”

“You believe both of us will fit into the saddle?”

“We will fit just fine, can you stop with your excuses?! I am being reasonable for once, and you are making me regret it!”

“I don’t think it would be wise,” Otto cuts in their bickering, and both princes turn to him.

He holds pause with a blank stare before a sly smile crawls out on his face.

“I would rather recommend the prince goes right away. We don’t want her family to make any rushed decisions,” their grandsire advises, earning a sign of relief from Aegon, who jumps out of his chair.

“We’re leaving this very second! Do I need to drag you out of your —”

“You do not,” Aemond stands up in a hurry — and then Aegon still grabs him by the hand, pulling his brother out of the room.

Alicent gazes fondly after them.

“It was very kind of you,” she says to her father without looking at him.

Otto thinks that, with how well you’ve been handling Aegon, marrying you to Aemond would be a blessing. Because gods know, he is fed up with them both.

On their way to the Dragonpit Aegon can barely hold back his excitement but his brother’s mind is clearly elsewhere. The older prince lets Aemond take time to gather his thoughts and doesn’t bother him along the road. But once they reach the cavernous building and both pop out of the carriage, Aegon decides some encouragement would be fitting.

“Have I ever told you how I met Y/N? That day at the feast?”

Mentioning your name always works wonders — Aemond turns to him in a flash.

“I was jesting around and she was the only one who didn’t laugh at my jokes. At all. Just stood there with a straight face and ignored me. Can you imagine?”

Aemond does know the unimpressed look you usually give Aegon, and it causes him to let out a dull chuckle.

“Took me good five minutes to even make her smile — and, frankly, my success didn’t last very long. Pretty sure half of my jokes landed flat. But you know what was the real issue?” Aegon’s smile is melancholic. “Most of the evening she kept asking about you.”

Aemond looks like the very epitome of heartbreak. Not only was he blind, he was also an idiot, he realizes.

“I know, I should’ve told you sooner,” Aegon gives him an apologetic look.

Aemond shakes his head:

“I should’ve told her sooner.”

“Well, it’s only been what, seven years?” his brother chortles weakly while the dragon keepers finally bring out Sunfyre, and the dragon casts Aemond a curious look.

Aegon approaches the beast first, running his hand over the scales that shine bright in the sunlight, and the prince can never get tired of that blinding beauty. But his excitement mingles with another feeling.

“I value Y/N’s friendship, you do know that, right?” he squints at Aemond, who simply nods.

“This is my way of saying that if you mess it up, I might��push you off my dragon on our way back,” Aegon casually remarks, grabbing the rope to climb up.

Aemond falters with answering, reluctant to admit:

“There is a chance that I already messed it up.”

Aegon looks down at his brother and gives him a stern glare:

“Unmess it, then.” You don’t remember much from the past week, your days and nights blurred into one another. The only thing that stays on your mind is your father’s face — you can still see it so clearly, with his gentle gaze and his every wrinkle, the corners of his mouth always upturn like he’s a second away from smiling. You also remember how that face contorted in pain, how his body stiffened, and that scene plays on repeat in your head, over and over. And then there are only pieces of memories, torn and mushed together, and you can’t find it in yourself to sort them out.

You spend all your time at your father’s bedside, with a string of never-ending prayers falling from your lips. They don’t seem to help — and nor do the maester’s efforts, and you lose hope with each passing minute. As hours fly, you get a very bad feeling that soon turns into blood-curdling awareness. Deep down, you know what’s to come, and you hate yourself for it. You think you will never stop crying but by the time the maester declares your father’s demise, there are no tears left. Death has many faces — none of them looked at you with mercy.

Your mother wails, overtaken by despair, your sisters don’t leave her side, eyes puffy and full of sorrow, and you are sure that you look the same — yet you feel completely empty. There’s a cleft in a place of your heart, and all the feelings seemed to flow out, leaving you drained and emotionless, but it brings you no relief. Everything in your house reminds you of your father, his presence tangible in the rooms and in the halls, his image still as clear as a reflection in the mirror. The memories of him crawl out of every corner, seep from under the doors, fall on you along with the dust you brush off his things that you can’t make yourself take away.

Stacks of hardcovers with bookmarks in the middle.

The unfinished cup of wine.

The long grey coat hanging on the back of his chair.

Piles of letters left unanswered.

Parchments, ink and a quill that he will never use again.

All the pieces of him that you can’t look at, don’t want to look at — yet it’s all you see, and there’s is no hiding from it. You feel trapped in your own house, and you wait for the walls to collapse so maybe under the weight of them you will find some peace. You are restless in your grief, you are drowning in it.

The day of the funeral leaves a blank space in your memory, void of colors and sounds apart from everyone’s crying. The ceremony is rushed and there is only a handful of family members since your mother couldn’t bring herself to tell everyone yet. You don’t blame her for it — you think she’s too afraid to say it out loud, afraid that speaking the words will make them real, and she’ll have to finally accept his death. You have no problem with acceptance, you just don’t know how to move on. How to stay strong when you are shattered beyond repair.

Your home now feels like a coffin but everyone expects you to be in charge, so you force yourself to. Merely an hour after his body was buried in soil wet with rain, you find yourself sorting out his papers. You look through his diary, his scribbled notes, the calculations he made in attempts to stabilize the emptying coffers. He’s always been the responsible one, keeping count and cutting costs, planning for the future — and yet he’s been robbed of it. None of it makes sense to you and your father isn’t there to teach you. You clench your teeth in frustration, and it makes you want to put your head through a wall.

You push through the second and the third day. You give orders to the maids, who walk on eggshells around the house, sharing concerned looks. You take it upon yourself to bring meals to your mother and all but spoon-feed her so she at least will have some energy to get up from bed. She doesn’t — while you want nothing more than to get away. You’ve had a fair share of responsibilities your entire life but now there’s an abundance of them and it puts you in a chokehold, and you are all alone in your discomfort which brings you no respite at all.

On the fourth day you wake up feeling like the walls are closing in and you can’t breathe, the need to leave anchoring in your lungs. You don’t want to waste another second as you put on a coat right on top of your nightgown, frightened that each moment of stalling might lead to you being dragged into the same routine again. But the house is asleep, and the sun has barely risen when you tiptoe out of your room. You only wake up one maid, telling her you’ll go for a walk so your sudden absence doesn’t come off as a deed of cruelty.

You step outside and close the door behind your back, taking a slow, deep inhale. And just when the guilt is about to sneak up on you — you dart off into the morning fog.

The air is fresh and cooling against your skin as you run away from your house and through the trees, not minding the branches or the damp ground. You breathe the crisp air in, and it makes your body feel weightless, and you speed up, leaving no chance for the responsibilities to catch up with you. Patches of the forest, splattered with all shades of green, bushes and weeds that graze your knees — you pay them no attention as your feet carry you further away, up the hill, to the most remote place you can think of. You don’t know how long it takes for you to reach the narrow wooden bridge and cross the remaining field that ends with a cliff, but when you finally do, your feet ache and your lungs burn and you gulp air.

The sky is draped by the light layer of clouds but the blue of it stretches as far as the eyes can reach, and the movement of the sea can be seen in the distance. The morning is still with silence and it welcomes you, the fresh breeze encircling your body. The feeling of it isn’t gentle as the wind instantly bites every part of your skin that is covered with sweat. You should’ve worn thicker layers, you shouldn’t have rushed, maybe you shouldn’t have come at all — but you are too tired of thinking, of restrictions. Of yourself.

You let the cold seep in and pierce you to the marrow as you watch the waves meeting the horizon. You then close your eyes, hands coming up to cross over your chest. It’s an oblivion of some sort — with no demands and no tears, it’s only you and the wind. The empty space around you matches the emptiness in your heart, and the beating of it sounds like a hollow note. You feel nothing, you feel numb, but it’s so tranquilizing, you can’t help but give in, just to stop brooding for a few minutes — or maybe hours, you care not.

In this state of torpor, you almost miss the sound of wings cutting through the air. When you open your eyes, you only catch a shadow hidden by the clouds and a glimpse of gold but it’s still enough to guess. Sunfyre. At any other time, Aegon’s visit would’ve brought you joy yet right now it feels useless against the doldrums of your soul. At least your sisters will be happy to see him, you think, not having the slightest desire to move from your spot. The wind is now howling, the grass is rustling — and then the small measured sound joins the melody of nature. It sounds like someone’s approaching but their step is nearly noiseless. There is only one person who walks like that, and the realization brings you out of your trance.

You turn to Aemond before he can say anything, your gaze meeting his, and he immediately stands still. The distance between you is just like before, and you only now grasp the amount of time that has passed. You haven’t seen him in two weeks — and so much has changed, and nothing is the same — but when you look at Aemond, at every painfully familiar feature of his, your heart twinges. You really, really missed him, and it’s the first thing you feel in fourteen days.

He notes your lack of protest and hesitantly comes toward you, only pausing when he’s at arm’s length. His cheeks are flushed pink from the wind, the collar of his coat raised to the angles of his jaw.

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” his tone is filled with sadness. “Even if you despise me.”

“I could never,” you mirror the words he once said but your voice comes out too quiet and blank.

There is only compassion and understanding in his gaze, and you are hungry for both, so you don’t break eye contact. He doesn’t, either, and reaches out a hand — it moves to your shoulder as he says:

“Y/N, I am so sor— ” when his fingers come in contact with you, Aemond suddenly stops talking, and his eye darts to your arm. There is a flicker of confusion on his face that quickly turns into worry.

“You are freezing,” he breathes out, and his worry grows stronger in an instant.

Aemond cautiously guides his hand up and down your arm — you see the movement, clear as day, but you don't feel it at all.

“I didn’t really notice,” you mumble.

You want to tell him that staying with your family drove you up the wall, that you lost sleep and the nights bring you no rest, that you accept your emptiness and loathe it. But the wind is still howling, your mind is clouded with exhaustion, and you are afraid that Aemond will get angry at you.

Instead, he pleads:

“Let me take you home,” he continues caressing your arm. “Please, let’s go back. You can’t — ”

“I don’t want to,” you retort, and all the unsaid words bubble up and pour out. “I could not stay there any longer, it was all too much, I needed a break, I — it just made me feel like...,” your skin finally absorbs the heat of his touch which sends goosebumps down your spine, and you get short of breath.

“Like I wanted to disappear,” you say, voice barely above the whisper.

Your confession hangs in the air, and you catch that same unreadable emotion in his eye. Three heartbeats later Aemond removes his hand, and the absence of it threatens to strip you of your short-lived comfort. But then he unbuttons his coat — and opens his arms to you:

“Disappear here.”

His words break the ice of your numbness, filling your lungs with air — so much of it, you almost feel light-headed. You are cold, and you are lonely, and you missed him. In a heartbeat you fall into his embrace, with the same force one may plummet down from a cliff — only instead of waves, you are welcomed by his warmth, and you instantly sink into it.

Aemond takes you under his coat, gently putting it over your body, and then holds you tight. You instinctively wrap your hands around his waist, nestling against his chest. Your cold palms glide over his shirt, and Aemond involuntarily shivers but doesn’t budge. He starts slowly stroking your back, and you soak up the calmness that radiates off him. His touch is soothing, quieting your mind, and you lose yourself in the serenity that it brings.

You are both lost in time, standing quietly, as your body gradually warms up and relaxes. You listen to his heartbeat, the rhythm of it even and lulling, and it makes you feel at peace.

When Aemond looks at you clinging to him, his heart swells with so much love, he can barely contain it.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It all happened so fast, I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t. Everyone expects something from me now and I... I wish he was still here.”

“Your father was the kindest man I have ever met,” his voice is laced with sorrow. “I am so sorry you had to go through that. I should’ve come sooner but I only found out this morning.”

“And you came,” you remark delicately. “It’s all that matters.”

You snuggle up to him even more and relish in the feeling of his body close to yours, finding solace in it. You let yourself forget about everything else in the world, comforted by his kindness as he shields you from all the worries and the troubles of life.

“Whose idea was it to take Sunfyre?”

“Aegon’s,” the prince chuckles. “He was very persuasive, I’ll give him that.”

“Is he waiting for you on the hill?”

“He went to see your family, offer his condolences. And maybe complain a little since he didn’t particularly enjoy the flight.”

You try imagining the two of them squeezed into the saddle, and you know Aemond must’ve teased Aegon all the way to your house. You feel the tickling of laughter in your throat but it doesn’t go higher and then dissolves. Still, it’s a start.

“How much do you regret agreeing to that?”

Aemond pauses — and then his low voice vines through your hair:

“Right now, I don’t.”

You feel his heart skipping a beat, and for some reason, his pulse speeds up. You wonder what the reason may be, and your cheeks heat up when you are struck by the answer you can’t dare to hope for.

Or maybe you can.

“I’m not marrying Ser Lannister,” you blurt out, your own chest vibrating with anxiety.

Aemond pulls away just a bit, only to have a look at you.

“I heard about that,” he reveals. “He was never a good — ”

“You are under no obligation to say anything or do anything,” you cut him off, nervously lowering your gaze, because if he tries to pity you it will break your heart all over again, and you cannot bear it right now. “I just... I knew I would never love him. So I believe it’s only for the best.”

You keep babbling, but he hardly listens, his eye fixed on your face. Aemond isn’t sure you fully allow yourself to be this vulnerable with anyone. But it’s his favorite side of yours — with your bashful sincerity, your overly complicated explanations that he understands with ease, your habit of talking with hands, with your searching gaze and your eyes bright with life. It’s all the little things that he adores.

It’s what makes his feelings finally spill over.

“...But we don’t need to talk about it, you don’t need to say anyth— ”

His touch is so gentle, you barely register when Aemond puts a finger beneath your chin, lifting your head to look at him — and then suddenly his lips cover yours. His mouth is even warmer than his hands, and he gives you a couple of seconds to make sure you won’t pull away. And then he starts kissing you, slowly and steadily, in a way you could only dream of.

Aemond gently cradles your head, his lips are soft and ardent — they meld with yours, and time freezes and sounds fade as you melt into the kiss, into his touch. And at that moment nothing else matters. You are wrapped in his tenderness, the ocean of feelings flooding your body, and he enters your heart like he owns it. He always did.

Aemond is the one to break the kiss, sensing that you are gasping for air. You slowly open your eyes in a daze, as if you’ve been awoken from a dream.

“I will take care of everything,” he affirms, his mouth still only a couple of inches away. “You do not have to worry about a thing.”

One of your hands moved on top of his chest, and you feel that his heart rate is back to normal. The pounding of it pulls you back to reality.

“You mean that?” you whisper. “Aemond, I don’t have that much to offer.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face and leaves a trail of light kisses up to your temple.

“You have everything a man can wish for,” he reassures you, and his gaze finds yours again. “Everything I have ever wished for.”

The prince takes your face between his hands, and his thumbs follow the contours of your cheeks.

“Even in a room full of art I can only look at you,” Aemond murmurs, his words are flamelike and go straight to your heart, making it flutter.

Only now you notice that the sun emerged from the clouds, and the golden light illuminates everything around you. You bask in it as well as in Aemond’s affection — and he makes you feel seen, safe, cared for. Loved.

“That was very poetic of you,” you tilt your head and lean closer to him.

“I agree with poets on one thing — we have no control over who we love. But I have never regretted loving you,” he can’t stop himself from placing a kiss on the edge of your mouth. “And if I had to choose, it would still be you.”

When you meet his gaze, this time you read it with ease — and you are sure it’s a mere reflection of your own. An overwhelming feeling sweeps over and spreads through you. But the ocean is calm, and you are not cold anymore — and Aemond does love you, after all.

You feel your mouth quirk in a smile, genuine and a very happy one. Aemond presses his forehead to yours and promises:

“From now on, you will always be my first choice,” and then you see him trailing for your lips.

And you believe him.

the taglist: @greenowlfactif, @mischiefmanaged71, @pasta-rask, @imjustboredso, @iiamthehybrid, @m00n5t0n3, @crispmarshmallow, @bellaisasleep, @aemondssuit, @ipadkidsworld, @itisjustwhatitis, @maximizedrhythms, @fckwritersblock, @hiatuswhore, @fantasyreader130, @bibli0thecary, @teapartydreams, @kyuupidwrites, @thelittleswanao3 (I couldn't tag some of you for whatever reason, so I'll just message you guys)

yep, it's me again!

the title is someone’s quote (I have no idea where it's from, pls help a girl out)

“Disappear here” are Jonathan Carroll’s words that have been engraved in my memory for years and they just popped into my head while I was writing in a haste and only then I realized wait, technically it's a quote, you can’t do that?! but guess what, I already did! I also tried to rephrase these two words but it looked weird so I’m letting you know that I suck as a writer

the bit when she babbles and he looks smitten with her — I couldn't help but think of that scene from “North and South” (it screams Aemond to me!)

I imagined the cliff to look like this 🍃

I originally planned to turn the romance down just a notch ’cause I already have 4 sappy fics and I wanted this one to be more “realistic” but… oh well, me and romance go hand in hand, apparently.

you will see this version of Aegon more often because I enjoyed it immensely!

what do you guys think? I truly hope that wasn’t disappointing! comments and opinions are VERY welcome! 🥺 ✨ my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

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