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pseudowho · 1 month

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The Rebounds

When your boyfriend dumps you, Maki and Yuuta know exactly how to cheer you up.

I don't normally write "aged up" fics but...here we go.

Warnings: 18+, soft!Dom Yuuta and less-soft!Dom Maki (bit of a drill sergeant really), lingerie, sex toys, threesome, double-penetration, alcohol use

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"You're...breaking up with me? After everything I've done for you-- don't you dare hang up-- bastard!"

You flung your phone across the sofa, burying your face in your hands, barely suppressing a tearful, infuriated scream. He was shit, but he was yours, and he had the audacity to toss you out like yesterday's newspaper--

A knock on your door. Not caring who it was, you snapped, shouting.

"Fuck off! I'm not home."

"Hey! Lose the attitude." Your door swept open with a bang, rattling against the wall. Maki stepped in without apology, dropping a bagged Cursed weapon on your doorstep, "You're the one who asked me to bring this--...what's up with you? Are you crying?"

Yuuta peered in behind Maki, dark hangdog eyes spotting you, concerned; "Crying? Hey, what's happened?" Yuuta nudged past Maki, stepping over to you, and grasping your shoulders, soft calloused hands surprisingly strong against your skin.

Arms around your knees, you hid your face, ashamed for being such a blotchy mess; "He dumped me. Just...called me up, and dumped me. Like I'm trash."

Yuuta's face crumpled for you, the briefest flash of anger, overlaid with sympathy. He opened his mouth to speak, Maki interrupting.

"Finally. That piece of shit was never worth yo--"

"Maki," chided Yuuta, still stroking your shoulders, gripping and possessive. Maki tsked, arms folded, turning aside, hovering between you and the door.

"...you shouldn't waste your time worrying about that guy," Maki offered, voice tight but softer now. She was silent for a moment, and Yuuta looked to her, silent agreement passing between them.

"She's right," offered Yuuta, bright, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, cupping your tearstained face. Yuuta looked to Maki again, a glint of something odd in his eyes. Maki nodded, barely perceptible.

"...in fact, you should come with us. We're going out! Dinner, drinks...we'll show you a good time instead, yeah?"

You prickled with shame again, eyes squeezing shut as Yuuta shushed you, pulling you to your feet, pushing you to Maki who began to bustle you to your bedroom while you argued weakly; "--...no, guys, I-- I'm not third wheeling, I don't need you to take me with you out of pity-- I'm interrupting--"

They spoke over you, Yuuta still holding you by the shoulders from behind while Maki perused your wardrobe.

"--'third wheeling', psh--"

"How could we ever pity our lovely friend--'

"--not interrupting anything, what do you think this is, huh--"

"Just some drinks, some dinner, maybe a bit of shopping..."

Maki held up a little red dress, looking to Yuuta; Yuuta nodded. Maki flicked her hand at Yuuta, banishing him from the room, before stepping to you, brandishing the dress.

"Get changed," she ordered, "or I'll do it for you."

You pouted, grumbling, beginning to strip while Maki rummaged for shoes. She pulled out some trainers, comparing them to your dress. Her eyes narrowed at you, half dressed, turning aside again and holding the shoes out to you.

"These. You'll look...cute." You scoffed, brushing your hair, making yourself presentable.

When you stepped out, Yuuta looked you up and down approvingly, catching Maki's eye again with that same unreadable glint; "His loss! You're our pretty girl for today then, huh?" You blushed, churlish that their attempts to cheer you up were working.

And treat you well they did, knowing you as only old friends do. Within a few hours, you found yourself smiling again, laughing alongside them as you ate, all of you handsy and affectionate; Maki, feeding you as Yuuta took photos of you both, eyes soft and full of love; Yuuta, reaching over to whirl little circles on your inner wrist; both of them, leaning in close, pressing against you as you broke down, sobbing quietly into your soju.

You hiccuped, the floral alcohol cut with your salty tears; "I just...I just don't understand why...why I'm not good enough..." you gulped, knocking back another shot.

"You're beautiful," Maki snipped, bluntly refilling all of your glasses, "and he couldn't see that." She slipped an arm round you from behind, her fine slim fingers coiling over your hip, stroking you.

"But we can," Yuuta cooed, "and we'll treat you like you deserve to be treated...because you are beautiful." His fingers continued to draw soft circles on your palm, your inner wrist, heading up your soft sensitive forearm. You shivered, the alcohol making your nerves electric, receptive. Yuuta smiled at your shiver, face leaned on one palm, eyes dark as they trailed, intoxicated, down your body. He sighed.

"I don't think she believes us, you know," he said to Maki. Maki huffed, her fingertips kneading at your hip as she tugged you closer. She took another shot, refilling her glass and pressing it to your lips.

"Open up," she commanded, smirking as you swallowed, some of the sweet wine dripping down your neck and breasts in your haste. You felt Maki's breath catch as her eyes followed the droplet.

"You're all sticky," Maki chastised, her finger grazing the drop away, pressing into your mouth so you could suck it off her finger, "...messy girl." Your skin burned, feeling like forbidden fruit beneath their touch. Yuuta watched you suck the soju off Maki's finger, the strange glimmer in his eyes growing deeper as his head dipped downwards, fringe flicking forward over his eyes.

"You're right," he hummed to Maki, whirling his glass, eyes still dipped and flinty as he took in Maki's arm around your waist; the way she pressed a kiss to your temple; how you slumped against her, supple and seeking warmth; how your fingers twitched as his drew hearts over your inner arm.

"She is messy," Yuuta continued, finishing the last of the soju, "we should...get her cleaned up, huh?" Maki smiled into your hair, humming, laughing as you trembled under her warm, botanical breath.

"Guys," you hummed, swoopy and warm with the drink, "you don't have to do this--"

"Have to?" Yuuta laughed, pulling you forwards by the forearm so you were nose to nose with him for a moment, close enough that his lips brushed against yours as he spoke, farqq enough to almost be an accident; "We don't have to...we want to. You deserve the best date. Right, Maki?"

Maki was already up, a smile at the corner of her mouth as she helped you to stand. You blushed, sputtering.

"--a date, I--guys--"

"Friends can go on dates," Maki insisted, her arm round your waist as Yuuta loped beside you, bopping his forehead to your shoulder, "but while we're here...there's something I'd like to get. Come on."

You were steered into a lingerie shop, suddenly surrounded by fragrant musk, silk, lace and erotica. You laughed as Yuuta gripped you by the waist, twirling you in the low lights. He smiled, pulling you into his deceptive softness, penetrating your defences. He dipped you back to some unheard tune, leaning down to bracket you, whispering;

"See anything you like?"

With his gaze fixed firmly on you, your eyes caressed the bras, chemises, the beautiful indulgent treasures. Yuuta saw your eyes linger on a set, and nosed your jaw;

"That one, huh? You're so pretty anyway, and that one would be..." Yuuta left the sentence unfinished, and you became acutely aware of his closeness, body flush to his lean strength, something so dangerously hypnotic about him. You felt undressed, already, in his arms.

Maki had reappeared, a subtle paper bag in her hands. She communicated wordlessly with Yuuta, again, following your gaze. Rifling through the rails, and casting an appraising eye over your body, Maki settled and headed to pay. Opening your mouth to argue again, your breath caught as Yuuta pulled you up from your dip, the drink and attention rushing to your head once more, feeling so loved, so wanted. Maki cast her eyes up and down you both, slow, predatory.

"Home?" So much unspoken promise, from just one word. Maki's eyes lapped at your body, enough to make you tremble. Yuuta and Maki held you between them. You could hardly remember the journey home, their touches edging you somewhere between uncertainty and euphoria. You accepted it without question, as you had always accepted their love.

Stepping into your apartment, Yuuta closed the door behind you. He stayed with his back to you, fingers tapping against the door handle. You had leaned, head tipped back against the wall, sighing, softly drunk, heartbeat between your legs. You tipped your head to look at Yuuta questioningly as he spoke, his voice quiet and measured.

"Hey, Maki...go and get set up, yeah? I don't...I don't think I can wait any longer," he finished weakly, laughter on his breath. Maki smirked, her burns like a bed of rose petals in the low light.

"Alright." Maki leaned in, pressing lingering kisses to your forehead, your nose, hovering just so above your lips. Her fingertips brushed your jaw, and she whispered; "Yuuta's gonna get you warmed up, okay baby?"

Maki walked away, taking your breath with her. Yuuta filled the gap, and you burned alive under their attentions, his hands pressed to the wall either side of you, trapping you in his gravity.

"What do you deserve, pretty girl?" He whispered, shaky with restraint. All the wrong answers tried to claw their way out of you; Yuuta's eyes beseeched you to choose better for yourself, his lips achingly close to yours. You bit, to Yuuta's satisfied smile, choosing better.

"Y-you," you stuttered, meltingly desperate, "I deserve you."

Yuuta responded with a kiss; his self-restraint snapped, and he overlaid your body with his against the wall, melding to you as his hands tangled into your hair and his mouth to yours. You could taste the soju on his tongue, and you moaned softly, opening your mouth to him. Yuuta responded in kind, tilting your head to the side, his palms cupping your face, lips wet and trembling.

You could feel the breaths caught in his chest as his tongue stroked against yours, fingernails scratching at your scalp, hot and needy. Yuuta shunted his knee forward between your thighs, pinning you against the wall, one hand dropping to your hip, brushing under the hem of your dress to yank you down, pussy flush against his wiry thigh.

Pulling back, panting, Yuuta squeezed your cheeks in one hand, forcing your lips into a pout. Gritting his teeth, growling softly through them, he gave your face a gentle affectionate shake; "You taste like peaches, cutie, I always knew you would."

You squirmed, rutting yourself on his thigh, eager for relief in your aching core. Still squeezing your cheeks, giving them one soft slap, Yuuta tipped your face so you looked down at his thigh, his cock straining against the material of his trousers.

"I'll be honest...we've been waiting for you to break up with him. Even better that he ditched you...should we send him some pictures? Huh?" Reaching into his pocket, pulling out his phone, Yuuta turned your squished pouting face to the camera, and, pressing his lips hard to your puffy cheek, took a photo.

Yuuta groaned to feel you still humping him, desperate for friction. His hands dropped to your hips, rutting you against his thigh. He bit his lip, breathless, shaky as he tucked up your dress, watching your wet underwear barely covering your pussy, sliding against him. He laughed, soft, barely holding himself back from lifting you up and taking you against the wall.

"Oh baby," he teased, "not like this-- you deserve better--...and Maki's feeling left out, right?"

You jumped to hear Maki's voice to your right, head tipping as Yuuta lapped lazily at the fabric covering your nipples, spit seeping through, warm and wet; "I dunno...you two are putting on quite a show. Come to the bedroom. Date's not over yet." Yuuta moaned against your breasts, feeling their plush heave against his lips, his cock jumping against his thigh.

"Come on, peaches," he whispered, breath cooling your spit-wet breasts, "You've got a pretty outfit...it's Maki's turn with you...and I wanna watch."

Yuuta drew back from you, panting, gripping his cock through the light fabric of his trousers. If Maki hadn't stepped in, lifting you, wrapping your legs round her waist, your trembling knees would surely have given out. Nuzzling her nose against your mouth, stealing light kisses along the way, Maki chuckled, smirking; "You taste like Yuuta." You bit your lip, suddenly shy, nuzzling your face into Maki's neck as she laid you down softly onto your bed.

The room flickered with dulcet candlelight, smelling something fruity and familiar. Maki stood over you, taking a sip from a bottle as Yuuta crept in behind you, settling in an armchair beside the bed, still pawing at his aching cock.

"Wait-- Maki-- don't swallow...you should let her have a taste," Yuuta pressed, watching with hungry, hooded eyes as Maki hummed, smiling down at you. She leaned over you, one knee pressed between your thighs, one arm over your head, and pressed her pursed lips to yours. Kissing deeply and forming a seal, Maki slowly eked her tongue between your lips, drops of warm peach soju moving from her mouth to yours.

The body-warmed fumes rose up your nose, filling you with sweet botanical delight, bringing you back to the hazy drunk warmth you had felt during dinner, as Yuuta had stroked your arm so sweetly. Maki deepened the kiss, thrumming with excitement as she heard Yuuta unbuckle and unzip himself, letting his cock fall, hard and twitching, onto his belly.

Maki pulled your dress down your shoulders, trapping your arms for a moment, until they released, the red fabric sliding all the way down and pooling over your lap. Maki grasped your underwear with it, shooting Yuuta a wicked look; "Don't look-- she isn't dressed yet."

Yuuta laughed, one hand lazily pumping his cock, and he brought the other up over his eyes, still grinning. You couldn't take your eyes off him, stroking himself to Maki kissing peaches into you, masturbating to her rolling your clothes down off your body. Yuuta listened instead, his hearing piqued to the soft fabric rustle of your dress hitting the floor, and Maki lifting the dusty-rose chemise out of the bag.

"Taste like a peach...look like a peach," she pressed, brushing the chemise over your bare breasts, mouth watering at how your nipples pebbled and peaked under the sheer chiffon. Maki leaned into you again, ghosting her lips over yours; she caught your eyes, dragging your gaze over to Yuuta, biting her lip-- "If you think Yuuta's cock looks pretty now...wait until you're all dressed up."

"Maki!" Yuuta whined, his cock pre-cum-wet and twitching in his fist, his eyes still covered, "Stop. You'll make me blush." He paused, his hand and breath hesitant, "Is she...is she watching me?"

Maki grinned, wicked; "mmmmmhm." Yuuta groaned, long and anguished, squeezing the base of his cock again to stop himself from spilling over his lap, squeezing the hand over his eyes. Maki only laughed, standing back, pacing like an animal as you slipped into the pink chemise, split at the front, lighter than blossoms.

"Oh, Yuuta...you should see her," Maki praised, and you blushed, feeling so much more desirable under the gaze of a beautiful woman over a man, "she really is lovely." Yuuta had slowly dropped his hand from his eyes, hand cupping his cockhead with a shiver as he drank you in, supple and glassy-eyed beneath Maki, who rolled two pink rubber buds between her fingers.

Taking another sip of her soju, leaning in to kiss you again, you felt Maki graze something over the barely-there fabric covering your nipples. Suddenly so thirsty, lifting your hands to tangle in her short hair, Maki moaned into you as you kissed harder, drinking from her, desperate for more. Finally, you spoke.

"Maki, I-- don't leave me like this, give me something," you whimpered, your clit throbbing and needy, knowing you needed the barest of touches to bring you to completion.

"Don't be a brat," Maki chastised, making you blush and bite your lip up at her, "Or can you not wait? Do you want me to stop? Yuuta, shall I stop?"

"No!" You cried, you and Yuuta simultaneous in your desperation, him edging his weeping cock so fervently, you thrumming with the need for release, the day's little touches and promises and drink, all rolling into the slowest orgasm you had ever had built.

Maki smirked, and abruptly clamped two rubbery clips over your nipples, pinched hard beneath rosy fabric. You squealed, and cried out, bucking as she switched them on, sharp vibrations shooting through your nipples, tugging like a fishing line, making your clit throb with need.

Maki watched you writhe, slowly stripping her own clothes, hesitating for a moment as her burns became bare in the candlelight. Yuuta felt her, shaking with closely controlled restraint as he looked at her and you, eyes sticky-sweet.

"--my two beautiful girls, huh?" He grinned, circling his cockhead with a wet thumb, "...how did I...ever get so lucky?" Maki blushed, biting her lip as she finished stripping, looking down at you, mewling and squirming, in awe. She knelt down over you, smiling, a long, vibrating dildo at her fingertips.

"Yeah...you're right. We struck gold." Maki watched you, captivated as you babbled, whimpering, begging, tears streaming down into your hair. Yuuta felt a drip of sweat run down his chest, unbuttoning himself, letting his top sit open, releasing his cock with clenched knuckles, eager not to spend himself until he could be inside you.

Maki squeezed lube onto your glistening pussy, making you jolt and shiver with the sudden cold, until Maki shushed you again, kissing you firmly; "Be patient...I'll warm it up." You and Yuuta moaned, both twisting in divine bliss as Maki slipped her slim fingers between your folds, finding your clit with the expert precision of another woman, circling it with two delicate fingers, alternating pressure, toying with you.

"Inside," Yuuta barked, authoritative in his desperation, huffing, his cock twitching against his belly, "--tell me-- tell me how she feels, Maki." Maki obliged, her fingers dipping lower, grazing over your entrance, covering you with cum-slick lube.

"...silky..." Maki described, to Yuuta's chipped groans, "...and..." Maki hit your knees with her own, spreading your thighs wide, baring you to her, and she plunged two fingers deep inside your fluttering cunt, gasping with delight, "...tight...like wet velvet."

Yuuta cursed under his breath, his head tipped back, hand clasped over his mouth as he began to pump his cock again, jerking himself back to the edge. Maki pumped her fingers into your sloppy pussy, bringing one thumb up to work on your clit.

You came embarrassingly fast, the accumulated touches throughout the course of the day too much, and you felt your arousal trickle out over Maki's fingers. Her eyes furious with focus, Maki continued to thrust her fingers in and out of you, her thumb moving to stimulate your clit from another angle, expert in her gentle overstimulation.

Maki bit her lip, thrilled by her own unmet need, throbbing under Yuuta's obsessive stare. The self-denial while watching you fall apart beneath her was delicious. You cried out, clutching her arms, trying to wiggle your hips away from her as she yanked you back to her, hushing you.

"Come on, baby," she pushed, "just one more...then you can have Yuuta's cock, 'cos he can't last any longer." One sideways glance to Yuuta, arched backwards and serene with the edge of his orgasm, sent you over the edge again, and he gripped the base of his cock once more as you arched, crying out, lights popping in your vision and fizzing down your body.

"Maki--" Yuuta urged, voice brittle with need, "--my turn-- need her now--" Maki huffed at Yuuta's lack of self-restraint, smirking at him, whining, hand wet with pre-cum. Maki lifted you up off the bed, soft and floppy, knees still hanging over the edge, and Yuuta slipped underneath you, mirroring your position, eagerly lining the tip of his cock up with your entrance. As he moved to push into you, his arms gripping you from behind, an arresting clasp across your chest and belly, Maki gripped him by the cock, stopping him as he cried out, voice hoarse.

"Hey, did I say she was ready?" Maki sniped, rolling her eyes as you and Yuuta moaned and argued with her. Her hands still covered in lube, she took the vibrating dildo she'd been fingering for so long, rolling it in lube and your generous, sticky cum. You trembled, reading Maki's intent immediately.

"Maki, I-- they won't-- won't both fit," you squeaked, Maki humming at your meagre protests as she rubbed the dildo at your entrance, switching on the vibration and edging it slowly past your swollen, puffy entrance.

"I dunno," she mused, "I wanna see how fast Yuuta cums like this." Yuuta shuddered, his cock still gripped in Maki's hand, Yuuta squeezing you harder above him as you trembled and shook, the dildo hitting your cervix, sending vibrations deep into your belly.

Maki stroked Yuuta's cock, throbbing in her hand as he bucked, teeth gritted, sweating with restraint; "Maki," he snapped, "let me fuck her-- I swear to god I'll kick your--"

"--careful special grade. Don't threaten me with a good time." Yuuta coughed, tormented, blinkered by his own impending orgasm as you writhed, blinded by your own pleasure in his arms. Maki was almost overcome by the sight of you both in blissful agony beneath her, almost cumming untouched, the tension of the build-up so much better than the payoff.

Maki finally released him, dropping to her knees between yours and Yuuta's. She lifted your legs, draping them over Yuuta's thighs, and pushed Yuuta's knees, forcing your legs to spread. She kept the dildo vibrating inside you, juddering with incoordinate twitches now, floating above yourself.

Finally released, Yuuta bit into your shoulder, groaning in your ear as his cock started to press into you alongside the vibrating dildo, stretching your pussy more than it had ever been stretched, so full, from cunt to belly; "Just hold onto me, peaches, yeah?"

In one swift thrust, Yuuta bottomed out, shouting and cursing, his cock gripped by the slick, impossibly tight heat of your pussy, the dildo vibrating relentlessly against the underside of his length.

"--oh my--shit, Maki, 's too muc, fuck! Ohhh fuck-- fuck-- fuck--"

Maki leaned in, two fingers rolling over her clit as she lapped yours into her mouth, flicking her tongue across you, sucking, nipping, tasting the peach lube she had covered you with. Lost in this semi-drunk haze, she continued to edge herself to the sight of you, spasming in forced orgasm after orgasm, under her mouth.

Yuuta rutted up into you helplessly, arms shaking around you. His seed spattered your cervix and the dildo white, cumming so violently that he curled in on himself beneath you, forcing you to curl with him. Maki watched it all, pupils blown, stroking her clit just enough to keep herself from orgasm.

You continued to pant and whimper, still so full, your pussy clenching urgently, wildly overstimulated. Maki took pity on you both, switching the dildo off, slipping it out of you and letting it drop with a wet cum-splatter. It pulled Yuuta's dripping cock out with it, and you whined, suddenly so empty, Yuuta nuzzling and kissing your cheeks, trying to bring you both down from your high. He chuckled, breathless in your ear

"What a date, huh? You should get dumped again, sometime."

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elllisaaa · 2 months

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Can I pls request seventeen reaction when they have a crush on reader they get jealous when she hangs out with her guy best friend (they are also super close) more than them?

hiii anonie ! i love that everyone keeps sending me these type of request for seventeen because i love to do them so so much ! hope you'll like it !

seventeen being jealous of your bff

-> pairing : svt x gn!reader

-> word count : 2.7k

-> genre : fluff

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | svt masterlist

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

Despite Seungcheol being cute and sweet around you most of the time, he’s not so chill anymore when he sees you being all over another guy. He perfectly knows that he’s your best friend, perfectly knows that you want both of them to get along well because that’s why you asked him to come with you to this café, but he couldn’t help glaring at the other guy like he committed the worst crimes ever. Cheol tried his best to remain respectful and answer your best friend's questions, but he couldn’t help feeling a little jealous at watching you laugh with someone else about things he had no clue about. This would make him realize how bad he wanted to be with you, and how dumb it was of him to try and act as if he was not smitten by you. After this meeting during which he spent the whole time staring at the guy, he would plan the perfect confession to tell you how he feels about you and to not have to support this anymore.

YOON JEONGHAN

As usual, Jeonghan will act like a little shit. When you told him you wanted to plan a game night with him and your best friend so they could meet, he knew it was his chance to be insufferable. And he was the most annoying the whole night : cheating at every game and pretending to have done nothing, teasing your best friend for being a loser, and being the cheeky bastard he is. Deep down, he just felt like he was too late to confess to you about his crush, seeing how close and comfortable you seemed to be with this other guy. And it was only the worst side of him telling him to take some kind of revenge by being very irritating. Though Jeonghan would feel bad when you left and told him that he could’ve been nicer to your best friend. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel like he didn’t care about you and your emotions. It would take him a few hours of deep thinking before he sent you the longest text ever to explain his behavior and thus confess.

HONG JOSHUA

Not being a very jealous person, Joshua didn’t expect the rush of anger that came with running into you and your best friend at the mall. There was seemingly nothing to be jealous about, you were just acting like a normal person being close and affectionate with their best friend. He was perfectly aware of that, but still, he felt like the third wheel while walking with the two of you. When he would try to talk to you, the other guy would always open his mouth and Joshua was getting really annoyed. Finally, your best friend left, leaving you with a pouty Joshua. You would ask him what’s wrong, and why he didn’t make an effort to get along with your best friend. And even if Joshua had been planning to confess for some time, trying to think about the most romantic way to do it, seeing another guy looking at you with the same lovestruck gaze he stared at you with was his last straw. He would tell you all about his feelings on the spot and pray inside that will not reject him.

MOON JUNHUI

He really holds his heart on his sleeve, so it’s not difficult to notice whether he’s happy or angry. Thus when you presented your long distance best friend that you hadn’t seen in a long time to him and his members, you could see how annoyed he was by the other guy's presence. You had every right to be all over someone you hadn’t seen in over a year, yes, but Jun felt a little bad anyway. You two had grown closer and closer, and he really thought that you had something special going on, that it was starting to be a little more than a casual friendship on your side too. But when he was seeing how you were acting around your best friend, he was not so sure anymore that you could maybe reciprocate his feelings. You were never so touchy with him, never so affectionate, never so flirty or straightforward. You would obviously notice how bothered and mostly sad Jun seemed to be the entire night but he kept saying that everything was okay, and he would end up leaving earlier because he could not stand the sight anymore. He would doubt a little but in the end, his friends will convince him to confess before it’s too late.

KWON SOONYOUNG

He would think that he’s sleek, but frankly, even you could see that he was jealous of the bond between you and your best friend. You would often bring him with you for your friendly gathering because you didn’t want him to spend his weekends alone and he was getting along well with everyone. Everyone except Soonyoung who couldn’t seem to appreciate him. In all honesty, your best friend was a cool guy, but Soonyoung didn’t want to befriend the guy who could probably steal his crush if he tried. This would get to the point that you would get in a fight with him about it, clearly not pleased that he didn’t make any effort to try and talk with your best friend. Your argument would be really bad, and you would both ignore each other for a week or two, too proud to admit that both of you had some parts to take in the fight. Soonyoung will eventually come back to you, practically begging on his knees to let him back in your life and accidentally confessing along the way of his monologue.

JEON WONWOO

Wonwoo is not one to get jealous easily, especially since you’re only his crush and not his partner, he has nothing to say in who you’re talking to and how you act with these same people. So to be honest, he’s not really jealous of the relationship you have with your best friend, but more of the way this guy is able to openly express his interest in you, always finding a way to compliment you and flirt with you without it making you uncomfortable. Which is precisely what Wonwoo is struggling to do, not knowing if saying that he finds you incredibly pretty in this or that outfit is off limits for “just friends”. Is it different because your bestie has no real attraction towards you and Wonwoo is genuinely trying to show you that he could treat you right ? Probably. But still, he’ll stay more quiet everytime your best friend is with you. You would assume that’s because he doesn’t feel too comfortable with people he doesn’t know much the first few times, and Wonwoo would take care that you don’t discover the real reason while taking mental notes of how to try and show you that he wants more as subtly as possible.

LEE JIHOON

Since he’s always trying to remember the most insignificant details about you and what you like, he would take pride in knowing things that your best friend doesn’t. He would never say it out loud obviously, but still, the discreet smirk on his face would give it away. When you go out at a coffee shop, your best friend always has to ask you what you want when Jihoon simply brings you your usual because he got your order memorized. While your best friend always has to ask you what you want or need for your birthday, Jihoon always knows exactly what to gift you and he never misses. But every time you told him about the things you did alone with the guy, or what you had planned with him for the weekends, he felt a little jealous. At this point, he thinks you’re either not interested in him or that you’re just very dense and oblivious to all the subtle things he does to show his interest in you. You have so much partner privileges and he’s not even your boyfriend. Yet. Because it would take him only a few more times of your best friend missing on what you really like to rush and finish the song he wanted to confess to you with.

LEE SEOKMIN

He doesn’t hide his jealousy well at all, everyone who knows him a little bit is able to tell that he doesn’t like your best friend. He thinks that the guy is not handsome, not interesting and not even funny. Well, not as much as him at least. That is a lie because deep down, he can’t help but wonder if you really like this guy more than him. So Seokmin will try to take as much space as possible, talking louder and making a lot more jokes than usual so that your attention would be on him and not on your best friend. He’s always a little extra on a daily basis, but when your best friend is here too, he’s even more outgoing, to the point he becomes a little annoying. But the only way he has to be more interesting than your best friend is by doing all this, or so he thought. When you told him that it was in fact a little disrespectful for the other guy and that you didn’t understand why he could not try to befriend him when he was usually the sweetest, Seokmin felt like an idiot and apologized immediately, cheeks burning and trying to come up with an excuse. His crush is as well hidden as his jealousy (that is to say, not at all), so you’re only waiting for him to finally confess.

KIM MINGYU

Another one who’s painfully obvious but he wouldn’t make a big deal of it in front of you, simply pouting and getting a lot quieter than he usually is. He will get so sulky, everytime he finds you laughing more at your best friend's jokes than at his. But he finds you so cute that he can’t stay mad at you for too long and he ends up liking the other guy because he’s obviously not mean nor annoying, Mingyu just can’t bear the thought of him snatching your attention away. And if he would of course never say a word about it to you directly, he will definitely complain about your best friend to some of his members, going on and on about why he can’t make up the fact that you like this guy more than him and that he can’t stand to hear you two joke around about things he doesn’t know about. Mingyu’s members would end up telling you to please do something about the situation because they can’t spend another two hours listening to why you should go out with him and not your best friend. He would be so shy when you address the issue with him, trying to deny it despite his red cheeks. But it’s okay because he’s very cute.

XU MINGHAO

He's pretty level-headed so it's not easy to get him to feel jealousy. And if it ever happens, Minghao knows that this emotion is not rational because firstly, you told him time and time how much you loved your relationship with your best friend and didn't want it to change, and secondly, you were not his partner - yet - so he had no right to be jealous. Of course, he doesn't doubt your intentions and what you told him, but he can't help but be suspicious about how your best friend perceives you. Because the guy looks at you the same way Minghao does : with fondness, like you were his entire world. And that was the whole problem. Because Minghao had tried to give you some hints here and there for a few months, just to test the water and you seemed not to have pushed him away so he was happy. But seeing the way you did the same thing with your bestie when you had explicitly told him you didn't have any feelings for him got him worried. Maybe you didn't really like him in the end, maybe you were just trying to be kind and not hurt him ? So rather than being jealous, he would be anxious. It's probably what would give him the little push he needed to finally confess to you.

BOO SEUNGKWAN

I think he would try - and notice how I insist on try - to stay calm and collected because from an outside point of view, there is nothing wrong going on. But from his point of view, your best friend is clearly being too touchy and Seungkwan feels jealous even if he denies it. Because the nasty looks he gives your best friend everytime he hangs out with you kinda gives it away. He’s so obvious but won’t say a word about the real reason. Seungkwan will instead pretend it’s because he doesn’t get along with your best friend and dislikes him. He can’t stop himself from making snarky remarks, or mocking him under the guise of it being a joke. And he would have continued like that if you hadn’t told him one time that you were kinda sad that he didn’t like one of the most important people in your life. Seungkwan would feel bad and make an effort to at least tolerate the guy and be a little less mean but the side eyes everytime he did or said something he found embarrassing didn’t go away. He would certainly not be able to put up with this situation for long, and after another time of him not being nice to your best friend, you would have a silly fight during which he will confess. And magically, he was all gentle and friendly to your bestie after you became his partner.

CHWE HANSOL

Hansol and you immediately clicked when you were introduced to each other, never going through the awkward stage of a friendship. So when you told him how, on the contrary, you stayed pretty long in this uncomfortable situation with your best friend before getting very close to each other, he felt kind of superior to the other guy, like his bond with you was much more real and valid. Hansol didn’t really know where all these feelings were coming from, nor why he felt so upset seeing you hug and be touchy with someone that was not him. Not that both of you were particularly physically affectionate, but you often had a hand on his arm when you talked, or you placed your head on his shoulder when you were watching a movie, or you held on to him or his jacket to not get lost when walking through crowded spaces. And Hansol thought that these moments were special, that he was special in a sense. This wouldn’t really be jealousy, but much more disappointment because he would think he read the signs wrong and start to cancel plans if he knows your best friend will be here. He would however decide to confess or at least do something to sort this problem when you told him that you were sad he was distancing himself from you.

LEE CHAN

Even if his crush on you is pretty obvious, his jealousy would not be so visible. Chan would choose to befriend your bestie instead because you know what they say : keep your friends close and your enemies even closer. So he’ll play the kind and fun guy around him, just to see how your best friend acts with you. And he’s clearly not having it, not loving at all the fact that he always touches you and tries to get closer to you. Sometimes, it even seems like you don’t even want him to touch you and swat his hands away but he always comes back pretending it’s a joke, playfully fighting. But Chan doesn’t need to be an expert in relationships to understand that this is clearly not okay, and he can’t help thinking that he would never do that to you, that he will always respect your consent. He’s also pretty sure that you have a thing for him too so he’s not going to put up with the situation for too long. Until then, he’ll subtly make comments or do things to make you understand his intentions more and to signal to your best friend that he’s not going to take you away from him anymore.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

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endless-ineffabilities · 5 months

Text

Maroon (part four)

modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

And I lost you The one I was dancin' with In New York, no shoes Looked up at the sky and it was maroon

A series loosely based on the song Maroon of off Midnights by Taylor Swift ▪︎ read more Daemon & Aemond midnights imagines here: masterlist

series list: part one - part two - part three - part four -

themes/warnings: jealous!Aemond, language, a LOT of tension, very event-heavy

word count: 11.4k

The Dragonstone ball is here. Will the reader and Aemond finally reconcile, or will things stand in the way? Again.

It had been eleven days of bliss.

Eleven days since Aemond visited you in the bookstore, and you found him waiting for you at the corner table, perfectly illuminated like some mythical Valyrian god.

Eleven days since he confessed his feelings for you, asked you to be his partner to the Dragonstone Ball.

Afterward, he had started picking you up from lectures, taking you to places around the city, visiting you more frequently, shadowing you when you spend time with Helaena, to which she would simply roll her eyes and jest about being a “third wheel.”

You found yourselves in their secluded estate an hour away from the city, sitting in the clearing of a beautiful lush field overgrown with blue lupines and marigolds.

By then you still had not gotten accustomed to being with Aemond. Your heart still skipped each time your hands touched, and he gazed at you with longing.

You had come to realize just how good and proper of a lover he can be. He was careful not to overstep any line, not to take things too fast. You know you’re not experienced in this kind of thing, either. A connection so real. Something like that cursed four-letter L word that the both of you had managed to avoid when it comes to crushes, dating, romantic relationships in general.

He sat on the green-and-black gingham blanket that he previously laid down on the grass in a flourish. You had giggled when the wind threatened to whip it over his head.

“Laugh it up, darling.” He playfully glared at you, which didn’t do much to quell your laughter. Aemond watched on, feeling warm at the sight.

You watched him, studying as the outline of the side of his face eclipses the sunlight in the horizon.

He has no idea, does he?

He seemed oblivious to your staring, until he suddenly spoke, still keeping his gaze trained forward to the trees, “I’m glad I have your full attention.”

You were certain all the blood rushed to your cheeks at his remark, but you scoffed, and playfully shoved him. He was caught off guard, and failed to prop himself upright in time.

He shot you a glare as he brushed himself off. Without any warning, he wiggles his fingers against your side, making you audibly yelp in surprise.

The bastard fucking tickled me.

“You did not just…”

“Oh, but I did, darling.” Aemond nodded slowly, taunting you.

You raised your hand to retaliate, but that didn’t work. Because in a flash of movement, Aemond grabbed your forearm and then your waist.

And then, you found yourself underneath him, lying back on the mat. His halo of white-gold hair framing his face as he hovers above you, glowing brighter than the fading sunlight.

When his lips met yours, you realized that there truly were moments in life when time stands still. When everything is reduced to a humming of heartbeats in sync, and of someone else's warmth against you.

When his blue eyes blazed into your own, you thought that maybe… just maybe… that was what it was like to be in love.

-----------------------

Love, love, love. What is it really good for? Aemond has seen people fall apart because of it, suffer in spite of it.

He is quite sure that his mother has grown to love his father, despite theirs being a marriage of convenience. This is why she continues to care for him, and turns her cheek at any wrong done to her.

Aemond has been on the receiving end of his mother's love, more so than his siblings. But sometimes he wonders if this is borne out of obligation and instinct. Would she still love him if he wasn't her only doting son - with Aegon never in the picture, and Daeron having grown indifferent to family affairs?

Does his mother truly see him, for all that he is, or does she see some idealized version of herself? One that she puts on a pedestal? Her golden child who has the chance to attain what she never could.

There are times when Aemond fears that he does feel love himself, or not the truest form of it, at least. Sure, he loves his family. But is it also due to an uncontrollable pull of the heart, or simply out of duty? Does he feel like he needs to love them, being of the same blood? Has he just gotten used to being the binding force among his siblings, shepherding them like he actually is the eldest child? Do they even love him in turn? Certainly not with the same ferocity, Aemond knows, but in their own way? Most times, he finds it hard to tell.

It’s all like a game. They are all pieces on a chess board, playing a match that has no end. Moves and countermoves - isn’t this all that love is? Do something for them, protect them, as they will do for you. It is ultimately the right thing to do.

But with you, Aemond knows it’s different. It has been, since you stumbled into his life. He never felt the need to maintain a sense of devotion. Never really gave it much thought, or any planning. It was just there. Out of the blue. Much to his surprise, and not without hesitation.

He did not understand what it was at first. You certainly did not need him. Did not ask anything of him. He saw how you approached him with no expectation. He was never Aemond Targaryen, Prince of the City, to you.

Only Aemond. Your best friend’s mildly sullen yet cordial brother.

And you, well… you were just a passing fancy. Not bad to look at, pleasant enough to talk to.

Until you weren’t just that.

There were times when Aemond feared that did not feel love himself.

Until you.

And you became everything.

-----------------------

3 hours before the Dragonstone ball

Alicent has been walking in a flurry all over the penthouse, her bluetooth earpiece buzzing constantly. Having final consultations with event coordinators, on-site production staff, caterers, florists, and security staff, among others.

Talia trails her all around the vast living room, prepared to give a helping hand.

“Yes, yes, that was the one that I asked for, I don’t know why I have to clarify this again,” Alicent seethes, pinching the bridge of her nose and looking up at the ceiling in her frustration. The caller’s rushed apologies echo from her earpiece.

Her youngest son walks past her, an ascot tie loosely hanging around his neck.

“Daeron!” Alicent grabs him by the arm. “Are you all settled? Have you finally gone through options with the tailor?”

“Yes, mother,” Daeron cheekily sneers at Alicent’s worried expression. “I’ve just chosen which necktie I’ll be wearing, as you can see here. Just went down to get something to eat. Do try to relax, would you?”

“What about your brother? Please tell me he has had his suit vetted.”

Daeron replies, “I assume you mean Aemond, since Aegon will probably turn up in something ridiculous, like an inflatable dragon costume.”

Alicent scoffs before responding dryly, “If he actually does that, I just might consider sending him to the Silent Sisters institute.”

Daeron shrugs, “Best keep the family doctor close by, then. Oh, and Aemond’s all prepped since last week! You know him. Mr. Stickler-for-rules with a stick right up his a - ”

“Daeron!” Alicent exclaims.

“Alright, alright, I’m kidding!” Daeron puts his hands up, laughing. He turns on his heel and strolls down the hallway.

“My children,” Alicent sighs, sharing a look with Talia, who smiles knowingly in response. “Whatever will I do with them?”

“Oh, what will you do without them, ma’am?” Talia offers.

Alicent hums in acknowledgement. She feels as if the lines on her face have deepened the past few months, though they’ve long made themselves evident, due to all her ceaseless worrying about Aemond's condition and all this commotion about the ball. But what else is there to do?

She removes her earpiece and places it on Talia’s awaiting palm.

“Are you alright, ma’am? Do you need some refreshments, perhaps?” Talia asks.

“I need…” Alicent sighs, preparing herself for the task to come. “I need to go see my son.”

“He isn’t here at the moment, ma’am.” Talia shuffles from one foot to the other, a force of habit when having to share something that may induce more stress to Alicent. “He left for his apartment at Blackwater Residences last night. He has requested that everything he needs for the ball be sent to him there.”

“And I was not informed of this because?” Alicent inquires, her mask of composure remaining. Aemond used to be the one she would run to first, should she need anything. Her confidante. Her dutiful son. And he’s always been comfortable enough to keep her in the loop about his affairs.

But not lately. Not since the accident. Her son has rebuilt the impenetrable wall around him, and she has not been allowed access inside.

“Well, you’ve been very busy, ma’am. And Sir Aemond really didn’t tell anyone, he just informed me so that I may relay the message as I should.”

Alicent sighs in finality, “Fine. That’s fine. Have we made sure that his partner for the ball is in line? That model… uhhm, Alys, was it?”

“Yes, ma’am, she has made all the necessary preparations. And she is already aware of the regulations to follow, as she has attended the ball with Sir Aemond before.”

A question remains in Alicent’s mind. “You alluded once to something going on between Aemond and Helaena’s friend. The one who’s studying at the local university? I had thought that she would be his partner…” She trails off, remembering the one time she crossed paths with you. It was one evening in the penthouse, her kids and a number of their acquaintances sitting around a big round table of drinks and hors d'oeuvres. She only came round for a moment to retrieve something from her office, lingering in the foyer with Talia to get some documents in order.

She noticed you because you were sitting across the table from Aemond, who had been sneaking looks at you the entire night. Aemond clearly thought no one would notice, but if anyone would, it would be Alicent.

Aemond has always been the most stoic of her sons, the least likely to wear his heart on his sleeve. But she saw, plain as day, that he was drawn to you.

Her son fancied you, but has something changed? As for Alys, Alicent has never been her biggest fan when it came to Aemond. Their age gap is not her favourite thing, but how can Alicent claim to be a judge on that matter when the man she married is 11 years older than her? She’s chosen to set that aside, but the Rivers model has struck her as highly self-regarding and standoffish.

Alicent would never admit it to herself, but perhaps the main reason why she dislikes Alys Rivers is that she sees part of herself in her. What she might have devolved into if she hadn’t married for power and privilege at a young age. Alicent, Alys. The latter being a recreational drug-addled, provocative social climber who Alicent doesn't think is good for her son.

Talia dithers on her response. Who can explain what is going on in Aemond’s mind after all? It is clear that the attraction remains, but his actions are all over the place. “As I gathered, ma’am, he did ask her. But… and I am not sure why, he ended up asking Miss Alys instead. Which is a downright shame, if I may add. She is really a sweet young girl. She and Miss Helaena dote on each other.”

“A shame, indeed,” Alicent hums. She begins walking down the hallway, Talia in tow, who then adds, “She will still be at the ball, though, ma’am. As Sir Jacaerys’ partner.”

Alicent’s brows furrow, and a grimace flashed across her face on instinct. “Got a Strong pup, has she?”

“They’re close friends - ”

“So I’m not certain what’s been going about, but my son likes her… or used to like her. But now he’s coming with Alys, and she’s coming with Jace?” Alicent spins on her heel, huffing out her confusion, her fiery auburn hair whipping around her. Regarding Talia whilst shaking her head, she exclaims, “Quite the handful this ball is turning out to be, and isn’t that just exactly what I need?”

-----------------------

Alys Rivers rarely does her own makeup, preferring the ease of having a glam team on call 24/7.

But as she deftly applies medical-grade concealer on Aemond’s scar, her hands pat and press with a practiced ease of someone who had to do her own makeup on public buses at the age of 16, sneaking off to castings without telling her foster parents.

She huffs with impatience from her stool. “Could you keep your expression neutral, dear? I dunno why you look like you’re in pain.”

Aemond responds in a cold voice, “Why, do you find that this is something I should enjoy, dearest? You’re smattering something on my face to make me look presentable. I’m allowed to react in a manner of my choosing. My sincere apologies if it’s not acceptable for you.”

“That’s not what I meant at all.” Alys drops her hand, frustration clear on her face. “Look, I can see that you don’t want to come to the ball.” She packs on more product on the brush in a rapid motion.

“Oh, is that your input?” Aemond mumbles, disinterested. He simply wishes he had placed his glass of firewine within reach.

“Yes, that is my input,” Alys snaps in return. When her brush meets Aemond’s face again, she does it with less care and more impatience. “If you’re not going to be civil to me, then you should have accepted the help of the makeup artist your mother assigned - ”

“I won’t have some fucking stranger’s hands all over my - ”

“I know!” Alys emphasizes, her exasperation growing evident. “Which is why I’m here. Which is why I agreed to help when you asked. I - ” She stops working, leaning back, her shoulders stooped in her frustration. “I only want to help you, Aemond. I care about you. You know this.”

Aemond finally looks at the woman sitting in front of him. Appraising her irate expression, which he had caused. “I did not want this. This… concealment of my scar was my mother’s idea, to keep up appearances - ”

“Oh, I know - ”

“I don’t know how you expect me to be, Alys, considering - ”

Alys stands abruptly, walking away to look out the window. “Aemond, this has been going on even before that godforsaken accident.”

Aemond sighs deeply, wanting to be anywhere else but in the room. Only that isn’t true, he wouldn’t want to just anywhere else.

He wants to be with you.

Alys continues, “It all started that night when I visited you and you sent me away. Next thing I know there’s been whispers of you going around with some random girl.” She does not mention you by name. It’s better not to give you that power. She doesn’t need Aemond’s attention to drift any further from her than it already has.

She has not been blind to the switch in his demeanour, having been on the brunt end of his anger one too many times. He still maintains his impeccable sense of decorum and tact most of the time, but she can easily tell that it's only for show.

She once felt Aemond’s eyes on her, with some form of desire. Whatever he is capable of mustering, at least, even if it was never enough for Alys. At least she had hope that it could turn into something more. She can change him. Make him fall in love with her. But now, it’s like he sees straight through her. Only calling on her when absolutely necessary. Like this very moment.

“Hmm.” Aemond looks to the side. He feels the weight of the product Alys just applied on his scar and it starts to irritate him. More so than the situation at hand, to his surprise. “What do you want from me?” He lifts his arms up offhandedly.

“I heard… about you and her. I’m not an idiot,” Alys says, trying not to sound desperate.

“No one ever said that you are,” Aemond responds impatiently.

“Did you ask her to come with you to the ball before you asked me? Am I just some last resort…”

“The fuck does it matter? You’re here because I asked you, did I not?” Aemond snaps, whirring around, away from Alys. The reminder of you is throwing him off, threatening to chip away at the mask of composure that he has prepared for this night.

He hasn’t been able to shake off the scent of your skin, how warm you felt against him, that night he last saw you.

And tonight, he will see you again. Aemond never fancied himself a romantic, but he knows that your presence would be the one thing that will make this night worthwhile. This dreaded ball, which he has never looked forward to. Save for a few short weeks when he thought it would be you on his arm.

But he fucked it all up, didn’t he? All because he’s too weak to let you see him as he is. He thinks he’s not good enough for you. But a part of him has always known, because of your goodness, your undeniable warmth, that you would not mind the way he is right now. You would accept the person he has become - that’s just who you are. Good.

And even then, Aemond always comes back around to the same conclusion. You’re too good for him; he’s not good enough for you. Might as well save both of you the pain, and try to stay away.

And maybe, he can use Alys as a distraction. Choosing to bring her to the ball was an act of a coward, Aemond knows. Making you feel unwanted, pushed to the side.

But this is what he deserves. The bruises on his knuckles from that incident in Pentos have only just healed, after all. He is still out of control.

He’s never been a true believer, but the gods only know what he might do when he sees you on his nephew’s arm. Just the image of it causes him to clench his jaw in distaste.

In pure jealousy.

Aemond is blind to the possibility that you and his Jace are only friends, and will stay that way. All he sees in another man, holding you, laughing with you, looking at you like you’re the best thing in this world.

Another man, and not him. Aemond is going to need a lot of ale to get through the night.

And maybe more.

Alys snaps him out of thoughts of you, walking across the room in a flash, until she stands right in front of Aemond. “Do you think you can just use me like this? I’m not second best, Aemond. You asked me to come with you, but you’re acting like you wouldn’t even touch me with a ten-foot pole.”

Aemond remains unmoving, gauging her livid expression. Calculating the next move to make. He’s found himself settling more and more into his old rhythm. Careful, methodical. Almost machiavellian. Never giving away too much. Far from how genuine he allowed himself to be around you. He did not have to pretend or mask anything. But that was then. That was with you.

“Say something, goddamnit,” Alys breathes, her slender fingers wrapping around his forearm.

Aemond’s eyes drift to Alys’ touch, feeling nothing at all. There used to be a time when he would want her company. Crave it even. Although that may have been for the most depraved purposes, one that he allows himself to indulge in now and again, it was still theirs.

Now, Aemond cannot feel right having anything with anyone else. When all he wants is you.

“I asked you to the ball because I wanted to, Alys.” Aemond relents, choosing to take the calmer road. He presses further, knowing that Alys would need more assurance than that. “You should know that I don’t trust many people, and yet here you are. That should count for something.” The sentiment is honest, at least, if not completely heartfelt.

It isn’t as if Aemond grew to have Alys as a confidante by choice. It began as a series of run-ins, then deliberate nighttime invitations.. The trust he formed with her does not mean he values her above anyone else. It was more so that he knew, even early on, that he could never be tethered to her. They had an understanding of the nature of their relationship.

He knew he would not fall in love with her. And he knows because has tried. It spares him from ever truly being vulnerable. It spares them both from any pain.

He takes her hand in his, a final gesture to temper her storm of emotion. And it’s enough. For now.

When Alys leans in to plant her mouth on his, he sees it coming. But he stops himself from taking a step back, or turning his head. He knows that Alys would not dare back out of being his partner for the ball, the publicity and prestige of it all too good to her to pass on. But he does not want to risk having the same useless argument again.

The kiss is cold, fleeting. It leaves a faint hint of maroon by the corner of Aemond’s lips. Like a mark of betrayal.

“Okay, honey.” Alys reaches upward to smooth his hair. “Let’s do some final touches on you, then I’ll go to my suite and get ready.”

Some time later, she finally reaches some satisfaction on her work on Aemond’s scar and departs the room, eager to get started on her lengthier high-profile event glam routine.

Aemond only has one consolation.

He gets to freely indulge on firewine now.

-----------------------

You sit in anticipation at the edge of the bed in your humble apartment.

Helaena had granted your request that you get ready in the confines of your own small but comfortable space, though she preferred that you take her up on her offer of getting ready in their penthouse.

You knew it was best to concede to your friend when she said she would send someone to deliver your dress and to assist you. It couldn’t hurt, you thought, half-expecting that it would only be Talia.

You didn’t expect that sending someone in Helaena’s terms would mean two makeup artists, a hair stylist and his assistant, a nail technician, and Baela Targaryen, who had quickly risen through the ranks of the fashion industry with her clothing brand, Moondancer.

Little did you know that Baela herself would be arriving at your door.

“Hello, sweetheart. I heard from a little birdie that you might need some assistance?” Baela says, stepping into your apartment without waiting for an invitation, confidently occupying any space.

“Baela!” you exclaim. “How are you? Helaena did say she would send someone.” Before you could shut the door, a garment rack comes rolling through, about a dozen designer dresses whipping right past you.

“Where to, ma’am?” A lanky man asks, his mop of ginger hair peering from behind the rack.

“Just there,” Baela gestures to a far wall, before glancing at you, as if remembering that it is in fact your apartment. “Is it fine?”

“Sure,” you smile. As if refusal was an option.

“Our dearest Helaena has informed me of your top choices,” Baela says, as her red-haired assistant began to gingerly pull each dress out from their garment covers. “And I commend your taste, by the way, most of these are my favourite pieces from the collection.”

Soon enough, all of the dresses are revealed to you, each one more beautiful than the next.

“These are all amazing, Baela. Thank you. I owe you.” you say appreciatively, pulling her into a hug.

Baela keeps an arm over your shoulders when you pull apart, leading you to take a closer look. “You don’t owe me anything, sweet. So,” she says, “what are we thinking?”

“This one seems reasonable,” your hand drifts over a plum coloured dress, the material feeling nothing short of luxurious to the touch. It is a lovely A-line maxi dress, with intricate sequin detailing all over.

“Reasonable,” Baela snorts. “It’s lovely and all, but awfully safe, don’t you think?”

“What’s wrong with being safe?” you raise an eyebrow at her statement. “This is my first and possibly only Dragonstone ball, Baela. I just want to get through it without making a fool out of myself.”

“But you won’t make a fool of yourself,” Baela squeezes your shoulder in encouragement. “You belong there just as much as anyone else. Maybe even more so, because we actually do like you. Jace especially.”

Baela has a reputation for being quite the enterprising young woman, making a name for herself outside of the Targaryen business empire through her brand. She takes no prisoners, they say. If she wants something, she will go and get it herself. Most find her intimidating, and you count yourself lucky to be at the receiving end of her sweeter side.

“Hmm,” you feel a sense of ease wash over you, making you brush through the other dresses on the rack.

“This dress you chose is nice, and if safe is what you want then…” Baela gives you a once-over, her eyes gaining a mischievous spark. “... that’s all well and good. But, sweetheart, don’t you want to leave Aemond a groveling mess by your high-heeled feet?”

Your stunned expression betrays you, hindering any attempt at denial.

“Oh, I know.” Baela smirks. “Let’s just say that Hel may or not have clued me in on how absolutely childish he was to ditch you like that. I’ve always been of the opinion that my dear cousin needs to get his damn head screwed on straight, but hey, I might be biased.” She raises her hands, knowing she already got her point across.

It won’t be long before she wins you over to a not-entirely-safe dress.

The idea of Aemond possibly exhibiting any form of adoration upon seeing you at the ball is one that you have entertained too many times in the months leading up to tonight. To deny that would be foolish.

Some part of you wants to save yourself from what can only be described as the rollercoaster of attempting to maneuver a relationship with Aemond. But an even greater part… just can’t let him go.

You sigh in finality. Baela grins at that. She clearly won this one, but there was never really any doubt.

“I’m glad you agree, because I have something for you.” She nods over to her assistant, who promptly leaves the room and returns with another dress. The dress.

“Baela, what in seven hells.” You appraised the dress with evident stars in your eyes. “This… this was not in the catalogue Hel made me choose from.”

“Of course not, silly,” Baela responds proudly. “Because I designed this just for you.”

You shake your head in amazement, lightly asking, “What if I had stuck to my first choice, huh?” You wouldn’t have, not after seeing the dress, and you know Baela is aware of this.

“Impossible,” Baela reaches for the dress and holds it against you, studying you like a subject. “I had planned to custom make dresses for the ladies in the family anyhow. Well, apart from my beloved aunt - your dearest’s mother - so making one for you too was a no-brainer.”

You thank her profusely, as she and her assistant, whom you discover is named Lancel, check how the dress fits you. Seeing if any last-minute alterations were needed, but there was really nothing else to do with it.

It was perfect.

“Lancel will stay to assist you, and Helaena’s sending a whole team, and they should be here soon.” Baela says, growing busy with her buzzing phone. “I’ll be off to prepare myself.”

“I don’t know what else to say, but thank you again, Baela. Helaena said you would be in charge of our dresses but I certainly did not expect this.” You say sincerely, as you see her to the door.

“It was my pleasure,” Baela responds, and in true fashion, drops her head in a dramatic bow. As she walks down the hall, she does not miss her chance in calling back and adding, “and it will be an even bigger pleasure to witness the absolute anguish in Aemond’s face when he sees you.”

You welcome the shiver that runs up your spine at the thought of that. That’ll show him.

As if on cue, the rest of your designated prep team arrive not long after, and you surrender yourself to the frenzy that followed.

-----------------------

The Dragonstone Ball

The Valyrian Hall is a place of marvel in the city.

Erected nearly a century to the day, it essentially marked the dominance of the Targaryen empire in the country. Designed like an amphitheatre, the looming structure has hosted many history-marking events.

As befits it, it is also the venue for the annual Dragonstone Ball. Revamped for the purposes of each ball, it transforms into a hub of merrymaking and pageantry. Its attendees include no other than the rest of the nobility, dignitaries, notable artists and academics, as well as the nouveau riche.

The country of Westeros is officially an oligarchy, with the heads of the most powerful Houses in power. But the unspoken truth of it is that the Targaryens rule over them all.

And no expense is spared by the ruling family of the country.

The media is flocked outside the hall, a thousand cameras flashing at each arriving guest. Hurling empty exclamations at the impeccably dressed attendees walking down the black carpet. The theme for this year was simple - Firelight - a play on the Targaryen and Hightower slogans, honouring the long-standing alliance between the two families. The dress code warranted only their traditional colours to be worn - red and black, green and silver.

Viserys himself was the mastermind behind the theme, in an effort to make a show of strength in the family, after the horrid incident between Aemond and Lucerys. Alicent was slow to warm to the idea, if she ever did at all.

Tensions are still high, especially between the mothers of two belligerents, with Alicent having shared unsavoury comments about Lucerys’ upbringing.

And of course, it is an open secret in this year’s event that everyone is in anticipation of finally seeing what has become of Aemond Targaryen.

-----------------------

Your reflection stares back at you, wide-eyed and beautiful, standing tall with a quiet confidence you didn’t think you could muster.

Clad in the dazzling red gown Baela crafted specifically for you, and your tresses adorned with an embellished tiara crafted by the silversmiths of Volantis, you surprisingly do not feel like a whole other person. Not exactly.

You feel more yourself than you ever had before.

“I could be a Targaryen,” you jokingly share with Jace as you both study yourselves in the mirror. “If only I had that damned silver hair.”

“Trust me when I say that it’s not as fun as people might think,” he laughs in response, catching your eyes in the reflection. “But you look beautiful, sweetheart.”

You whirl around, not even bothering to hide the blush on your face. Jace would see right through you, anyway. “And you look handsome as ever.” You take a deep breath, trying to do away with the nerves that are threatening to emerge. Calm down.

You lightly brush your hands across his shoulders. “Well, I cannot believe that I am going to the ball as the famous Jacaerys Velaryon’s date. What an honour, really. You’re practically a prince!”

“Oh, ha-ha,” he says dryly, rolling his eyes playfully. “I’m just Jace to you, thank you very much.”

“This is going to go great,” you sigh in encouragement, mostly to yourself. I’ll finally see him, won’t I? What could go wrong?

What could go wrong, indeed? How much will it string to see Alys Rivers draped on Aemond’s arm. To see them dancing with each other, barely an inch apart.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jace smooths your perfectly-done hair in reassurance. “You and I are going to enjoy this godsforsaken ball with Hel, Luke, and the rest of our friends.” Don’t even think about him, he wanted to say, but you already knew that.

He holds his arm out for you to take, indicating that it is finally time to head to the ball.

“Shall we?”

You loop your arm around his with a steady smile, bracing yourself for what would turn out to be one of the most memorable nights of your life.

-----------------------

You feel the limousine idly come to a slow stop in the private road leading to the front of the grand Valyrian Hall. All at once, everyone flocks around to catch a glimpse of whom they presume to be members of the Targaryen clan, but the security detail is quick to ensure that none may come too close. Even if it would be impossible to peer through its heavily tinted windows.

“Don’t worry, we won’t come out here.” Jace is quick to note, when he sees the apprehension on your face. “We’ll head inside to the inner courtyard.”

The yelling of photographers outside sounds like a cacophony, an endless buzzing, and you are grateful you don’t have to go right into their throes.

The limousine moves once more, presumably following the one before it, passing the towering gold palisade surrounding the hall.

“Special entrance for special guests, eh?” Jace nudges you, smirking.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You hum in response. You try to fight it, but your mind races. Is he already here? ‘I’ll see you at the ball,’ he said. Sure. What then?

“There are still photographers and members of the media here, but only ones vetted by the family,” Jace explains. “I’ll take the lead, so you don’t have to worry about answering any questions if you don’t want to. Just stick with me.”

Ever the gentleman.

The chauffeur opens the limousine door, and Jace gently tows you along with him. When the blinding camera flashes first hit your eyes, you enter into a sort of haze. Like on autopilot, you don a practiced smile and smoothly walk with Jace down the black carpet.

Jace opts to have only one brief interview, with whom you recognize to be the prolific Mysaria, the head news anchor for the channel owned by the Targaryens.

“And who is your lovely date for this evening?” she beams, and the camera pans over to you.

“This beauty here is y/n, one of my best friends.” Jace drapes an arm around you, then smiles to the camera. You admire how flawless his media training is.

“That’s right,” you hear yourself saying, “someone needs to keep this one in line.”

Mysaria laughs, “Oooh, we love your attitude. Well, you two do make the most gorgeous pairing.”

She asks a few more questions, then the interview quickly wraps, and Mysaria shakes both of your hands in her professional manner.

Event coordinators usher the two of you inside the sprawling foyer, lush with intricate Targaryen red and black tapestry. But right as you start to appreciate the detailed engravings on the bronze panels propped up on the walls, you are directed up a flight of stairs and into a private parlour.

Your shoulders visibly slump in instant relief when you spot some familiar faces.

Helaena stands speaking to Lucerys, who incidentally is her date, as she refused to be paired with anyone unfamiliar. Luke had been gracious enough to volunteer to be her partner.

“Even if her brother and myself fucked each other over a while back, I still love Hel,” you heard him joke once, a pit of dread settling in your stomach. Leave it to Luke to be nonchalant about the whole thing.

“Look who it is,” Luke greets loudly, “my brother finally looks like an actual human being.”

“Ah, you little shit,” Jace counters, shaking his head fondly. “How’s the limp?”

“Not bad,” Luke props his right leg forward, showing off some progress.”Lucky for me, we’ll be walking at a snail's pace all throughout this bloody thing. You look stunning, by the way.” He winks at you.

“Thanks, Luke.” you smile at him. “So, what a spectacle, huh? It was crazy out there.”

Helaena wraps an arm around your waist, “If you think that was crazy, wait ‘til you enter the main hall.”

“We’ll be announced next. It’s just us left from the family, really. Everyone else has already walked down the proverbial aisle.” Luke comments, straightening his shawl lapels.

The brothers’ choice of attire contrasts yet complements the other’s, with Luke sporting a burgundy three-piece suit and a black tie, whilst Jace dons a simpler black suit and a red tie.

Helaena looks simply otherworldly in her emerald gown, representing the true Hightower heiress that she is.

“Everyone?” you exhale, the words registering. He’s already here.

“You alright? You remember everything from rehearsal?” Jace confirms with you. Yes, I remember rehearsal quite well. The one that Aemond predictably chose not to attend.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You nod, shaking away any thought of him. We’ll see each other soon enough. “Let’s get this shit done, shall we, partner?”

“You’re up next, Sir Lucerys, Miss Helaena.” The event coordinator summons the pair, directing them to stand in front of the heavy-set ornate doors.

A moment passes, then the doors open with a slow, echoing groan. Helaena shoots you one more smile as she walks through with Lucerys.

You hear the herald’s booming voice announcing their names, just as the doors close once more.

“Two more minutes of this,” Jace remarks. “Or you know, maybe ten, since my brother has to take his sweet time walking down the hall.”

“Hey,” you smack his chest, laughing, “it’s not his fault he still has a limp.”

Taking your hand, Jace leads you in front of the doors. You feel your heart pounding, as the sounds coming from the great hall are amplified.

You turn to Jace, wanting to say something, anything, to calm yourself but your mouth feels dry. “Hey,” he gently croons, coming to your rescue, his hand covering yours as you squeeze his arm, “do you see this?”

Your eyes follow as he points to the figure embossed on the large metal doors.

“It looks like… a dragon?”

“That’s right. I think you know of the myths of Old Valyria, where my family hails from. This dragon is called Balerion, the greatest and largest that my ancestors were said to have claimed.”

“Even in this form, he looks imposing,” you say, gazing at the figure, “and beautiful.”

Jace hums in agreement, adding, “You know, legend has it that Targaryens are of the blood of the dragon. That we, for lack of a better word, are dragons ourselves.”

“Hmm,” you smile at the thought, “and do you believe that?”

Jace shrugs, facing ahead, getting ready. “Why shouldn’t I believe?”

His words inspire a sense of calm, and self-assuredness, quieting your restless mind. I can do this. You hold yourself up, lips curved in a soft smile.

The doors open, revealing the revelry below.

Here we go.

-----------------------

Aemond had been eager to get through with the initial presentation, practically marching through as fast as can be allowed, with Alys clinging on his arm. He did not much care for the dissonant whispering that flooded the hall once the crowd got sight of him. Their missing Prince of the city has returned.

You would think I grew a second fucking head.

It was no use trying to drown them out, even with the orchestra resounding from the balcony.

“What happened to his eye?”

“Is that really him?”

“He looks…”

“In a rush, are we, honey?” Alys asked through gritted teeth, annoyed, but kept her signature sultry expression intact. She pulled him closer to her, “Keep pace with me now.”

When they finally reached the front of the hall, where the rest of his family assembled, he nearly took a swig out of the flask Aegon was subtly trying to hand over to him.

Until Alicent hissed at the both of them. “Not now, boys.”

The crowd continues to sneak glances at him. In awe or pity, Aemond does not care to know. With every new pairing being announced, he is grateful that their attention is momentarily diverted.

He stands tall in his midnight black formal leather overcoat, with a fitted dark green shirt underneath. His hair has grown longer since his last public appearance, and he now wears it in a half-up manner, with his eyepatch neatly in place over it.

He has come to terms with his appearance, and soon enough, he might even grow to accept the moniker Aemond One-Eye as his brother keeps calling him.

“It’s badass, Aem,” Aegon had drawled. “You look like a Valyrian dragonrider from the old stories with that scar.”

The pairings could have blurred in a haze altogether. Lannister, Arryn, Baratheon, Stark, Tully. On and on it went, but none of them left a mark on Aemond.

There is only one person he is so desperate to see.

When Lucerys Velaryon’s name is announced, Aemond can’t help the distaste he feels. He rolls his shoulders, trying to keep composure, Alys’ arm falling from him. She only regards him from the corner of her eye, likely praying that he doesn’t cause a scene and embarrass her.

He keeps his focus on his sister, as she gracefully floats through the crowd in Hightower green. Such a shame it’s that bastard she got paired with.

Helaena and her partner reach the front of the hall, and she throws him a look as if to say, behave. Aemond ducks his head in acknowledgment, lips curling.

I promise I’ll try to be good. For her sake.

To his left, he hears Helaena whisper, “Any moment now.”

Aemond knows exactly what she means, and does not feel the need to muster a response. The anticipation has devolved into some kind of torture, as all he wants to see you again.

To feel you against him, how your skin would glide smoothly against his, how you would fit together.

The effects of firewine are getting stronger, encroaching on his senses. It dawns on him that perhaps he shouldn’t have imbibed in considerable quantities before the ball, but no matter.

The herald begins his next announcement.

“Finally, let us welcome Jacaerys Velaryon, son of Laenor Velaryon…”

“More like Strong,” Aegon mumbles under his breath, but Aemond no longer pays him any mind.

“... and Rhaenyra Targaryen. With his partner…”

The herald says your name, and Aemond can practically feel his heart lodged in his throat. Keeping his arms behind his back, he adjusts his stance, trying to calm himself. He sees you emerge from the top of the steps and watches as your eyes sweep over the entire hall, and eventually, finally, meet his very own.

Aemond can hardly breathe, the blood rushing to his head at the sight of you in that red dress, making him feel all woozy. The firewine surely does not help, either.

She looks like a goddess. You walk down the hall, keeping your eyes trained ahead, hand firmly on Jacaerys’ arm. But Aemond does not spare his nephew any more than a cursory glance, almost entranced by the way your gown enhances your silhouette. By the exposed planes of your skin.

He watches your chest heave against your bodice as you take deep breaths. He knows that you would be nervous, but to your credit, nobody will be able to tell.

That’s my girl. You reach the front of the hall, joining the rest of the family and their respective partners. Your lips part slightly as you get a better look at Aemond, and he wants to know badly what you think. But then your eyes visibly narrow at something, and you turn away, walking with Jace to the other end of the group.

Aemond registers that Alys had looped her arm around his again, and he curses her internally. He can’t help the glare that he throws in her direction, but she must not see the irritation in his eyes or simply ignores it.

Alys mouths, “Have you been drinking?” with a seductive smile that does not fit her query.

Keeping up appearances, as usual.

“Some,” Aemond snaps. “Don’t let it concern you.”

The hall falls into silence as Viserys conducts his opening remarks, followed by a brief speech from his daughter and named successor, Rhaenyra Targaryen.

Soon enough, it’s time for the first dance. All of the main pairings make their way to the open floor in the middle of the hall, standing across from each other as they line up in an orderly fashion. It is the only traditional Valyrian dance of the night, for which participants were required to attend a series of rehearsals prior to the event. Aemond opted out of them this year, not that it mattered. He has long since mastered the dance, having attended every Dragonstone ball since his childhood.

He is tempted to look in your direction, but his instinct to follow tradition wins over.

Always keep your eyes trained on your partner, his mother had ingrained in him and his siblings.

That wouldn’t be a problem, if she were mine.

The dancers raise their right arms to the front, and the music starts. For Aemond, every step almost feels robotic, and his body moves on its own volition. He does not even need to think, nor does he appreciate the closeness the routine requires of the pairings.

Fuck it. At that, Aemond lets his eye wander over to you, as you twirl around with Jace a few feet away. You don’t even look at Aemond, and you shouldn’t, but it annoys him anyway.

He spins Alys around, and her back is pressed to his as they saunter from side to side.

Then you lock eyes. He notices the switch in your expression, which you quickly revert back to a fixed soft smile, but he sees it anyway.

You’re irate at me, my love. The pairings spin around again. And for good reason.

“You smell of firewine,” Alys mutters, when she draws closer.

“Well, I needed something to make this night bearable,” Aemonds responds coolly,

“Aemond,” Alys warns.

Aemond could have rolled his eyes at her reaction. Eye, he smirks at himself. “Don’t worry. It’s not you. I just dislike all this.” Surely that will get her to simmer down.

“Do you really ? Aren’t you a stickler for Valyrian tradition?”

“Hmm.” When in seven hells will this dance end?

-----------------------

When the first dance ends, you audibly breathe a sigh of relief.

It is no longer the apprehension about tripping on your feet, or doing something unbecoming of the tradition of the ball, or even forgetting a part of the dance routine that plagues your mind - all of your worries are set aside, overpowered by the rush of emotion from seeing Aemond once again.

The sight of him had been enough to drown out all the noise. Like the focal point of a kaleidoscope, your eyes sought him out when you entered the hall.

Like a moth to a flame. And he found you too.

You don’t know what else to think, apart from - He looks beautiful.

What was he even worried about? He still looks every bit like your Aemond, though you feel sorry at the now apparent loss of his eye. You know he would not desire your pity, that he would hate being on the receiving end of it from anyone. But you can’t help it.

I’m sorry this happened to you, you want to tell him. But would it even matter? Would it make a difference? Or does he already get enough consolation from the company of Alys Rivers?

Jace does not let go of your hand as you walk to the head table with the rest of the family, which is situated like a dais at the front of the hall, so that all the family members would have a full view of everything. Aemond is situated at the other end of the table with Alys, but since they are seated at the other end of the long table, as are you and Jace, they are directly in your line of sight.

The staff had distributed glasses of a deep violet wine which Jace explained is firewine, originally from Valyria. “Are you doing alright so far?” He places his hand atop yours on the table, and you hum positively in response. He does not let go, his thumb drawing soothing circles on the back of your hand.

You raise your head when Viserys addresses the hall, making the mistake of catching Aemond’s eye. You notice how tense he sits, both hands intertwined on the table, his eye trained on you. Or rather, on Jace’s hand adjoined with yours.

You shake your head slightly. He looks up at you, as if noticing the attention you are giving him. So you look away quickly, listening as Viserys makes his first toast to the hall.

“Now we drink,” Jace signals. You pick up the ornate glass and bring it to your lips, and see Aemond doing the same. He does not drop your gaze as he takes a drawn out sip, and finally lowers the glass. You catch the way his tongue flickers to taste the remnants of firewine on his lips, and you feel your cheeks flare up with warmth.

Does he know what he’s doing?

“We now invite all of you to partake in another bout of dancing, this one less stringent than the first, so there’s no need to worry. No dragon will come to smite you if you step on your partner’s toes, but my dear wife won’t hesitate to throw you out of the hall, I’m sure,” Viserys announces genially, earning some laughter from the attendees. “And shortly after, the feast will begin.”

The crowd sets into commingling. Some pairings remain together, some accept invitations from other guests. The orchestra begins to play a slower, gentler hymn. Something more intimate. Romantic.

“May I have this dance, stranger?” Jace grins at you, offering his hand.

“Well, who am I to refuse a dragon?” you quip in turn. You pass by Helaena and Luke already on the dancefloor, and Aemond and Alys…

“Hey,” Jace keeps you from finding out. He keeps a gentle hand on the small of your back, and takes your hand in the other. “Is he bothering you?”

“What?”

“Aemond,” Jace says. “I could not help but notice that my dear uncle has been practically drooling at you like some starving dog.”

“He has not,” your eyes widen at his insinuation. But he has, hasn’t he?

“Are you blind?” Jace laughs. “He’s bloody doing it right now.”

It doesn’t take long for you to find him, guiding Alys Rivers in a slow dance. And Jace is right. He may be holding her, but his focus is on you.

“You can tell that he must be so jealous right now,” Jace says. “It’s kind of funny.”

A giggle bubbles up your lips, and Jace joins you. You hold each other closer in an attempt to control your laughter. “Still,” you breathe out, finding the words. “He came here with Alys. Not me.”

Jace simply smirks at your concern. “Oh, doll. Judging by how he looks like he might commit nepoticide at any moment, I’d say you’re doing a fine job of making him pay for it.”

-----------------------

Aemond hears you laugh a few feet away, recognizing his favourite sound. It’s been too long since he last heard it. Too bad you’re sharing the moment with his Strong nephew, of all people.

The song slows to a gradual halt, but the dance is still under way. Aemond takes this as his cue to turn away from Alys, mumbling something about getting a drink.

“Wait until they’re served. You don’t just slink away searching for alcohol to drown in! This is so unlike you.” She seethes, his attitude finally getting to her.

Aemond knows this. He’s well aware that the servers will soon emerge from the corners of the hall with delicate glass flutes balanced on gold trays. He’s seen this ball play out all throughout his life.

But he is not looking for the same sweet, feeble firewine. He’d much prefer the seedier alcohol that Aegon brings around in his flask.

Alys was right. This is truly unlike him. But between the awareness of everyone scrutinizing his new appearance and seeing his nephew’s hand firmly on your waist, his only recourse is to take a book out of Aegon’s page.

And drink like a Braavosi seahorse, as they say.

You begin swaying once more, in the arms of Jace, as the music gradually rises back to a crescendo. New sets of pairings venture onto the dancefloor.

Thankfully, one of them steps in to relieve him.

“Well, if it isn’t Alys Rivers herself,” a man exclaims, then turns to Aemond. “Do you mind, sir?” He holds his hand out to Alys, standing tall like a reed, as if a stiff breeze would blow him away.

“Oh, hi.” Alys says, pleased at the attention. “Aemond, this is Harris, he’s an actor and we worked on…”

But Aemond has already stepped away, disinterested by her explanation. “By all means.”

It is clearly not the reaction Alys wanted from him, and she glares at his retreating figure. Aemond doesn’t notice, approaching his brother on the sidelines.

“Finished dancing with mommy?” Aegon sneers by way of greeting.

“Fuck off, Aegon.”

“Aw, come on.” Aegon slaps his brother on the back. “You know I'm joking. Besides, you’re doing well for your first event in a long time.”

“Well,” Aemond’s lips curl in thought. Is that how things are going? Well? I wouldn’t say so. “Hand me your flask.”

Aegon sniggers, reaching for his pocket. “Hurry while our dear mother’s not looking.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Aemond takes a long drag of the liquid, the unforgiving taste biting in his mouth. It burns a little as it goes down his throat, winding up in his core as a pit of warmth.

“Well, well. Did you lose your inhibitions along with your eye, brother?” Aegon snatches the flask back, surprised but not disappointed by this turn of events.

Perhaps.

“Look at them. Smiling at each other like that.” Aemond spits out, venom lacing his tone.

“Wha -” Aegon’s head whips around, searching. Landing on you. “Oh. I see.” His amusement flares even greater. “Someone’s bloody jealous.”

“Hmm.” Why bother denying it?

“Didn’t think you had it in you to be cuckolded by a bastard.” Aegon says, dealing an effective blow.

“Give me that,” Aemond swipes the flask once more, taking a careless swig. Intrigued whispers reach him, somewhere from behind. Or to his side, it doesn’t matter. They can say whatever they want.

He hands the flask back to his snickering brother, then goes on to claim what’s his.

-----------------------

“Nephew.”

You hear his voice, plain as day. One minute he was some distance away, then he materialised right beside you.

“Mind if I step in?” Aemond asks Jace smoothly. Politely. But his eyes betray a hint of malice. You can’t help but stare at him blankly as he offers his hand to you.

Jace doesn’t respond right away, looking to you for approval. Are you fine with this? He seems to ask with furrowed brows.

“It’s okay,” you find your voice, albeit timid and unsure.

“I won’t go too far,” Jace whispers. He lets you go, letting Aemond take over in his stead. You stand in front of each other, but you don’t dare move closer. You feel arrested in his gaze, and he doesn’t say anything for a while.

Until he takes a sure step. Then he is everywhere. His familiar scent envelops you once more. Dizzying, like a long swig of firewine. You even catch a hint of it from him. His lips curl in amusement as he sees you studying him. You take notice of his eyepatch, of the scar lingering beneath.

Aemond. Enticing as ever. Ethereal and princely in his leather garb.

Why did he ever have to hide from me?

He whispers your name, and puts both hands on the small of your back, pulling you right against him. More intimate than the stance you had with Jace.

Aemond always had a pair on him.

He does seem to be unfazed, though he surely regards how flustered you’re becoming. “Hands up on my shoulders, love.” He says, and you comply.

Then he gracefully guides you through the slow dance. How can he act like everything is normal between us? Does he expect me to just -

“You look beautiful.” Aemond says, breaking you out of your thoughts. Your eyes widen at his sentiment, and your cheeks warm. “Easily the most beautiful woman in this room.”

It’s all too much, and you have to look away. “Nice of you to say that, Aemond.”

“I mean it.”

“Sure.”

You continue with the dance, too aware of your proximity. If you lean in, you’re almost certain he’ll feel your rushing heartbeat. Maybe he already does, judging by the pleased look on his face.

“Are you… are you better now?” You ask, tentatively.

Aemond’s expression hardens, and you struggle to decipher what he could possibly be thinking.

“I wish this never happened to you,” you add, and your hand strays on its own, hovering over the side of his face. But you catch yourself, and let your hand fall just as quick.

“I know,” he says, sincerely. “I do wish I never had to be away from you.”

“But you never had to,” you respond immediately. “This wouldn’t have changed how I see you.”

“It might have,” Aemond looks away this time. “You didn’t see how I was. How I still am.”

“I don’t - ”

Aemond’s head whips back to you, leaning closer. “There’s a reason why my mother made sure I wore these bloody gloves. So we don’t give people a chance to talk about their fucking Prince of the City’s latest exploits.”

You swallow, growing concerned. “I heard about those… fights. I wasn’t sure if they were true. Nobody ever said anything.”

He shakes his head. “Oh, they are. I’m not going to lie, darling. Right now, I’m not averse to slamming Jacaerys right to the ground.”

“Aemond,” you freeze, no longer swaying to the music. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

Maybe he has changed. But did I ever truly know him? Did he really let me in?

He notices your expression fall, agonizes at the sight of you moving away from him, dropping your arm to your sides. So he pulls you in once more, holding you right against him. His leather coat is smooth against the featherlike fabric of your gown, cool against your growing warmth.

“Wait,” Aemond pleads. “Stay with me.” His hands slide upward, cradling your face. You have no choice but to look at him. Briefly, you wonder how he would appear without the eyepatch. Not that it matters. Not that he will reveal himself to you.

The song comes to a gradual halt in the background. The crowd begins to shuffle back to their tables. Some of them cast wary glances in your direction. Who is that girl with their beloved Aemond, they must wonder, and you begin to grow self-conscious.

“I want to kiss you right now, darling.” Aemond sighs, fanning your face with an exhale. Proving your assumption that he might be inebriated. Not just with wine, but something stronger.

I wish you would. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” His face scrunches in frustration, and it’s actually adorable.

“Not here. People are staring.” You clear your throat, trying to get a hold of yourself. But it doesn’t seem to matter to him.

“Let them stare.”

His gaze drifts down to your lips. His thumb flutters across, parting them just a little. Just as he had, that one night. Has it been that long?

Like a shock to your senses, you see a lithe figure in a silver slip gown walking in your direction. A vision with her cascading dark hair.

You jump back from Aemond, and he looks almost wounded.

“Enjoy your night, Aemond.” You turn away from him. “Alys.” You muster up a greeting, and the corner of her mouth lifts in a wry smile.

You walk through the crowd, your mind still on Aemond, unaware that he continues to watch you with longing, tuning out the dark-haired vixen holding on to his arm.

“You look flushed,” Aegon greets, standing with Helaena by the dais.

“I suppose it’s your fault Aemond’s drunk,” you respond, raising your eyebrow.

“He’s drunk?” Aegon exclaims, shrugging dramatically. “I swear I had no part in this.”

Helaena shakes her head, watching the exchange. “It’s a relief you didn’t decide to become an actor.”

“Hey,” Aegon grumbles, but he is clearly unaffected. “Aemond wanted to get drunk. I never could make him do anything no matter how hard I try.”

Smirking at you, he presses on. “If anything, sweet, I should be blaming you.”

-----------------------

You are seated back at the high table when Jace finally returns. But he is not alone, grinning conspiratorially with another raven-haired fellow, strapping and dignified in appearance.

You spot the wolf sigil pinned to his black tunic, and you automatically make an assumption.

This must be a Stark.

“I would like to introduce you to an old buddy of mine,” Jace smiles, confirming your thoughts. “This is Cregan Stark.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Cregan reaches you, drawing close. He smoothly takes your hand, and presses a kiss to the back as a gesture of courtesy. “A shame we didn’t meet sooner. I suppose I haven’t left Winterfell in far too long. Haven’t seen this one in a long time too.” He tilts his head in Jace’s direction, smiling. You can’t help but notice the sharpness of his canines, making him appear kind of wolflike, in line with his family symbol. “My sister Sara misses him way too much for my liking.”

At the mention of Sara, Jace’s cheeks visibly redden, and you make a mental note of teasing him about it later.

“What’s not to miss about Jace, really?” you say, taking a liking to the Stark boy’s demeanour. Sure, he holds himself with a steely confidence that befits someone of his status - much like Aemond - but he doesn’t come across as intimidating.

And, more importantly, he’s good friends with Jace, so he must be trustworthy.

“Right, you two, the feast is starting,” Jace playfully pulls Cregan away from you, who winks in your direction before hunkering off to his own table.

Jace sits down next to you, a smile still resting on his lips. When he catches you looking, you take the opportunity and say, “So, Sara Stark, huh?”

He smirks, easily countering with, “So, my uncle, huh?”

Your eyebrows raise, and you pick up the flute of wine set before you.

“Touché.”

-----------------------

Another one. Aemond has half a mind to break something when he spots the fucking Stark boy making advancements on you. Who does he think he is anyway? Does he not know that you are already spoken for?

True to form, his nephew Jacaerys only seems to be encouraging the whole thing. Bringing his two friends together.

Bastard is as bastard does.

Thankfully, there is a sudden trill sound, some chimes swinging, it doesn’t matter. The feast is being signalled to commence.

Everyone makes their way back to their tables, including bloody Cregan Stark.

Aemond is simply determined to go through the motions, and to make it to the remaining two hours of this ball. Two excruciating hours. Then he plans on taking you off somewhere, just you and him, having already considered the different outcomes in his head.

To Blackwater Residences, perhaps? But that would be a bit far away. You would be inclined to go with him, only if there would be an option to return to the ball should the need arise.

So he settles on simply pulling you away from the crowd, somewhere within the Valyrian Hall. He knows the ins and outs of the establishment quite well. So there would be no trouble getting around. To the gardens, to the balcony on the upper floor, to the private parlour?

Anywhere, anything.

“... so of course, I said yes! It’s a really good opportunity for me to finally venture into the film industry, you know. It’s something I've always wanted.” Alys prattles on, and Aemond tunes in, now and then, nodding or shaking his head as warranted. Keep her happy, and the night should flow by easily. If he plays his cards right, he should be with you soon enough.

Viserys commands the attention of the crowd, and hush falls over the feast.

He begins by thanking everyone in attendance, then goes on to make a toast for the entire city, for prosperity. And at the end, he expresses a tribute for perpetual unity among his family, the accident glazed over like a bad headline.

Like it never happened. And that is how people will see it, if that is the will of Viserys.

As per tradition, the rest of the family may take the opportunity to share a toast, should they wish.

Rhaenyra is next, and she expresses gratitude for the health of their sons.

Otto Hightower announces the predicted success of the next business venture between the Targaryen and Hightower empires, shepherded by his tireless consulting and liaising, of course.

Daeron makes a cheerful toast to his many friends, scattered across the hall in attendance.

And then, Lucerys stands, leaning against his good leg, one hand on the table for balance. He raises his hand high, and his usual impish smirk is in place. He looks around the hall, making sure to have everyone’s eyes on him.

“It's been quite the year, as we all know. I, for one, am simply grateful to still be standing here among you.”

Viserys looks to Rhaenrya, as if to question whether Luke will stray too far. The boy’s mother merely smiles stiffly, trusting her son to be prudent in his speech.

Luke does not miss a beat, continuing, “I would like us all to toast to my family, especially to my dear uncle, Aemond. Hopefully he has learned his lesson about challenging me to a race.” He adds the last thing lightly, and the crowd titters as a result.

“Alright, Luke, that’s enough.” Rhaenyra makes a hushed warning.

Luke mouths, wait, and finishes up the rest of his speech. “I would like to make a toast as well, to our dear friends and companions here at our table. To Daeron’s girlfriend, Viola. To Rhaena and her Corwyn. And to my good friend, y/n.”

Aemond’s hand clenches into a fist on the table at his nephew mentioning your name. He sees you regard Luke with surprise, not expecting this at all.

Luke finishes his toast, and in a deliberate move, he says, “Seeing as how my brother is quite taken with you, I won’t be surprised if you will be joining our family soon.”

Aemond suddenly rises from his seat, his weighty chair causing a grating noise to echo across the hall.

Luke sits back down with a triumphant sneer, having accomplished his desired result.

Aemond takes a deep breath, not saying anything for a few seconds. His features are stony and his figure taut, like a serpent ready to strike.

“Aemond,” Alicent says, worried.

Then Aemond raises his glass, a determined look on his face, his one beady eye scanning the hall. Not willing to be defeated.

“A tribute,” he begins, “to the health of my nephews. Jace, Luke and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…”

He catches sight of you, sitting too far away, worriedly looking between himself and Jacaerys, who glares at him appalled. You shake your head at him.

This is all for you, my darling.

“...Strong.” Aemond calls to everyone. “Let us raise our cups, to these three Strong boys.”

The tension takes its toll, and despite Viserys’ best efforts, chaos ensues.

a/n

not Aemond getting wasted just to cope with the high of properly being with the reader after the longest time...

also - someone send Ewan back to Derby please. I'm serious.

Sound off in the comments! I would love to know what you guys think 🖤

Series taglist: @caught-in-the-afterglow @aemondtargaryensrider @punggo66 @dollfaceyourfear @candypurplebutterfly @moonmaiden1996 @mxrgodsstuff @lolitaisreal @blue-serendipity @melsunshine @thejanecampaign @fxngsfxgxrty @padfooteyes @msmarvel-19 @tempo-rary-fix @lauraneedstochill @julczimozart @sarcasticfangirl @witchyv @pyjama-shorts @bellaisasleep @zillahvathek @thincrusttheworks @krispold @yougotthatlove @raging-panda @fleetingly-artistic @throughgoeshamilton @polireader @katsav17 @minttea07 @kravitzwhore @meggiemay82 @hedonefox @daenysx @schniiipsel @namoreno @afro-hispwriter @aemondswifeisme @emcharra @malfoytargaryen @iiamthehybrid @fullmetalriotts @kellzlib @justsumtuffstuff @daydreamy-me @yentroucnagol @kezibear @queenofshinigamis @paprikaquinn

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen imagine #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon

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zepskies · 10 months

Text

Break Me Down - Part 12

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

Word Count: 5,700 Tags/Warnings: Violence and peril, angst central, a touch of PTSD, and a surprise ending…

Part 12: All Your Wicked Ways

Something was wrong.

It was a gut instinct, but yours was far too often right.

Ben had been sleeping for a long time. After he’d fallen asleep yesterday, you did shortly after from the combination of fatigue, pain from your broken ribs, and the painkillers in your system.

But even after your keepers had woken you with a tray of food, Ben still hadn’t woken up.

“Ben?” you tried calling to him, but he didn’t rouse from where he laid in his cot, one arm pillowed behind his head and the other across his stomach.

You got up, your pain making you slow as you made sounds of struggle.

You went to the large window and supported yourself with your hands on the glass. You called his name again, louder.

His face scrunched a little, but your voice couldn’t penetrate the Novichok haze—the poison being pumped into his cell to dull his senses and keep him too drowsy to function.

You paused as you heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall. It turned out to be several, in fact, as a team of Vought security guards came to your cell.

“What’s going on?” you asked. No one answered you as they grabbed and handcuffed you with your arms in front of you. You struggled, but you didn’t have the strength or energy to give much of a fight.

They wheeled in what looked like a large metal casket. You had only seen one of these in pictures, but it had to be a cryochamber.

A doctor in her mid-fifties accompanied them, giving directions on how to safely enter Ben’s cell. Your eyes widened.

“What the hell are you doing?” you shouted. Panic trilled down your spine as the guards fitted themselves with special suits and gas masks. The doctor turned toward you as the guards led you out of your cell and into the hall.

“You’re being transported,” she informed you.

“Where?”

“To a lab with better security.”

“Why? Where’s my father? I know that bastard’s still alive,” you demanded, but it seemed you weren’t interesting enough for the doctor.

You spied her last name, Baker, embroidered above the breast pocket her lab coat. You finally recognized Dr. Tonya Baker; you hadn’t worked with her much during your time at Vought, but you knew her by reputation.

Your heart fell into your stomach.

You struggled against the stern grip of the guard holding you and shouted, “Ben, wake up!”

Between your voice and the commotion outside his door, he started to rouse.

“Get her out of here,” said Dr. Baker.

Your guards tried to drag you, but you dug your heels in and made it as difficult as possible. Meanwhile, Ben could hear you—when you called his name and now, while you were struggling. He finally drew enough energy and strength to open his eyes and sit up in the cot.

Once he saw you being manhandled against your will, his fury sparked.

“Hey!” he barked. He managed to rise off his cot and draw himself to his feet. The first door of his cell slid open for the guards in their hazmat suits. Once that closed, the second one disengaged, and they came pouring in.

Ben fought them. He managed to punch the first one into the far wall, shaking the fortified glass. He snapped the second man’s neck and broke a leg on the third, but they just kept coming in batches of three or four. The room was misty as hell, slowing Ben’s stamina, and he gritted his teeth in frustration.

Their strength was in numbers, and gradually, they were able to latch onto his arms, kick behind his knees to bring him down to the ground.

He saw the mask coming towards his face, and the well of panic, hearing your distressed yelling of his name—it gave him the strength to break the chain of men holding him down.

That’s when he noticed the star bolts zipping outside his cell.

You were still fighting against the guard’s hold. You ripped back his sleeve and bit into the man’s wrist, eliciting a yell of pain. His grip eased up enough for you to steal his secondary gun on his belt, and despite your cuffed wrists, you shot him in the leg twice to bring him down.

You raised the gun at your next attacker—Frenchie, who raised up his hands in friendly surrender.

“Cherie! It’s surprising to see you alive,” he said. You grinned.

“A good surprise?” you asked, and you shot another guard approaching from behind him.

Frenchie flinched slightly, but after he watched the man fall to the ground, screaming and clutching between his legs, Frenchie’s lips raised in a more genuine smile.

“Yes, I think so,” he teased.

You looked past him and watched as Kimiko, M.M., Annie, Hughie, and Butcher took out the rest of the guards. You didn’t see Dr. Baker anywhere; in all likelihood, she’d fled the scene when she saw her opportunity.

Ben still remained in his cell, and you went to the glass window. He looked all right as he met your gaze, but there were about ten bodies lying around him. His face was firm and assessing. Still, you read the uncertainty behind it.

You sighed and turned to your team. “Hey, guys. Good to see you.”

Annie went to you first, grasping your shoulders. Her large eyes peered into yours.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Well, more or less,” was your weary reply. Your ribs were throbbing, but you raised your cuffed hands. “Think you can help me with these?”

Annie raised a hand over your cuffs and concentrated her powers into melting them, just enough for Kimiko to strike through them. You slid off the remaining metal pieces and rubbed your stinging wrists.

“All right, let’s get a fucking move on,” said Butcher.

“Hello to you too,” you replied, raising a brow.

“Oh, just you wait. You’ve got plenty of fucking explaining to do,” he said, leveling a finger at you. He slid it over to Ben, who watched him right back.

“Ello, gov.” Butcher smirked. “Look at you, all gift-wrapped for us.”

He turned to M.M., who approached with an especially terrifying-looking gas mask. Your eyes widened.

“Ready?” Butcher asked him.

“Ready to knock this motherfucker out and bring him into custody,” M.M. grimly agreed.

“Wait,” you said, stepping past Annie to get between M.M. and Butcher.

With your back to the glass, you didn’t see how Ben’s eyes followed you. They hid a thread of uncertainty. He had a feeling you might do this, but he didn’t know what to expect from your team.

“It doesn’t have to go down like this,” you told them. “He took out Homelander. He could help us bring down Vought. This fucking tower, the whole thing.”

“Is that why you ran at the airport?” M.M. asked. Then he shook his head. “Never mind. We don’t have time to debate this.”

You held out a halting hand. “Look, clearly they're not done making supes if they brought back a new and improved Black Noir. Now they’re selling V24 to the military. They need to be stopped, and with our help, Ben could do it.”

“Oh, it’s Ben now, is it?” Butcher stared at you shrewdly, then at Ben himself. The latter just tilted his head, his mouth quirking with an edge of cockiness.

Butcher raised a brow. His gaze returned to you, noting the way you stood your ground, but pursed your lips. You were hiding something…a guilty conscience, perhaps.

“Bloody hell. You two’ve been fucking,” he realized.

Shocked silence spread through the rest of the team.

Your embarrassment radiated off your flushing cheeks, and it took everything within you to resist looking back at Ben. You didn’t want to see what kind of expression he wore, but you could guess.

“No,” Annie regarded you with shock.

“Seriously?” Hughie remarked in a high voice.

“That’s…well, that’s none of your goddamn business, is it?” you tried to be stern, but your embarrassed shuffling made it lose some of its effect.

Kimiko shared raised brows with Frenchie, who just looked amused. M.M., on the other hand, grimaced with disgust. That actually stung, but you crossed your arms. You didn’t have a good answer for them. Not one you wanted to say in front of Ben, anyway.

“I think we can come to an agreement here,” Ben said at last.

You turned around, and he gained the attention of the others as well. He briefly met your gaze before he shifted to Butcher.

“Worked for us once, before you tried to double-cross me,” Ben said.

“You want to take out Vought.” Butcher glanced at their surroundings, specifically Ben’s cell. He gave a snort of amusement. “I could understand that.”

“Butcher,” M.M. said sharply.

“We–we should probably get out of here now,” Hughie pointed out. He looked back down the hall nervously. You agreed with him; any moment now, more guards could be coming.

“Think about it,” said Ben. “The only way you’re getting that mask on me is with a fight. One you’ll probably lose, fucking miserably. We can have the same deal as before, no strings. Until Stan Edgar and Noir are dead.”

It took Butcher all of seconds.

He turned to Frenchie and said, “Open her up.”

“Butcher, what the fuck!” M.M. argued.

“What do you fucking want from me, eh? Their special ops security will be all over us soon,” Butcher said.

But he shared a meaningful look with the other man that you didn’t miss. It sparked your suspicion.

You stepped back as the first door unlocked after Frenchie hacked the commands. Then the gas misting up the cell receded.

There was an immediate reaction from Ben. He blinked in relief as he started to breathe easy. The brain fog making it almost impossible for him to stay alert slowly ebbed.

He took one step into the hall before it happened—all in a rush, but not unexpected. He blocked M.M.’s punch and tossed him across the hall.

Someone jumped on his back. He heard you shout, but before he could rip off the hanger on, Kimiko slipped the mask over his face and deployed a heavy dose of nerve gas. It was enough to drop him to his knees as his eyes rolled back into his head.

Lights out.

On the way to Supe Affairs, you weren’t happy, but there wasn’t much you could do.

You were still in your Vought-issued gray pajamas, bare footed as you rode along with your friends in Frenchie’s van. In the very back was the haul of Ben, laid to rest in a chamber keeping him sedated.

You had to explain to the rest of them that your father, Jonathan, was Stan Edgar’s Chief of Security. You were a cog in Vought’s wheel once upon a time, but joining the S.A. helped you escape. Ben offered you a way to achieve what you couldn’t at the S.A.—taking it all down.

Still, M.M. looked at you like he didn’t even know you.

“How do you explain fucking him?” he asked.

You shot him a tight frown.

“First of all, none of you know what the hell I went through,” you said. “At first, I was just trying to learn how to read him. How to survive and somehow get back home.”

Emotion clogged in your throat when you thought of seeing your sister again soon, and your mom. You thought of all you had gone through in past two months, and knew that it had changed you…

For better or worse, you didn’t yet know for sure.

“But for all his arrogance, his chauvinism, his massive ego and general bastardry, there’s still humanity in Ben,” you said, looking up at your team. You thought they had become your friends…but you supposed you would see.

“Why else would he save me?” you said.

They didn’t answer. You turned your head to Annie, but even she didn’t look convinced. Though you could see she wanted to be on your side, it was difficult for her to reconcile her own feelings about Soldier Boy. You certainly understood that.

“He’s too powerful to kill,” you also pointed out. “Putting him to sleep like this will just make it worse when he wakes up…but if he’s properly motivated, he could do some good.”

“Or off anyone who looks at him sideways,” Butcher wryly replied. “He’s dickmatized you, love.”

You could tell the others sided with him on this.

“You can disagree with me,” you said, “but do you have a better way to kill Noir and take down Vought?”

At the S.A., you were able to shower and get on proper clothes in a black tracksuit and some sneakers. You weren’t allowed to find out where they’d taken Ben yet, but Grace Mallory oversaw the transport, just as she called you into her office for your immediate debriefing.

It felt more like an interrogation, not unlike the one you underwent to be recruited for the manhunt of Soldier Boy.

You felt like a different person sitting across from her. This time you sat up tall, not intimidated by the ice blue stare that greeted you. The lines in the older woman’s face were drawn, but there was an unyielding wall within the woman that you could admire.

It just didn’t change the fact that right now, she was your opponent. And the chess game had begun.

“You went way off-road with this assignment,” she said at last. You raised a brow.

“I’m sorry my kidnapping inconvenienced you,” you remarked.

“Don’t be cute. You know what the hell I’m talking about,” Grace said. “At this point, I’m debating whether to bring you into custody along with Soldier Boy.”

“I’m the one who got him back to the States,” you pointed out, sitting back in your chair with your arms crossed. “I had to get in contact with my father to make that happen. Do you know what that cost me?”

You resisted an uncomfortable shudder. They’d given you more painkillers for your ribs, but it wasn’t enough the relieve the damage of that encounter. Not to your mind.

“Aside from any other self-debasing tactics I used in order to do my job, not to mention save my own life. Without me, and the sacrifices I made, Soldier Boy wouldn’t be in a cell downstairs,” you finished.

Saying those words stung. Like you were somehow betraying yourself.

“That doesn’t fool me,” Grace said. In fact, her shrewd gaze was much like Butcher’s. It saw straight through you as she tilted her head in wonder. “You care about him.”

Your lips tightened.

After a moment, you answered.

“He was tortured for forty years,” you said. “Whether he admits it or not, he’s got scars just like the rest of us…but more importantly to you, he can help us take down Vought once and for all.”

Grace considered you with a shifting light. “I didn’t think that mattered to you.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you retorted. “But make no mistake. You will pay me what you owe me for this mission. If you think you’re going to welch on your end of the deal, then I’m about to be your long-term problem.”

Grace huffed in wry amusement.

“I have a feeling you will be, regardless,” she said.

“And to that end, I will be checking in on Ben,” you replied. “He’s a person, not a weapon or a lab rat.”

“Mind yourself, young lady,” Grace snapped, her eyes narrowing. “I admire your sense of loyalty, but in this case, it’s misplaced. That man is a bastard and a murderer, with a devastating power he can’t hope to control. And you, frankly, don’t have any standing to make demands.”

“And what’s your body count, agent?” you challenged. “Have they all been sanctioned kills?”

When she didn’t answer, merely staring back at you, you stood up.

“You’re right, he can’t control it. Yet. Maybe that’s something productive you can get your damn scientists on,” you said.

And before you left, you added one more thing.

“I may not have your security clearance, your power, or your money,” you said. “But I’ve got a big fucking mouth. So unless you want me to use it, my clearance now includes seeing Ben.”

Grace stared back at you for a moment.

Her nails tapped on her desk as she assessed you.

Releasing a long sigh through her nose, she relented. A little.

“Fine,” she said. “If you can convince him to ally with us on the Vought issue, I’ll allow you to see him.”

You nodded. For all that Grace hated Soldier Boy, she was a practical woman. She saw the same opportunity you did, and was willing to take advantage of it…even if you both knew that convincing Ben to play ball would be damn near impossible.

In fact, this would probably be your biggest challenge yet. But this, you were willing to fight for.

“I can start tomorrow,” you said.

It seemed that Vought and the CIA had been thinking similarly on how to confine Soldier Boy.

You spent one strange night back in your musty apartment before you returned to the S.A., bright and early, so that Grace could lead you to a lab below the main building. It was dark and made of pure concrete, encased in titanium.

In it was a state-of-the-art cell with three metal walls that had to disengage before you could reach the inner room. Inside those four corners of fortified, bullet-proof glass were scarce furnishings. Ben himself was strapped to a bed, with a mask held over his face.

At least he was out of the coffin, but it was difficult for you to watch, even as the scientists and guards unstrapped him and left the cell. The mask disengaged from his face, allowing him to breathe real air as he started to wake. But gas flooded into the compartment, not unlike Vought’s setup.

You and Grace stood outside the glass. She glanced at you with sharp nod. Then she left you alone.

Well, relatively speaking. There were guards posted at the entrance of the three walls behind you, controlling who got in and out of the cell area.

Once all the walls were back in place after Grace’s departure, you let out a shaky breath and stepped forward with the plate of food you brought, along with a few bottles of water.

Ben was moving off the bed, trying and failing to clear his head as he took in his surroundings with a furious glare. It only dimmed slightly when he realized you were there.

He made his way toward you, and you pressed a button that would allow you to safely pass his meal to him without letting any nerve gas escape the inner cell. Ben removed the lid from the plate, inspected the chicken and vegetables with an unreadable expression.

Then, with a burst of force, he took the plate and tossed it as hard as he could into one of the glass walls.

You flinched. But by the time he looked back at you, you’d schooled your expression, merely raising a brow.

“That was real fucking mature.”

“Suck on my balls, sweetheart,” he retorted. He cocked his head to the side. “Oh wait, you did. Last Tuesday.”

You glared at him with a hot blush spreading across your face. That was not, in fact, last Tuesday. But you didn’t rise to his bait.

“Are you really willing to partner with the S.A. to take down Vought? Or was that just you bluffing?” you asked.

Ben started to pace in irritation. You knew he was upset, and itching for revenge on anyone that would dare confine him again. You could guess what being in a cell was already doing to his mental state.

Which was why you were here, desperately trying to help him.

“Really, would you rather be hunted all your life, or would you rather just play ball here?” you tried to reason. “Become a real ally with the S.A. Show Mallory that you can operate within the law.”

Ben looked up from his pacing just to glare at you.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to with all these demands, huh?”

“You, Ben. I’m talking to you!”

He ignored you, resuming his pacing. “I’m a solo act for a damn reason.”

Oh really? you wanted to say. That’s why he needed your help to try and get to Stan.

“That got you here, now didn’t it?” you asked.

He didn’t answer. It made you think you weren’t going to get anywhere with him today. Maybe he needed some time to cool off.

You sighed and turned to leave, but his voice stopped you.

“You’re just going to leave me in here?” he asked in disbelief. And you thought you could read a throughline of hurt behind his eyes. “I saved you…shit, I’ve lost count how many times now. And still, you fucking betrayed me.”

“Don’t you do that,” you warned. Though you felt a prickle of guilt run down your spine. “You know very well what got you here. I tried to stop it. And I’m the only one who’s on your side right now.”

“Doesn’t fucking look like it from where I’m standing.”

You sighed in frustration. “I’ll tell you the truth, I don’t want to leave you in here. But if I can’t trust you, they never will.”

“I don’t know what delusions you have about me,” he said, coming closer.

“But when I get out of here, I’m slaughtering anyone who gets in my way!” he shouted savagely.

He banged his fists into the glass so hard that it trembled, making you flinch with a gasp. A more concentrated fog smoked up the cell. Ben coughed and cursed as he stumbled back, and eventually, he fell unconscious right there on the floor.

You watched in dismay. Despite his rage, it still hurt you to see him like this. Like a caged animal.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you forced yourself to leave the cell before the cameras caught them. You knew Grace would be monitoring this exchange later.

She would probably feel vindicated at what she saw.

The thought disgusted you as the outer walls parted, allowing you to leave. M.M. was waiting for you at the exit. He’d seen the entire thing through a monitor at the control desk, where two guards sat eating their lunch.

“You want to protect that piece of shit?” M.M. said, jerking a thumb towards the cell. “That’s what he really is. And he clearly don’t give a fuck about you.”

Your jaw tightened.

“I’m not going to justify my actions to you, M.M. I know what he’s done, especially to you," you said. "But he didn’t just let me live. He protected me, saved me, more than once. From his own men even. And…he was kind to me, in his own way. I have to think that counts for something.”

M.M. shook his head at you in disbelief.

“Maybe he went soft for a pretty girl, but that doesn’t mean he ain’t a monster,” he said.

“That’s not all there is to him,” you said. “You didn’t see it, M.M.”

The other man watched you for a moment, before he let out a deep sigh.

“You actually think he can be saved,” he said.

“Maybe,” you said. “We’ll see.”

He crossed his arms. You understood how he felt, but you couldn’t deny what your instincts told you about Ben…and your heart as well.

“He’s right about one thing,” M.M. said. “You are delusional.”

A few days went by as the team went back to work at the S.A. as usual. But your days during your first week home became marked by your strenuous visits to Ben.

Once again, he’d rather pace than look at you. You had a feeling it helped him stay awake.

“I fought for my country,” he groused. “I don’t fucking deserve this.”

“Oh, would you stop lying?” you said in annoyance. “You’ve only ever fought for yourself. You didn’t even fight in World War II! You’ve never been a soldier. And unless you get a fucking clue, you’re going to continue being the massive man-child your father saw in you.”

Maybe it wasn’t kind, but you were fed up with his stubbornness. You turned to leave.

“Don’t you fucking walk away from me!” Ben shouted.

You raised a brow, and you turned on your heel. The man was livid, standing in the center of his cell.

“Or what?” you challenged.

But you soon relented at the way he withdrew–into himself.

You had checked the monitors before you came in; he was trying not to sleep, wasn’t letting his body rest. This place was like an open wound: complete wall-to-wall glass, no privacy, nowhere to go, and nothing to do. He couldn’t distract himself with drugs, or TV, or good food, or even good sex and conversation.

This was terrible for him, and you knew it.

“Ben, I want to help you,” you said, letting out a shaky breath. You laid a hand on the glass. “Let me help you.”

His gaze was angry and unyielding.

“There’s only one way you can help me,” he said. “But you won’t fucking do it.”

The team was giving you a wide berth. Even Annie greeted you in the office with more politeness than warmth.

Above all else, you remained professional, but it was a simple fact that your team was no longer your team. They didn’t trust you, or your judgment. And you refused to show how deeply that hurt you.

However, until you all got a breakthrough on taking down Vought and Noir, there was still work to be done. So you fell into step back in with the Surveillance team.

That meant taking your place as second-in-command to your manager, as well as returning to your cubicle next to your coworker Jess. She hugged you when she saw you, even shed tears.

You’d hugged her a bit awkwardly, but you were touched. You hadn’t thought she cared about you that much.

She told you that the entire Surveillance department had been worried about you. That they’d missed you, especially your calm, supportive leadership. (Apparently your manager had been stressed handling the entire department without you.)

That at least buoyed you throughout the rest of the week.

When you returned home on Thursday, however, you received an unexpected call. But when you saw the caller ID, you inwardly kicked yourself before you answered.

“Louisa?”

“What the hell is wrong with you!” came your sister’s sharp voice.

So many things, you thought with a weary sigh. You held your phone to your ear while you tried to find something to cook for dinner in your pantry. All you found was a box of spaghetti…which dragged up bittersweet memories you’d rather not think about.

“I meant to call you as soon as I got back,” you tried to explain. “But I’ve been in full debrief mode. It’s been a circus since I got back, Lou.”

You slammed the pantry shut and went for the frozen dinner in the freezer.

“I don’t care. I didn’t hear from you for almost two straight months…”

You knew the S.A. hadn’t told her anything about your kidnapping, but you knew she had to have been worrying when you didn’t check in at all after that first time in Medellin. The sound of her emotion-choked voice made your own eyes sting.

“I’m sorry, Lou. I’ll come visit you this weekend, okay? I’m still taking care of some things at work.” Namely a grumpy supe on lockdown. “How’s school?”

“School is fine!” she snapped. You heard her take a breath, presumably to calm herself. She had a bit of a temper, just like you, but your sister managed herself much better than you. You supposed being more well-adjusted had its perks.

“Mom was worried too, but I kept her calm. Focused on work,” she said.

“I appreciate that. Thanks,” you replied. You knew you had to call your mom soon as well. Maybe you’d stop in on her after your sister.

“I better see you this weekend,” she grumbled. You smiled.

“Love you too,” you said.

“Love you…okay, I’ll let you go for now. But don’t forget!”

Once you said goodbye and hung up, you held the phone to your chest and heaved another sigh. You were exhausted, really. Sleep hadn’t been coming easy to you ever since you got back. But you knew it was nothing compared to what Ben was going through.

Which was why you visited him every day.

The next morning, you made your pitstop to the “cellar,” as you’d been calling it in your mind.

You’d brought whatever Grace allowed you to give him, like books and magazines, and an old iPod to listen to music on, but he mostly ignored you.

This time, however, he seemed in a different mood as you sat in a plastic fold out chair and ate your breakfast with him, on your side of the cell of course. You took another bite of your blueberry muffin while he pushed aside his bland-looking eggs.

“So, how much did you get paid?” he asked. His tone was nonchalant, but his gaze was accusing. You let out a breath and looked up at him.

“Enough to put my sister through college and pay off my mom’s debts,” you told him. “I took this job for my family, Ben.”

His finger tapped on his arm, but he didn’t relent. “Selling out is selling out.”

Wow. He really had the nerve to compare you to the way his team sold him out.

You’d tried to be nice. You really did. But he could be such a massive pain in the ass.

“You don’t seem to understand just how much shit I’m in for trying to help you right now,” you said.

Ben mustered up some strength and got up from his cot. He drew near to you, crossing his arms.

“If this is your idea of doing me a fucking favor, then I don’t need it,” he said angrily. “I don’t need a naive little girl like you to help me do jack shit.”

You set down your muffin and stood to your feet, matching his glare.

“Like you didn’t need my help to get into Vought Tower?” you pointed out, satisfied by the way he piped down. Silently simmering.

“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even be awake right now,” you added. “You’d be back in an ice coffin.”

And that could still happen if you couldn’t convince him to cooperate with Supe Affairs.

“Fuck off,” he snapped. “And fuck you.”

Oh really? You frowned. At this point, you wanted to slap him. It seemed to be his sheer stubbornness and ego that was keeping him from his own freedom, and that, you just couldn't tolerate.

“You know what?” you said, grabbing your muffin and your fold-up chair. “Suck my dick, Ben. When you’re ready to talk to me like a human being, tap on the glass.”

You left him behind to do your real job, and this time, you didn’t let him halt your steps.

You’d scarcely entered your apartment that evening, when a shadow on the living room sofa gave you a small heart attack.

You flipped on the lights and found your younger sister, arms crossed with a raised brow. On the coffee table in front of her was a glass of soda. It looked like she’d made herself comfortable while waiting for you.

“Louisa! What are you doing here?” you exclaimed, with a hand on your chest. “Why the hell are you sitting in the dark?”

“I heard you coming up those rickety stairs and thought I’d pay you back for disappearing in South America,” she said.

But soon enough, wide grins took over both of your faces.

You pulled her into a big, warm hug. Tears burned in your eyes, and one or two slid down your cheeks as you tried to get ahold of yourself.

“I missed you so much,” you confessed. You were just slightly taller than her, able to comfortably pet her hair and press a kiss to her cheek. Louisa was just as emotional, her pretty eyes filled with happy tears.

She was about to speak when the glass on the coffee table suddenly shattered.

You both flinched, and your sister gasped. You held onto her shoulders tighter, more protective as you assessed the room. You listened closely.

A shot rang out, but it hit the wall beside your head. You moved at the last moment and narrowly avoided the third shot that would’ve struck you between the eyes.

“Get down!” you yelled, forcing your sister to crouch along with you and move across the living room.

Bullets tore with a vengeance through the windows, crashing into vases, picture frames, shattering the surface glass of the wooden coffee table, and ripping into the sofa until its internal fluff rose into the air like cotton confetti.

You protected Louisa’s head as you both took shelter behind the sofa.

“What’s happening?” she shouted over the cacophony, but you didn’t have an answer for her yet.

Your front door burst open and shattered the lock. You tensed, looking for where you stashed the spare gun you kept at home. The S.A. hadn’t gotten around to issuing you a new glock yet.

Heavy boots came through your apartment. You grabbed a piece of broken glass and told Louisa to stay down.

But when you stood and met your attacker, he was nearly three times your size. He grabbed your wrist in a firm, but not painful hold. He pulled his black ski mask down with a hand and revealed a familiar face.

Your eyes widened, your mouth gaping in shock.

“Frank?”

AN: 😏 Did I get'cha? Did I? Let me know in the comments. 😂

Next Time:

“Wait, wait. You’re not getting out of this.” Louisa leaned over and grabbed your hand. “What’s the deal with you and Soldier Boy? I thought the whole point of your mission was to capture him.”

You let out an exasperated sigh.

“I was on the job, things went sideways, I got captured, and things got…complicated.”

Frank huffed. “I think the kids are calling it Frenemies with Benefits.”

Keep Reading: PART 13

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

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#All Your Wicked Ways #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #soldier boy/ben x reader #the boys au #enemies to lovers #frenemies to lovers #private investigator!reader #the boys amazon #soldier boy smut #break me down #Part 12 #zepskies writes

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4ttack-ur-heart · 11 months

Text

Cherry Chapstick

Pairing: Armin x reader

Warnings: none.

Summary: Armin refuses to let you use his chapstick. No worries, you have other ideas on how to keep your lips from getting chapped.

(also just pretend chapstick is canon in the aot universe for the sake of the fic 😭)

Another long and grueling day of training was finishing up. The sun was setting through the huge forest of trees.

“Alright, trainings over! Rest up and be ready to head back in 15 minutes.” The squad leader said with his barking voice.

Your squad leader liked doing various training sessions with just your squad, something about strengthening the bond and making it easier to tag team during expeditions.

Landing on one of the branches to catch your breath, you sat against the bark let your body slouch for the first time that day.

“Tired?”

Looking up at the voice, Armin was standing in front of you. His new shorter blond locks shifting gently in the breeze as his pretty blue eyes locked on your figure. He was one of your closest friends. The friendship was honestly ideal with him giving you the guidance that you needed while you encouraged him when he was feeling insecure.

You nodded at him through half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile. “I’m so glad we have a day off tomorrow, I’ll probably spend it sleeping.”

Armin returned a smile at your words. “You’re almost there, (y/n). I’m sure your bed misses you too.” While you laughed at him, Armin squatted down next to you.

“What do you got planned tomorrow?” You asked and leaned your head against the tree. He pulled his green cloak tighter around his shoulders when the breeze kicked in.

“Probably go out into the valley and find a nice place to read.”

“By yourself? What about Eren and Mikasa?” You raised an eyebrow. The trio was pretty much inseparable.

Armin waved off your question with his hand. “They wanted to go into the city and I’m tired of third-wheeling. It wasn’t much fun as kids and still isn’t now.”

Nodding your head, you gazed once more at the sun just about to set. The orange hues casting over the green plains.

Armin finally sat down on the branch, his leg brushing up against yours. “God, I can’t stand this weather.” He muttered and started to fish for something out of his pocket.

With curious eyes, you saw him pull out a small tube. Chapstick? He uncapped it and gently spread it on his lips.

Armin chuckled when he caught you staring at him. “What? My lips are chapped.”

“I can see that.” You could also see his plump pink lips all shiny from the substance. “What flavor is it?”

“Cherry.” He pocketed the chapstick.

You inched over to him. Cherry was your favorite flavor, a timeless classic that forever held your heart. You were about to ask him for some when he seemed to have read your thoughts and immediately shut you down.

“No, you can’t have any.”

Instantly shocked at his words, your mouth was agape and you crossed your arms with a pout. “What, why?”

Honestly, you couldn’t care less… well maybe you cared a little bit. But being petty and dramatic was more fun however, especially in front of Armin.

“(Y/n), don’t take this the wrong way, but anything you touch immediately disappears.”

Ok, now you cared a lot a bit. “No it doesn’t!”

“Oh, you defended yourself real quick there, huh? Alright, tell me where Sasha’s hairbrush is.” Armin had a smile on his face as he rested his arm on his propped up knee. Sasha lent you her brush one day and it was never seen again. She made you buy her a new one the next day.

Your silence was the answer he needed.

“Maybe you know where Mikasa’s training gloves are?”

Again, more silence. She’d let you borrow them for training and you stupidly set them down when it was windy.

“Oh, wait! My blue sweater? Haven’t seen that in a while and you were the only person I lent it to.”

It was a rather chilly morning one day, so Armin lent you his infamous blue sweater.

Manipulative little bastard.

A slight blush dusted your cheeks. You glared at the blonde and scoffed. “I feel like this isn’t just about chapstick.”

Arming gave out a chuckle. “It is, (y/n). Don’t worry.” With that, Armin rose to his feet and patted your head as he walked along the branch.

Your eyes fluttered in satisfaction when his fingertips rubbed your scalp.

“I can’t even have a little?”

“No.”

Ugh, be like that then.

———

Your squad eventually had to make the journey back home. Riding next to Armin, your horses ran in sync as you both gave each other little glances every few minutes.

“Can I have some of that chapstick now?” Your voice rang over thundering steps of the horses.

“No.” Armin replied.

“But my lips are chapped!”

“Figure it out.” He shouted back.

Oh I will.

———

“Finally home.” You moaned and jumped off your horse and led her to the stables. Your body ached and sleep was all you were craving. It was dark by the time you guys got back and your squad leader gave his appreciation by quickly dismissing everyone.

Maybe I’ll skip dinner. I’m so tired.

Thoughts flowing through your head as you undressed your horse of her gear. Hanging the saddle on a peg, you brushed her mane and fed her some carrots.

“Eat up, Star. My pretty girl.” You cooed, gently running your hand over her nose. Another set of steps disrupted your intimate moment with Star.

Turning around, your eyes softened at Armin, who led his horse over by the reins.

“Hey, stranger.” He teased and began working on his horse. You smiled back at him and it was silent for a few moments, just the sound of the equipment clinking with movement.

You turned to look at him only to give a dry chuckle when you saw him pulling out his stupid cherry chapstick again. The stupid smile never left his face as he applied it.

“Ar-”

“No chapstick, (y/n).”

Damn.

“That wasn’t what I was going to say!”

Armin turned to meet your gaze with raised eyebrows. “What was it then?”

Shit. Think (y/n).

Armin chuckled as the silence answered his question. His hands gently brushed through his horse’s mane. “You’re a bad liar.”

A scoff left your lips. “I don’t like this new attitude of yours.”

Over time, Armin slowly broke out of his shell, no longer the dorky and nervous kid he once was- even though you loved that about him. Now, he was comfortable enough to speak his mind without a second thought, even to you.

“Get used to it, (y/n). Looks like you’ll have to find another way to keep your lips moisturized.”

You didn’t like the snarky look he had on his face. A sudden idea popped into your head. As Armin finished settling his horse for the night, you caught his wrist as he walked by.

A confused look adorning his features when he turned to look at you.

Without thinking twice, you pulled him towards you and stood on your toes. Lifting your head, your lips quickly planted themselves onto his.

You could tell he was caught of guard. His blue eyes widened at the sudden action and a startled whimper escaped him. It was kinda hot honestly. Pulling away, you rubbed your lips together and popped them. “Mmm, gotta love cherry.”

His lips were partly opened and a red rouge covered his face. He still couldn’t believe it.

“U-uh, I-”

“Night, Armin. See ya tomorrow.” You smiled innocently at him before brushing past him to leave.

His hand latched onto your elbow and pulled you back. Raising an eyebrow at him, Armin gripped both your shoulders before pulling you back in, lips meeting yours once more. His back was crouched down a little to meet your height. Now it was your turn to be surprised.

Oh. Oooh

He moaned slightly against your lips when you started kissing back.

The kiss lasted a few seconds before Armin slowly pulled away from you. You both were slightly panting from the adrenaline and the eye contact between you both never broke.

“There.” His hands still gripped your shoulders. “That should last you a bit.” With that, his hand moved just below your ear, his thumb brushing over your jawline.

Armin finally snapped himself of whatever trance you had on him and gave a small smile. “Meet me here tomorrow at noon, that’ll give you plenty of time to sleep in and you can join me in the valley.”

“O-okay.”

Without another word, Armin left the stables. Your mind ran crazy with thoughts. Yes, you kissed him first, but you didn’t expect him to actually want to kiss you again.

How in the world did he play the game better than you? It was your idea-

—————

The sun shines brightly through the curtains of your room. You let out a groan as the stiffness in your muscles were more prominent from yesterdays training.

Looking at the clock on the wall- 8:25 am.

You can still catch breakfast before it ends and relax a bit before meeting up with Armin.

Oh yeah…

What a peculiar night. You honestly thought Armin would either be confused or disgusted when you kissed him. Not flustered. Him kissing you on his own also surprised you. The little manipulators all grown up now.

You got up and threw on some random clothes, heading to the dining hall.

You quietly ate your food, only a few soldiers remained in the dining hall since breakfast was ending soon.

Time slowly passed by, and you decided to take a nap in your bed for another hour or two before leaving. The nap only left you more tired. After changing into a more presentable outfit, a simple button up and a long skirt, you threw your favorite sweater over. The material was soft and the fading but familiar scent was comforting to you.

Your footsteps were slow as you walked to the stables. The soreness in your body along with the tiredness still swirled in your system.

“(Y/n), over here.” Armin called out to you as he led his horse outside his stall. “Perfect timing, I was just getting ready to- is that my sweater?”

Oops. Yes, yes it was.

“Maybe.”

“I thought you said you lost it!”

“I never said I lost it.” You yawned. “Just never wanted to give it back to you.”

Armin chuckled and was a bit surprised at your words, he climbed on his horse and turned down to you, hand extended. “You ready?”

Nodding, you grabbed his hand and he pulled you up. Your legs straddled the horse and your hand hesitantly grazed his waist. It wasn’t until Armin flicked the reigns and the horse quickly trotted forward that you decided to wrap your arms tightly around his waist as he navigated through the towns.

“You good there?” He joked and placed his hand on top of your clasped ones that pressed against his abdomen.

—————

“You look nice in my sweater.” Armin commented, trekking his fingers gently through your scalp.

The warm breeze swayed the grass and wildflowers surrounding you. The meadow Armin took you to was beautiful this time of year.

Your head currently rested on his thigh. Armin was sat against a willow tree, a book in his other hand. Every so often, his hand would leave your head to turn the page and gently return.

“It’s mine now.” You mumbled through closed eyes. Armin insisted you try to nap again while he read. However, no one brought up the situation from last night. At the moment it almost seemed like it never happens. No one acknowledged it.

“Of course it is.” He said with a smile before taking his hand away from your head. He shifted and buried his hand in the pocket of his trousers. His leg raised your head slightly as he moved. “Sorry, I just can’t- dammit where is it?”

You craned your neck to see his agitated face. “What happened?”

“I can’t find my chapstick.” He muttered with a frown.

A giggle erupted from your mouth, making him look at you. “And you say I lose stuff?”

“Shut up.” He muttered.

You both returned to your original positions with you head still resting on his lap. The breeze continued to blow and you glanced at Armin to see the tips of his blonde hair blow across his face. The shorter hair really suited him.

You let out a small sigh and pulled the sweater tighter around your frame. Reaching into the small pocket, you pulled something out.

Uncapping it, you gently applied it to your lips and didn’t miss the way Armin was staring at you dumbfounded. The label was clearly a different color than his. No, this one was yours. All yours.

“It’s strawberry and before you ask- no you can’t have any. I wouldn’t want you to lose this one too.” A devilish smirk crossed your face. Payback was a bitch. If he could be petty, so could you.

Armin sat back and mumbled something incoherent. His book was now discarded to the side and his arms were crossed with a pout. Memories of last night flooded his thoughts.

The way he held you. The way he looked at you. How you tasted.

You looked up at him with innocent eyes and rubbed the substance coating your lips together. He was staring at you.

You let out a small laugh as he pulled your body up and lowered himself down closer to you. You didn’t miss the way his eyes stared into yours before darting to your lips, then back to your eyes. He was so close. Then as if he decided it was right, Armin’s lips were encasing yours once more.

You gave a small sigh into the kiss and your fingers raked through his blonde hair.

Armin’s tongue gently swiped against your bottom lip and before you could open your mouth for more, he pulled away.

“You’re right.” He said and rubbed his own lips together. “Cherry does taste better.”

You were a little disappointed at the sudden break in contact. Sitting your body up, you faced him. “We can get you more when we head back into town.” You offered and avoided your gaze.

Maybe he was just getting payback for last night?

Armin rolled his eyes and pulled you back towards him. “Yeah that sounds good, but I like this option better.”

And he kissed you again. More passionately this time.

He suddenly pulled your body against his so you were fully sat in his lap, emitting a small squeal from you. Your legs curled into his side and his hands were placed at your waist, thumb brushing your hip.

“Thank you for coming with me.” He mumbled against your lips.

“Just take me out and we’ll call it even.” You replied, your arm wrapping around his neck.

“Okay.”

——

Taglist: @cullenswife

(Lmk if you wanna be added <3)

#armin x you #armin arlert #attack on titan #aot x reader #aot fluff #aot imagines #aot drabbles #armin x reader #armin arlet fluff #armin arlet x you #armin arlet x reader #aot headcanons #armin fluff #armin arlet imagines #armin arlet headcanons

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silantryoo · 1 year

Text

BONUS [ RP STONT ] — siri, how do you deal with daddy issues? (TW)

y/n doesn't really know what to do with her feelings...

WARNINGS ; depression, self-sabotage, daddy issues, implied verbal abuse

y/n hasn't left her room in five days.

she was sure her members had noticed by now, especially since eunchae would always walk into their room with a plate of food in her hands, saying that the food was for the older girl.

she had even missed practice today, telling the girls that she had felt too sick to go. all the girls understood, but y/n didn't miss their worried glances.

and truth be told, y/n was only sick of herself.

y/n tossed her body around, feeling the cold air on her back as she checked her phone.

76 messages from the le sserafim group chat, 2 from hanni, 1 from yujin.

13 messages from minji.

y/n tossed her phone away.

minji had sent her updates on occasion, talking about her practices and how she went to visit some bungeoppang shop with her members, saying that they should go next time. the younger girl kept asking where she had went, and upon hearing y/n was 'sick', asked if she should drop by to give her some medication.

y/n ignored her.

she knew she shouldn't have, but every time minji's name popped up on her screen, she couldn't help but feel a gut-wrenching feeling. everything she felt about minji was wrong.

to her, minji was someone who deserved everything the world could offer. she deserved countries named after her, and food made just for her in mind. minji deserved someone who was always there for her, someone who was perfect.

y/n wished she could be the one.

but she knew that she couldn't. all she could give her was pain and anguish. she had already caused minji so much trouble in the beginning, so what was to say that she wouldn't cause more?

she was still her father's bastard child. she was the one that ruined his life. she was taught that she was made from hate, and although she thought she didn't believe it anymore, she still felt him in times like these.

minji deserved better.

y/n sighed, watching as the rays of the sun beat against her curtains.

she wondered if jennie had felt the same. did she have these thoughts and feelings too? or was she as perfect as their dad made her seem?

why couldn't she have been good enough for him? he knew that she had never asked to be born, so why couldn't he just give her some slack? why couldn't she just be like her older sister?

did she not try hard enough?

y/n knew she was one of the most, if not the face of le sserafim. she was known for being an all-rounder despite her visuals, yet she still felt as if she had nothing to offer. she felt ugly all the time, and although it had gotten better after meeting her members, the feeling never fully subsided.

sometimes, she even wondered if she should have debuted.

y/n tossed again, coming face-to-face with the stuffed toy that eunchae had given her to cheer her up.

the idol wished that she could just tell the girls how she felt, hell maybe even yujin.

maybe in a different world, she could have a family who wanted her. a family where the mom was like chaewon who looked out for her and cared about her. she'd have older sisters like sakura and yunjin, who would tease her all the time but hurt anyone who would do the same. she'd have best friends like kazuha and yujin, who she would joke about hating to be the third wheel but in reality would be so happy for them. and a younger sister like eunchae, who would brag to her friends about how great she was.

maybe in that world, she would be perfect enough for minji. maybe in that world, she'd even be perfect enough for herself.

masterlist | next

taglist (CLOSED)!!

@fav9yu @gojosrug @lizseos @captivq @invusblog @writingficsblog @wonyoluvr @limbforalimb @lethalvenus @archerheejin @bibrinastan @ahnneyong @theeyoon @phamminji @chaersly @misumiausworld @afiaaaa19 @yumtooki @oshyci @txtbrainrot @falling-intoo-deep @0310lvr @yizhoutv @rinpopz @serenitygrace24 @noiacha @marimo-anura @sserajeans @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @rd0265667 @li0ilthecxnt @dmndtears @rosiehrs @yeridaenggi @spritin @cecedrake2217 @meltingbluess @jeonsy98 @haerinstolemyhrt @ssambf @awkwardtoafault @babycubchae @perfectsunlight

#kim minji x reader #minji x reader #newjeans x reader #new jeans x reader #le sserafim x reader #newjeans smau #smau #idol x reader #silantryo

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crime-wives · 2 months

Text

ouat 1x01 thoughts

god regina, you dramatic bitch. “I shall destroy your happiness if it is the last thing I do” ok darling, you can destroy me if you’d like

henry is so small, his tiny cheeks awww

not to be gay but… emma swan in the pink dress. fuck. i forgot how attracted to her i was. and the HAIR, the fucking princess curls. jesus christ her ARMS.

“bail bonds-person” i love her

yesss bitch, strut across the street like you own it. absolute icon behavior, slamming that asshole’s face into the steering wheel.

babe you’re so sad and pathetic with your vanilla cupcake. i bet she wished for family.

not her apartment door saying ‘cast a spell’

“My name’s Henry, and i’m your son” agevgsvegw STOP

her having a panic attack in the bathroom, so real.

once again, her ARMS, i want her so bad

henry’s cute little freckles, i can’t do this.

idgaf abt snow and charming “She poisoned an apple because she thought I was prettier than her” shut up bitch, you know that’s not why

“Oh kid, you’ve got problems” emma swan, insulting children since 1983

ok but the fact that they chose the name ‘emma’ in a fairytale world, lmao

evil queen theme song playing as they enter storybrooke

emma swan wearing the most dyke outfit possible. getting ready to impress milfs

not that there’s any significance, but emma’s license plate is: 836•M4X

snow and charming are so annoying istg

ewww the blue fairy, i hate that bitch (derogatory)

regina running towards henry and wrapping him up in a hug. her eyes are wet. good lord, her first reaction is concern and worry, not anger.

“I found my real mom” my HEART. her face after he said that, so stricken and hurt, baby…

emma’s little flustered, ‘hi’ when talking to a gorgeous milf. ok babe, we get it, you’re gay.

graham leaving bc of emma and regina’s immediate sexual tension. and regina’s eyes roving over emma.

first ‘Miss Swan’ of the show at exactly 21:00 minutes.

emma swan is so desperate to impress regina. it’d be funny if it wasn’t so pathetic (affectionate)

“Sneaky bastard” once again, emma swan insulting children since 1983

crashing into the storybrooke sign like the absolute icon she is

the cgi 💀💀

yay!! curse time :)

emma waking up in a jail cell. she just does not give a fuck about this shit.

her lips parting when she she’s regina, ok babe, she’s hot we get it

LIP SCAR

god mary-margaret pisses me off

go regina, knock over mary-margaret’s shit, absolute queen

“She’s kinda a hardass” yes but that turns you on, doesn’t it?

gina’s so hot when she’s evil

putting a newborn through the wardrobe to save themselves, a+ parenting

henry mills, once again, the most mature one in a situation “You don’t have to be hostile. You like me, I can tell. You’re just pushing me away because I make you feel guilty.”

“I wanted you to have your best chance. But it’s not with me. C’mon, let’s go.” go emma! be the mature adult i know you can be

petition to get emma swan a therapist so she can deal with all her issues (trust me, she’s got a lot of them)

“Look, your mom is trying her best. I know it’s hard, and I know sometimes you think she doesn’t love you, but at least she wants you.” emma swan, standing up for regina mills since the moment they met

mmm regina’s voice is so hot.

her unhinged laughter, i love her so much

“Where are we going?” “Somewhere horrible, absolutely horrible” takes them to maine

emma swan is so fucking desperate for regina’s approval. she wished to not be alone on her birthday, baby…

second ‘Miss Swan’ of the show at 38:43 (i will be keeping count of all of them :D)

regina fidgeting with her blazer pockets, she’s so anxious

first “He’s my son” at 39:01 minutes

“I will destroy you if it is the last thing I do” babe, it’s kinda gay to have a nemesis, just saying

third ‘Miss Swan’ of the show at 39:32

baby… gina is coming apart at the seems

god, not to be gay, but regina’s HANDS at 40:27 agevvegse

emma’s only staying because of regina’s provocations. she wouldn’t have stayed for henry.

gold is so icky.

she’s staying a *only* a week, sure babe, sure.

also side note, i forgot how good the coloring was in ouat. like its very faded, maybe indicative of storybrooke being stuck in the past???

#i will do this for as many eps as i feel like #is anyone going to read this. absolutely not #but i’m having fun #ouat #swan queen #regina mills #ouat rambles #anya rambles #once upon a time #i sound insane i’m (not) sorry

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eremin0109 · 8 months

Text

So I just played the entire Majima introduction scene in Kiwami 2 and suffice to say I'm having some t h o t s. After having to sit through that awkward af scene where Kaoru undresses in front of Kiryu and then has a heart-to-heart with him about wanting to find out about her past (like seriously? if y'all wanted show them bonding just do THAT?? Do they need to sexualise that encounter like fucking look at the way the camera positions on Kaoru's breasts while she's genuinely talking about wanting to find out the truth. men at sega are truly limp dicked bastards istg) it was such a breath of fresh air to FINALLY go and see Majima.

Like at the Tojo HQ I almost screamed when Kiryu found the demonfire knife in Terada's backroom and was all like "I'd recognise that dagger anywhere..." like we know baby. You've got scars on your body the shape of the dagger's edge, of course you'd recognise it! And then the conviction with which he says that Majima is the only one who can save the clan from falling apart when Yayoi and Kashiwagi are both apprehensive about it is just...*chef's kiss*.

The actual meeting scene takes the cake of course. Kiryu brings that damn dagger with him to Purgatory and tosses it to the ground like some sort of a mating call to Majima, like he knows that's the only way he'll actually respond. And then what follows is just Sayama being obviously third-wheeled the entire time these gay bitches are in proximity to each other. Like I'm pretty sure the use of the very possessive sounding "my Kiryu-chan" definitely raised her eyebrows. (Not to mention, his dialogue with Sayama comes off more or less catty. The nicknames he calls her feel patronizing, like he dismisses her being anything more than another arm candy. Of course that is until the "I'm a cop" reveal lmao, that sobers him up pretty fucking fast).

And of course then Kiryu is more or less begging Majima to come back to the Tojo, bowing his head low in reverence and desperation and a bit of selfishness too because he KNOWS Majima won't be able to say no. Not to him, HIS Kiryu-chan. And Majima surely just reinforces that fact by saying "Ya know I can't bear seeing ya like this..." They're both pretty fucking aware of the fact that Majima has a big ol' soft spot for Kiryu (and now, thanks to all of this shit happening right in front of her salad, Sayama does too).

But the real highlight of the scene comes after, during Kiryu's entry into the coliseum where Majima is just so shamelessly checking him out through the cage it's not even subtle. But we all know that already.

What we don't know is the fact that its Kiryu who looks at him first and he just keeps looking at Majima's direction after winning against Di Sciuva:

against Gary Buster Holmes:

Kiryu knows Majima's eyes have constantly been on him throughout the tournament. And so it's not even entirely subtle that he's making sure Majima's having a good time because all of this is basically a show Kiryu's putting on for his eyes, hoping it'd be impressive enough to convince him to come back to Tojo clan. But I'm willing to bet anything that some part of Kiryu thoroughly enjoyed that shit too.

Everyone and their mother knows what comes next, gay sex in a caged fight, but still I will never get tired of going absolutely bonkers over Majima's entry scene. Everything about it is just so powerful and sensual and just so fucking cool.

It SCREAMS reciprocation. Majima is basically like 'Kiryu-chan gave me such a spectacular show it'd be such a shame not to return the favour' and then he just presents himself like THAT to Kiryu, in all his glory and asks him all smugly whether he likes the fucking view. That was so cunty of him UGH.

and Kiryu is just so fucking amused and he VERY MUCH VISIBLY likes what he's seeing. his body language, the way his voice drips with something dangerously close to fondness, that damn li'l smile like Kazuma Kiryu you're so fucking gay for this man it's embarrassing~

Their post-fight scene has a different fanbase altogether, because goddamnit Kiryu do be looking at Majima like he wants to wreak him all ways to Sunday.

This is one of the few times through the 3 Yakuza games I've played that I've genuinely found Kiryu to be smokin' hot. Like I don't think he's EVER smirked like that at anyone, much less a female love interest. There's just so much going on on his face (bless the dragon engine graphics) and good GOD every bit of it is downright filthy.

He fucked that man, hard (or got dicked down within an inch of his life). PERIODT.

Sjsjdjdjrowjehejkeje I don't think we talk enough about Majima here. The way he looks down then slowly back up to Kiryu while a little smile plays on his lips, the way he lowers his voice to that sultry af tone and he invites Kiryu for a drink, almost as if it's an inside thing for them both, as if it's code for "hey, wanna fuck nasty on my desk?" And Kiryu, for once in his life, picks right up on that, and then fucking smirks like THAT because of course he wants to fuck, what kind of a question is that?

Like there's just no other feasible way to explain this interaction. Y'all know if this exact scene was between Kiryu and Sayama, they'd have been all over each other in the next scene.

But because it's SEGA's two leading men, they settled for the most obvious insinuation possible that it just makes it way more horny than if they'd just straight away fucked. I said what I said.

#anyway that's all #well...for now at least #this scene is just so fucking good like I can't even #these are not even ALL of my feelings about it #how do they expect me to give a shit 'bout Kiryu and Sayama's lil thing when these two are so shameless with their carnal desire for e/o???#everything about them in this game makes me insane in the best possible way #truly the brainrottest of brainrots #kazumaji #kazuma kiryu #goro majima #yakuza #yakzua kiwami 2

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gods-graveyard · 2 months

Text

Marauders/Royal court as quotes from my DND group (part 5) (it was a long night)

Evan: "If you succeed once that's an extraordinary event"

Pandora:“A twink and a corpse, that's the quality of men here” Evan:"You have a very natural charisma" Barty:"So you d o want me to talk"? Evan:"I didn't say that" Sirius to Remus:"I think you should learn to lie- even if It's going to bite me in the ass" Pandora:"Apparently I have a good soul, but I do bad things and I really need to stop that" Regulus:"Why"? James:"Emotional imbalance" Marlene to Sirius:"Dorcas and the rich one seem okay- I mean you and Regulus seemed okay and your both rich bastards" Lily:"Are they useful"? Remus:"As useful as liars can be" Barty:"He denied me the first thing I wanted from my new life, "no gold no ale", what an ass" James:“Can a tick survive in my vagina”? (yes this was said by a cis man playing a male character, no I will not give context) Remus:“These two… well tonight I have to be the third freak” Marlene:“What could we get to impress you” Dorcas:“I'm not sure you could get anything to impress me-” Barty:“Good rum tastes like happiness.. Bad rum tastes like happiness but also hungover” Peter:“Do you have any… cheese”? Remus:“You just want... a wheel of cheese”? Peter:“No a plate- i'm civilized”

Marlene: “You could say I beaten some pussy”

Regulus:“If he says that again ill kill him-” Evan:“He's not joking, she has a history of killing friends” Regulus:“And I don't plan to stop�� Sirius: “Don't take anything... ill know” Lily:“Your currently flanked by two very beautiful women” Marlene:“Oh no… whatever will I do~”

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sarehime · 20 days

Text

No to A Third Wheel - Part 1

"I want to try the 'bear form' tomorrow night. It's going to be a lot of fun!" said Astarion cheerfully as he sat on Karlach's lap.

This was the last straw. Karlach took Astarion off her lap, stood up and turned her back to Astarion.

Karlach could no longer stand what Astarion was telling her about Halsin. With this annoying feeling inside her,

"You've been talking about Halsin since I arrived!" she said angrily. Astarion looked at her in surprise, then he burst out laughing.

"Do I detect jealousy radiating from you? Come on Karlach, you know you're my favourite," Astarion said sarcastically. Karlach took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. Astarion began to examine his fingernails, not realising that the inside of the tent had warmed another degree. Since he was struggling with his own jealousy. Finally he asked the main reason for his jealousy, trying to sound nonchalant.

"How was your date with Wyll?"

If Astarion had to be honest, Wyll was never in his plans. When Halsin had offered him an open relationship, he had never had any intention of excluding Karlach. But when he had told Karlach about Halsin's offer, Karlach had not been interested, telling Astarion that he could see Halsin without her if he wanted to. Astarion had accepted the offer anyway, thinking that he would somehow persuade Karlach, but Wyll had been much quicker than he had been and had ruined all his plans. Bloody fucking bastard prince, he thought angrily.

"We… just decided that our relationship wouldn’t be working," Karlach said, turning to him. Astarion frowned, but you could tell he was happy. Trying to hide his happiness,

"Why?" he asked. "It's only your first date, in fact I'm not too surprised that Wyll screwed up on the first date hahaha!" Astarion laughed and Karlach looked at him with hurt eyes.

"Not a second went by that I didn't think of you. And everything was very, very wrong," Karlach said in an extremely fragile voice. Astarion's eyes widened in surprise. "Don't you... Don't you ever think about me when you're with Halsin?" Karlach asked in fear.

Astarion couldn't help but laugh, certainly it’s not a mocking laugh. He just couldn't believe what Karlach had said. But it was a laugh that could be misunderstood. Karlach's stomach tightened with worry and an anger rose inside her that she could not stop.

"Astarion you..." Karlach was about to say something in anger but she was suddenly interrupted herself. She glanced at Astarion, puzzled, then averted her eyes from him. She realised at that moment what she had done.

Karlach could not give Astarion any future. Even now she could have died. Why was she jealous of him? It was rubbish. She had promised herself that she would not restrict Astarion in any way, but now she was going against that promise. She clenched her hand into a fist over her heart. She hated sharing, she didn't want to share Astarion, but she couldn't restrict him. She didn't know what to do, but if there was one thing she knew, it was that such a relationship was not for her.

"No!" Astarion suddenly shouted as she felt his arms around her neck. "No, no, no, no! Darling, what are you thinking?" Astarion put his hand on Karlach's cheek and turned her face towards him. Karlach continued to look away from him, trying to pull his arms away. Astarion tightened his arms even more and began to place kisses on her cheek.

"Astarion let go," Karlach said.

"Okay, okay my love I won't talk about Halsin again, I won't even see him again. Karlach please darling hold me. I feel awful, please, look at me," he said pleadingly. Karlach shook her head, barely stopping the tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry but Astarion I need to think about our relationship, this kind of relationship is not for me, please let me go," said Karlach. She had to go to her own tent and think. Astarion shook his head and resting his forehead against Karlach's cheek,

"I apologise," he said. "I didn't realise how hurt you were, Karlach please, nothing serious happened with Halsin, I thought about you every moment I was with him, it was partly for you. I wanted you to enjoy all the pleasures in life, I was thinking that maybe later I could persuade you to join us, so I accepted Halsin's offer. Yes, it was a bit of a stupid plan, I realised that when you told me about Wyll, but I already had a relationship with Halsin, so I couldn't object. Karlach please, it was all for you!"

"But Halsin..."

"He'll get over it, also I don’t care,” Astarion said, interrupting Karlach.

"Astarion please..." whispered Karlach.

"Karlach I will always choose you, no matter who or what the alternative is, I will always choose you. Please, darling, do you think I'd go through with something where I might lose you in the end? Please, please don't look at me like that again. It's like you've given up everything, like you've given up on me... Look at me please darling!" Karlach took a deep breath. She still wouldn't look at Astarion. Finally, she pushed Astarion away from her with a slightly hard push. Unable to look into Astarion's hurt eyes,

"Just give me some time to think," she said.

"Karlach..." Astarion took a step towards her, but Karlach held up her hand to stop him.

"Please," she said and walked out of the tent without saying anything more.

Astarion started to go after her, panic rising in him, but he barely stopped himself. He was terrified at the prospect that if he went after her, things would only get worse. He began to take deep breaths, even though he didn't need to. When he realised that his legs were shaking, he threw himself back on the bedroll and sat up. He put his face in his hands and thought about what to do.

He had ruined everything again. With tears welling up in his eyes, he pulled his legs to him and rested his head on his knees.

It was over. Karlach would finally make a rational decision. And being with Astarion was never a rational decision, never would be...

to be continued…

*** Sorry, Astarion my babe! Don’t worry she will forgive you but first I have to have fun myself lol

#baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion #karlach #astarion x karlach #hellspawn #astarlach #fireblood #bloodengine

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sugarprincessbitch · 1 year

Note

i saw request are open, soo...

what about young !sansa stark being in love in you (headcannons>)

So because you didn't specify the gender of the reader... I took some liberties and decided to make them female :)

Sansa first meet you in kings landing, you were assigned to her as her lady of company by the queen, the main porpuse of it was to not only spy Sansa but also a tactic of Cersei to take more control placing the ones that are loyal to her. In fact you are her cousin, the sister of lancel.

I think that at first she will ignore you a little (sorry hehe) because in a romantic level we know that at that stage is imposible (Sansa didn't have time to explore yet her sexuality and she is infatuated with Joffrey).

In a platonic way she is still very much friends with Jane pool, that is also her lady of company. I imagine the whole thing to go like you being the third wheel.

But things will change quickly, in fact she wants to make a good impression with the queen, so she will try to talk to you more (mostly out of politeness).

Due to your patient and amicable nature you become fast friends but not as near as her relationship with Jane.

When things went downwards (Joffrey being proclaimed as king and Lord stark being decapitated) Sansa was left alone in a place full of serpents wanting to bite her.

Her father was dead, her sister was gone and her foes and friends were not there. The only "friend" or person of minimal trust was you.

Also, you were the only one protecting her against the fury of Cersei and her bastard son, tending her wounds when she was hurt and hugging her at night when she had nightmares about her father's death.

As days passed and hope faded, you two became closer, sharing secrets and stories in sweet whispers when you two were alone in her chambers.

In the day when all court was against her, you show her your support by holding her hand and calming her nerves by caressing her hair.

Sansa thought that her blushing checks when you show her affection and having such fervent desire to touch the skin of your face when the two of you were rested in bed together, where only normal things that a friend might feel for the other.

The part of looking at your lips and thinking how they might feel in hers were not that friendly feelings, yet she didn't think hard about it or she will become a ball of nerves and blush.

You obviously were not oblivious to her growing feelings for you, giving that her looks at your form where not as discreet as she would think.

Initially you wanted to wait until your family became uninterested about Sansa whereabouts and acts to talk about the strange "friendship" that you and her were having.

Yet, Sansa surprised you with her forwardness on the night after Stannis failed attack to the city (not the best moment for that but whe know that poor Sansa was in so much distress).

While the man where fighting outside, the high born lady's and the children were inside the queen chambers. Sansa and you sat down beside Cersei in your respective places.

When you were occupied to assess the state of your injured brother that came crashing the door, Sansa disappeared in thin air between the caos of the room when your cousin decided to abandon all.

Desperately you called her name over and over again on the way to her chambers, asking yourself where the fuck she went at this hour of the night with how dangerous was the keep in this times of war.

Seeing Sandor Clenage coming out of her room cover in blood and clearly drunk, was not a sight to calm your nerves, so you dash to encounter face to face with a distraught Sansa.

Coming out of her stupor she rushed to you and stamp her lips with yours, catching you by surprise. You continue the kiss, to later assure her that her feelings were reciprocated.

That night she slept like a baby in your embrace, while you murmured to her ear hopes for an escape from this hell that you called the Red keep.

Pd: I think I got carried away hehe...hope you like it!!💓💓

#game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #young! sansa stark #sansa stark #sansa stark x reader #house stark #house lannister #headcanon #sansa my beloved #fuck you Joffrey #asioaf #ice and fire books #battle of blackwater #thanks for the ask!#ask response

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generalallxsanjishipper · 2 months

Text

Some incorrect\extremely correct quotes for my EXTREMELY FAR AWAY IN THE FUTURE ADP FIC (and in part in TIALAMYDK LMAO)

***

Alice *after entering Douxie's mind for several minutes, on the floor*: Oh, wow. Your brain is a disaster

Douxie *also on the floor*: Yeah, I know

Alice : Ever thought about doing drugs?

——

Zoe: Casperan.

Douxie: Ashildr.

Zoe: Clumsy dumbass.

Douxie: Angry Chiwawa.

Claire: *confused* What are they doing?

Archie: Insulting contest.

Claire: Ah.

Zoe: Old Man.

Douxie: Dwarf.

Zoe: Flat ass.

Douxie: Useless Half Lesbian

Zoe: Knucklehead

Douxie: Mosquito

Zoe: Peter Pan

Douxie: *Suddenly grinning* Pinky pie.

Zoe: EXCUSE ME?

Douxie: HA! *Claps hands with a smug face* I WON!

Zoe: HOW DID YOU JUST CALL ME?! I'M GONNA FUCKING END YOU!

Alice: Now, now…

——

Douxie: Hello, my name is Failure, and you're watching my life crumble into pieces.

Douxie: *waves his fingers and sings like he is in a Disney Channel intro*

——

Simon: Why are you on fire?

Douxie: This is just how my day is going.

——

Douxie: Everybody shut up, please! I'm thinking.

Zoe, patting him on the back: Well, don’t think too hard. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.

Douxie: Oh, for the bloody sake, Ashildr!

——

Jim: I’m here for the cult stuff.

Alice: How did you find us?

Jim: I saw your ad on craigslist.

——

Alice: To be honest, I'm kinda pissed that I'm not asleep in bed next to the love of my life in a cottage with no obligations other than watering my vegetable garden.

——

Archie, looking at Douxie, Alice, Simon and Zoe: Okay, so I need to become a therapist faster.

——

Simon, on the phone: Oh, hey man… Sorry for accusing you of murder last week.

——

Alice: Someone take me to art museums and make out with me.

Zoe: But they said not to touch the masterpieces.

Alice: Well somebody's got to pin the artwork to the wall.

Douxie, on a mic that he brought by himself: This is Douxie, those idiots are fucking around in the East wing again.

Douxie:*drops the mic on the floor and leaves, muttering about being a third wheel*

——

Zoe: Mom liked to say ‘you can be part of the problem or part of the solution,’ but I happen to believe you can be both.

——

Jim: Who's in charge here?

Zoe, shrugging: Usually whoever yells the loudest. So, me.

——

Barbara, seeing both Douxie and Alice on wheelchairs: I hope you have an explanation for this.

Alice: We have three, actually! :D

Douxie: Pick your favorite.

——

Alice: *venting endlessly to Simon about her week*

Simon, every once in a while: *in a monotone* Wow, that is so wild.

——

Alice: Yeah, well I've never died so how do I know that Gods or... God are real.

Nari:*appears*

Alice: WHAT THE FLIP

Athena:*appears too*

Alice:*looses her flipping mind*

——

Zoe, to Claire: Well, one of us has to be wrong and it’s not going to be me.

Claire:

Claire: Yes, it's you, actually.

——

Alice, *talking about Zoe*: She's the girl of my dreams!

Douxie: You say to most of the girls that they are the girl of your dreams.

Alice: I have a lot of dreams.

——

Douxie: The next time I open up to someone, it'll be my autopsy.

——

Simon: Sorry I can’t be emotionally vulnerable with you, it'd ruin the mystery.

——

Zoe, *talking about one of her first meeting with Douxie*: And then he ran into my knife. He ran into my knife several times.

Jim: You mean you stabbed him?

Zoe: He ran into my knife.

Douxie: She ran into my knife, too.

——

Zoe: I don’t even have time to tell you how wrong you are.

Jim: Okay?

Zoe: …

Zoe: Actually it’s gonna bug me if I don’t, so...

——

*Zoe and Alice are texting*

Zoe: Your ass is like…

Zoe: Spacious

Alice: WHAT

Zoe: Sorry, I didn’t want to say fat because it might trigger your ED

——

Bastard number 1:*sarcastically, while leaving* I hope you all make it to adulthood.

Jim: That’s... a great prayer.

Simon: A needed one.

Douxie: A needed one indeed.

——

Simon: I will send my army to attack!

Simon: *makes roaring noises*

Simon: *releases a dumpster of raccoons*

Jim, next to his Vespa: WHOA

Jim: THEY WERE YOURS????

——

Zoe, singing to the tune of I Kissed a Girl: I killed a guy, and I liked it-

Douxie, whispering: Should we call the exorcist?

Alice, also singing: The taste of his cherry chapstick.

Simon, appalled, but looking apathetic: Call the exorcist.

——

Zoe: Alice and I are no longer dating.

Alice: Zoe, that’s a horrible way of telling people we’re married.

——

Zoe: Hey, quick question. How petty am I allowed to be?

——

Alice: What if the person who named Walkie Talkies named everything?

Alice: Pregnancy tests are Maybe Babies.

Toby: Socks are Feetie Heaties.

Jim: Defibrillators are Heartie Starties.

Douxie: Nightmares are Dreamy Screamies.

Claire: Stamps are Lickie Stickies.

Zoe: I hate you guys so much.

——

Alice, looking through their clothes: Has anyone seen my top?

Simon, grabbing his mint gums without looking at her: Zoe's in the kitchen.

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katkusuo · 2 months

Text

00:18 | brain is braining y'all!

Theme = fluff! (Reblogs are appreciated!)

˚₊·͟͟͞➳🧸DRAKEN

he loves too hug from behind in bed rather then cuddle each other or has you on his chest

Coffee lover idc what anyone says

Sometimes helps put bimbo!users fake press on nails on 😭

🚬Hanma

hard core smoker 100%

Has kicked a whole group of cat callers up because reader called him scared and told him where she was so he could deal with it

Mocks !reader and ends up getting kicked in the balls

Always brags about his height too kisaki and reader

Has been slapped after coming home drunk and smelling like dirty Street cats and cigarettes and alcohol and having cat hairs all over him..

❤kakucho

Sweetest fucking angel I swear

Helps you get changed sometimes in the morning

Has rushed out of work for sick!reader before !

You want it? He's getting you it no buts

🔥Baji

He's actually softer then the aggressive persona he shows so I see him being the type of bf who has the protective instincts and will not hesitate too grab you out of stupid situations

Let's chifuyu third wheel

And if I dare say...

scary!Reader where baji always flexs and says stuff like "my girlfriend will beat your ass's so fuck off bastards"

TAG LIST!

@i-literally-cant-with-this

@arlerts-angel @kazutora-kurokawa

#twitter #tokrev #baji keisuke #kakucho #draken #hanma headcanons

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mariaofdoranelle · 1 year

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Look at Us Now — Ch. 4

Fic Masterlist

I couldn’t wait until Thursday to post under a prompt for Aelin Week, so be ready for a surprise by then hehe

P.S. this chapter is my baby be nice to it

Edit: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ONE OF MY FAVORITE PEOPLE IN THIS HELLSITE ILY @aelinchocolatelover [plays parabéns da xuxa softly in the background] ❤️💛💕💓❤️

Warnings: light NSFW, language, swords, let me know if I missed something

Word count: 6,1k (Oops!… I did it again)

The only sound Aelin could hear was their heavy breaths and the AC running.

Rowan was draped over the couch by her side, head tilted up and naked as the day he was born. The way his pecs flexed and glistened because of his post-orgasm heavy breathing and sweat was absolutely maddening.

Aelin’s fingertips were about to become calloused from the amount of times she ran them over his rock-hard abs.

It became a routine, pretending she was leaving base like everyone else at the end of the day, then turning around when no one would notice. She didn’t know if Rowan was always waiting for her or if he just enjoyed working until late. Aelin didn’t care. What mattered is that he was always at his office right after her classes were done, and she would always take advantage of it.

Aelin darted a glance at the watch Rowan kept on his wall. It was almost 11 pm.

She should’ve gone home to rest after having classes until nine, but Aelin was attached to this office like a magnet. Or to the man who stayed here. Rowan always had her so lost in his current Aelin often forgot she has a boyfriend waiting for her most days. Dorian didn’t seem to mind, though. With them having an open relationship, he was never lonely.

Around the third time Aelin came to Rowan’s office, there was a drawer with a lock and condoms inside. A short while after, he brought a small, but extra comfy couch, perfect for a post-orgasmic haze.

Aelin didn’t mind having sex on desks and walls for 10 weeks if it was with Rowan, but she liked this additional little touch.

It would be still the best sex she’s ever had, Aelin thought.

She hummed in delight, thinking about the way he tore her apart minutes ago in this couch.

Rowan lazily turned his head, making his gaze fall on her. What’re you thinking? His curious green eyes seemed to ask her.

“We still have time for a round three.”

He chuckled. “Insatiable.”

That single word sent a spark through her spine. Aelin had never been shy in bed, but things with Rowan were different. More intense. Something about him made her absolutely unleashed between these four walls, like wind spreading a wildfire.

They didn’t talk much, though. Too hungry for each other in the beginning and too tired from the day in the end, the only time they’d talk was between rounds.

“You’re not gonna wish me good luck?”

Every recruit needs to do a physical test by the end of their basic training, and Aelin’s would be tomorrow morning.

“You don’t need it.”

She grinned. “Because you trained me so well?”

Rowan did that thing where he tried not to smile, but the left corner of his lip tilted up anyway. “I think that goes without saying.”

“I disagree.” Aelin bit her lip, eyes full of mischief.

“Is that so?”

She nodded. “I need more cardio.”

Rowan said nothing, but his eyes sparkled with the challenge. He got up from the couch, then laid on the ground for a second before bending his knees and elbows to raise his shoulders and hips.

In less than 10 seconds, the bastard got into a perfect yoga wheel pose.

“Show off,” Aelin grunted. His grin was so smug she wanted to punch it.

“Hop on.”

Aelin’s eyes widened. “You want me to ride your dick like this?”

“You said you needed cardio.”

The squat work she’d have to do fuck him like this. With nothing around for her to support herself. After fourteen hours of boot camp and two orgasms.

“Absolutely not!” She shrieked.

One look at her face was enough for Rowan to chuckle, the echos of his amusement not stopping while he smoothly landed on the floor.

Aelin’s shoulders relaxed in relief, but something dawned on her. Was Rowan Whitethorn teasing her?

“Not funny.” She crossed her arms. “Get back here. And stop showing off. You’re not even the yoga type!’”

“That’s prejudiced. Why am I not the yoga type?”

She squinted her eyes at him, but the bastard was still grinning. He knew she thought he wasn’t the yoga type because he’s a burly brute.

He shrugged and sat back on the couch by her side. “I go to a class on Sunday mornings. My roommate joins me when he’s not too hangover.”

I could go with you. The words were in the tip of her tongue, but Aelin held back.

She knew her place in a man’s life after fucking for 10 weeks without even being asked on a date. And she was happy with it. Rowan was an incredible fuck buddy, and she had a boyfriend already to take to yoga classes. But like Rowan’s roommate, she didn’t know if Dorian could stay a single Sunday morning without being hangover, either. Or still at a party.

Who liked yoga, anyway?

Trying to erase her own thoughts, Aelin turned to straddle Rowan in one swift motion. She did her best to not let her self-consciousness show. She had been exercising like crazy, but didn’t seem to lose any weight. In fact, she’s been feeling bloated for a while now.

Fuck, Aelin really needed to stop thinking.

Rowan began trailing kissed down her neck, making her softly moan and search with her hips for his hardened bulge.

“I want to fuck you here. No yoga shit.”

Aelin didn’t see it coming, his hand slapping her ass so hard it sent shivers through her body. The hand on her hair slid to her throat, gently squeezing it again when he commanded, “You take what I give you, and you’ll like it. You hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” Aelin whimpered, and then moaned when he slid his cock between her folds to press against her clit.

It was so good it could be a crime, the way Rowan made her feel. How he knew exactly what to say in bed and every trick to make her scream.

Right now, this was exactly what she needed.

˜˜

Aelin kept telling herself that today’s test was a given, and that she could endure worse than this. Dorian kept telling her that it’s okay to be and act nervous before her test.

Truth was, fighting him and insisting she wasn’t edgy was very effective at distracting her from the real thing. Now that her boyfriend was waiting outside while she waited for her second physical test in the Air Force, it felt a lot more real.

It consisted of two parts, some bureaucratic blood tests and tox screens and then being cleared to do the actual test.

Aelin was on a row with the other people from her class, entering the room where it was going to happen, when someone stopped her.

“Wait there. Galathynius, right?” The flat and rough voice came from Captain Salvaterre, the coordinator of her program. He frowned at the clipboard and wrote something down before looking back at her. “You’re not cleared to do the physical test. You’ll get more info via email later.”

Aelin didn’t move. Eyes widened, mind blank. What the fuck just happened?

“Bye, Galathynius,” Salvaterre dismissed her.

“Wait,” Aelin blurted, mind still short-circuiting. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. Don’t care either. The doctor didn’t clear you to do the exam, and now you’re holding up the line.”

Her eyebrows squished together. Why would the doctor do that? “Can I at least talk to them?”

“Look, I won’t let you bother the doctor just because you smoked some weed or whatever and got caught.”

“Excuse me?” Aelin hissed.

Salvaterre sighed. “Most people that fail this step do it because of the tox screen. I don’t give a fuck about what you do on your free time, just don’t bother the doctor over this shit. It’s done.”

“What? I don’t do drugs!”

He didn’t look convinced.

“I mean it.” Aelin raised an eyebrow. “I could be dying. I could die right now without knowing what’s wrong.”

Salvaterre rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

She followed his instructions to where to find the doctor, her mind racing all the time. Since it was their mistake, maybe she could reschedule the test. Sure, Aelin had been feeling tired and drained all the time, but it was because of her exhausting training. Apart from that, she knew she was on her prime. This was surely a mistake.

Aelin knocked three times at the door and went inside before the doctor could tell her to come in. If she did it fast enough, maybe there could be time for her to rejoin her class and do the test.

The doctor was a kind-looking older woman. Files, probably everyone’s exams surrounded her, but she looked calm in the middle of that chaos.

“Oh, hello, there!” She grinned. “How can I help you?”

She shook the doctor’s hand and rushed to sit on the chair in front of her. “Hi. My name’s Aelin Galathynius. I didn’t get cleared to do the physical test, so—“

“I’m on it.” She quickly found Aelin’s file and smiled when she opened it.

Aelin frowned. What was she smiling at?

”I couldn’t let you go in there, dear,” the doctor explained, “These tests are ruthless, especially when you’re new. All your exams look great, but it’s too physically straining and risky for any pregnant woman.“ She smiled. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Wait. No. I’m going there. What in—“

Wait a fucking minute

Did she say pregnant?

Aelin cleared her throat. “There must be something wrong. You’re sure this exam isn’t someone else’s?”

The woman handed her the paper, jaw dropped. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—“

“Holy shit,” Aelin interrupted, not really caring about anything else right now. Too stunned to remember that she was cursing at her soon-to-be workplace.

Her eyes were frozen on the same few lines.

PATIENT: AELIN ASHRYVER GALATHYNIUS

BETA HCG QUANTITATIVE

TEST VALUE: 91350 mIU/mL

P.S. POSITIVE

What the actual fuck?

Aelin just stared with a slack jaw, eyes glued to the paper.

Dorian had a vasectomy, and she only had unprotected sex once this year. Way more than once actually, but all on the same evening. Does Rowan have a vasectomy? Is he the vasectomy type?

For the first time of her life, Aelin cursed herself for not keeping good track of her period. She just marked the first day she bled on the app and forgot it existed until the next month.

Aelin snatched her phone from the purse, frantically opening the period app.

She felt the ground falling underneath her feet.

There were signs everywhere telling her period was late. Months late. The most neglected app on her phone had been trying to tell her the most important thing of her life for months.

Aelin sighed and held her head in her hands, trying to make sense of something she already knew was true. Her last period had been almost three months ago, a little before her unprotected sex with Rowan, at the very beginning of her training.

She cursed math for never lying.

Getting up, Aelin snapped a picture of the exam and gave it back to the doctor, mumbling a thick “Thanks, good morning.”

She walked that familiar path with no destination in mind. Aelin had nowhere to go now that she wasn’t doing the test. She tried to process this, but wasn’t processing nothing at all.

She was pregnant. Baby. Diapers. Cries. Big, big belly. Milk. Milk and money, actually. Babies required milk as much as they required money.

Money wasn’t an issue. At least Aelin was a doctor.

If she was keeping the baby, Aelin thought, but soon brushed it off. She wanted this. Twenty-seven isn’t too young to be a mom, right?

Fuck, she’s going to be a mom. No, not fuck. Good. This was good news. Scary too.

She also needed to move out. Uncle Orlon and Darrow never wanted kids, raising her and Aedion after Aelin’s parents died was enough on them. She didn’t want her kid to be a burden.

Her and Rowan’s. Way to go, being knocked up by a brute she barely knew.

Rowan did not look like the nurturing dad type, at least not by the way he acted around his students. Aelin cringed. Would he be too hard on her kid?

If he wanted the kid, she couldn’t forget. There was a good chance he won’t want the baby, considering that: (a) he’s a man, (b) their history, or lack thereof.

A hand wrapped around her elbow, making her jerk and go stiff.

It was just Dorian, though. Looking around, it looked like her aimless wandering led her to the room she left him in.

“That was quick,” her boyfriend said. “How was it?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“We need to talk,” Aelin blurted.

She pulled a confused-looking Dorian to his car until they were seated with the doors closed. She showed him the picture of the exam and waited for his answer. And waited. And waited until she was wriggling in her seat, trying to get a better look at his dumbfounded face.

“Wow,” he breathed, and turned to face her. “What are we doing about this?”

We.

That word alone almost broke her heart.

“You know it’s not yours, Dor.”

“It’s Hot Lieutenant’s?”

Aelin nodded.

He had a small, sad smile on his face. “But we’re a team, remember?”

She swallowed, chest constricting. God, this was hard. Aelin already knew what she had to do, but it didn’t make it any easy.

“We are, but this isn’t a quick fix. It’d mean no quiet time, no free time, vomit all over your expensive furniture…”

Dorian took a deep breath. “You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?”

Aelin nodded, clamping her lips together. “You don’t want to change your entire lifestyle for a kid that isn’t even yours, Dor.”

He didn’t answer. Just nodded, resigned. They knew they weren’t the one for each other, but that didn’t mean they wanted to break up now. The situation required, though. Aelin’s relationship with Dorian was based on fun and friendship, and throwing a baby in the mix wasn’t a good fit. Besides, he didn’t want a kid. He has a vasectomy for a reason.

Dorian cradled her face with both hands, looking her deep into her eyes. “I might not be your baby daddy, but I’m going to be the best damn uncle this kid will ever have, okay? I promise.” He brushed off a few rogue tears from her face. ”I love you, Aelin. Whatever happens, you’re not alone.”

Her hands wrapped around his torso, not caring that she was dampening his designer shirt with tears. “I love you, Your Magnanimous Holiness.” She felt his chest faintly shake with what would’ve been a full laugh any other time. “You’re still my best friend.”

Dorian kissed the crown of her head. “I better be. You’ll always be my best friend, Ace.”

They stayed a long time like this, Aelin taking deep breaths while he hugged her and played with her hair. It was nice, even with the bittersweet mood that lingered.

˜˜

Aelin woke up at her actual house this Saturday morning, which was odd. She usually spent weekends at Dorian’s, and even if they decided to stay friends after the breakup, she needed time alone to think.

She was pregnant.

Her first trimester flew by, and she had missed every single sign of it. Sure, she was feeling tired and had some cramps, but these were a few of the things she was shrugging off and assuming it meant something else. But Aelin knew better now.

She had so much to figure out it was making her dizzy, so her only goal this weekend was to not freak out completely.

One thing at a time, like her old therapist taught her.

On Monday, she’d make an appointment at the OBGYN and tell Rowan. Just find him on base during lunch or after work and rip the band-aid off, no expectations.

Aelin was giving her damn best to calm her heartbeat and not think about what would happen after that.

The smell of barbecue dragged Aelin out of her room, and hopefully it’d be a good distraction from all this.

Everyone was chatting in the backyard. She didn’t know when Aedion got here, but he was sitting with Uncle Orlon and Philippa, the housekeeper, while Darrow manned the grill.

Her heart squeezed to see her family like this. She wondered how much it’d change, after Little One was here.

“There she is!” Aedion beamed. “I thought I’d only see you at dinnertime, Ace.”

“Overslept.” She shrugged, feeling her stomach getting queasy just to think of the reason she stayed in bed more than usual.

“Is Dorian coming today?” Philippa asked. “I made that berry pie he likes.”

Aelin swallowed. It’d be easier to get this over with, so she took a deep breath to calm her nerves and announced, “Dorian and I broke up.”

The uncomfortable silence and everyone looking at each other without knowing what to say didn’t last long.

“Oh, thank God.” Uncle Orlon’s shoulders dropped and he sighed in relief. Aelin gaped, mind blank for a second. When he read her expression, he continued, “What? I like the kid, but he’s too unserious for you, Fireheart.”

She sagged back in her chair. Aelin wanted to argue, but her uncle was right. She always knew Dorian wasn’t the one, even if she enjoyed their relationship.

“What did he do?” Aedion snarled, arms crossed while he carefully studied his cousin.

“He didn’t do anything.” Aelin took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to drop. “We broke up because I’m pregnant.”

The only sound was her cousin squeezing his beer can with his hand until it was completely crushed, its contents spilling onto the table.

“He did what?” Aedion hissed through his teeth, and it was only then that she noticed everyone was intently looking at her, their faces somewhere between concern and something murderous.

Oh, fuck. Aelin really had a way of putting her foot in her mouth sometimes, didn’t she?

“It’s not his!” She blurted before anyone started overreacting. “Dorian’s not the father.”

“Oh, honey.” Philippa’s eyes were soft, understanding. “Did you cheat on him?”

“No. Hmm.” Aelin scratched the back of her head, feeling her whole face flush. God, this wasn’t a conversation she’d like to have in a room full of old people. “We weren’t exclusive. We could see other people while dating each other.”

Aedion didn’t seem impressed, but Orlon’s eyes were bulging out. Darrow was carefully silent.

“Is it a new kink?” Philipps wrinkled her nose. “Being cheated on.”

“It’s not like that!” Aelin groaned while holding her face with both hands.

“Honey…” Orlon took her hand, brows furrowed with concern while he struggled to say whatever he was thinking. “Do you at least know who the father is?”

“Of course I do!” She blurted, cheeks flaming as she dropped his hand. Aelin wasn’t easily embarrassed, but discussing her sex life with her great-uncle was not on her bucket list.

Everyone was silent, waiting for her to drop this piece of information.

“I haven’t told him yet. I’m not sure you know him, but promise you won’t say anything?”

Everyone nodded. She took a deep breath.

“It’s Lieutenant Whitethorn.”

“WHITETHORN?” Darrow screeched. “ROWAN WHITETHORN?”

Aelin froze. They did know him, after all.

Darrow ran inside the house and Orlon went after him, always the peacemaker. All things considered, she was thankful they didn’t have any guns, even though they could for being in the military.

“At least he’s hot,” Aedion acknowledged around a bite of garlic bread after a small stretch of silence.

Aelin groaned. “You know him too?”

“We did basic training together, and I think he went to Darrow’s section right after. Cool dude.”

“You’re not mad?” She eyed him warily.

“I’m happy for you, Ace. I will go for his head depending on what he says to you, though.” Aelin snorted. That sounded like her cousin. He continued, “But I need a cute niece or nephew to impress the ladies.”

“You are not using my kid to pick up women.”

“Not any women.” He leaned back, a lazy grin on his face. “MILFs.”

Aelin was about to say something about how disgusting her cousin was when a loud noise interrupted them.

Through the window, she could see Darrow holding a sword the military required them to have for some special ceremonies. Orlon was holding his own by the door, probably telling his husband to not threaten Rowan with it.

Considering that Rowan most likely also had a sword and definitely lived somewhere in this same village, she wouldn’t put past Darrow to find him and actually start a sword fight.

Aelin got up from her chair, ready to stop this nonsense. That’s the problem with her family, it’s full of overprotective men. They even have the medieval weapons, for Mala’s sake.

˜˜

Aelin clicked on the side button of her phone just once, to stop ringing.

“Do you want to take it? I can come back in a few,” The waitress asked.

“No need. I’ll have two of today’s specials, a diet coke and a non-alcoholic beer, please.” Aelin forced a smile.

On the table, her phone still showed a picture of Rowan and their daughter together, their smiles so big it was almost blinding. On the bottom of the screen, the choice to still take the call or refuse it altogether.

When it went off and he didn’t call again, Aelin let out a long breath.

Her relationship with Rowan got a lot more pacific after his trip to the hospital. It lasted less than two days.

Something eased inside Aelin’s chest when her cousin stomped inside the restaurant while looking for her. Aedion had many skills, but he had never been exactly a graceful person, Aelin mused with a small smile when he accidentally bumped his hip against one table.

They were on their lunch break, and while meeting at the restaurant nearby was nice, doing it for the third time this week was not in Aelin’s plans. At least not when she could eat for free at the Air Force’s mess hall.

But she would never deny lunch to her hurting cousin. Besides, Elide texted her saying they were serving fish today, and it wasn’t good. The food at the mess hall was a box full of surprises. It could be anywhere between unbelievably good and absolute shit.

“I see you’re still avoiding Kyllian,” she prompted.

Aedion didn’t answer, and he was saved by the waitress coming with their drinks. He and his now ex-boyfriend had been on a rough patch these last few months, and Kyllian being called upon to relocate to Mistward was their last straw. Apparently, Aelin would be helping her cousin avoid his ex at base until he moved.

“Seriously, Ace? This tastes like shit.” Aedion grimaced at his non-alcoholic beer.

“I’m not letting you get back at work drunk. And it’s on me today.” Aelin eyed her cousin warily. “Only because you look terrible.”

That damn ringtone started playing again. Her phone was on the table, so both Ashryver cousins stared at the picture of Rowan and Maisie. She pressed the side button again.

“You’re not gonna answer that?” Aedion asked.

Aelin squared her shoulders. “I’m already answering that, by silently telling him to give me space and respect my boundaries.”

“It could be important.”

“It’s really not.”

Aedion rolled his eyes and swiftly snatched her phone from the table. “Hey, man. What’s up?”

He hummed and nodded for a few seconds, then turned to Aelin. “Rowan wants to know what you packed for Maisie’s lunch today. He called in the morning to remind you she had a tummy ache yesterday, but you didn’t answer.”

Aelin ground her teeth together. Like she wouldn’t remember her own daughter was sick. What kind of mom did he think she was?

“Tell him to fuck off,” Aelin spit out.

Aedion sighed. “She told you to fuck off, man.��

Her cousin hummed again, then his eyes lit up and he perked up. “That’s so cool! Wait a second.”

He asked Aelin, “Did you read his texts about soccer classes?”

She gripped her diet coke with a little too much force, trying not to snap at her cousin. Aedion winced before Aelin even opened her mouth, reading her too well.

“I don’t think she wants to talk to you right now, man.” A pause. “Speaking about soccer, do you wanna watch the game on Sunday?” Aedion frowned and leaned back on the chair. “Come on, man, you have to. You know I’m on a post-breakup slump.”

Whatever Rowan told him made Aedion gape. He turned to Aelin. “You didn’t tell him Kyllian and I broke up?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not friends with Rowan, Aed. We only talk about Maisie.”

Aedion sighed, said goodbye and promised to text him about Sunday’s game.

After he gave her the phone back, her cousin said, “I don’t know what happens between you and Rowan that makes your relationship so bad.”

Aelin ground her teeth together, refusing to answer.

He wouldn’t have it, though. “He’s a good man. An even better dad. Your family loves him. For someone who got pregnant out of a hookup, you did pretty great, Ace.”

“Can we change the subject?”

He drew in a long breath and let it go. Anyone close to her knew The Rowan Conversation was absolutely fruitless.

“I vote for soccer.”

Oh, great. He stopped talking about her least favorite subject of all time, introducing this week’s least favorite subject.

“Thank God you’re not her parent, then.”

”Ouch.” Aedion held a hand against his chest in mock-offense. “I’ll be a great dad.”

She snorted. “You’ll be a pain in your kids’ ass.”

“Take it back!” He exclaimed, gaping.

“Don’t you dare forget how you scared away every boyfriend I had in high school!”

“I was saving your sorry ass from those assholes, that is.”

This time, Aelin gave him a full laugh. She was kind of a dipshit magnet during her teenage years, her cousin wasn’t completely wrong about that.

He continued, “I think Rowan is the only guy you dated that I actually like.” Well, that was a way to sober up the nice mood she just got in. Aelin glared at her cousin. Knowing what she was about to say, Aedion rolled his eyes and held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, you two never dated. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” A pause. “I promise I’ll drop this, but I’m curious. Is there anything wrong with soccer practice, or you’re just picking a fight?”

“I don’t pick fights for no reason.”

Aedion raised an eyebrow. She frowned at him.

She did not. All of her fights with Rowan were absolutely unavoidable.

Aelin shrugged. “Soccer’s lame.”

“Stop lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re not crazy about it, but you like soccer.”

Aelin wanted to punch that know-it-all expression out of his face.

He didn’t move, waiting for her answer.

She squinted her eyes at him.

He looked absolutely unimpressed, keeping eye contact until he won that battle of wills.

“Fine,” Aelin grumbled as she roller her eyes and sagged in her seat.

“And?”

“I’m too cool to be a soccer mom.”

Aedion barked a laugh, head tilted up before he looked her in the eye again. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m really not. Have you seen those soccer mom tiktoks?” This wasn’t nearly as funny as her cousin thought.

“You’re okay with putting your body through excruciating pain and cleaning explosive diarrhea, but you draw the line at becoming a soccer mom?”

“Yes.”

He guffawed again, now drawing the attention of the people from the surrounding tables. Aelin just sat there, trying not to smile at her cousin’s dramatic reaction and waiting for him to come back.

Her grin widened when the waitress came with their lunch before she got hangry. Aedion could be absolutely insufferable sometimes, but he deserved good company.

Aelin cleared her throat. “Did you buy a new washing machine?”

His broke down this week, and Philippa kept complaining about Aedion’s lack of laundry skills over and over after the one time he washed his clothes at Orlon’s, two days ago.

“Nope, I’m trying to fix it again tomorrow.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Like when you ‘fixed’ your ceiling fan and now it only works with the lights on?”

He stuffed his mouth with food and refused to answer.

Aelin continued, “You need to stop finding random things in your house to fix and find another boyfriend. Or girlfriend, whatever. You’re pathetic when you’re single.”

“YoU’rE pATHeThIc wHeN yOu’RE sinGLe,” Aedion mimicked with a high-pitched voice.

She rolled her eyes and set an alarm for when her lunchtime would need to end. It might be an Ashryver thing, but it was really easy to lose track of time when she had so many things to bicker about with her cousin.

˜˜

The floor was so shiny Aelin could barely believe most of the people inside this building were kids.

It better be, she thought when she remembered the price tag that came with it. Maisie better go straight to college after finishing preschool, because it was really hard to believe Aelin and Rowan were paying that much for their kid to learn letters and count to 20.

She took a deep breath. Aelin would pay as much as she could if it meant her daughter wouldn’t be yelled at. This was better than the Air Force school, even if was a much longer drive from home.

After last week’s incident, Uncle Orlon told them to file a formal complaint and let him deal with the rest. By the look on his face, Lieutenant Valg would not go unpunished, and this was enough. Aelin couldn’t do anything more without facing consequences because of her rank, so now she wanted to focus on the present. Which now meant Maisie’s teacher, that she was about to meet.

She heard hurried footsteps on one side of the hall and thanked Mala it was Rowan.

He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not too late, am I?”

Her eyes zeroed on what he was wearing, though.

“Seriously? You didn’t even change out of the uniform?”

“I don’t have a whole team of co-workers ready to cover for me,” Rowan sneered.

Yes, he did. He swapped schedules with Fenrys all the time.

Aelin rolled her eyes. “It’s not like your job is hard.”

“Excuse me?” He snarled.

“And you don’t even do it well! There’s so many ways to torture a eighteen-year-old, and you choose push-ups? Seriously?”

They heard a loud throat clearing and whipped towards the sound. It was a brunette holding a binder, wearing a long dress and sneakers.

“You’re Maisie’s parents, right?” She shook both of their hands. “I’m Borte Arcas, her teacher.”

It was like Aelin’s whole face was lighting on fire. Of all the ways this introduction could’ve gone, being caught mid-fight was not one she hoped for.

They didn’t get the chance to properly meet the teacher the day they enrolled Maisie here, this Monday, because her daughter was only supposed to get to know the school. But when Mais saw her cousin through the class’ window, she walked in without asking and decided she was staying. Just like that. Later that day, the teacher sent an email introducing herself, leaving her phone number if they needed anything, and inviting both of them to meet on Friday, after she got to know Maisie a little better.

And there they were, sitting side by side in a large office while Ms. Arcas turned the AC on in front of them.

“Do you need anything?” She asked. “Water, coffee, cappuccino…”

“A cappuccino would be great.” Aelin gave her a small smile.

The teacher turned to Rowan. “You?”

“Just water, thanks.”

After everything was settled, Ms. Arcas spent some time getting to know them before discussing Maisie. She was getting more comfortable with the class each day, loved story time, took part in group games. It was good for the ego, hearing the teacher talk about her daughter this way. Not that Aelin didn’t know already that her daughter is awesome, but her chest was bursting with pride right now.

Mais was only a little behind on reading compared to her classmates, but Ms. Arcas said this isn’t a big concern yet because every kid has their own timing.

She closed the binder with Maisie’s info. “There’s only two more things I wanted to discuss...” she bit her lip. “This week, during one activity, Maisie said that her favorite drink is wine.”

“What?” Aelin blurted, feeling her cheeks redden and Rowan’s shocked gaze on her. “It’s not! It’s…” one deep, long breath followed by a nervous smile. She was going to kill her daughter.

“Sometimes Maisie sees me drinking wine. Not every day, and not too much, really. Just a glass.” She grimaced. “Maybe two. Anyway.”

Aelin scratched the back of her head, wondering if she was digging a hole for herself. She didn’t care about what people thought of her wine habits, but wanted to make a good impression on Maisie’s teacher.

She continued, “Sometimes she asks to drink too, it ends with huge meltdown, so one day I gave her grape juice and told her it’s wine. She loves it. We sip together.”

Rowan’s head whipped towards her, eyes wide. “You lie to her?”

“You give her fruit and tell it’s dessert,” Aelin argued.

The teacher cleared her throat again. Loudly.

“Sorry,” they mumbled under their breaths.

Ms. Arcas looked at her watch. “I just need her to not influence other kids to drink ‘wine’. The last thing I wanted to talk about before we wrap this up…” she took some sheets of paper from the binder and spread them on the desk between them.

“Maisie seems pretty fond of drawing.”

“Especially on my walls,” Rowan said between a small smile.

The teacher nodded. “Have you tried to analyze them?”

Aelin frowned. “We do that thing where we comment on them so she feels seen.”

“That’s really good.” Ms. Arcas nodded, brows furrowed. “But some drawing of her really brought to my attention—”

“Is this her riding a dog?” Aelin took one sheet of paper from the table to examine it closer.

Rowan scooted closer, frowning. “I think it’s a unicorn. Look at the horn.”

Aelin sighed affectionately, heart warming just to see her daughter’s drawing. “She does have an artist’s soul, doesn’t she?”

Rowan smiled. “She’s a little Picasso.”

Ms. Arcas watched their interruption with a polite smile before continuing, “You know, kids draw about what they see, so sometimes the drawings tell us a lot about what’s going on inside their heads. So I brought these she made this week…” the teacher reorganized the drawings, placing most of them back in a pile and putting another few in evidence.

“These are…” Aelin tilted her head. The sticky figures looked a bit scary in them, but she couldn’t quite place what was wrong with them.

“Every time Maisie draws you two together, you seem angry. This one, for example,” Ms. Arcas explained while showing them, “You both have your mouths open, hands up. And do you see how big you two look? You’re taking most of the page, while Maisie herself looks very tiny here in the corner.”

Aelin felt like time stopped, her entire world freezing and narrowing down to that drawing.

It couldn’t be.

Maisie knew that she and Rowan weren’t friends, but she wouldn’t have picked up that much, right?

“As you can see, this hostile environment is a recurrent theme. I talked about it with Maisie, though is not uncommon to see kids drawing such things,“ the teacher went on, “But I think this might be a reason to that delay in her reading skills we talked about.”

“You told us it’s normal,” Aelin insisted, defeated yet defensive.

“It is for some kids, but it also could be related,” she softly explained.

“So, you mean…” Rowan looked down, furrowing. He rubbed his likely sweaty hands against the front of his pants before looking back at the teacher. “I’m not sure I’m following.”

She gave him a weak smile before confirming, “I’m just letting you know that Maisie is aware of your hostility towards each other, and it may be affecting her performance at school.”

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#rowaelin #throne of glass #rowaelin fanfic #rowan whitethorn #aelin x rowan #aelin galathynius #look at us now

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haptureratch · 1 year

Text

Bitch, You Need Therapy

Pairing: Johnny Knoxville x Reader (afab)

Others: Chris Pontius, Steve-O

Word count: approx. 4.5k

Synopsis: You’re part of the crew, temporarily filling in and enjoying it immensely. You are filming something overseas. Knoxville finds out you have a crush on him and decides to fuck with your stressed little self until he gets carried away in the moment.

WARNINGS/tags: NC-17, minors DNI, adult language, alcohol (technical lack of consent), soft allusions to hard drugs, oral sex, genital penetration, THE DOUBLE MEANING OF LIPS, kinks galore (praise, rough, petnames, things I don’t have a word for)

Notes from the author: Yeah idk he just seems like a playful bastard that might be hiding a kinky streak. Not tied to any specific period of Jackass filming so reader can take some creative liberties (the least I can do when I am dictating reader’s entire personality lmao). Knoxville is single in this world; it’s all fun & fantasy. This work has not been officially reviewed apart from one of my best friends giving enthusiastic approval early on. But I’ve read over it a hundred times while writing it SO DAMN SLOWLY, so hopefully it is okay. There are purposeful tense changes and I hope they hit the way I'm intending. Is the whole thing cringe? Maybe; maybe not. Pls let loose & enjoy! I am a long time reader and I’ve had ideas here and there; finally decided it was time to fuck around and find out myself. It’s been way harder than I thought and I have even more respect for my fave fic authors out there. If you know me irl, no you don’t. WITHOUT FURTHER ADIEU~~

Night has been falling earlier and earlier as weeks peel away from Autumn toward the year’s end. It is 7 o’clock in the evening but feels more like 11. Outside the darkness is interrupted by numerous streetlamps along the sidewalk. The lights glow a golden orange, reminding you of the crackling fire in the pub, and you dig your hands into your coat pockets seeking warmth.

“HEY ASSHOLE, why did we leave that cozy fucking place?!” you shout over the wind at one of your walking companions with some frustration. Only some. You’ve had a couple drinks and your speech seems to come out in demanding exclamations regardless of any real anger at that point. And you’re fairly certain any frustration stems from unmet desires directed toward this man and his stupid glinty purple-tinted sunglasses. Sunglasses, which he wore inside the intimately lit pub and which he is still wearing outside at night. What a jackass.

A different, unsunglasses’d man answered. “Because adventure calls! Sure, it’s cold out. But not cold enough to get frostbite. The call to adventure must be heeded even in the face of Ice Queen Mother Nature. Like the Russian Police, she’s stern. Stern…but fair,” he announced with omnipotence. Everyone in the group seemed dead set on committing crimes this evening. This one was guilty of venturing out in 20-some degree weather without a coat or sweater or torso cover of any kind. Just a fluffy scarf and a Santa hat. Another jackass, you thought. But that’s why you jumped at the chance to work with these people. It was an invigorating break from the mundane. And the group oozed fun; to be in the same room as any of them was to know friendship and laughter.

You smiled genuinely at him. Despite the cold and questionable decisions, he still inspired affection. “Thanks, as always, Pontius, for the exceptional pep talk but I think I was asking—”

“DUDE WHERE IS MY SKATEBOARD?!?!!” screeched a third man’s voice. He’d definitely had the most to drink out of the group so far this evening and crime was written all over him. Good ol’ Steve-O. Nothing more to be said about him.

Sunglasses finally spoke up. “I decided against anything with wheels for this and threw it in the back of the van, Steve-O. We can come back in the daytime tomorrow for skate shots. There are a lot less lights the farther in the park we go.”

“Knox, you IDIOT, I’m planning on being so fucking hungover tomorrow! I’m on my GAME now, man, you shoulda brought it!” He bent down to gather up two fists of snow, mash them together, and hurl the mass toward Johnny.

“If you want it so bad, go back an’ get it!” He grinned while dodging the poorly aimed snowball and jumped over to rap Steve-O on the ass with the back of his hand. This garnered a slow, deep, huffy giggling from Pontius. It was less of a giggle, more of a devious huh-huh-huh. It sounded like something you’d hear in the boys’ locker room but if it came from the throat of a grown man.

The little spanking sparked a quick scuffle between Steve-O and Johnny. After nearly slipping and falling, he gave up on trying to fuck with the taller man and hardened his resolve to skate in the snow. “UGH! I’ll be back…” After a beat of wily consideration he added, “Or not!” Steve-O then darted off in the direction of the pub, almost slipped again, and slowed his stumbling gait. If he was headed toward booze he was probably going to get another round. A round of…something.

Chris and Johnny shared a look and the Santa-hatted one asked, “Who’s going with him? It’s law that we use the buddy system in all foreign lands, especially when we don’t want to get arrested. More arrested than we get when the cameras are rolling. Those times are okay.”

Johnny spoke first. “I’ll stay to map out where Jeff thinks we can get the money shots. Y/N probably needs to mess with the camera settings.”

“Actually, yeah,” you uttered, reviving from a slight stupor of quiet observation and remembering your role in all of this. “This would be our first night footage of the trip and I haven’t experimented with the exposure or what type of flash I can—”

“Okay nerd on, genius, I’ll go,” Chris interrupted. He smiled and bowed himself out in the direction of Steve-O and the pub.

“Better hurry, Pontius! Something tells me the board ain’t the priority now,” Johnny called out. You watched as the smoke from his breath dissipated into the cold and the two of you continued away from what seemed like the rest of civilization.

********

The other men gone from sight, your physical awareness of Johnny dialed up. Though he was lean, he seemed to exude heat through his black peacoat. Maybe you were imagining things. But you dared to draw a couple inches closer to assess. He slowed his gait and you veered right back over and even sped up a little. You thought you heard a quiet laugh come from his side of the path.

‘Dammit, Y/N, fucking stay focused,’ you thought to yourself. You can’t give them anything to get you on; it was more important to you than any legal trouble. You were here to relieve Lance after one too many trips involving vomit-on-the-camera incidents. You had a job to do, you had creative input to offer, and you didn’t have to let on that you found one of the guys so hot you couldn’t stand it. That fact could be kept firmly TO YOURSELF. The need to keep it a secret almost hyped it up to an obsession. You found yourself stealing photos during planning sessions, when you were 95% certain that no one would notice. Since you were such a dedicated crew member, the team assumed you were experimenting with angles or compiling a look-book or something.

Sure, you took candids of everyone. But the most recurring subject by far was Johnny Knoxville. There were the obvious features that caught your eye, mostly when he laughed, all white teeth and crow’s feet. After a while you noticed how he stood kind of funny, whether that was from past back injuries, weak glutes, or a touch of valgus knee deformity you weren’t sure. It didn’t at all detract from the beauty of those long legs or the defined torso they led up to. Certainly didn’t ruin his painfully (for you) deep iliac furrows smack dab in the middle of it all. And you weren’t going to get started on his arms or shoulders or jawline. He really took your love for anatomy and smacked you upside the head with it. He was art and you were insane.

Your stupid little fangirl crush even had you calling him ‘Johnny Knoxville’ in your head instead of PJ. It was like how you still called your teachers ‘Mr/Ms/Mx’ after graduating from school, even though they gave you permission to be on a first-name basis. It was hard to get comfortable with others like that. Another reason why you wanted this chance at a different work environment even if it was just temporary. You sorely needed to relax, Y/N. Unclench your jaw, take a breath, stop the shoulders from migrating upwards, and just keep walking. Sometimes the set of Jackass was not the ideal setting to work on those goals—all of those damn pranks—but…

“Lost in thought, puddin’?” you heard in your ear. You didn’t so much hear them as felt the words slap your skin from behind, the shock of wet heat in the cold air startling you. The streetlamps brightened in your peripheral vision.

You spun around and couldn’t help the nervous fake-laugh that escaped. “Oh, uh, yeah, you could say that. Just handling a lot of little things right now. Like the jet-lag, that European alcohol hitting a little stronger, the cold being colder here somehow, filming schedule, the list goes on, man." You hoped adding 'man’ would lend the illusion of you being chill, cool, totally not in fight-or-flight mode a moment ago.

It didn’t. There was an awkward silence as he stood facing you. Behind the shades you couldn’t see the mischief in his eyes as he planned out where he was going to take this. To you it just looked like staring. ‘Fucking dammit,’ you swore at yourself, ‘I don’t know if he KNOWS knows but he knows something is up. Agh, focus on work, FOCUS ON WORK.’

You cleared your throat, pulled namaste out of your ass, and shifted the power of the interaction back on your side with, “Hey, why don’t you stand over by that statue and help me with shot composition.”

“Yes, boss, on the double!” His tone was playfully condescending as he headed over to the metal figure, an unknown man outlined in snow. “Anything for you, sweetheart.” He let the last word drag out lower and slower than the rest. You had to fight your dead brain to let you breathe again. He was going to fuck with you, alright, and it was going to happen tonight. But for his own fun, no cameras in sight other than yours. There was always a chance of one of those goofy assholes hiding in a bush, but your gut told you there were none. No one else was going to be around for this, but you weren’t sure how thankful you were. You were flooded with several thoughts at once. How far would he go? How far did you want him to go? Did Jackass have HR? What was their policy on a creator/actor doing unspeakable things to a camera person with his mouth? Could the van be moved for about 90 minutes tonight without anyone knowing? Was he all dom or a switch? How easy would it be to get him to giggle during a blowjob?

Fuck. Focus.

‘FUCK,’ you thought as, for some ungodly reason, Knox put his tongue to the statue’s ear. The side of your neck began to tingle where his breath had been several minutes ago; memory is a powerful thing. You shook your head to regroup.

“Better pray you don’t end up like that kid in A Christmas Story,” you deadpanned.

He looked away and called out toward the woods at the edge of the park, “Nah, I’m too wet for that. That…that’s the secret.” You saw his back shuddering slightly, probably with laughter, and tried to see deeper into the trees. Not a soul was detected.

“You’ll be wetter when that statue comes to life and throws you in the river.”

He turned back toward you. “Naw, I think he likes it,” he grinned as wedged his body even closer to the metal and began to run a hand slowly down its torso. For the first time he made eye contact with you over his glasses and you dared not break it while his hand migrated further and further south. “And I think he’s not the only one, darlin’,” he drawled, his tone growing deeper and darker by the second. Two fingers began to lazily graze between the statue’s legs. And, as if that wasn’t enough, his hips ground into what had to be extremely cold and extremely hard metal. He let out a low sigh into the winter air.

This probably lasted just a moment but it felt like an eternity as you stood watching him, unable to do anything else, not quite believing what you were seeing. Your eyes were glued to where you thought his dick was, where you thought you saw an outline begin to show. He kept at it, grinding and sighing and caressing against that fucking statue, only averting his gaze to let his eyes roll back into his head and flutter shut. Which he made sure you could see with the shades slid all the way down the bridge of his nose. The whole thing was insane but you could not stop the cascade of heat and desire from building inside you. It’s like the more it shouldn’t be happening, the more you were into it. You wanted to look around and check for the crew for the umpteenth time but couldn’t tear your eyes from him. Johnny Knoxville was getting freaky on a statue to tease you and you were simmering in your own juices.

Like.

What the actual fuck?

Okay, case closed, he definitely knew.

Uhh… Just try to own it now?

“You know what, you whore?! It’s gonna be really fucking awkward when my underwear freezes out here!”

He finally broke, fell away from the statue, and dissolved into laughter on the ground. You hoped your boldness would recuperate a bit of your cred and he’d back off. (You hoped he wouldn’t back off.)

“The working conditions, here, honestly…” you said as your hands came to your hips.

His maniacal glee, normally adorable when it wasn’t tied up in such a stressful and sexy situation, died out and he regained upright footing. He didn’t bother to brush the snow off his coat or shake out what had peppered his hair. He took off his sunglasses and folded them into the inner pocket of his coat. He smiled down at you and you felt him gently grab your shoulders. “You’re so wound up, Y/N,” he remarked with genuine care in his voice.

The touch and proximity made you stiffen; your arms dropped to your sides. His breath smelled like booze and you wanted to drown in it.

His fingers laced together behind your shoulders and slid down to rest at the small of your back; you instinctively grabbed at his forearms. “Gotta learn how to relax, baby.” He jerked your lower half into him and you could feel that you had not, in fact, been imagining that dick. With that, you felt the last of your good sense rocket away, leaving a long-imprisoned whine in its wake.

He dipped his head down to your ear and growled, “How loud does that kitty purr?”

No words.

No thoughts.

Your head threatened to crack off of your spine but he caught the back of it with one hand, the other snaked firmly around the rest of you, as his lips made contact with your neck. Soft kisses were syncopated with nibbles, the heat of his mouth searing your skin in contrast to the chilly air. His tongue was so wet and so warm against your flesh. You all but dripped for him.

“Van,” you demand.

He takes your hand, grins, and leads you out of the park toward the town.

The two of you make it to the van and he takes space in the driver’s seat. The engine comes to life relatively quietly—thank god for hybrids—and he maneuvers it onto a darkened side street several blocks down. You seem to be surrounded by a bunch of businesses closed down for the night but you also don’t have a single fuck to give now. You slide a hand over the rod in his pants and his lips part with a groan.

Hunger takes hold and you lunge over the console to catch his mouth in a voracious kiss. Tongue and teeth everywhere. Even the smallest hints of pleasure out of this man are going to drive you wild tonight. But you want—you NEED—to savor the experience. The movements of your jaw slow and the space between your lips closes as you center yourself. His lips come together but his breath continues hard and deep through his nose. His eyes are shut tight as if he's exercising control as well. You pepper kisses across his cheek, down his neck, and back up to his ear where you sigh your contentment.

“Mmm, sweetheart, I’m gonna need to hear more of that,” he says low in your ear. Your belly flutters up into your chest and you think you might fall in love, like an idiot.

He kisses you deeply and pulls you with him into the back of the van. The heat of the exchange melts off both your coats. A sleeping bag is found, unzipped, and laid down. Not that the two of you notice the cold all that much, it just seems like the right thing to do in a van that carts around the Jackass crew. He is a bit more discerning than some of his co-stars.

He unzips your pants and slides them down your legs. You sit up to help kick them off along with your shoes. He takes off your shirt, leaving you just in your bra, socks, and panties. You love how exposed you must look and how vulnerable you feel. He looks you in the eye, smirks, looks down at your hips, licks his lips. Your thighs squeeze together with anticipation and your moan spells out your need.

He lowers himself down, still clothed, onto your nearly naked body and lays his lips all over your skin. He slides across you lazily and you can’t stand how good his clothes feel against you. You can’t wait for that dick to be out and in your mouth. It’s how you want to show him how good he’s making you feel. The way he takes the fabric of your panties in his fingertips tells you he has his own priorities.

“May I?”

“May you what?”

He smiles and toys with the bows stitched to the elastic around your hips. He takes the band in his teeth and looks you in the eye as he lets it snap against you.

“Eat out that pretty pussy of yours, doll. It’s all wrapped up for me like a present under the tree.”

You’re not able to make a joke about stealing Chris’s Santa hat. You can only reach down and start to wiggle the remaining cotton off, with which Knox happily helps. The bra and socks follow suit and a cheeky kiss to your foot garners a giggle.

Things get very serious again when he positions his face in front of your heat. He hugs your hips to him and rests his large hands down on you. You can’t help but buck up into the contact when his lips meet yours. His soft, wet tongue feels so fucking good. Your hands find his hair and you rake your nails through it. Every time you look down he’s either got his eyes closed, lids fluttering in the prettiest way, or he’s looking right back at you. Each moan from your mouth elicits self-assured hums from his and it drives you to desperately need more.

“Need you in me, Knox,” you demand.

He looks up at you again with those deep brown eyes and doesn’t say a word.

“Want you in my mouth first. I want to taste that dick.”

He pulls himself up and you all but tear the black and white KNOXVILLE belt through the loops of his Dickies. He frees his hard cock and you pause to take it in with your eyes first.

“It may not be the biggest but right now you got me harder than—aaughh..” The whole rest of him stiffens up and he bites into his knuckles as you take in the tip. He relaxes with a deep sigh as you try to swallow the shaft down and gag when your lips meet his hilt.

‘That’ll do just fine,’ you think to yourself.

You keep it slow to draw it out, slow but deliberate with licking and sucking. You work his cock with your mouth until you lose yourself in the act. You love every single sound this man is making and commit them to memory. And his taste, how the pre-cum doesn’t stop oozing. The way his head is thrown back with his mouth wide open, gasping. How he can’t touch you enough right now. Every few moments you turn your attention to his balls and thighs and that delicious V leading down to it all. The feel and scent of his skin is intoxicating and you’re biting light marks into his flesh. You get so far gone you stop murmuring his name and start to call him Daddy. His cock twitches every time.

He takes a deep, clarifying breath before taking your chin in his hand and speaking, “I’m so ready to slide right in, baby. Will you let Daddy fill you up?”

“Fuck me.”

The van space is tight but you lie down and he holds himself over you, cock at your entrance. You’re practically vibrating with anticipation.

Finally.

He drives the head of his cock slowly into your pussy and the feeling is so warm and sweet and intimate. Birth control be damned; you’ll get emergency contraception in the morning. Your arms and legs wrap around him possessively as he works into a rhythm. You rock your hips with his to catch his cock at the right angle. He finds your mouth in the dark and moans into you as he thrusts. He’s downright fucking you into the floor of the van and strangely you haven’t felt this whole and alive in a long time. Your orgasm is building and building but you want even more of him before you come.

“I wanna ride you, Johnny,” you gasp.

“Thought you’d never ask. Be my guest, doll,” he answers as he pulls out of you and arranges the sleeping bag across the van’s bench. He takes a seat and slaps his thighs with a grin, erection bobbing around invitingly.

You climb on top of him, legs quivering with eagerness, and take just a moment to pause before sinking slowly down onto his cock.

His answering groan draws you against his chest, sighing into him, as you get to work riding. It’s your turn to fuck him into the van.

You both wrap your arms around each other, but no one can get close enough. Thrusting, humping, clawing, kissing, biting, sucking, moaning—the two of you going at each other like animals. (His glutes are NOT, in fact, weak.) Your legs are tiring but you push yourself to keep going. Closer and closer your end nears. He knows it because his teeth are clenching as your pussy is tightening around him. He’s fighting to not cum before you.

“Don’t stop, baby, don’t stop. Keep on riding me. Keep grinding that sweet little thing on my cock.”

You pick up speed.

“Come for me, sweetheart.”

He squeezes your ass tighter.

“Good girl, I can feel it. Come for Daddy…”

That’s it. Your cunt squeezes up inside of you and smashes down around his dick in a primal, undulating frenzy. There’s an explosion of stars behind your eyelids. He’s yelling out your name and digging his fingers deeper into your hips as his orgasm spills hot inside you.

********

After unmeasured moments, breaths began to slow and a contented stillness fell over the van like snow upon the ground. The two of you wrapped each other up in an embrace and held on tight without a word. It wasn’t much longer until your brain woke back up and began to wander. You knew you were going to think back on this night many, many times when you were back home alone. You’d feel the ghost of his breath and his lips on your skin. You’d ache to hear him moan your name again. AND, FUCK, THE PLAN B--

Gentle laughter broke out, as if he could read your mind. He couldn’t, of course. But it was so very easy to tell when you were uneasy. And Knox was an excellent people reader.

“Just don’t think about anything right now, sweetheart,” he assured you.

“Johnny, I…” You began and trailed off, unsure of what to voice first.

“Call me PJ,” he smiled and placed a kiss on your head. “And don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll stop by a pharmacy soon as they open. The guys are gonna need some Tylenol, too, I bet. I’ll get us all sorted.” And he sealed his promise shut with a squeeze of your shoulders. Not a mind reader, but definitely thoughtful and at times very practical. Always aware of what’s going on around him.

You trusted him. Probably more than you should, but you did. And you gave whatever energy you had left over to the effort of not thinking. You had no idea how long it had been since you checked the time, when the sun was coming up, or what the two of you would do next. What this would mean for the rest of the shoot. But, if you’re gonna be dumb….

----------------------------------------------------------------

Several hours post-coupling in the van, after the sun came out for vengeance, you found yourself hanging with Pontius at a near-by café. You felt calmest around him out of all the crew and were happy to listen to his stories for distraction. Distraction from your anxiety and the various aches in your body. What you had really wanted was a diner that served greasy food and heinously strong coffee, but they didn’t have those here. Chris must share the need. He was still sporting the Santa hat and some serious bags under his eyes. There was what appeared to be lipstick smeared down his neck, but it was…stippled? From…the only idea that came to mind was another man’s stubble. But he never asked about the way you weren’t walking right, so you paid the favor forward.

His words drifted away from big cats and other wildlife, and he shifted conversation topics. “Crazy night last night, huh,” he said.

“Lord. You bet,” you answered. Oh, here we go.

“What time did you turn in last night? Or this morning?” He batted his lashes and played with the cotton puff at the end of his hat before flipping it to the other side. It invoked the atmosphere of girlies at a sleepover sharing the latest gossip.

“Oh, you know…” Your face reddened a little and you looked down into your steaming coffee mug.

He brought his up to his mouth for a sip and stared you down over it. “Do you happen to know where—"

Your phone buzzed in your back pocket and you pulled it out automatically.

“Hey, doll, where did you run off to?” Your heartbeat quickened and you smirked despite yourself. You didn’t need to look up at the sender to know who it was from.

“Know where what,” you offered with no doubt a dazed look in your eyes.

You were definitely going to need a therapist after this job was through.

#johnny knoxville x reader #afab reader #jackass fanfic #jackass smut #johnny knoxville fanfic #dude tumblr WILL NOT let me use the formatting that i want wtf

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