Jonsa Flash Fic (Under 1,500 Words)

You and me think the same!!!! 😘

i made the Fairy Tail Shipping Meme. Bleach Shipping Meme now  

Source: http://shinigami-ninja-exorcist.tumblr.com 

That was so cute. I loved it. I was fangirling the whole time I read it

prompt 3 - parenthood

I am not alone!!!!

*the fans that shipped lyredy since the GMG*

That’s so BEAUTIFUL!!!!!

Why Miraxus?

I am a Miraxus shipper. It’s my only crack ship and there’s one reason why.

It could be canon in an instant.

Miraxus is the kind of ship that Mashima would keep short and sweet. Little glances, conversations, and routinely sitting or standing by each other is something he’s given us a lot of already. You might think, okay, that’s enough to keep it a crack ship, but it’s possible to go further than that.

I mean, Zervis was a crack ship. Seriously, they had about as many moments as Miraxus until suddenly the moments spiked in amount and it was canon. We’re seeing something similar with Lyon/Meredy and Romeo/Wendy in the manga and anime as well. 

Miraxus is funny because if it was canon, it would be more like a surprise panel, something completely out of the blue. It’d be near the end of the series, maybe the epilogue, and there’d be some sort of panel where Laxus tells the Master that he’s getting married to Mirajane. The Master would have shot of his head all blown up like “EH?!” and the entire guild would freak out with Mirajane smiling with her head all tilted and Laxus looking indifferent.

That’s the way I think they’d be canon.

So, it’s a crack ship, but it’s MY crack ship. They could be so cutesy and caring for each other, so domestic. Freed would get all jealous of Laxus’s attention toward Mira, and Natsu would interrupt moments with “LAXUS, FIGHT ME!”

I also think that they could have a lot of background moments that we just don’t know about. I’m in love with the thought of teenage Laxus not paying much attention to pre-teen Mirajane and buying her first set of headphones. Him comforting her when her sister died and as she grows into her looks and starts to fall in love with him as he tells her tales of Thunder God Tribe’s travels. Her crying herself to sleep at night as his personality grows sour and his ego gets unbearable. When he refuses to help the guild, her heart cracks and they don’t talk anymore.

When Mirajane is a statue, he briefly considers stopping because he doesn’t want her to shatter, but he’s cold and strong now and doesn’t. When she’s released, he’s relieved but more angry about how his hold on the master had diminished. When Mira’s released, she’s done with all of Laxus’s games and forces herself to stop loving him for a while.

When he leaves, she forces herself to not care, to be glad. 

When she sees him at Tenrou Island when the world is going to shit, she’s relieved. He’s there, but she couldn’t think about that right then. When they’re about to die, both Laxus and Mira regret everything to that point. They consider running to each other and kissing, just once, but turn down the thought. It would’ve made the whole situation just that much sadder. 

They come home from Tenrou and don’t talk all day, but he’s the last one at the bar when she’s closing up the guild and he stops to talk to her. They talk into the darkness of the night about his travels and her time at the guild, ending the night with mutual “I missed you’s” and a kiss.

They have a normal, guild-y relationship after that, only they keep it under wraps because they don’t want that kind of attention from the guild. Everyone always put too much pressure on those relationships, and Mirajane would lose a lot of business as a model if she had a boyfriend. Still, that didn’t keep Laxus from staring away any boys.

At the Grand Magic Games, they’re put on the same team and it’s like a vacation. Laxus enjoys every second of it, spending time with the Thunder God Tribe by day and sneaking away with his girlfriend by night. He’s proud of the way she fights too, so powerful and strong. Mirajane’s even happier than he is, especially when he finally faces his father and just gets rid of him.

When the dragons attack, all Laxus can think about is Mirajane and how he’s got to save her and everyone else because he has a family now and he needs them. But he knows Mirajane can protect herself so he stays away, fighting the battles that he knows he can. 

Afterwards, he shows her just exactly how much he loved her.

When Laxus is in the coma during the Tartaros Arc, Mashima shows Mirajane watching him sleep and how much she cares for him. (CANON AWWW YEAH)

When Fairy Tail disbands, he has to do the most heartbreaking thing. Thunder God Tribe wants to go train in the mountains, and the Strauss siblings are going to the beach what seemed to be a million miles away. Laxus breaks it off with Mira, telling her that they will be together again when the guild met again. Mirajane got pissed, wondering why they were even still pulling this charade. 

They meet again briefly when heading with the rest of Team B to rescue Natsu and the others. It’s a short meeting but weighted heavily. 

After a party is thrown in the newly rebuilt Fairy Tail guild, Laxus pulls Mira aside. He tells her that he still loves her and she tells him that they’ll talk about this when the battle is over. She kisses his cheek and walks away. 

The battle continues to present with no moments, but both have each other on their minds when they fight. 

Jesus Christ this turned from a “oh they could be canon” post to a summary of a fanfic wtf Victoria. 

// please reblog I literally have zero followers //

Would love a part two.

Vexation

warnings: obscene language, reader talking back to elder people, sweet, fluff. That's all, I think? Haha!

pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader

summary:

The well-known Lady Thorn of Highgarden finally visited you after a year of being wed to Prince Aemond. However, you have a feeling it will not go well.

a/n: this was supposed to be a 100 followers thank you fic but I just finished it today lol Enjoy!

like always, LIKES are really welcome but this duck will do the duck dance if you also REBLOG and LEAVE YOUR THOUGHTS about her stories. i love reading them and they inspire me a lot. ✨

You have been acting up since earlier when your mother informed you that your grandmother decided to visit the two of you after many moons of being wed.

~~~~~~

"For someone who hasn't seen their grandmother for years, you seem not thrilled enough, my love." He gave a light chuckle when he saw your face with a sneer.

And you have a feeling that he was enjoying this different side of you.

You're always calm and collected and it was rare to see you so agitated about someone who used to be your mentor.

No, you're not like this because you're troubled she did not visit you sooner.

Nor, it was due to you not caring about her enough either.

It's the opposite.

You love her.......truly.

And you know her better than anyone in this kingdom. Her old bones, wit and all.

If you have been asked to give one word to describe her, that would be; a nuisance.

"Well, if I were you, you should too." He raised his eyebrow at that but the look of wonder was still etched all over his face.

"I still fail to understand what was so wrong in meeting, not just your grandmother but your teacher when you were young. I bet she can share stories I do not know about you, Lady wife."

"I also fail to understand why such a man of your stature was so excited to meet a chattering old lady, Lord husband." You said as a matter of fact.

At this point, you knew that he truly thinks you do not want to meet her for fear of hearing embarrassing stories about your childhood.

He did think about one thing right, but he did not hit the head in the nail on what your fear truly was for.

"Enlighten me, my love. What did your grandmother do to earn your ire?" Before you could share the reason for your distress, a servant's knock disrupted your conversation.

"Pardon me, my prince and my lady. Lady Tyrell was waiting in the sitting room." The servant bowed once she announced the arrival of your family. She stood near the door, waiting for your command.

With a sigh, you stood up and went near your husband. Your hand reaches for his hair and you run through your fingers on his soft locks. Your hand fixes the ones that always seem to find themselves unaligned.

He closes his eyes and leaves a soft "hmmm" on his lips as he savors the feel of your fingers through his hair.

"Are you certain you want me to go and waste my time with that old monster instead of doing this with you?" You smiled sweetly at him and pouted your lips to convince him not to let you go and finally meet your grandmother.

However, instead of saying yes, he chuckled and warm calloused hands clasped yours.

"As much as I love to do that and stay with you in our chambers, wrapped around my arms, your refusal to meet her might leave a wrongful impression towards who I am. So go now, dear wife, I know you'll come back to me safe and sound."

A grumble left you before you pecked his nose. He frowned a bit at your rebellious antics. You always give him a kiss on the lips and wish him well before he trains. But today, you're not giving him that.

Before he could protest though, you stuck out your tongue and winked at him. Leaving him on his own devices as you were escorted by the servant to the place you truly hoped not to visit today.

Even from afar, you can already hear your grandmother's feeble voice from old age. Yet, you know that despite the soft sounds, she's far from tender.

"Here I thought I'll meet my death bed first before you finally show up here." She said with eyes-closed while sipping her tea.

Trying not to roll your eyes, you smiled at the servant and dismissed her. You gave your mother a smile before you sat down beside her.

Servants who were standing closed immediately placed a cup and saucer in front of you. They also filled the table with new biscuits and sweets.

"Well, I guess my timing's not that impeccable because I would have waited more just to see that." The servant who was filling up your tea almost let go of the teapot from shock on what she heard. But as she was a highly trained servant from the palace, she composed herself right away and bowed once she finished her task.

Meanwhile, your mother let out a cough and a choked sound of surprise before deciding to dismiss the servants fully and avoid any more witness from your family banter.

"I can't believe you call yourself a lady with that manners." Once all the servants were dismissed, your grandmother spoked again.

"Apologies, mother. I will make sure to teach her the proper decorum again later." Your mother gave you an eye and you just rolled your eyes at her.

"Not my granddaughter. She's perfect as is. I meant you. Who would have choked on her own tea?" Her feeble voice cracked from hoarseness as she raised her voice, scolding your mother.

A knowing look was passed between you and your mother as she gaped at your grandmother from shock.

If you do not respect your mother, you would have said I told you so.

"Anyway, enough lessons about etiquette. How was the life of being a wife, my favorite grandchild." Even without a mirror, you can see your face twitched from annoyance.

This old hag was indeed testing your patience. It has been a year since your wedding. You'll understand if she did not come to your wedding due to an official business. However, all those times, she was sitting on her favorite chair, sipping her warm tea, inside her chambers in Highgarden.

"It was well, until you decided to come here and ruin it for me." At this point, your mother feigned ignorance and continued with her afternoon tea. She's smarter now as she realized that your grandmother came here for you with an agenda. You're trying to decipher what it was. Yet, you have a feeling you know it already.

"If that was true then, when are you going to give me my grandchildren? Are you impotent? Because I believed based on stories inside these walls, your lord husband made your legs wobble on several occasions. I can only assume that problem was you." The cutlery rang when you put your cup down full of anger from her statement.

It wasn't as if you did not want a child either but no matter how much you did it with Aemond throughout that year, you were still not blessed with a baby. Your husband, the ever sweet partner, assured you that it was fine. Some couples had the hardest time having children and there was no rush.

The insult stings, especially, since it was your family who mentioned it.

"If that was the reason for your visit then I'd rather spent more time doing it with my husband than wasting my time here talking to a wrinkled old thorn." You were about to leave your seat when suddenly, your grandmother grabbed your arm and pulled you back down.

"Oh dear. Your patience was still shorter than my lifespan. Sit back down and let this wrinkled old thorn finish what she was trying to discuss." Still fuming, you followed her but crossed your arms in defiance as you stared straightly in her eyes.

"Well, I would not even agree that you were impotent as our family were known to have no problems with giving birth compared to the Targaryen. But still, answer my question truthfully.

.

.

.

.

.

When you're doing it, have you tried using your mouth and licking the tip while massaging his balls so he'll enjoy it. In my time, ladies let their husbands cum first and that method was certain to make them pregnant after a month." Your mother who was quietly listening to your discussion was left coughing violently at your grandmother's shameless words in broad daylight. The tea she was holding splashed everywhere as she tried to compose herself.

To help her calm down, you put your hand soothingly on her back. Your face red with shame as your grandmother continued her obscenities and the advice for the right position to get pregnant next time.

When she realized that you and your mother gave her silence as she told you what must be done, she looked in your direction and raised her eyebrow at your reddened looks.

"Ha! I do not understand why the two of you act as if you did not know what I am saying. Stop pretending to be prim and proper! A man can do and tries everything when he's fucking every lady on these realm but a lady had a chance to only do it with once with one man on her lifetime. Enough with this nonsense and do me a favor and use this." You almost backed away when she suddenly stood up and placed a bag inside your hands. The bag emits a strong sweet smell you've never smelled before.

"What is this?"

"An aphrodisiac."

As if your skin was burnt by the bag, you immediately throw it on the table and stay as far away from it as possible.

"Have your old brain finally given up?" You yelled at your grandmother. Fingers pointing at her accusingly. You can feel the hotness run from your face to your ears and you know that you looked just like an apple from how red you were.

"Oh hush now. Me and your grandfather used to add that to our tea and it always ended up with a child so that product's safe from testing. Not that we need it much but the feeling we have after using it was something I missed so much. Believe me, it will just help your body relax and be more sensitive from your partner's touches compared to other aphrodisiacs." The disgust you felt when you saw her close her eyes and shudder from remembering what she did with your grandfather were so immense you felt all the hair in your body rise.

"Oh gods. My dear ears." On the other hand, your mother's laments as she tries to console her ears and head from what she heard today.

A sudden knock made you jump from where you were standing and you three looked at the door and waited for the announcement of whoever was on the other side.

"Lady Tyrell, his grace, the prince Aemond Targaryen is here to see you."

"Let him in. Let me see my grandson-in-law." Before you can react, your grandmother smiled wickedly at you and announced to let your husband in.

Panicked, you grabbed the bag and put it inside your dress, where a hidden pocket was made.

Your husband came in with a warm smile but frowned when he saw your pale face and rigid body as you stood near a chair.

He titled his head at you in silent question about what happened when your grandmother opens her mouth to greet him.

"If this wasn't the infamous one-eyed prince who was able to tame the biggest dragon at such a young age." A toothy grin was plastered on her face and she walked towards your husband. She opened her arms and hugged him tightly. She also patted him loudly and the gesture confuses your husband but let her do it.

"Hmmm... I know now why my granddaughter is protective of you. I will surely climb you if I am a little bit younger."

The world stopped as you tried to understand what your grandmother said to your dear husband.

You were just glad that your husband did not skip his etiquette classes as he was able to compose himself right away and gave a proper answer from that obscene remark.

"You flatter me, Lady Thorn." He replied with a smile.

Your grandmother chuckled at that and decided to walk back in her seat. But when she passed your way, she whispered something that only your ears can hear.

"If you do not pull him away from this place, I will make sure to make his ears bleed." You looked at her incredulously as she sat back down with a soft look on her face.

Blinking, you looked at your mother, who was still red, and looked back at your husband who was staring at your mouth agaped expression then back to your grandmother, who ordered another servant to bring another warm tea like normal. As if she did not just whisper the most absurd order you've heard.

Without further ado, you stride towards your husband with a purpose and grab his arm away from the chamber.

"Make sure to use my gift tonight, my favorite grandchild." Your grandmother reminded you with a wink.

All you were able to say was a loud groan and you stomped away dragging your husband with you.

"What was that?" He asked. Obviously confused with your manners.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Looking at your husband's face, your thoughts immediately come back from the nights he kisses your skin and presses himself closer to you. Thanks to your grandmother's scheme.

Stepping backwards farther in his direction, you stride and start running away.

He called your name many times but you can't look back as you slapped both of your cheeks from embarrassment.

How could you feel so turned on in the middle of the corridors just from staring at him. You groaned as you felt your core slicken from just the thoughts of him.

With a scream, you look at the clear sky with determination.

You will prove to your grandmother that you do not need that tea to enjoy your husband's company and bear his child!

~~~~~~

Meanwhile, back inside the room, Lady Tyrell cleared her throat and finally opened her mouth to talk to Lady Thorn.

"Do you truly need to edge her that way? I believe they're doing their best."

"Then, their best was not enough. With that type of husband, I can't believe she was having a hard time having a child. All she needed was a little push. I know it." The old lady smiled to herself and sighed as she looked outside and witnessed the beauty of spring.

She was sure that this will be a fruitful year for the Highgarden.

Damn that was so good 😊

Distraction

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: After your (ex)boyfriend cheats on you, you find comfort in an unlikely place: in the arms of your sworn enemy, Aemond Targaryen.

Rating: Explicit (18+ / Minors DNI)

Warnings: NSFW, referenced cheating, academic rivals to lovers, fingering, oral (f receiving), hurt/comfort, fluff, Vhagar cameo!!

Word Count: 4.5k

Anonymous Request:

"Modern Aemond story where the reader gets nastily cheated on by her boyfriend (ex boyfriend then I guess?) and Aemond helps her get over it? Maybe with prompt 64 ("I love the way you look when my fingers are inside you") & 85 ("I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll forget this guy's name")?"

════════════════════════════════════════════

A/N: Ohhhhh boy, here we go! Thank you so much for the request, lovely anon ❤️❤️

This fic is NOT part of the Home for the Holidays series, so don't read it as a continuation of that--that would be very confusing. After you read this, lmk if you can tell I majored in history in college lmfaooo.

As per usual, not beta-read but thoroughly edited.

The prompt list used is linked here!

~ Reblogging fics is the best way to support your favorite creators! Reblogs are highly appreciated, especially if you are on my tag list ~

Feel free to submit requests as well! I love them.

════════════════════════════════════════════

You didn’t know what you’d done to deserve this. 

You’d done everything for your boyfriend–ex-boyfriend now, you supposed–from cooking and cleaning to doing his fucking laundry, and none of that had been enough to stop him from cheating on you. 

When he’d said the pair of you needed to talk a few days ago, you’d told yourself it was nothing to worry about, that he’d genuinely wanted to discuss something.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

“I thought you had a right to know,” he’d said, “I’m sorry.”

As if that somehow absolved him of fucking every other girl on campus. Asshole. 

You’d been a mess for at least a week after–you still were, honestly–but life went on, whether you liked it or not. Part of life, such as it was, included attending class, doing your exams, and everything else that went along with your final semester of senior year. 

Needless to say, you were less than thrilled to be stuck working on a group project with your academic rival–and bane of your existence–Aemond Targaryen. 

Of the entire History program at your university, you were constantly the top two in your department. Both of you were incredibly competitive, which only exacerbated the tension between you as you jockeyed for the highest score in every one of your classes. 

You’d been paired together on a project by your Imperial Russian History Professor–which you were certain was some kind of sick joke on his part–and had yet to make any progress on it whatsoever. Both of you had been putting it off, but as the due date quickly approached, you resigned yourself to working with him, if only to survive the semester.

That was, however, proving to be much easier said than done. 

He insisted that your project had to be about Peter the Great, while you pushed for Catherine the Great instead.

This argument was only the latest of many, but you thought you might lose your mind for real this time.  

“The project is about a great Russian,” he sneered, “Catherine was from Germany. You, of all people, should know that.”

“Oh my God,” you snarl, “I cannot believe you're being this obtuse--she was a foundational Russian leader, regardless of where she was from," you roll your eyes.

"Anyway, everyone is going to do a project on Peter. That's such an obvious choice."

“So you would prefer to present on the woman that fucked a horse?” he questions you dryly, a smirk forming on his lips, watching your reaction to his words. 

“You know that was a rumor made up by men who were afraid of a powerful woman,” your voice raises slightly, your face heating up in frustration.

Aemond tilted his head in amusement, his eye glittering in victory at the rise he'd managed to get out of you. You clenched your jaw, taking in a deep, calming breath through your nose. 

“You're impossible,” you say shortly, annoyed that he’s managed to get under your skin.

“And you're insufferable.” 

“Oh, fuck off, will you?”

“No, you're acting like a child.”

“Oh, I’m acting like a child?” you hissed, though your petulant tone did nothing except prove the accusation correct. 

“You are," he confirmed, looking so smug that you wanted to slap him across his pretty face. "What’s the matter?” he taunts, “Are you having issues with that little boyfriend of yours that’s always picking you up from class?”

That did it–you burst into tears. You tried to hide your face behind your hands, not wanting him to see you cry, even though it was a bit late for that now.

“Oh, shit,” Aemond’s eye widened, suddenly looking uncharacteristically panicked at your outburst. He scratched the back of his neck nervously, project now very much forgotten–you guessed someone having a mental breakdown in front of you would do that. 

“Did, uh…did something happen?” he asked, clearly struggling to find anything to say that might soothe you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you this much. I was just giving you a hard time,” he winced as you hiccuped, trying to swallow your sobs. 

“No, I’m sorry. It's just…” you sniff. “You definitely…don’t want to hear about this, but…he cheated on me…sorry, I’ll get it together, I just–” you rooted through your school bag, searching desperately for some tissues. 

“Hey, hey, no, don’t worry,” Aemond’s voice is uncharacteristically soft, “I was being a dick. Here,” he hands you a pack of kleenex, watching your face cautiously. “Listen, you’re wicked smart–it drives me up the wall, believe me–and you seem nice--when you’re not talking to me, anyway,” he smiles faintly, and you let out a watery laugh at his joke.

“If he cheated on you, then he’s a bastard, alright?” he continues. You nod silently, wiping your tears away, though your breath still comes in sharp little gasps.

“It’s alright if this is too weird, but my apartment is super close by,” he tells you after a beat. “We could go there, and I could make you some tea, maybe? That always helps my sister when she’s upset.” 

You stare at him incredulously, not believing that Aemond Targaryen, of all people, was being so nice to you. You’d expected him to laugh at your tears or, at the very least, to pack up his things and leave you there. Not this. 

“You can say no,” he blurts out, taking your silence as a denial. “I just wanted to offer–”

“No, no, I’d like that,” you manage hurriedly, snapping yourself out of your doubtful thoughts. “Tea sounds...good.”

════════════════════════════════════════════

Aemond’s apartment is incredible. It’s so ridiculously lavish that you think perhaps you’ve finally lost it and have started hallucinating.

His building had a doorman, of all things, and the elevator played soft jazz on the way up. You shouldn’t have expected anything else from the designer-wearing prince of King’s Landing University, but you were still thoroughly baffled.

The inside of his apartment was equally posh, with polished granite countertops and solid wood furniture glowing under the warm lighting. 

Aemond toed off his shoes at the door–they were Gucci, you noticed, because of course they were–and set about putting a kettle on while you snooped around his massive bookshelf that occupied half of the wall in the living room. 

His books were what you expected: history texts, a collection of philosophy books, and oddly enough, a copy of the Communist Manifesto by Marx–but one particular section of the shelf caught your eye: it was all Jane Austen–Pride and Prejudice, Emma, Mansfield Park, Sense and Sensibility.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

Grinning broadly for the first time in days, you seized the copy of Pride and Prejudice and padded over the kitchen.

“Big romance guy, huh?” you teased, holding the book aloft. “Who would’ve thought? Aemond Targaryen is a softie.” 

His face turns a shade of scarlet you hadn’t thought was humanly possible. “Austen has lovely prose,” he grumbles, snatching the book from your hands, “don’t make me regret inviting you over.” 

“Oh, come on!” you laugh, grabbing for the book, stumbling when he pulls it out of your reach. “I love Jane Austen; I’m just surprised you do.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you’re all ‘I’m Aemond Targaryen, and I wear black leather, even in the summer. Don’t look at me, or I’ll kill you’,” you lower your voice in a poor imitation of his. “I never had you pegged as a romantic.”

“I don’t sound like that,” he complains, “and I can be extremely romantic, thank you.”

“Really? You? Romantic? Since when?”

“Since always. Just because you’ve never witnessed it doesn’t mean it’s not real,” he grouses, setting the book down on the counter and turning back to the stove to pour hot water into the pair of mugs he'd set out.

“Hm, I’ll believe it when I see it,” you snicker, accepting the mug he offered you gratefully. 

“Well, now that you’re single, who knows? Maybe you will, ” he quips back, arching an eyebrow at you. It’s your turn to go red, and you internally curse him for it, forcing a derisive laugh at his words.

“Yeah. Sure.”

You’d always thought him good-looking–how could you not with his shoulder-length silver hair and broad physique? His only flaw was his eye patch, which made him more attractive and mysterious. If it weren’t for how aggravating he typically was, you’d have had a crush on him long ago. 

“Was he?” Aemond asks, regarding you curiously over the top of his cup.

“Who?”

“Your ex,” Aemond clarifies. “Was he a romantic?”

“No,” you answer truthfully. “Quite the opposite. He actually forgot my fucking birthday this year.”

“And you stayed with him?”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, I’m just asking,” Aemond grins at your sharp reply, unphased by the look of irritation that was spreading across your face. “It doesn’t seem like there’s much to miss about him, is all.”

You sigh, setting your mug aside. “There isn’t,” you admit after a beat. “I was planning on breaking up with him after the semester ended, honestly. He just beat me to the punch.”

“Hm.”

“Have I mentioned that I hate it when you just hum like that?” you snark, “Just talk like a normal person.”

He outright laughs at you, teeth flashing in the kitchen light. “Yeah, I think you’ve mentioned,” he leans on the counter easily, “once or twice or a thousand times.”

He sips at his tea again slowly, savoring it. “Well, from what you’ve told me, he was a cunt,” he comments airly, making you huff in reluctant laughter. “It sounds like you just need something to take your mind off things. A distraction.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, “I’m sure King’s Landing Tinder has only the best to offer.”

“Hm,” Aemond emphasizes his hum, grinning at the look of annoyance that crosses your expression in response. “It doesn’t--believe me. I was suggesting something more immediate.”

You snap your gaze to him, confusion coursing through you. Surely he couldn’t be implying what you thought he was?

“What do you mean?” you manage to ask, nearly choking on your words. 

“I mean,” he says, setting his mug aside and advancing on you slowly like a predator might approach their prey, “that I think there’s more to our little academic rivalry than meets the eye.”

He’s so close to you now that you’re sure he can hear how erratic your breathing has become.

“I think that you’re attracted to me, and now that you’re single, we have a chance to do something about it.”

You’re frozen before him, your mouth hanging open in shock, and your heart thumping wildly in your chest. You want to laugh at him or to tell him that he couldn’t be more wrong, but that would be a bald-faced lie. 

His eye lights up at your silence, a grin spreading broadly across his face. “Oh, you are attracted to me,” he looks triumphant, the same way he looked when he won a debate in class or scored better than you on an assignment. 

“You’re annoying,” you say lamely,  in lieu of outright denial, stepping backward, “and I don’t like you.”

“Perhaps, but you do want me,” he extends a hand, grasping at your hip gently, holding you in place, preventing you from continuing your retreat. Your breath hitches in your chest at the contact, and you swallow harshly, unable to tear your eyes from his sharp-featured face.

“Am I wrong?” he breathes, his face only centimeters from yours, “Because if I am, I’ll walk away. But I don’t think I’m wrong.”

You blink rapidly, your lips parted in disbelief. He was right.

As your attraction to your ex waned, you’d told yourself that the excited flutter of your heart when Aemond walked into your classroom was adrenaline in anticipation of the argument that was to come.

You realized now just how wrong you’d been. 

He was so close to you that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your lips. His hand on your side felt like it was burning a brand into your skin, marking you as his, and you found a strange delight at the thought.

You tried to tell yourself that this was a bad idea, that it was too soon after a breakup to hook up with someone, especially if that someone was Aemond. The excuses you tried to think of became weaker with each moment that passed with his gaze on you, dripping with desire.

“No,” you rasp, “No, you’re not wrong.”

“In that case,” he breathes, tugging your body in towards him, “if it’s alright with you, I'm going to fuck you so hard that you forget that guy's name."

Your eyes widen in shock at his lewd words, your lips parting slightly, a pathetic little whimper escaping you against your will. Your body floods with heat, pussy clenching, and god, you didn’t think you’d ever wanted someone so badly. 

“I don’t think you can,” you challenge, rising on tiptoe to bring your faces closer together, drinking in the sight of his dilated pupil and slightly flushed cheeks. “But if you’d like to try, be my guest.”

It’s like your words are a starting gun for him, and he drags you flush to his body without hesitation, claiming your lips in a filthy, depraved kiss. It’s all teeth and tongue, and his fingers bite into your skin, but the twinge of pain only serves as encouragement. You bite at his lip, and he grunts, a hand sliding down to palm your ass roughly, his tongue invading your mouth possessively. 

You whimper at the thrill his touch sends through you, gripping his shoulders tightly, and he seizes you by your hips, lifting you onto the counter and slotting himself between your legs. You spread them willingly, letting him press himself against the apex of your thighs, and he growls like a wild animal.

He pulls back slightly, leaning just out of reach, his lusty eye raking over you, biting his lip in condescension as you try to chase after him, desperate for his kiss. “Eager, are we?” 

He looks so fucking smug that you want to slap him.

Before you get the chance to throw a scathing retort at him for his insolence, he’s on you again, fingers weaving through your hair and pulling, snickering under his breath when you moan.

His mouth is hot and wanting against yours, and you think that if he doesn’t touch you–really touch you–soon you might explode. 

You reach between you, grabbing firmly at the prominent bulge in his pants, and his lips falter against yours, unable to keep himself from reacting to your touch. It was your turn to grin in satisfaction, touching him through the fabric with long, purposeful strokes. 

“It would seem,” you smirk, delighting in the shuddering gasp he made at the contact, “that I’m not the only one who’s eager.” You punctuate your sentence with a harsh squeeze, and he curses loudly, seizing your wrist in his hand, stilling your movements. 

“You’re only just figuring that out?” he quips, though the starved look on his face makes the retort fall flat. “C’mere,” he grasps your ass, dragging you closer to the edge of the counter, grinding himself against you agonizingly slow, shutting you up with another fiery kiss. 

You’re so lost in the feeling of his lips and hands that you’re barely aware of it happening, but somehow, you end up in his bed.

Both of you are half-naked, your clothes abandoned haphazardly somewhere in the hallway, and you’re desperate as he trails blistering kisses down your chest, your stomach, and your thighs. He yanks your panties off entirely, his eye locked shamelessly at your soaked cunt. The fucker licks his lips at the sight of it, and you whine, moving to close your legs, flustered. 

“Ah ah ah,” he tuts, grabbing your knees in his large hands. “Keep them open, pretty girl. I want to see how wet I make you.”

He trails his fingers up from your knee to your dripping folds, running his middle and index finger through them, and you tremble at his touch, the muscles in your thighs tensing. He finds your clit with ease–something your ex could absolutely never do, no matter how many times you tried to show him–and you cannot control the way your hips buck up into his touch. 

You want him inside you now, but he seems to delight in torturing you, even outside of the classroom.

His touch on your bud is far too gentle to get you anywhere but just firm enough to drive you insane. Slowly–too slowly–he teases the tip of his finger at your entrance, exhaling heavily as he eases it in, watching it disappear inside you, his lip bitten between his teeth. 

He pumps his finger experimentally, eye flicking between your pussy and your face, gauging your reaction with the same calculated stare he gave you when you'd made a particularly salient point in an in-class discussion.

You want to stay quiet, to deny him the satisfaction, but then he starts to truly fuck you with his long, thick digit, and you can’t focus on anything besides how good it feels. He slips a second into your clenching heat, his expression half-feral as you keen at the intrusion.

"Fucking hell. I love the way you look when my fingers are inside you," he groans, his eye fixed on his fingers pumping steadily into you, wetting his lips appreciatively. “So fucking pretty.”

You whimper, bucking into his hand pathetically, desperately seeking more friction. He seems to know exactly where to touch you, and you’re quickly losing control of yourself, your gasps and whines increasing in volume no matter how hard you try to keep them in. 

“I can feel you clenching around me,” he murmurs, flicking his gaze up to your face. “You’re so tight; did that bastard even fuck you?” 

He doesn’t wait for you to respond. 

Instead, he leans down, pulling his fingers from you and licking a broad stripe up your cunt. He makes his annoying little hum at the taste, but it’s not so aggravating now. 

It’s fucking hot, for some reason, and you reach down, grasping at the back of his silver head, holding on to him for dear life as he devours you. 

He plays with your clit, his fingers drenched from your slick, and plunges his tongue inside of you, and you give up on even trying to stay quiet. It was no use. 

“Fu-uck,” your voice cracks into a pathetic squeak, your fingers tightening on his hair and pulling. You can feel him laughing at you, the thrum of it sending shockwaves through your body, and as much as you hate him for it, you couldn’t–wouldn’t–stop him now. It all feels so incredible that all you can manage is: “Please. More."

He fucks you with his tongue eagerly, as if nothing in the world could please him more, and you can already feel your orgasm building in your gut. To your displeasure, he removes his tongue from you, but you’re swiftly placated by him replacing it again with his fingers, swapping places with his mouth and suckling at your clit harshly. 

“Fuck, you’re sensitive,” his smug voice is muffled by your pussy, and you can only whimper in response. “Are you going to come already?” 

By way of response, you arch up off of the bed, coming apart with a cry, gripping at his hair so tightly that you think you must be hurting him, but he just sucks harder, his fingers driving into you steadily, easing you through your high, watching you in satisfaction from between your thighs. 

He draws back, grinning at you, his chin glistening with your slick.

“What was his name again?” he asks, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

You frown at him hazily, momentarily confused as to what he means.

“Your ex?” he prompts, eye glittering in self-satisfaction. “Don’t tell me you forgot already? Was I that good?”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as you realize what he meant.

“Fuck you,” you manage to gasp out, your chest still heaving. 

“Yes,” he stands, removing his underwear, the last barrier between you. His cock is hard and heavy between his legs, the tip of it flushed and glistening with pre-cum. “I intend to do just that.” He digs through his bedside table, retrieving a condom and rolling it down his length hurriedly. 

Lowering himself above you, he takes your lips in a heated kiss, palming your breast, his fingers tweaking lightly at your nipple. You can feel him smiling against your lips when you sigh in pleasure, and you curve into his touch eagerly. 

“Do you still want me to fuck you?” 

For a moment, you think he’s teasing you again, and you open your mouth to make a sharp retort. When you look into his eye, however, you see only tenderness–a gentle question as to whether or not you still want to go further. 

“Yes,” you croaked, suppressing the swell of emotion threatening to overcome you at such a small show of respect, “I do.”

He slips a hand between you, guiding his swollen tip to your entrance, pushing into you slowly and pausing to give you a moment to accommodate his size. It felt so good to be filled like this, with his weight crushing into you, his hot, thick cock twitching within your cunt. 

You nod to him, and he bends to kiss you tenderly, pulling out of you slowly and sliding back in again, keeping his pace subdued at first. 

“I thought you said you were going to fuck me,” you challenged. “As good as you feel inside me, this is not fucking.”

He lets out a pleased grunt and slams into you hard, grinning at the pleasured yelp you make at the force of it. 

The pace he sets is brutal, hips slapping against yours, your tits bouncing with every harsh thrust. He kisses down your neck, nipping at your sensitive skin, squeezing at your breasts with the hand he isn’t using to hold himself up above you. 

You moan desperately, planting your feet on the bed and bucking up to meet him, trying to get him still deeper. He gets the hint, hoisting your legs over his shoulders and using the new angle to drive down into you, leaving you at his mercy. 

“Tell me how it feels,” he demands raggedly.

“So good,” you warble, far beyond trying to hide behind a veil of indifference, “you’re so big.”

His eye lights with something dark and primal at your praise, and he lowers one of your legs, drawing the other up higher, dropping his head to take your lips into another all-consuming crush, drinking down your cries of pleasure. 

“Aemond, please,” you whimper against him, “please touch me. I’m so close.”

Somehow, he understands what you mean, plunging a hand down to where you are joined, using your wetness as a lubricant to rub your clit in quick, harsh circles, dragging you closer and closer to the edge.

Your cunt clenches around his cock, your legs trembling from the effort, tears gathering at your waterline from how exquisitely painful the pleasure he’s giving you is. 

“I’m never leaving this sweet pussy–fuck,” he snarls. “So. Fucking. Good,” he punctuates each word with a rough snap of his hips. 

You come with a loud, broken cry, your body shaking beneath him, and he groans at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him as you reach your peak, his thrusts growing sloppy, slamming into you one, then two more times before he shudders, spilling into the condom with a choked moan.

After a moment, he gently releases your leg, his head hanging heavily, his pale chest heaving from the exertion, eyelashes fluttering, a lazy, satisfied smile creeping across his features. 

“Are you alright?” He breathes. “I wasn’t too rough with you?”

“Not at all,” you manage, “I’m not alright, though. I think you fucked me too well.”

He snickers breathlessly at the compliment, slowly pulling out of you, pressing his lips to yours delicately, a sharp contrast to the sex you’d just had. Your heart aches at the sweetness of the gesture, and you return the kiss, hoping that he feels the same rush of emotion that you do through it. 

He rises unsteadily, disposing of the condom quickly and pulling a pair of sweatpants over his hips. He returns your panties to you and hands you the cotton t-shirt he’d been wearing, grinning at you sheepishly.

You pull both on, uncertain as to whether he expects you to go now that you’ve fucked, but your question is answered when he lays back down beside you, tugging you firmly against his warm, bare chest. 

A loud, indignant meow sounds from the doorway, and you jump, taken off guard. You quickly find the source of the noise: A large, elderly black cat glaring into the room as if to say, ‘Hey, can you keep it down?’

Aemond chuckles, rising again from his place beside you. “I fear I forgot my manners,” he tells you, scooping that cat into his arms and carrying her back over to the bed. “I would like you to meet my lovely roommate, Vhagar.”

“Hello, Vhagar,” you coo, extending a hand for her to sniff. To your delight, she slams her head up into your palm, erupting into loud purrs. You smile, scratching the old girl behind her ears gently, and she closes her eyes, leaning into your touch. 

“Hm. Well, that’s unexpected,” Aemond muses, stroking a hand down her back affectionately. “She doesn’t like many people. You should be flattered.” He leans back into the pillows, regarding the pair of you curiously.

“I suppose this means you’ll have to come by here more often then. For her sake,” he teases, though you’re sure you hear a hint of sincerity in his voice. 

“I suppose I will,” you reply, turning to look at him. “Strictly for Vhagar.”

“Naturally,” he studies you, choosing his words carefully before he speaks again. “Would you stay here tonight, perhaps?” he asks, “for Vhagar?”

“Hm,” you mimic his characteristic teasing hum. “Just for her?”

“Not just for her,” he replies without hesitation. “I think it’s safe to say that we both are…aggravatingly fond of you.”

You lean towards him, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth and then to his lips. 

“In that case, I suppose I’ll have to,” you murmur. “But this doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying to outdo you in class.”

He chuckles under his breath, stealing another swift peck. “That would be no challenge. As much as it pains me to admit it, you’re far better than me at history,” he kisses you again.

You nuzzle into his shoulder, smiling against his skin. “Well, if we took a romance novel class together, I’m sure you’d emerge victorious,” you mumble.

He snorts, pressing a kiss to your head. 

“Oh, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Vhagar creeps up the bed, curling, and settles heavily into Aemond’s lap with an audible huff, and you snuggle deeper into his embrace. 

The three of you lay in comfortable silence, and as you begin to doze, you think to yourself that perhaps you ought to write your bastard of an ex-boyfriend a ‘thank you’ note. 

Without his indiscretions, you might not have ever felt so complete.

You really didn’t know what you’d done to deserve this.

════════════════════════════════════════════

re: aemond's bookshelf with Marx on it: long live aemond the comrade!! (i didn't make this, i found it on twitter ages ago so creds to whatever genius was behind this gem)

════════════════════════════════════════════

Like this fic? Read my other works here!

Personal Rec: A Dragon Without Wings mini-series (contains spoilers for future seasons of HOTD)

════════════════════════════════════════════

General Aemond Tag List: (Comment or message to be added. Note: this tag list is for ALL my Aemond works, so if you are only on the list for A Dragon Without Wings, please let me know if you’d like to be on this one too!)

@missusnora @babyblue-chaos @m-indkiller @star-dusst @jbaby2 @xceafh @julczimozart @warners-wife @a-beaverhausen @jaime-in-flannel @lauraneedstochill @meggiemay82 @tempo-rary-fix @tssf-imagines @boofy1998 @nika-sophie05 @lady-stark-winter-rose @schniiipsel @maximizedrhythms @w7kkio @caught-in-the-afterglow @hb8301 @candypurplebutterfly @melsunshine @namoreno @evisnotok @welcometothelioncage @nupppuff @ripdragonbeans

Must have more!! Please!

As You Wish - Aemond Targaryen x Reader Princess Bride!AU

Part 1: A Book?

Summary: Y/N was shocked to first realize that she loved Aemond, the poor farmhand that worked on her family's land. And she was devastated when he left to search for a fortune across the seas. She waited months then years, but he never returned to her. So, when Prince Aegon - future King of King's Landing - proposed marriage, she had no choice but to say yes, even with the misery it wrought.

Words: 3.4k

Note: So first of all I had to stop reading after a while so I am SURE it isn't perfect. It's finally here besties, it's finally happening. Let's hope that Tumblr works more with me this time lmao. Later parts are definitely going to be longer, and I got everything separated out how I want it so this part is shorter. Gonna be a fun time! But between this, the Haunting of Hill House AU I'm working on, I Know Places and some one-shots, I got a fun line up going! :) I'm gonna cross-post on my AO3 when all parts are done.

For the past four days, Jaehaerys and Maelor had been complaining of fevers, upset stomachs, and moping around the house - when they bothered to leave their beds. Jaehaera was, of course, worried about her brothers. She loved them both endlessly. But, she had bigger, grander things on her mind than the illness they both had. It was her best friend’s birthday at the end of the week, and she had every intention to be at school come Friday to celebrate with her.

While a noble effort, despite her best efforts to avoid her sick brothers, Jaehaera woke up miserably with her nose stuffed, a fever, and her head and stomach both hurting. Naturally, her mom bundled her into the living room with her brothers. Maelor was groaning about wanting a ginger ale and Jaehaerys was dramatically wheezing as if it were his last breath. Personally, Jaehaera was just fine with the juice and crackers her mom gave her even if she couldn’t quite taste it right. Sure, being sick was awful and she was missing her best friend’s birthday party at school, but at least her mom was able to stay and take care of them, plus, they were watching cartoons. 

But, when sick and young like her, rest was a necessity - an inevitable necessity, even if you vehemently believed that you had to watch the rest of the episode of Scooby Doo. Jaehaera was just a girl - wasn’t anything special, so she caved to slumber just before the bad guy was unmasked. The young girl jolted from the slumber she hadn’t meant to when she felt a hand touching her warm forehead. She whined as she moved away from it, blinking against the sleep weighing down her eyes. “Mama?” she asked.

“I’m here, my love,” her mom cooed. “And look, sweetheart, you and your brothers have a visitor.”

“Helaena you don’t have to wake them,” a voice quietly whispered from the other side of the room.

At the sound of the voice, her eyes flew open and a smile lit up her face. “Uncle Daeron!” she cheered as loud as she could with her stuffy nose and sore throat.

“Hello, Jaehaera,” her uncle greeted, coming to crouch in front of her. He gave her a soft smile, brushing her platinum hair from her face. “How are you feeling, peanut?”

“Terrible,” she groused. She glared over at her brothers, still asleep. “They got me sick and it’s my best friend’s birthday! We’re supposed to have cupcakes at school!”

Her Uncle Daeron sighed. “I know, your mom called me and told me. I came to try and make you feel a little better,” he said.

Again, her eyes lit up. “You’re going to tell a story?” she asked hopefully.

“Yes,” Daeron agreed, laughing, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “And your mom’s going to make you some hot chocolate too - your brothers too if they ever wake up.”

“Psh,” she scoffed, “leave them! Storytime, Uncle Daeron, start!”

He snorted and rose to his feet, settling into the chair across from him. “Alright, alright, patience there, peanut,” he snickered. He pulled a book from his pocket. She looked at it quizzically. “This is a very special book, Jaehaera. It was the book my mother used to read to my brother when I was sick, and my brother read it to me. And now I’m going to read it to you.”

“What’s it about?” she asked curiously. “Am I going to like it?”

Her Uncle Daeron laughed fondly and nodded. “Are you kidding me, peanut? It has fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, miracles,” he said. He saw that she wasn’t convinced and gave her a smile. “And at its heart? It’s a story of true love.”

She looked at him, squinting in disbelief. “Doesn’t sound too bad. I’ll try and stay awake,” she said. She settled back into the couch looking at her uncle expectantly.

“Oh, you’re too kind,” he teased. He opened the book and prepared to read.

“Uncle Daeron?” came the sleepy voice of her twin next to her.

“Hey, buddy,” he greeted, closing the book and moving over to hug the young boy.

“Uncle Daeron?” came the echo of Maelor then.

“Hey, pal,” he said, hugging their younger brother then.

“Quiet,” Jaehaera whined, leaning into Jaehaerys’s side. “He’s going to read a story!”

Their mother then came into the room with mugs of hot chocolate for them and their uncle took the chance to sit back down. The boys immediately sat up for the drinks, silenced themselves, and looked eagerly at their uncle, fighting off their sleepiness. Maelor leaned into his sister’s side as they started to drink their hot chocolate. They waited on bated breath for their uncle to begin reading to them. Dramatically, their Uncle Daeron opened the book again, prepared to read. He looked at them, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

“The Princess Bride, chapter one,” he said. “Y/N was raised on a small farm in the country of King’s Landing.” Already, the kids were enthralled, as if they could see the very words that their uncle was reading from the page. “Her favorite pastimes were riding her horse and tormenting the farm boy who worked there. His name was Aemond, but she never called him that.” He looked up at his niece and nephews. “Isn’t that a wonderful beginning?”

“Yeah, great,” Maelor said weakly while his siblings sipped their hot chocolate.

Their Uncle Daeron looked down to the book in his hands. “Nothing gave Y/N as much pleasure as ordering Aemond around. ‘Farm Boy, polish my horse’s saddle,’” he said, voice high and mimicking as he read the order.

“I want to see my face shining in it by morning,” Y/N said, a grin on her face as she handed the saddle over to the farm boy.

Aemond nodded and took the saddle. “As you wish,” he said quietly.

“As you wish was all he ever said to her,” their Uncle Daeron stated.

Y/N walked into her horse’s stall and pet the creature’s neck. “Farm Boy, I want you to varnish my horse’s hooves,” she ordered, voice softer than it had been before. Aemond looked at her from a stall over, lips in a line. “Please.”

“As you wish,” Aemond agreed, lip quirking up into a partial smile.

Y/N left the stable after getting his agreement, but stopped and turned. His eyes were still on her. She offered him a fleeting half-smile that morphed into a frown as he turned away, going back to his work. Y/N took a shaky sigh and walked off, forcing her focus elsewhere on her own duties for the day.

Even so, before evening fully set in, Y/N found herself in the kitchen of her home with Aemond. Her hands moved listlessly around when he entered, her brain struggling to catch up. And as she turned to him, she took a sharp breath. Aemond looked at her, curious, but silent as always.

“Farm Boy, fetch me that bowl,” Y/N said, pointing to a bowl that she could easily reach herself. For a moment, he didn’t move. “The…the heavy one, up high.”

Aemond approached her, a few mere steps between them. He reached up to grab the bowl. It was neither heavy nor high up. Still, he took a step closer to hand it to Y/N, their hands brushing as she took it from his hands. The pair stayed close for a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes.

“As you wish,” Aemond said. 

His voice, it seemed, broke him out of his reverie. He turned away from her and then walked back outside, leaving Y/N alone inside. She sucked in a deep breath as the man disappeared from right before her. She watched as he walked away from the farmhouse, following his movements with her eyes until she could no longer see him.

“That day,” their Uncle Daeron said, fond smile in his voice, “Y/N was amazed to discover that when Aemond was saying ‘as you wish,’ what he meant was this: ‘I love you.’ And even more amazing? That night she realized that she truly loved him back.”

Outside of Aemond’s small home on the family’s property, Y/N and Aemond stood chest to chest. They gazed at each other. She blinked at the man before her, taking in a quiet breath as he took her hand, holding it gently in his own. As if she were some sort of prize to cherish. She glanced down at his lips, giving him silent permission, practically begging him to kiss her. Aemond acquiesced to Y/N’s desire and leaned down, pressing their lips together in a kiss that quickly became passionate.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jaehaerys complained. “Is this a kissing book?”

“When does it get good?” Maelor whined.

“Keep your shirt on, let me read,” Uncle Daeron said with a chuckle. He looked back to his book. “Aemond had no money for marriage, so he packed up the few belongings he had and left the farm. He did so to seek his fortune across the seas, longing to come back for his bride as soon as he was able. It was a very emotional time for Y/N.”

“I don’t believe it,” Jaehaera exclaimed, sad.

“I fear that I’ll never see you again,” Y/N said, sounding as though she loathed to admit it. She was standing a few steps away from him. They stood at the gate of the farm, Aemond ready to leave.

“Of course you will,” Aemond said firmly.

“But what if something happens to you?” Y/N asked.

Aemond took a step forward and held Y/N’s face in both of his hands. He ran a hand soothingly up and down her cheek. “Hear this now: I will always come for you,” he said. A vow.

“How can you be sure?” Y/N asked, disbelieving.

Aemond pressed a soft kiss to her lips. He looked at her with nothing but fondness in his eyes. He stroked his thumb across her cheek. “This is true love, Y/N. You think that this happens every day?” he asked, teasing.

He smiled down at her, and she couldn’t help but smile back, even brighter - he always made her brighter. She threw her arms around him and he held her tightly to his chest in a hug. Y/N loathed to let him go. Still, she knew that she must. So after she finally released him and pressed a final kiss to his lips, Aemond stepped away from her. As he walked away, she watched him go, and wiped the single tear that dripped down from her eyes.

“Aemond didn’t reach his destination,” their Uncle Daeron said, grimly.

“What?” Jaehaera demanded.

Their uncle nodded. “His ship was attacked by the Dread Pirate Martell, who never left captives alive. And when Y/N got the news that Aemond was murdered-” 

“Murdered by pirates is good,” Jaehaerys muttered. Jaehaera swatted at her brother’s arm to silence him, her eyes locked on her uncle still.

“She went into her room and shut the door. For days, she neither slept nor ate,” Uncle Daeron said, ignoring his nephew’s interruption.

Y/N stood before the window in her kitchen, a grim look on her face. “I will never love again,” she stated with no emotions in her voice at all. 

“Five years later, the main square of King’s Landing was filled as it had never been before,” their Uncle Daeron said, jumping ahead in the story. “They were there to hear the announcement of the great Prince Aegon’s bride-to-be.”

Prince Aegon emerged onto a castle balcony. He was dressed in resplendent black royal robes, with a three-headed dragon embroidered onto them in gold, with a regal green and black cape draped over his shoulders. His platinum hair shone in the sunlight, and he wore a black prince’s crown atop his head. The prince did not emerge onto the balcony alone. To his left side stood King Viserys and Queen Alicent in regal clothing of their own. To his right then stood, the King’s advisor Otto, the Prince’s sworn sword Ser Criston Cole, and the Prince’s advisor Lord Larys Strong. And as they emerged, it was to the applause of their citizens below

“My people,” Prince Aegon said, voice cutting through the cheers that quieted as he raised a hand. “A few months from now, our country will have its 500th anniversary. On that sundown, I shall marry a lady.” He smiled. “A lady who was once a commoner like yourselves.” He paused, clearly for dramatic effect. “But perhaps you will not find her so common now. Would you like to meet her?”

The crowd answered their affirmation with cheers that reverberated through the very stone of the castle. The sea of people before them was adamant in their love and appreciation for the ruling family and for whomever this woman would be. They watched as the Prince gestured to a door on a balcony opposite them. The crowd, it seemed, was holding its breath as a collective. They waited eagerly to see her fully - to know who she was.

“My people,” Prince Aegon declared, “meet your Princess, your future Queen…the Princess Y/N.”

And then, Y/N emerged onto the balcony from the door. She was an image of beauty, reflected perfectly upon the people. The only thing betraying her discontent was the lack of a smile on her face. Even so, Y/N remained the most beautiful person around. She descended the staircase attached to the balcony slowly, as if every step pained her heart. And once she reached the ground, she began to walk amongst the people.

Upon the balcony, King Viserys began mumbling. Try as he might, Prince Aegon did not understand a word he was saying. He leaned over to Ser Criston. “Did you understand a word of that, Ser Criston?” he asked.

“Not a syllable,” the sworn sword admitted.

“It doesn’t seem possible, but my father’s mumblings seem to be getting worse every day,” the Prince stated.

“Your father said, Aegon, that it isn’t safe for Y/N to move amongst the people,” Queen Alicent said, glaring slightly at her son. She gently patted her husband’s arm, soothing. “It’s alright, Viserys. She’s so gentle. Who would want to harm Y/N? Who would even dream of it.”

There was an adoring smile on the Prince’s face. One that was sweet, genuine, loving, even. “I tell you this, mother, father…my dear councilmen: no man had better try,” Prince Aegon said firmly. Otto, Larys, and Criston all exchanged a fleeting glance. Looking back to the crowd, Aegon drew in a surprised breath. “By the seven…they love her.”

Looking back down to the crowd, they watched as they all began kneeling. They knelt down before Y/N without any instruction. Waves of people fell to a knee and bowed their heads to their new Princess. And Y/N was terribly moved by this. She stood still then, frozen in her spot, unable to move, unable to blink even, amongst the crowds of people. They were radiating love toward her - an adoration that felt entirely undeserved. She forced herself to take a breath, to blink, and it was a blessing she did. For as she blinked, the tears threatening to overcome her faded away. She looked up to the balcony and saw her future husband standing, smiling down at her, fond and kind. And she felt absolutely nothing.

Later that same day, Prince Aegon accompanied Y/N - Princess Y/N now - to the stables on the castle grounds. He was still dressed the same as he was at the royal announcement. But Y/N had changed into riding clothes. Y/N allowed the accompaniment only because she felt she had to. She supposed she should be grateful for the company, but couldn’t muster the feeling in herself. As she saddled her horse and prepared to mount, the Prince finally spoke.

“Must you ride?” he asked quietly. “You seem quite upset today.”

Y/N let out a quiet sigh. “The King looked terribly old today - exhausted to the bone. I suppose that frightened me. Upset me,” she said shortly. Prince Aegon smiled, reached out to grab her hand, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. She tried to smile but couldn’t bring it to last for more than a second.

“He has a right to look old, my darling,” he said, chuckling. “He has aged beyond what most dream of reaching, and every organ in his body has begun to slowly betray him. I know my father’s health is not what is upsetting you.” He paused, watching as she looked away from him. “Have I not been attentive enough, my darling? Is that it? Or have I been overbearing to you? I…I know that you don’t love me, Y/N. But, I promise that in time you’ll grow to love me.”

She shook her head. She mounted the horse expertly and then looked to the Prince again. “It’s not you,” she denied. “It was the crowd. I…they should not bow to me as they did. When you proposed to me, my Prince, I was just like them. Ordinary.” She looked away, towards the horizon, and then back to the Prince. “And even with all of the finishing lessons and time spent to educate me…in my heart I still am ordinary, Aegon. I…I felt a fraud today.” She shook her head. “They should not have bowed to me.”

The Prince took her hand and pressed another sweet kiss to her knuckles. “Oh, my beloved,” he said with a sigh. He offered a beautiful smile to her. “You are the most beautiful woman in this world. And when we marry? Y/N, you’ll be the richest and most powerful woman as well.” Braver, he reached up and pressed a kiss to Y/N’s lips. “Don’t expect too much from life. That is how you may find yourself disappointed, even when you have anything…everything that you could possibly want at hand.”

Y/N considered him, then his words. “You’re very wise,” she said, nodding. “I must…I must learn to be satisfied with what I have. Thank you, my Prince.” The Prince took a step away from her horse and she immediately rode off. 

Free from the castle and her duties now, Y/N barreled through the woodlands surrounding King’s Landing. Atop her horse, Y/N could almost feel like she was free again. She pushed her horse to take her farther, to run faster. With the wind whipping her face, through her hair, Y/N could almost pretend she was alive again. She could almost feel life the way that it was with Aemond there. Joy was so close to her, but still so far.

Going through the woods coming close to the waters of the King’s Landing sea, Y/N was forced to bring her horse to a sudden stop seeing three men standing in the midst of her path. She looked at them suspiciously. Standing in front of the group of three was a Black man with platinum dreadlocks. To the left was an older, tall Black man also with white dreadlocks, but a less severe look on his face. To his right was a tall, broad man with curly dark hair and an easy smile on his face.

“A word if you will, my Lady?” the older man asked. They moved towards her. “My name is Vaemond, this is my nephew Laenor and our associate Harwin. We are but poor, lost circus performers. Is there a village nearby you could direct us to?”

Y/N shook her head, frown on her face. She almost felt bad for them. For the trek that they’d have to make back to the city.  “There is nothing nearby,” she denied. “Not for miles.”

Vaemond’s face curled into a dark smile. “Then there shall be no one around to hear you scream,” he declared. 

Before Y/N could react to the words, the man nodded to Harwin. As a scream started to come out of her mouth, he knocked her unconscious by pinching a nerve in her neck. And then, she unceremoniously fell from the horse into the strong man’s arms, lost to the world.

Akatsuki no Yona furoku by Hana to Yume 

Hak and Jae-Ha

God, I think I’m going to collapse with this image

Awesome fanfic by a great writer

Words On My Skin MASTERLIST

Bucky Barnes X Reader

Soulmate AU: Words that have significant meaning in their soulmate’s life appear on the skin at birth & emotional bond.

Summary: Y/n had always felt a little leery about the tattoo on her wrist. She could feel her soulmate’s aversion to the 10 russian words, and was too chicken shit to translate them… When she finally does? All hell breaks loose. Life will never be the same.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 

Part 4 

Part 5 

Part 6 

Part 7 

Part 8 

Part 9

Part 10 

Part 11 

Part 12

Part 13 

Part 14 

Part 15 

Part 16

Part 17 

Part 18 

Part 19 

Part 20 

Part 21 

Part 22 

Part 23 

Part 24 

Part 25

Part 26

Part 27 

Part 28 

Part 29 

Part 30 (Coming soon to a Tumblr near you!)

—————

Taglist is open!

Forever tags are open!

AM I ALONE?

Who has days when they are reading a really good fan fiction about their favorite ship and your family keeps on calling you to do something every time it gets to a REALLY good part