#i know ill be fine and get out of this but like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yoonivy · 2 days

Text

gold rush; part 5.

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. romantic comedy — inspired by 10 things i hate about you and also another movie (can you guess which one? :) ) , college/university au, smut, enemies to lovers (kinda??? their relationship is complicated to explain LOL)

In all the 8 years you’ve known Aemond Targaryen, he has not spoken more than 8 words to you. In total. So why is he starting now?

warnings. ramsay, aegon, and their friends. deepthroating.

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07

---

One night turns it into two and then three… and before Aemond knows it, three weeks have gone by and he still hasn’t told you what he should have told you weeks ago.

(Or the thing that shouldn’t have even been a plan in the first place.)

It’s part selfishness of not wanting to lose you, and cowardice — also for not wanting to lose you.

In his mind, the plan is already called off. If people get pissed off at him then that’s fine. All he knows is he is not going to do that to you. Not anymore.

Besides, the plan was idiotic anyway. Aegon came up with it, so that tells you everything you need to know. The only reason Aemond got roped into it was because nobody thought Aegon could successfully court you to get even a single date.

Now Aemond is glad he got convinced to carry out the plan instead because the thought of you with his older brother now makes him sick. Especially when he thinks about the text his brother had wrote in the family group chat last night that he had ignored but can’t get out of his head:

Aegon

— aemond is taking too long with the plan 😫

— maybe I should take over

— didn’t ____ have a crush on me before?

Daeron

— IJBOOOOOOOOL 😶🌫️

He ignored the messages, not bothering to reply, but that doesn’t mean that what Aegon had said hasn’t been running around his head all night long.

You used to have a crush on Aegon?! When was that?!

It’s impossible, a total fabrication and defamation of your character!

But still… it could be possible.

Aemond is not completely blind to see that his older brother is pretty popular with women (especially those who don’t know him beyond his looks) , and growing up, he has had many classmates who had feelings for his brother (some even shameless enough to ask him if his brother was seeing anyone) — but to think that you would have fallen for his brother’s trickery and deceit even if it was just a stupid teenage crush?

It makes Aemond want to empty out the content of his stomach.

Which is not much. Just coffee, black. Forgoing breakfast as he is currently waiting for you outside your apartment building to get brunch together.

As he waits, he ruminates, trying to recall any indication of his brother’s statement as true. The more he combs through his memories, the more bothered he gets because can’t recall any. And not because there isn’t a moment that it might be possible (as much as he hopelessly wishes this was the case) but it’s because he never bothered to care or observe anything you did in the past so his memory is coming up empty.

So what if you did used to harbor a crush on Aegon?

The thought makes Aemond ill.

“Morning sunshine—-!” Your cheerful exclamation is immediately halted by the look of your boyfriend’s face when you get a good look at him. Still handsome like always but he seems to be unhappy. And rest assured, you can now tell the difference between his resting bitch face or if he is actually in a foul mood by now.

You place a delicate hand on his upper arm, expression full of concern. “Hey, you okay?”

Aemond focuses in on you — on your pretty face that he has grown so truly fond of. The one face that he wants to see everyday and if he doesn’t, it would just automatically be a mundane or terrible day. The sight of you leaves him breathless, he nods slow, distracted.

Then he bends to ravish your mouth. Needy. His fingers digging into your hips to pull you closer. Possessive.

It’s a lot for eleven in the morning — not that you’re complaining!

“Wow… good morning to me,” you say with a cheeky smirk when you pull away. Aemond seems brighter too, smiling softly as he looks down at you.

It seems that whatever he was thinking about before you came is completely forgotten now.

“So, where are we going?” You ask once in his car, pulling on the passenger seatbelt.

“It’s this place that just opened,” he tells you, his eye on the road. “Helaena recommends it; their only other location is in King’s Landing and she goes nearly every week.”

“Oooh!” You perk up in your seat. “I trust Helaena’s taste so I’m excited!”

Aemond grins, then hears the telltale sound coming from his speaker that lets him know that someone connected to it via Bluetooth.

“Also, I heard this song last night and thought of you,” you say just as a sweet melody starts to play.

I’ve never known someone like you,

Tangled and lovestuck by you

From the glue

Aemond tries to bite down his growing smile as he takes in the lyrics. But when you flash your pretty smile his way, he cannot help but return it.

Because it’s you.

And that’s just how he is now.

Crazy about you.

Guess I’m stuck forever on the glue

—- oh, and you…

---

By the time you arrive at your destination, there is already a long line wrapping around the corner of the street to get into the new brunch place.

You shoot a worried look towards Aemond — both brows rising as your eyes comically widen — but all Aemond does in response is smirk, cool and collected.

He meets you at your side of the car, opens the door like a gentleman and offers out his hand for you to hold. You take it as you step out, and you walk hand in hand with Aemond leading you past the long line of people and all the way to the entrance.

You are a bit confused, seeing as how while you were looking at the menu on your phone during the drive, it said that there are no reservations and it’s first come, first serve.

Before you can question it, he tells the hostess by the door his name and she greets the two of you with a warm smile and then calls someone from inside to show you to your seat.

Guess this is one of the perks of being wealthy or having a recognizable name.

“Helaena is friends with the chef so she got us a table,” Aemond explains when he notices your curious expression on him.

Ah… makes sense.

You hear disgruntled murmurings behind you while you walk in with your boyfriend.

You recall times that you were in their shoes — watching glitzy and clearly very wealthy stride in places with or even without reservations while you were waiting for hours . But now that you’re with Aemond… your back straightens, holding your head high as you try not to feel like an imposter in your $14.99 thrifted dress.

Then — as if feeling your slightly anxious energy — Aemond squeezes your hand and looks back with a sweet smile, leaning into your ear and murmurs you’re gorgeous.

Your knees almost buckle, feeling like you’re both melting on the spot and drifting up to the heavens.

With your free hand, you grab onto his arm, the same one holding your hand, and nuzzle up closely to him with a gleeful grin rounding your cheeks.

“We have two tables for you to choose from, Sir,” the host says, leading you and Aemond through the fully occupied restaurant. “There’s one at our outdoor patio on the roof, or—“

“Oh, Mondy~!”

Aemond stiffens at the sound of the voice, his hand clutching yours tighter. Still, he doesn’t dare look, and even somewhat turns away to seemingly block out and pretend he had not heard what he surely had heard and keeps walking. But you, on the other hand, slow your steps to peer around him curiously.

What you see is his older brother, Aegon, sitting at a table, twiddling his fingers at the two of you with a strange and sickeningly sweet grin on his face. You stop — causing Aemond to do so as well, but not without the most frustrated and heaviest sigh — and you wave back slowly.

“What a coinkydink!” Aegon exclaims, hands clapping together as he stands up and makes his way over. “Such a wonderful surprise!”

Aemond grimaces, knowing it was anything but. Helaena had accidentally messaged the groupchat with his siblings to ask about the time when he wanted to arrive at the restaurant, so he is pretty sure Aegon just bothered her to put his name on the list as well.

“And ____, you are looking absolutely gorgeous — as always.”

Aemond’s grimace twists into a furious deep seated scowl when Aegon steps up and throws his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder, yanking you towards him that you essentially had to drop Aemond’s hand from the shock of it with a soft oh falling from your lips.

“C’mon! Join us!” Aegon exclaims, gesturing towards his table where their cousin, Vis, and the Cargyll twins were sitting. He snaps his fingers towards the host, an order to grab another chair for the table.

Without allowing either you or Aemond to accept or decline on the idea, Aegon sits you down on the chair beside his. When Aemond tries to sit down on the empty seat right across from yours, Aegon shakes his head and points to the new seat at the head of the table — the one furthest away from you.

Aemond opens his mouth to question and protest, but Aegon beats him to it, “that seat’s taken.”

Eyeing the leather bomber jacket thrown haphazardly on the seat, Aemond sighs in defeat and begrudgingly drops down on the one forcefully assigned to him.

You make eye contact with your boyfriend, offering a tight smile as you notice his completely neutral expression before taking a hold of the menu to glance through, hiding the way you bite down your disappointment. You guess he is fine with this. So even though you had been anticipating this date with Aemond, to spend some quality time with just him, this is the least you could do for him. Aemond has been integrated into your friend group, it’s only fair for you to get to know his.

Unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend’s carefully calm expression is just his way of staying calm. Really, he desperately wants to throttle his older brother. This is the last thing he wanted.

The cherry that tops the shit cake arrives when the person who had reserved the seat across from you finally comes back from wherever he had been hiding. From one of the layers of Hell, probably.

“This beautiful day just keeps getting better and better!” Ramsay exclaims by way of announcing himself when he gets to the table.

You are visibly disgusted when he crowds your space to hug you, smelling strongly of cigarette smoke. You push him away when he doesn’t let go of you quick enough. All the bastard does is chuckle, like it’s so amusing how put off you are of him.

Straightening up, Ramsay offers Aemond a shit-eating grin and a nod. “How’re you doing there, bloke?”

Aemond couldn’t hide his feelings anymore — especially after witnessing Ramsay’s dirty hands on you, even if it just barely grazed your back — now openly seething, his nostrils flared.

“Great,” Aemond fumes, tone flat and discontent. “Just wonderful .”

There’s an infuriating comment at the tip of Ramsay’s mouth, but thankfully, the waiter arrives to pour you and Aemond water and to take orders.

The guys barely looked at the menu, ordering whatever they fancy. (“Mimosa,” Vis tuts, without even acknowledging the waiter. “And hold the orange juice.”) Meanwhile, you calculate in your head the total of your order before politely asking the waiter for a stack of buttermilk pancakes ($23, the cheapest on the menu) with strawberry compote (an extra $5) and a glass of mimosa ($17) as well — to treat yourself, and because you know you’ll probably need it to make it through this brunch with Ramsay. This means you probably have to scavenge through your fridge for leftovers for the next few days until you get paid but it’s fine.

After the twins introduce themselves to you, Vis directs the conversation to something that you guess they had been discussing before you and Aemond had arrived, seeing it sounded like his point was a continuation of a previous thought. Although listening intently, you don’t contribute to the conversation, only half understanding what was being said. Aemond, on the other hand, easily comprehends the subject of discussion and adds in his opinion.

Leaning towards him as you tuck your hand under your chin, you hang onto every word that comes out of Aemond’s mouth. You can admit, Aemond can be a little pretentious at times (okay, perhaps more than sometimes), but maybe it’s because you adore him that he sounds highly intelligent and, let’s be real, fucking hot.

But what Aemond said clearly pissed Vis off, opposing his opinion. The latter scoffs, face going sour.

While the food starts to be brought to the table, Vis turns towards you. “What do you think about it?”

You don’t even realize he was speaking to you until he calls your name. You shake away your dreamy gaze of your boyfriend to glance questioningly at his cousin. He repeats himself with a vapid curl of his lips.

After quickly acknowledging the staff who places your plate in front of you with a sweet smile and soft thank you, you think about how to reply. You like to think you are well read and also quite politically inclined (with Robb, Margaery and Meera as your best friends, it’s hard not to be), but you are not someone who spouts off things without being educated about it. And this — a certain trade route closing and the economic impact because of it — you are definitely not educated about. You do know about the conflict in the southern countries of Essos and economic crises there because of said conflict – but you hadn’t realized it affected Westeros as well. But perhaps you should have, knowing that some Westeros countries and politicians are the reason for the further destabilization in many Essos countries.

Choosing your words carefully, you tell them exactly just that. You think your response was sound and good, sitting up straighter as you notice the glint in your boyfriend’s eye.

That is until Vis chuckles meanly and snarks, “You shouldn’t have said anything at all if it was going to end with no substance.”

Your stomach drops as you meet Vis’ challenging stare.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur meekly. “I guess you’re right…”

“I think what you said was perfectly fine,” Aemond tries to defend you, frustration dripping in his words.

“ Awww… don’t be so harsh on her, Vis,” Ramsay coos with an exaggerated pout. “She’s a Creative Writing major.”

The whole table laughs at that, save for you and Aemond.

“Genuinely curious, what are you going to do with a degree like that?” One of the twins speaks up. Erryk, you think, the one with the longer hair.

You try to force a smile as you try to disregard the judgment in his question, your spirit lifting up slightly as you talk about something you are passionate about. “I would like to get my words out there. Publish a few books. Do some live performances…”

“What do you write?” Arryk asks.

“Oh, um, poetry!”

That earns a couple snorts and snickers. Inhaling deeply, your smile wavers, but you manage to keep it on.

“And if that doesn’t work out?” Arryk continues his line of questioning. “What are you going to do then…? Teach english? ”

He says it like it’s an unworthy cause, but you think of Professor Seaworth and how much you admire him. “I mean, I wouldn’t oppose it.”

“I’m sure it will work out. She’s wonderful at what she does and has such a beautiful way with words,” Aemond adds, and your heart swells, smiling gratefully at him. “She even has a few of her pieces published already.”

“Where?” Vis asks, skeptical.

Aemond proudly names all the publications that featured your work. You're surprised he knows them off by heart.

“No one reads any of that,” Vis says with a roll of his eyes and Aemond’s hand tightens into a white knuckled fist. Your own sets down the fork you were just about to bring up to your mouth, your bleary eyes stay trained on your plate. You are not feeling very hungry anymore.

Meanwhile, Aegon is already on his phone and pulling up one of your work.

Without any prompting, Aegon begins to dramatically read one of your poems out loud, and the guys laugh after every line. You confess, it’s not your best work out there, but — did they really have to do this and laugh in your face?

“I don’t know why you’re all laughing — it’s better than anything you tossers have said in your entire life,” Aemond says.

Vis puffs out a breath. “Oh, please… it’s juvenile.”

At this point, you feel like you are closing off, hardly really hearing anything anymore. It’s as if your mind is trying to save you from the humiliation. You don’t understand why they are targeting you so cruelly. Did you say something that made them dislike you so much?

It’s so baffling that you couldn’t even stand up for yourself when you usually would. You just sit there, mute.

“It’s on par with his ex-girlfriend’s lyrics about him,” Ramsay comments gleefully. The others laugh and exclaim in agreement.

“No offense,” Arryk begins, glancing towards you as he says your name. “You seem like a lovely girl and all, but I’m surprised Aemond’s dating you—”

“What the fuck are you saying?” Aemond snarls.

“I’m just saying …!” Arryk throws his palms up defensively, shrugging his shoulders. “The last girl you dated was Myrcella Baratheon —”

… As in Luvie? The popstar?!

You throw a questioning look at Aemond but his glare is set on Arryk, looking like he is about to pounce.

“I think what my brother is trying to say is that it’s quite a — I don’t want to say it but… a downgrade , you know?” Erryk slides in. Then to you, he quickly adds, “Not to say that you’re a downgrade, but just — you know Aemond. He’s very arrogant and particular—”

“Stop talking,” Aemond demands. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“See, sweetheart,” Ramsay smirks at you, playfully nudging your foot under the table. “This is why I never introduced you to any of them when we were dating. They’re assholes . Your sweet, little heart doesn’t deserve this.”

Aegon throws his arm around your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. “Don’t be offended, babe. It’s not that serious. This is just how we are! If anything, all this jest shows how much we like you! You’re practically part of the family now!”

You could not even bother to shrug Aegon off you. You just smile tightly at him, wondering if he is right. Your friends do joke around like this — but never to this hurtful extent. Are you just too soft for all of this?

Suddenly a loud screech resounds in the room of metal against the flooring, causing the whole group (and some of the other surrounding patrons) to shut up and turn to witness Aemond standing up in a breakneck speed, both his palms pressed on the table. Your mouth parts in a silent gasp when you notice how tight his body seems to be with tension, his whole demeanor dour and rigid.

Aemond flashes his vicious gaze at his older brother, flicking between Aegon’s widened eyes and where his hand is touching your shoulder.

“Get. Your. Hand. Off. Her.” Aemond coldly instructs.

Aegon laughs, albeit nervously. “Calm down, Mondy,”

Still, he follows his younger brother’s order and hastily slips his arm away from you. “We’re just joking around! The twins share a single brain cell between them. Vis has a flair for dramatics and is a debate pervert. And Ramsay is, well… Ramsay!” He takes a quick glance at the man he just spoke about. “No offense, mate.”

Ramsay’s blue eyes roll while he mutters a whatever.

But their exchange is lost on you, your attention is solely captured by Aemond, holding himself in such a tall and regal manner, still standing there as if waiting for a more opportune moment to speak up.

The time comes when the guys realize he hasn’t sat back down, and they all gaze up to where he stands at the end of the table. Aemond visibly unnerves them by how deathly silent he is and by the way his lips start to curl into a disconcerting smirk — the boys exchanging looks of concern amongst themselves. Then, even more so, when they notice his violet eye stare straight ahead as he begins to speak, “It seems that for once in your life, Aegon, you’re right.”

Aemond’s tone is a little too calm, but in a way that you know it is taking everything in him to level his voice that evenly.

“ ____ and I are unfortunate enough to find ourselves amongst clowns on what should have been a beautiful morning.”

The boys throw in their objects and varied choices of what the fuck? but Aemond ignores them, continuing in slow drawl, “I mean, take Vis for example. The only reason you care to learn about the state of the economy and the trading route is so you can have something to blame for your own failing businesses. Oh, excuse me, let me correct myself — failed businesses. How many of them have you had to file for bankruptcy again?”

Vis doesn’t answer, his expression just twists in contempt. So Aemond answers his own question, “It was all five, wasn’t it?”

Unable to help himself, Aegon chokes on a cough to cover up a laugh that just bursts out.

“Now, Arryk—” Aemond sharply glances sideways to the shorter-haired twin, then snaps to the other, “Erryk—” then back straight ahead, “Neither of you should be so comfortable about asking someone whether they are taking the right path to a successful future. Because if you ask me , what the two of you have dedicated your whole life for does not look to be working out. Not when you two are on the starting line-up of the university’s hockey team that has been on a three season losing streak, and will most likely stay that way as long as the two of you are on the team.”

The twins have never looked so identical until this very moment. Their tense jaws roll while they both scoff at the same time.

Knowing that he is probably next on the chopping block, Ramsay sits back coolly as he folds his arms across his chest, chewing obnoxiously on a piece of steak with a smirk. “Do your worst, mate. I’ve already heard it all from my father.”

Aemond lets out a humourless chuckle, head dipping in a nod to agree with him. “You’re probably right. But your father doesn’t even know the worst of it, does he? That you spend his hard earned money to buy yourself a recording contract, radioplay, and bots to boost your band’s social media engagement, and still your band has nothing to show for it. The only song people like of yours is the one with my girlfriend’s lyrics, and yet you were laughing at her poem earlier?”

You blink blankly at what Aemond just said. “What do you mean my lyrics ?”

You’ve never, ever written anything for Ramsay.

Aemond tilts his head at you with adorable confusion, his expressive brows drawing together.

“Your poem ‘bad astrology’ is also the lyrics for his song…”

Then it dawns on him the same time it does to you —

“You stole my work?!”

“You didn’t get her permission?!”

Ramsay’s eye twitches as his mouth flops open and close like a fish out of water. But he recovers quickly, his mouth stretching into its usual smarmy smirk. “Come on, babe, don’t be like that! You don’t remember letting me use your poem?”

This is what he is going with? Gaslighting?

You let out a brief laugh of disbelief, a glare that could kill aimed right at Ramsay.

“First of all, don’t call me babe, or sweetheart, or anything like that ever again, you — you disgusting worm! And second — are you stupid ? I would never let you use my words for your shitty ass band! Why would I ever want to be associated with that ?”

Angered now, Ramsay spits out, “I seem to recall that you loved being associated with my bed, sl—“

“Don’t you dare talk to her like that,” Aemond sneers, slamming his hand on the table. “You—”

Aemond stops himself when he sees the look on your face.

The ire. The frustration. The mortification.

It’s not worth it, he thinks. As much as he wants to humiliate Ramsay further, Aemond needs to get you out of the situation — now.

You are his priority.

Aemond grabs his wallet out of his pocket and throws a couple hundred bills on the table, addressing the table, “You’re all a bunch of right sodding pricks.”

Then he rounds the table where you are and offers his hand out for you.

You take it quickly with a tight squeeze and a watery smile up at your boyfriend, and then the two of you are off.

Although the mood is beyond ruined, Aegon grins at his newly humbled friends, leaning across the table to snatch the money Aemond had graciously gave.

“Well, that was fun!”

---

As soon as the two of you step out onto the sidewalk, Aemond has you wrapped around his arms.

“I’m so sorry,” he says to you softly. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“‘S not your fault,” your voice is muffled, face buried into his chest. You’re not crying, at least not yet. You don’t want to either, none of them are worth your tears.

You pull away slightly, your fingers still gripping on the lapels of Aemond’s coat as you glance up at him. “Thank you for standing up for me.”

“Don’t thank me,” Aemond’s voice breaks a little, his heart breaking from the tears rimming around your sad eyes. “I should have—” He sucks in a breath, shaking his head, disappointed in himself. “I should have done more.”

Then his gaze is on you again, remorse heavy in that violet eye. “If I had known that Ramsay had stolen your poetry, I would have told you. You know that, right?”

“I know, don’t worry,” you frown, still grasping with the fact that one of your favorite piece of writing is somewhere out there, in some shitty acid metal rock song. “At least I know now…”

Aemond glances back at the restaurant, his hand closing into a fist. He wants to go back in there and wipe that infuriating smirk off of Ramsay’s face forever.

“Hey, look at me,” with your hand on his face, you bring his attention back on you. “I want to forget about everything that just happened, okay? I don’t care about any of them in there, I just care about you. I don’t want them to ruin this beautiful day that I was supposed to spend with you, Aemond.”

Because of the softness of you and your words, the tension that had overtaken Aemond finally dissipates. Relaxing from your touch.

“The day isn’t over yet,” he reminds you, allowing a small smile to spread on his lips.

You shake your head, returning his smile with a tiny one of your own. His head turns slightly to kiss your inner wrist. So comforting and sweet. “It’s not.”

Letting your hand fall from his face, you intertwine it with his hand instead.

“I’m pretty sure there’s some sort of promotion at Hot Pies this weekend,” you let him know about the diner close by campus that you and your friends (and now Aemond as well) are regulars at. “Bottomless hot chocolate.”

“Bottomless… hot chocolate ?”

You nod eagerly, an excited grin lighting up your face, making Aemond laugh fondly.

“Well, we can’t miss that.”

“Nope! No, we can’t!”

His smiling lips pressed onto yours before he turns to go. But just when he pulls your hand to lead back to his car, you pull back, causing him to pause to glance back at you, puzzled.

You are not looking at him — not into his eye, anyway. Your gaze is downcast, on where your hand is intertwined with his.

“Did you mean it…” you begin softly, uncharacteristically bashful. “... that you like my stuff?”

This time, it is Aemond’s turn to ease your mind.

Without a word, he shows you his phone screen. A habit he learned from you and your friends. Whether it’s to let him see a stupid TikTok, a funny text, or funny meme; you and your friends are notorious for sharing your screen. Aemond has a feeling that you all know each other’s lock screen passcode.

Brows drawing together in confusion, you blink prettily between him and his phone. Aemond grins, urging you to look with a nod of his head.

Your gaze narrows at him, confused and suspicious yet piqued, and so you take the phone from his hand.

On the screen, he has his phone gallery pulled up, in a folder titled: ___’s poems.

And that’s exactly what it was, a folder full of your poetry, screenshots from the different websites, social medias, and publications you had posted them on. You press on the latest one, and it’s dated back to two weeks ago. You scroll through and notice that each one had been favorited, indicated by the tiny white heart on the corner. The oldest picture was saved on the day you competed in the slam poetry contest.

“Aemond… what is this?” You ask, sniffing from the cold and perhaps something else.

Pulling his favorite scarf off his neck, your boyfriend takes a step closer towards you with the prettiest smile that makes your heart feel all warm.

“After watching you perform your poetry at the competition, I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you on that stage,” You listen to his soft voice while you watch with him with watery eyes as he gingerly and tenderly starts to wrap the soft cashmere around you. “Your way with words is so captivating. They made me think, they made me feel, they made me see the world in a different lens. A better lens — one that is beautiful yet sometimes melancholic, but always so heartfelt and true. it’s just so…” Now that you are warmly bundled up by his doing, Aemond cradles your face in his hands and murmurs through his breathtaking smile, “ You .”

And then he is pressing a kiss on your lips that has you feeling faint, swooning like a lead actress in an old time movie.

You part away from each other, but you lay your hand over his on your cheek to keep it there. Keep him close. After what happened and what he just told you, you feel so safe with him.

“I…” he trails off as soon as he started, bashful all of the sudden.

“What?” You question teasingly, a grin spreading on your lips as you notice the blush spreading on his cheeks. Knees bending and head tilting at an uncomfortable angle, you try to annoy him further, “Aemond, tell me . Tell me!”

He presses his lips together, as if regretting even opening his mouth in the first place. But then you look up at him with those eyes of yours and he can’t deny you.

“I reread your poems whenever I’m missing you.”

“…oh,” you say, straightening up slowly, face not betraying anything. Completely cool and perfectly chill.

But your heart?

Oh, it’s down bad . Downright horrendous. Absolutely helpless at this point.

“I—“ you stop yourself, giggling nervously. Oh Gods, you almost said it.

You feel it. You know you do. It’s undeniable at this point.

But you want the first time you say it to be perfect.

So instead you lean up to kiss his cheek, murmuring in his ear, “Thank you.”

Aemond turns his face, quickly capturing your lips before you could pull away. It catches you completely by surprise, but it was a nice one, judging by the way you hum happily as you nuzzle deeper into the kiss, your dainty fingers grasping onto his biceps. Hands on your waist, Aemond pulls you closer, but when he does, he feels your stomach rumbling — even through your peacoat.

“Let’s get you something to eat, pretty girl,” Aemond says, laughing when you peck his lips two, three — or five — more times when he tries to pull away. He returns your sweet kisses one last time with a cheeky smile and then he takes your hand.

Aemond tries to lead you to his car. But again, you stay rooted in your spot, tugging him back to you. Concerned, Aemond searches the way you are looking at him, eyes clear and curious, playful almost – unlike how it was watery and sad like it was before. Relief floods through him, and so he waits for you to speak.

“ So , um…” You play with his hand, just beating around the bush. He tilts his head in confusion, so you just come out with it, “You dated… Luvie ?”

Glancing away from you, Aemond squints at the sky, clearing his throat gracelessly. “Well… yes . Sort of, kind of… It was barely anything, actually.”

“What?! Are you serious?! You have to tell me everything !” You exclaim in awe. How could your boyfriend keep this from you?! “How’d you two meet? Who asked who out first? What ... actually, don’t tell me everything . I don’t, you know, want all the gory details of you two… doing things…”

While you rambled, your boyfriend successfully got you into his car.

“We didn’t!”

“Uh-huh, okay. You dated Pop Base’s Hottest Woman of the Year and you didn’t do anything, mhm … So start talking, Aemond Targaryen.”

“Can we at least wait until we get to the diner? I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“Fine… You better — but wait… does this mean you know Jacob Elordi? They’re best friends, you know! You should introduce me to him if you do…”

“Why do you want to be introduced to Jacob…?”

“ Huh. First name basis… I see… And no reason… no reason at all…”

“That face you’re making is adorable but I don’t trust it.”

“Don’t worry, silly . You’re still my number one crush… Jacob’s just my number two… minus point five. ”

“What?”

“Whooo! Bottomless hot chocolate!”

Aemond joyfully laughs at your attempt to switch the subject, glancing over at you with so much fondness.

You turn on Luvie’s Why to get a rise out of him, but as he listens to the lyrics, he finds himself bopping his head along with the music while thinking about you.

All the love songs tend to do that now.

a.t. 💗 🎵 crosswords · olivia dean

---

As painful as the brunch incident was, it might have been a blessing in disguise.

Aemond has been doing everything to make it up to you — not that you were asking him to do anything. He was just doing it on his own accord. Little things to make you smile.

Which is why Aemond finally agreed to visit his father with you.

You’ve asked him casually a couple times before in the past, but he always declined with some excuse. You never pressed him to explain, realizing he must have a reason. But still, you knew how much his father misses him and the rest of his siblings so you always offered him a choice to accompany you if he ever wanted to.

Today is that day.

On the drive over, you can tell Aemond is uneasy just by a few subtle nuances. You can read Aemond’s mood pretty well by now.

Laying a hand on his lap, you say, “It’s totally fine if you don’t want to go.”

Aemond’s eye flicks over to you for a quick second before it’s back on the road. “I want to. I just… I haven’t seen him in a while, so… I hope it’s not strained. I don’t want to put you between that.”

You hum, understanding. It has been a long time since Aemond visited his father – or talked to him – you don’t exactly know what caused the falling out but you are sure you stopped seeing Aemond or Aegon visit a couple months before you and Aemond started dating.

All you know is that Viserys is very tuned in and joyous whenever you talk about Aemond with him. Acting more like your girlfriends than the girls do, goading for you to tell him more, tell him mor e like the musical Grease.

(You are still trying to forget about how a few days ago, you had been gushing about Aemond to his dad and even thanked him for encouraging you to go to that party that started all this. Throughout your spiel, Viserys had that knowing look on his face and you knew right then that he knew exactly how you feel about Aemond.

It’s so embarrassing. Love is so embarrassing.

So again, you are trying to forget about that.)

Hoping that Viserys won’t bring any of that up, you offer your boyfriend a comforting smile and a light squeeze on his thigh. “I’m sure he’ll just be happy to see you.”

Aemond looks over at you again and instantly loosens up. There should be a study done on how easily you can disarm him with just a simple smile.

Aemond holds your hand tightly as the two of you step up to the door of his father’s home. Mostly to keep you from falling on the ice on the ground since you are quite clumsy, but he also needs you as an anchor to make him feel braver.

You let the both of you inside with your key, his father already knows that the two of you will be visiting.

Inside, you call his father’s name out while you rid yourself of your winter jacket and boots. You slip on your indoor slippers and grab the medical bag from the closet. Might as well do a routine checkup while you are there.

Aemond watches you, looking more at home at his father’s house than he feels. It’s a little backwards, but he does know he is partly at fault. He hasn’t been back here since before this school year started and he’s been dodging all this father’s attempt to speak to him — only answering in stilted very brief texts or through his mother or Helaena. His father doesn’t even know the reason why Aemond became so cold towards him all of the sudden.

It’s complicated.

“Here, let me,” Aemond says after hanging up his coat, taking the medical bag from you. He actually stumbles a little when you hand it over fully, completely taken aback by how heavy it is. He stares at you for a moment in absolute awe.

Gorgeous, intelligent, and strong. Aemond really did get so lucky with you.

“What?” You question, and he shakes his head, looking down to smile to himself.

The conservatory, of course, is where you find Viserys. But when Aemond steps into the room and sees his father sitting by the big windows, he freezes in shock, stomach dropping in unease. The sight of his father now shocks him greatly.

It has only been seven months since Aemond last saw him, and sure that might be more than half a year but Aemond didn’t think it was that long. Not that Viserys was the picture of health all those months ago, but this change is alarming.

Viserys is incredibly frail and thin now, skin a slight jaundice, and almost completely bald with only a few spots of hair left. He is staring out the window, milky eyes serene yet sad.

It takes Viserys a moment to glance over when you call him, but when he does, his mouth breaks into a wide smile when he notices Aemond beside you.

“My boy!” Viserys cries, voice hoarse and weak. “You’re here!”

Aemond takes a hard swallow, an attempt to keep down the bile and guilt threatening to spill out. His breathing shortens, hands clammy and shaky. He wants to turn and run and —

A hand slips to intertwine with his, soft and warm, squeezing his hand three times. He turns his head and meets your sweet gaze and easy smile, comforting beyond belief. As his breathing evens out and his hands become steady, your head tips towards his father, a silent question which he answers with a nod. And so together, you make your way towards the older Targaryen.

“Hello father,” Aemond greets, allowing you to take the medical bag from him so you scrounge through it while he takes his father’s hand to pay him respect.

“I see you’ve been doing well,” Viserys says with a kind smile after Aemond gets on one knee to press the back of his father’s hand onto his forehead.

Standing up straight, Aemond clears his throat again, blinking away the wetness in his eye while he nods. “Yes, I have been… How have you been doing, father?”

“I’ve been doing—” Viserys takes a pause to cough, a hacking sound that makes Aemond cringe, “— well, I could be doing better, if your lovely girlfriend or Samwell will allow me a sweet treat every once in a while.”

Your eyes roll without malice, pricking his finger to check his blood sugar. “Once your blood sugar level lowers then Samwell will let me know if you're allowed anything sweet. But until then… So rry !”

You flash him a toothy smile after you sing-song your apology that makes Viserys laugh. The older man exchanges a look with his son, one of shared fondness for you.

“Aemond, please catch me up! What have you been doing lately? How are classes going? I heard from ____ that you two went to a pottery class a few days ago, how was that?”

While you go through other tests and diagnostics to send to Sam, you allow them to catch up. Aemond was a little wooden with his answers at first, but as time went on, he became more comfortable. Especially when you would throw in a comment or joke here and there that would make the both of them laugh.

In the kitchen, you and Aemond work together to make a quick lunch. You show him his father’s meal plan, Aemond humming in understanding as explain to him the diet and why the food you are making helps. Before you take the food back to the conservatory, Aemond presses a tender kiss on your lips and thanks you for taking care of his father.

After lunch, Viserys challenges Aemond to a game of Cyvasse. Apparently, according to Viserys, Aemond is the only one who has ever come close to beating him. Aemond accepts, warning his father that just because he hasn’t been around, that doesn’t mean he is out of practice. Him, Jon, and Robb have a little competition going on some mobile game app.

Despite said practice, Aemond loses the first two games they play. He didn’t go down easily, though. Both games were some of the most intense games of Cyvasse you’ve ever witnessed. You’ve seen Viserys play against Jon, the security boys (Grenn, Pyp, and Eddison), and Sam; and you believe that Aemond is the only one who has come closest to defeating Viserys.

You had not realized that your boyfriend is so competitive. After he loses the third time, he sets up the board again for another.

This fourth game is going on for a while. The longest Cyvasse game you’ve ever watched, and yet, instead of being bored, you are sat, entranced with the back and forth of wit.

It wasn’t looking good for Aemond, your boyfriend rubbing his temple and sighing deeply during all his turns. Meanwhile, Viserys is sitting straight, serene, like everything is going to plan.

Viserys takes Aemond’s catapult off the board and you think it’s doomed. Judging by the way Aemond narrows his gaze on the board, scrutinizing every move he could make, he is probably thinking the same.

But then suddenly, a smirk lifts the corner of Aemond’s lips.

Slowly, his lithe fingers pick up his dragon and he moves — his eye flashing across to his father, triumph in that lilac gaze, a watch this — knocking over Viserys’ king piece.

Your mouth gapes, stunned. Did that just happen?

You glance between them, hand over your mouth, still unable to comprehend it. It had looked like Viserys was winning from your terrible understanding of the game. Even Aemond looked frustrated just a minute ago. But now…?

Aemond won.

The room is still and silent. Viserys looks dumbfounded, eyes searching the board for where he went wrong.

And then, after a long pause, Viserys breaks into a hearty laugh and proud smile. “Well done, my boy!”

He beckons Aemond over, and when Aemond does, Viserys wraps his arms around him. Aemond startles, hesitant, but slowly and surely, his arms wrap around his father as well.

Aemond peers at you from over Viserys’ shoulder, and you exchange smiles. Then he lets his eye close, burying his face into the crook of his father’s shoulder with a content sigh.

Your hands itch for a pen and paper to immortalize this moment forever.

a.t. 💗 🎵 talking to strangers · maisie peters

---

It is the perfect Saturday night.

Lights down low, your favorite romantic comedy movie on the television screen, food from your favorite restaurant scattered on the coffee table, and you are comfy on the couch, cuddling your favorite — Ghost.

Tonight, you and the direwolf are alone in the apartment, his owner out on a boy’s night . The same boy’s night that your boyfriend is also partaking on.

“So, Robb asked me to hang out with him and the other guys this Saturday.”

Aemond had tried to look cool and collected when he told you, but you could tell he was surprised and happy that he had been invited. It’s cute. You hope they’re having fun.

“But not too much fun. Amiright, Ghost?”

Ghost tilts his head from side to side several times, not understanding you. You giggle, hugging him closer.

You’re sure that the boys are just doing their usual bar hopping — with maybe a trip to the arcade or bowling thrown in. You just hope they don’t scare off or traumatize Aemond with their crazy escapades.

Theon sent you a snap just 15 minutes ago, with all of them in their Uber, singing (screaming) at the top of their lungs to ‘Can't Take My Eyes Off You’ since you told him what movie you were watching. Even their driver — Tormund, per the caption on the snap — was singing along with them. All of them were clearly already wasted to some degree. Though you only see Aemond for a quick second, he looks like he is having fun too, which makes you happy.

take care of my boyfriend or else, greyjoy 🤬

In which, Theon had just replied with:

*gulp* 🥴

You and the girls had a girl’s day earlier that morning as well, but it was much more tamed. Margaery treated you all to this fancy nail place where you can order drinks while getting your nails done. You got your nails painted a nice shade of red since the holidays are coming soon. You can’t wait to show Aemond, he always likes red on you.

It’s during the middle of The Princess Diaries when you hear the struggle outside your front door. You check the time on your phone – 2:03 AM – and assume it must be the boys bringing Jon home.

Pouting that you have to leave Ghost’s warmth, you squeeze him tight before you get up to pad over to the door. It’s clear that whoever is outside is trying to fit the key inside the lock, but isn’t successful with every muffled curse word you hear. Peering through the peephole, you are greeted with Robb’s forehead, so you unlock and open the door.

“Oh, thank Gods,” Robb rejoices, accidentally dropping Jon’s carabiner that holds his keys onto the ground. When he picks it up, that’s when you see Aemond’s holding up Jon behind him. The latter is so drunk he can barely stand on his own.

“Whoa…” You lean against the door, arms crossing, shaking your head at the state of your best friend. “Bowling?”

Jon is notoriously bad at bowling and whenever the boys do their bowling drinking game, it’s the only time Jon comes home absolutely plastered.

“Yup!” Robb proudly answers. “It was me and Aemond against Jon and Theon. Aemond and I won, clearly.”

“Clearly,” You say with a laugh. “Where’s loser #2?”

“He’s in the Uber, which I should get back to before he throws up all over it,” Robb says, handing you Jon’s keys. “It’s a Tesla, ____, and I can’t afford to pay cleaning fines right now after all the gift shopping I’ve done!”

“Alright, go, go!” You urge, and he gives you a quick hug and says his goodbye to Jon and Aemond — let’s do this again soon, lads! — before running off.

“ So… I’m guessing you had fun?” You ask Aemond, opening the door wide enough for him to drag both himself and Jon inside, pressing a kiss on his cheek when he passes by. Aemond hums happily and nods.

“ Uuurghhh… ”

“I wasn’t asking you , Jon. You obviously had too much fun. ”

It was a two person job to take Jon to his bedroom and tuck him into bed, but you and Aemond manage. You leave some Poppyvil and a glass of water on his bedside table before you and Aemond leave him with Ghost climbing up onto his bed.

Sitting at the kitchen table with your boyfriend, you talk softly between one another, telling each other about your day. You show off your pretty new set of nails, which he compliments, taking your hands and kissing each of your fingers. You laugh, realizing that although he isn’t as visibly drunk as Jon and Robb, he still is tipsy enough to do things that he usually wouldn’t do while sober.

During his turn to talk about his night, he takes a pause to hydrate. You watch him with your chin in the palm of your hand, visibly swooning at the sight of him. He is so regal and beautiful, and all he is doing is drinking water. The pretty curve of his neck exposed while his pretty Adam’s apple bobs with every swallow.

But then his head tips back to get what little is left in the cup, and your eyes snap wide open, awoken from your daydreaming.

Because right there, on his left earlobe that was obscured by his gorgeous silvery hair until this very moment, is a small silver hoop earring.

You gasp out loud, standing up from the chair swiftly while pointing at it. “What is that?!”

Aemond jumps slightly at your sudden exclamation, touching where you are pointing, then he laughs sheepishly as he remembers. So many things happened during the boy’s night that he almost forgot about it. “Oh, this…? Well, you see… the boys said they were all planning on getting one, and that I didn’t have to… But then Theon said that someone… well, nevermind — why? Does it look awful?”

You take a step towards him, fitting yourself in between his legs. Aemond naturally makes room for you, pleased to finally be so close to you after the whole day of being without.

From this close, you are able to fully admire his new piercing. The silver matches well with his undertone, you think as you gently trace the curvature of his ear, careful not to touch the still sensitive lobe.

He was already so unbelievably beautiful before, but now…

“Aemond, I’m sorry… I don’t think I can do this,” you say, voice low yet full of feelings, dramatic as you shake your head and your face crumples. Instantly concerned, Aemond quickly searches your face, putting his hands on your waist and pulling you toward him. He murmurs a soft and adorably confused darling, what are you…? but you continue, “I have very weak muscles. I can’t fight for my life. I mean, I’ll obviously try — I really will! But…”

You place your hands on both sides of his shoulders, sensually massaging down towards his chest and up again. Aemond’s eye goes wide, taking a hard swallow. “I don’t know if I can win against everyone who’s gonna go after you now that you have that piercing. Like, you were already hot before, but now you are downright criminally hot. I can’t fight, Aemond,” you lean down, whispering sultrily into his ear, “What if I don’t win?”

You feel his whole body shivering, his hands on you clutches tighter. “You have no competition. You’ll always win with me.”

“ Yeah…? ” You question softly, smirking with glee.

Aemond takes your chin gently between his fingers and turns your head toward him. The way he is looking at you has your heart beating incredibly fast. There is that twinkle in his eye that lets you believe that you can trust everything he says to you, that he will never lead you astray.

“Yes,” Aemond murmurs as he moves to hover his mouth over yours, his thumb tracing your jaw. “It’s only ever going to be you.”

He closes the space between you, kissing you hard and slow. His hand wraps around your neck, causing you to gasp softly which allows for Aemond to slip his tongue inside your mouth. It escalates after that, Aemond licking in your mouth with a moan, prying away for a moment just to catch your mouth at a different angle. Breaking apart then meeting over and over and over again.

Aemond tries to pull you into his lap, to get you going on his thigh like he knows you love to do, but you push away from him gently with a soft laugh. He pouts up at you, and you just shake your head.

“I wanna do something for you,” you whisper to him, turning his head to the side to press a sloppy kiss on his neck, just under his newly pierced earlobe.

“What—” Aemond cuts himself off with a choked groan, your knee rubbing over the growing bulge in his pants. His reaction has you giggling as you kiss down his neck.

His heavy lidded eye watches as you go down onto your knees, slow , with your hips swaying from side to side. Your hands are on his body the entire time, caressing down too.

A dance just for him, and he is captivated by it.

When your knees press against the wooden floor, you make Aemond spread his leg wider for you. Rubbing back and forth along his thighs, you deliberately avoid where he really wants to feel your touch.

“I wanna make you feel good,” you say with a lick of your lips.

Aemond squirms in his seat, clearly already pent up. “Sweetheart…”

This is supposed to be a treat, so you don’t tease him any further, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants effortlessly. Aemond lifts his hips, enabling you to pull his pants and boxer briefs down just below his knees, his length flopping up to his stomach.

You take him in your hand. Perfectly red nails wrapped around his flushed red, aching cock.

It’s a pretty sight, and you believe Aemond thinks so too, judging by the way he twitches in the palm of your hand, the tip of his cockhead oozing pre.

As soon as you start to stroke him, Aemond moans out loud, causing you to stop immediately. Brows drawing together in confusion, he whimpers like a wounded puppy, but you just press a finger to your smirking lips. “You have to keep quiet, Aemond. We can’t wake Jon or Ghost up,” slowly, using his precum to make your movements smoother, you begin to stroke him again, “Can you keep quiet for me, baby?"

Biting down hard on his bottom lip, Aemond only nods. Keeping quiet like he just promised.

Aemond is doing such a good job. Even when you start to play with his heavy balls — kneading and rolling it against your other palm — he doesn’t make a single sound. He is leaking profusely now, your hand dripping with him.

Fluttering your eyes up at him, you lean forward to kitten lick his spend trailing down the back of your hand still wrapped around his cock, and Aemond has to close his eye and pray to not say anything. A praise for you bitten at the tip of his tongue.

Noting the way he is struggling to keep quiet, you pump his shaft a few more times before you squeeze him tight just around the base. This causes his hip to thrust forward, his fist flying up so he can bite down on his knuckles.

“Baby,” you murmur, and Aemond opens his eye gradually, peering down at you. His chest is expanding greatly, breathing heavily. Your head turns sideways, sucking and kissing along the thickest vein on his cock, then ending with a broad lick around his tip. “Guide me, okay? Want to make it feel so good for you.”

Aemond nods, resting his hand on the back of your head, watching as you lower your mouth to his cock. The sheer size of him used to intimidate you, but you’ve had him down your throat enough times now that you know you can take him quite well.

Aemond shivers as your lips wrap around him, humming on your descent down. He tenderly tucks your hair behind your ear, getting a better look of himself disappearing inside your pretty mouth.

As your hot saliva coats him, the way you are hollowing your cheeks feels too good. His hand grips tight onto the back of your head, unable to stop himself from pushing your head deeper down on his cock. Soon, his tip hits the back of your throat, and you gag around him but he doesn’t let up — he is not fully inside yet. You are not giving up either, tapping your finger on his thigh to let him know you are capable of taking more.

He pulls you back a little, then he pushes you forward again, this time your nose is brushing into the hair around the base of his shaft and your mouth is stuffed full entirely of him. You swallow multiple times around him, your throat feeling the way he throbs and twitches uncontrollably.

Then he lets go of the back of your head, grinning down at you, allowing you to do your worst. You get sloppy with it, drool dripping all over his cock as you deepthroat him until he is becoming even more and more sensitive, his release coming soon.

Aemond can’t hold back anymore — a loud panting moan falling out of his thoroughly bitten lips.

You glance up — and if you weren’t already choking on his cock or had tears in your eyes, you definitely will have now.

The golden glow of shitty kitchen light serves as a divine halo around Aemond. With his head tipped back, mouth wide open in a muted moan, the silver of the piercing shining brilliantly — he looks like an angel.

Aemond comes beautifully, he always does.

You pull back enough for his cock to lay on your tongue, letting him shoot his load into your mouth. He softens on your tongue before you completely move away, and he watches as you swallow down his tangy taste without any complaint. Even wiping your messy mouth with a satisfied smile.

Aemond pulls you up to him, and you sit to the side on his lap while your hands intertwine behind his neck.

“Your turn,” Aemond says as his heated mouth finds yours.

You shake your head, giggling as he kisses along your jawline. “Nuh-uh, I’m tired. It’s like 3 AM, Aemond.”

“But—”

It is frantic scratching on a door and whimpering that pulls the two of you away from each other.

Alarmed, you meet each other's gaze.

Oh, no… You woke up Ghost. He is probably worried about all the noises he is hearing. Poor baby.

“Let’s let him out, calm him down, and then go to bed.”

“Right, Okay.”

“Aemond! Put your dick back in your pants first!”

“Shit, right!”

You laugh, kissing him while he does just that.

a.t. 💗 🎵 heart out · the 1975

---

Aemond has been visiting his father a lot lately. At least three times a week. Most of the time with you but there were some days he actually went on his own.

It’s strange, but nice. It feels like he is getting to know his father again. Repairing their relationship that his father had no idea was broken in the first place.

So when he gets a call from Viserys, asking him to come by with just him, Aemond gives him his word that he’ll be there after his last class of the day.

The last class ended up being canceled so he arrives at his father’s mansion earlier than expected, pulling up at the same time as his father’s nurse, Samwell.

“Hello Samwell,” Aemond greets with a nod, as they walk up the path together.

“Oh, hi Aemond!” Sam exclaims with glee. “It’s nice to see you around here again!”

“Yeah, it is,” Aemond smiles, helping Sam with the packages left out on the front door. While Sam unlocks the door, Aemond shifts from one foot to the other, pursing his lips to the side. “Can I ask you something?”

Entering the house together, and scuffing off the snow on the soles of their boots, Sam nods at Aemond. “Of course!”

Aemond takes a shallow breath. “How do you think he’s doing? Anything I should be concerned about?”

Samwell frowns, taking a moment to figure out how to say what he is going to say next. “To be honest, Aemond, he could be doing better. I’m actually here because the doctors are concerned about the numbers ___ sent us yesterday. They’re not so bad that it warrants an immediate visit to the hospital, but they are preparing a room for him to stay after his bi-weekly visit on Friday.”

Aemond hums, frowning. That doesn’t sound good.

Aemond follows Samwell around to look for his father, but they don’t find him in any of his usual spots. The conservatory, the living area, the kitchen, his bedroom — all empty.

It makes Aemond really nervous. Luckily Sam is there and he is more levelheaded. “Let’s split up. I’ll tackle upstairs and you check the other rooms on this floor, okay?”

They quickly get to work. Every room Aemond finds empty has dread running down his spine.

Where is he? Where is he? Where is he?

“Found him!” He hears Samwell cheerily call from somewhere on the second floor, allowing Aemond to let out a breath of relief.

Aemond climbs up the stairs, three steps at a time. He calls out, and when Samwell answers, he follows his voice.

He finds himself standing in front of an open door to a room that he has only been into once before.

Because it’s Aemma’s art room, Viserys’ first wife.

Inside, he can see Samwell already tending to his father, but Aemond stands there, not knowing what to do. It wasn’t forbidden for him to go in there, but it was a taboo between him and his siblings. And it seems that those made up rules are still ingrained in his head.

Because Aemma is the reason his father didn’t fully love his mother. Aemma is the reason his father didn’t love him or his other siblings. Aemma is the reason for the divorce. And Aemma is part of the reason for the will that he and Aegon found in the beginning of summer.

At least that was what they were all made to believe.

“Aemond, get over here,” Samwell beckons him over. Aemond sees his father wave to him weakly, smile weak as well, and so he swiftly walks towards where Viserys is sitting in front of an unfinished painting on an easel. A painting that hasn’t been worked on for 27 years.

“Are you well, father? Should we take you to the hospital?”

Visersy shakes his head. “No, no… I am fine. But can you…” He shakily points to another chair close by, “... bring that chair closer and sit down for me, please?”

Aemond does as he is told, settling down on the chair right in front of his father.

“I have something for you,” Viserys begins. Meanwhile Samwell is busy around them, doing all the things necessary for his job, his father is used to it so he continues, “Do you see that box over there?”

Aemond looks over to where his father is pointing and spies a small dark blue velvet box on the ledge of the easel.

“Can you grab it?”

Aemond reaches over, stretching out his arm and is able to grab hold of the box without moving from his chair.

Then Viserys urges him to open it with a smile, and so Aemond lifts open the box and what he sees has his brows narrowing together, unable to comprehend why it is in his hands.

It’s a ring — but that’s not what has him so confused.

Aemond knows what this opulent sapphire ring is. There are too many pictures of Aemma Targaryen around the mansion to not know.

“This is the highly-coveted Targaryan engagement ring, it’s been in our family for thousands and thousands of years… And I want you to have it, Aemond.”

Glancing up at his father, still confused, Aemond presses, “But… why?”

“I hope you don’t find it disrespectful, Aemond. I know it’s strange to give you a ring that was the engagement ring that I gave to a woman that wasn’t your mother. But it’s a family heirloom, and I always knew it was going to be passed down to one of my children to give to the person that they fall in love with — and I hope I am not being presumptuous to think that you are in love with ___, and I’m not pressuring you to be—”

“It’s alright,” Aemond cuts him off with a soft smile. “I am… I am in love with her.”

It’s cathartic to finally say it out loud. Now that he has done it, he wants the whole world to know.

He and his father share a look, his father appears to be so happy for him.

But wait—

“You want me to ask her to marry me?” Aemond questions, eye widening in bewilderment.

“No, no!” Viserys shakes his head, laughing. “Not if you’re not ready! You can do it whenever it feels right for you two — if it ever feels right… I know feelings can change, and all that…”

“I don’t think my feelings for her will ever change,” Aemond says, so sure of it. “But I’m not sure we’re quite ready for that yet. We both still have college to finish…”

Viserys nods, understanding. “I still want you to keep it. Even if you want to buy her a different ring, or how you youths these days don’t even find the point in marriage…” He stops to laugh, and even Samwell chuckles a bit, “You can hand it down to your children.”

“Thank you, father…” Aemond murmurs, glancing down at the ring. In his head, he imagines himself giving it to you during some grand gesture— and then another during a small one. Many different scenarios drift though his vivid imagination, and each one feels right. The ring on your dainty finger would look so right. It’s meant for you.

“Just one condition…” His father holds out his shaky hand, and Aemond cocks his head, questioning. “I get to have a front row seat… and Samwell too, along with his wife, Gilly.”

Aemond laughs, nodding along as he takes his father’s hand to shake on it. “Alright. I think ___ will also agree to that.”

“Fantastic! Gilly loves weddings!” Samwell comments, overhearing the deal.

Aemond and father talk a while more, until Samwell wraps up.

“Okay, lunch time!” Samwell announces. “Aemond, would you like to give me a hand?”

“Of course.”

But the two of them don’t even make it out the door before they hear hacking and rough coughing behind them.

Aemond turns, just in time to witness his father falling, hitting his head hard against the floor. His body convulses after the impact, moving erratically.

Something is not right.

Aemond pales, blood rushing to head, feeling faint.

Is this really happening? This cannot be happening.

Samwell rushes past him to attend to his father.

Meanwhile, Aemond stands there and stares.

Horrified and frozen.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #hotd imagine #hotd smut #aemond #aemond targaryen #hotd

112 notes · View notes

httpiastri · 16 hours

Text

PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER TWO (JEDDAH)

genre: angst, fluff, comfort, etc.

word count: 6k

warnings: hmmm nothing except heartbreak in several scenes lol

author's note: guys im really sorry but im pretty mean to paul here..... like it got to the point where i rewatched jeddah videos of him and physically felt ill because i was mad at him LMAO 😭 but we'll get through this together!! this was supposed to include some other scenes but it was long enough as it was sooo 😶 summary for this chapter ig is yn feels very torn between her boys, and so do i. hope everyone has a good week (it's finally race week again aaaaa) !! 💗

also i think the next chapter might be shorter because i just wanna get it out already and i don't have a lot to write about in it hehe, fingers crossed that i can finish it soon<3

(alsoooo i proofread this a few days ago but i just cant find the energy or time to do it rn, praying that there are no big issues…. if there are, i would be so thankful if you could send me an ask or message etc 🙏)

series masterlist

"i still can't believe i missed out on the top ten again. and by just three hundredths, even..."

pepe shakes his head as you both make your way out of the campos truck, dragging a frustrated hand through his hair before pulling on his red bull cap. you can't help but chuckle – he's been like this all day, and all evening yesterday. you understand it, though; finishing just outside the reverse grid pole once again must feel frustrating.

not that you can relate. with a much better qualifying session yesterday in your second-ever qualifying in formula 2, you managed to snatch an eight-place finish. in other words, you will be starting third in today's sprint race, and just the thought of the probability of getting some big points sends tingles through your entire body.

"you'll get it next time," you say with a pat on your friend's back. "i mean, look at ollie. from p-nowhere last week to pole yesterday. that can be you next time around."

you've just come out of your morning meeting – morning meaning starting at ten and ending around noon – and now you're finally getting some lunch in the red bull hospitality. even during a race weekend like this, with mostly evening and night sessions, you still managed to oversleep and almost didn't make it in time for your meeting. you didn't get to have any breakfast, you had to run all the way from the shuttle to the truck, and you even forgot one of your racing boots as well as your phone in your hotel room. thankfully, you'll still have time to go back to the hotel before the sprint race, but walking around without your phone feels like being naked.

"speaking of ollie," pepe starts as you turn left and head into the formula one paddock. "are things between you two... alright?"

your eyebrows furrow together at the pause in the middle of his sentence. "why wouldn't they be?"

"well, i..." he stops again, and it makes you want to shake him. "i heard something. but it doesn't matter."

"who are you to decide that it doesn't matter?" you scoff. "tell me."

pepe sighs – he knows fighting you over this is a losing battle. you're way too stubborn to let go of this. "i heard that you were having issues. that you aren't happy, or something along those lines..."

you stop in your tracks, brain working in overdrive to comprehend what your friend is telling you. not happy with ollie? why would you not be happy with him? "who told you this?"

pepe stops in front of you. "i heard it from kimi, who heard it from... paul."

"what?" your eyes squeeze shut as your hands interlace on top of your head. "why would kimi come to you? instead of asking ollie himself?"

"you know kimi," pepe starts instantly. "he's young and gullible. i think he wanted to go for the see-if-the-best-friend-knows-anything strategy instead of asking ollie straight out." his hands squeeze your shoulders softly and you look up at him, a hint of a pout on your lips. "i guess he was scared that ollie would get mad at him or something."

"it's just-" you sigh. "it doesn't make any sense, does it?" pepe is just about to say something more when you cut him off with a dismissive swat of your hand in the air, stepping away from him and continuing your walk down the paddock. "let's just forget about it. i need lunch."

pepe stands frozen for a few moments before hurrying up to you again. he can't quite read your mood – you look unbothered, but he can't help but notice the slight touch of redness of your ears and the way your eyes seemingly can't focus on one thing for long enough. there's no way you can be over it already.

with pepe shutting up for a little while for the first time ever, you're left all alone with your thoughts as you continue your stroll. you know you should've asked for more information; you should've asked for details, for exactly what kimi said and how he worded it. you probably should also ask kimi himself for what paul told him. but right now, it's like a shadow is clouding your vision.

how dare paul say something like that? he must've known that the rumors he made up would spread like wildfire, as they always do in the formula paddocks. the snowball effect can make something tiny become huge, which is why you're always cautious about rumors. but apparently, paul doesn't care about that.

you're far too enraged to think even straight, and that's why it takes pepe pulling your arm to make you stop walking. you frown – to be fair, your frown hasn't left since it appeared a few minutes ago – but when you realize what it is that he's pointing at, both your frown and your jaw drop.

there's a swarm of journalists and fans following a ferrari driver down the road in front of you, which isn't all that uncommon. both charles and carlos are always incredibly popular. but what blows your mind is the fact that when you finally catch a glimpse of the driver's face, it's neither of the team's main drivers.

it's ollie.

"ollie! mate!" pepe yells, his arm waving erratically over his head. it takes a moment for the brit to find the owner of the voice, but he's tall enough to look over everyone else, and he's soon making his way over to you both. "i know you're popular, but this all seems a little excessive, don't you think?"

"i don't know what happened, as soon as the news came out..." ollie lets out a chuckle before turning to you, eyebrows raised at your expression. "i've called you like a hundred times, what have you been up to?"

"i left my phone at the hotel-" you begin but cut yourself off and shake your head. "wait, what news?"

when ollie starts speaking, time slows down. the entire world around you goes dark, the only thing you can hear being ollie's explanation of how carlos needs surgery and the call he got as he was having lunch. you feel lightheaded, almost like you could faint, when he speaks his final words. "...and they said i will be the one to replace him. i'm driving the formula one grand prix tomorrow."

you don't waste any time before throwing yourself into his arms, a loud squeal passing through your lips. "are you kidding me?" you exclaim, hugging him even tighter. "this is incredible, ollie! oh my god, i..."

"i can't really believe it myself, to be honest," ollie says, shaking his head as you part from the hug. pepe slaps his shoulder, congratulating his friend. "i would love to stay and chat, but i need to be in the car for the last practice, and i have a lot to get done-"

"go! go!" you usher, softly shoving him away back towards the journalists and fans who are still waiting just a few meters away. "we will talk later, okay?"

"of course."

and then you watch him leave – your boyfriend, the soon-to-be formula one driver – with a much lighter heart. this definitely helps you forget about all of the things regarding paul.

at least for a little while.

but of course, pepe stops your train of thought. "does that mean i get the reverse grid pole?"

you've never ever been to the ferrari garage before, so as you stand in the middle of it, you have no idea where to go or what to do; this is completely new territory. thankfully, you got a vip-pass from ollie before he ran off for his pre-practice duties, so at least you have the privilege of looking like a fool inside of the garage instead of right outside the doors.

a fool dressed in a red bull race suit, even. great.

you were in the middle of preparations for your sprint race when ollie texted you, and since you still had some time before the race started, you made it over to the other side of the paddock as quickly as you could. but unfortunately, that meant that you didn't have time to change your outfit into something more discreet.

"you don't look like you belong here, miss," a voice rumbles from behind you. your heart stops in your chest, and you're ready to improvise an excuse or find an escape route when you turn around – but luckily, you're met with chris, ollie's manager, standing there.

"thank god you're here," you say, letting out a sigh of relief. "do you happen to know where ollie is?"

"he's borrowing carlos's room. it's right down the hall and to the left."

you quickly thank him, turning again and making your way down said hallway. the room is easy to find, the two big, red fives on the door sticking out among the white walls. you're glad to find it unlocked, but you still knock a few times before sticking your head inside.

"sweetheart? can i come in?"

ollie is sitting on a massaging table, elbows on top of his legs and head resting in his hands. his eyes are stuck on the floor, but you take his silence as a yes.

"i got your text," you say, tiptoeing inside and shutting the door behind you, careful to not make any loud sounds to scare him. "how are you doing?"

when he still doesn't answer, your heat rate picks up. is something really wrong?

you make your way over to him, hands finding his cheeks and softly tilting him up to look at you – and you swear you've never seen him look this wrecked before.

not after his worst crashes, not when he lost the rookie championship last year. once again, you've entered completely new territory, and your heart breaks at the sight of him.

"ollie, talk to me," you plead, biting back the pout that starts to form on your lips. it's so painful to look into his eyes, but you can't back down. not now, not when he needs you this much.

"i'm-" his voice cracks but he shakes his head, clearing his throat. "i'm so nervous, i don't know what to do."

it's like he's oozing anxiety, and his heavy sigh is like a stab in your chest. ollie, your usually so calm and collected boyfriend, is probably going crazy over this – you know him well enough by now to understand that he's definitely freaking out even more on the inside than what he shows or tells. "i get that. one hundred percent. but," your thumbs begin to stroke over the skin of his cheeks, along his jaw, and then finally across his eyebrows, to which his eyes flutter closed. "this is your dream. it's been your dream since forever, and now you finally have the chance."

ollie sighs, but nods. you're getting to him.

"and it's not just any car, it's a ferrari. do you realize how cool that is? do you realize how many people would kill for an opportunity like this?" you smile at the sight of him with his eyes still shut, eyelashes resting atop his cheeks, messy fringe covering his forehead. even like this, at his most stressed state, he's completely gorgeous. "you would've killed for an opportunity like this just 24 hours ago."

"but what if i ruin it?" his voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, shoulders slumping forward. "what if i go out there and i'm shit, and then they realize what a big mistake they've done by even putting me in the academy? what if-"

"it won't happen." his eyelids slowly open and he looks up at you, seemingly not even the slightest upset that you cut him off. "you're too good to do that. you'll get in that car and it will feel like your second home, just like it always does."

finally, a small smile makes its way onto his lips. it's only been a few minutes since you came in, but he seems much more relaxed now, leaning into your touch completely. "i'll try my best to make you proud."

you pout. "i'll be proud even if you end up with a slower lap than your pole lap from yesterday."

a laugh bubbles from his chest and he stands up from the table, opening his arms wide and pulling you in for a tight hug. his heart is still beating louder than a drum in his chest when your ear is pressed up against it, and you're almost worried it will jump out any second. but his breaths are much more controlled now, and his mind seems much lighter.

he presses a long kiss to the crown of your head, arms squeezing you tight. "i really need to go, because the sprint starts in..." you shoot a quick glance to the clock on the wall. "forty-five minutes. my team is going to kill me. but go out there and show them, baby."

and that's exactly what he did.

though, that's not the only thing you were correct about; your team was indeed furious when you finally made it back to the campos garage. your main engineer, who was supposed to help you get strapped in and fix all of the last details with the car over fifteen minutes ago, was apparently so angry he left you to do everything yourself. it's not that you didn't know about your schedule; you just needed to be there for ollie before his big debut.

everything works out in the end, at least according to you, and you're soon settled in your car on the grid, waiting to go on your formation lap. however, you've barely gotten as much as a glance from anyone on your team. you can't help but press the button to activate your radio. "i'm really sorry, guys. i just... had to do something."

"hope it was worth it." the voice of one of your engineers booms through your earpieces instantly, the sternness in his tone sending a shiver down your spine. "we got a huge fine because you were so late to get into the car, so..."

another of your engineers speaks up. "let's focus on the race instead now. no need to fight."

maybe it was because you got to visit ollie right before the race, or maybe it was just starting third and having a good car. either way, the sprint race was one of your best races in a long time. not only did you pass richard verschoor starting one place ahead of you into turn one; you also overtook paul, who started from pole, before the end of the first lap and got to lead your first laps in formula two ever.

dennis came around to steal the lead from you, but just landing yourself a spot on the podium was enough for you to celebrate. when you scored a second-place finish where the guy in first place was one of your former academy members, it didn't really matter that the guy on the third step of the podium was your ex-boyfriend.

going through all media duties is always exhausting, but it's usually never as dreadful as it is today. sitting in that press conference, knowing that your boyfriend is starting his first ever formula one qualifying in just a few moments. you have to literally bite your tongue not to pull a valtteri bottas and ask the journalists how q1 is going.

when you're this busy, you don't really have any time to think about paul's rumors. though, something about it continues to loom in the back of your mind all evening. especially when he speaks in the press conference, despite how hard you try to not even look at him, and especially when he's asked about ollie.

as the press conference finally comes to an end, you're not the only one who wants to hurry out of there to watch the rest of the qualifying session. you and the rest of the podium trio find a big screen that's showcasing the session, and you all insist that you should stay and watch, despite the f2 staff members' continuous attempts to squeeze the last drops of content from you.

they keep stuffing their phones and cameras in your face, throwing all kinds of questions about ollie your way, but you refuse to budge. you won't let them ruin this moment for you.

you're sure they've gotten quite a lot of embarrassing pictures of you teary-eyed while admiring your boyfriend's results, though.

you follow the timing board like a hawk, but something breaks you out of your trance. "who are you watching?" your head snaps to the direction of the voice – the f2 instagram admin with her phone pointed to paul.

as if you all haven't been watching and chatting about ollie for the last ten minutes.

you try not to, you really do, but you can't help but roll your eyes at the sight of paul. he's trying to look all innocent, hugging his trophy to his chest as his big, blue eyes blink up at the screen in the distance. a year ago, you would've just thought he was adorable – but today, this frustrates you more than anything. "i'm watching my dear friend ollie," he starts, eyes finding the camera so easily.

dear friend, huh? a dear friend is someone you spread rumors about?

the next time he speaks up, you have to physically bite your tongue to not yell at him. "the guy who gave me one position on tomorrow's grid."

you turn your head away in pure disgust. how could he say something like that? is that the only thing he cares about, places in his starting grid for tomorrow's feature race? is he serious?

you want to escape, to just storm off and never speak to him again. but instead, you force yourself to take a deep breath and focus back on the thing you're here for. ollie is doing so well; when q2 ends and he has driven his last lap, he misses out on q3 by just over a hundredth of a second. he almost even manages to knock out the legendary lewis hamilton, his fellow countryman whom he's been following for as long as he can remember, in his first-ever qualifying session.

you've never been prouder.

"honestly, as long as i can just bring the car home without wrecking it completely, i'm satisfied."

you give ollie's hand a soft squeeze at his words, fingers intertwining as your hands rest on top of the hotel cafeteria table. your other hand lifts your sandwich to your mouth and you take a bite, chewing it down quickly before giving him a nod.

you know his statement is meant as a joke, but you know it's just as much of a truth as a lie. driving an actual ferrari f1 car is his biggest dream, and even just making an alright race probably is enough to make him happy. there's no pressure on him, no one is expecting him to perform a miracle or even score some points.

but at the same time, you know he would never be satisfied with himself if he "just" brought it home safely. ollie isn't like that; he's way too stubborn, too determined, too much of a sore loser. it's what makes him. no matter what he says, there's always going to be something inside of him telling him that he needs to do better.

"i think you'll score your first points today," you tell him with a shrug. "i can feel it."

"don't say that, we don't know anything yet."

a shake of your head in combination with that smile of yours is enough to make some hope spark in him. "well, you have the car for it," you start. "and you have the skills."

ollie stays silent, letting the distant chatter of the other hotel guests having their breakfast fill the air. the cafeteria is emptying out by now, but new faces have been dropping in for a long time now, most of them walking by to give ollie a pat on his shoulder or a quick "good luck, mate".

you put down the last of your sandwich, leaving it behind with the fruit rinds and other scraps on your plate. "but don't think too much," you hum, eyes softening as they land on his. he's trying to contain his worries and anxiety as much as he can, but the slight tilt of his eyebrows and the way his gaze tends to dart away every once in a while tells a different story. "it's just driving. it's just what you always do, no problem."

you hold your glass of orange juice up to him and he gets the hint, clinging his own glass to yours before downing the last of its contents.

you're just about to speak up again with new words of affection, but an icy feeling spreads through your body at the sight of paul entering the cafeteria. the feeling soon turns into real nausea, and you can't even remember what you were supposed to say when you realize that he's making his way towards the two of you.

you want nothing more than to stay and keep encouraging ollie, but you can't take it at this moment. you stand up from your seat, giving ollie's fingers one last squeeze. "i forgot that i have a meeting soon," you make up. "so i need to go. i'll come see you before the race, okay?"

he doesn't even get to say bye before you've stormed off.

unfortunately, you have to pass paul in order to make it to the exit, but you make no effort to even recognize that he exists. you keep your gaze straight ahead.

karl, paul's physio, does a quick greeting from you though – as well as a confused look at the candle pressed into a pastry in one of the hotel's yogurt bowls – but then, you're off to hide in your hotel room until you're needed at the track for race preparations.

of course paul had to come by and ruin everything yet again.

with a good race from yesterday in the bag, you thought you could keep the momentum into today. however, that didn't turn out to be the case.

when a trident driver hit you from behind in the first lap, you lost a few positions instantly and after that, it was a bit too tough to recover. you had opportunities for overtakes, and the car was good enough to go through with them, but you never could. you kept slipping up, making rookie mistakes, and falling back even further. it even got to the point where your team came on the radio to remind you to focus on the road.

but no matter how hard you tried, it wouldn't work. the entire race, something else clouded your mind.

or, more specifically, someone.

every time you even caught a glimpse of paul's silver car, it was like something in your mind short-circuited. the memory of your conversation with pepe, the thought about paul running around and spreading rumors about you in the paddock… you couldn't push the thoughts, or the anger, away.

other times, back in the day, you were always good at turning your anger into something positive for your races. if you were upset with your father for something he said about red bull or the junior program, you went out there and proved him wrong. if you heard that another driver had complained about how you just got your seat because you were a girl, you made sure to dominate the race.

your stubbornness was always your biggest strength. but today, it was like your tank had run out. as much as you wanted to completely crush paul, you didn't have the capability.

at least paul didn't have that good of a race, either.

the second you get out of your car, you storm off towards your garage. you know you'll probably get a lot of shit for your performance your entire debrief, but if you can at least get over with it sooner, then you can forget about it and refocus on the next race weekend. plus, you really want to catch ollie before he's away for his f1 debut.

thankfully, you're not the only one getting criticized during the debrief; the team is not very happy with pepe's start, nor his DNF. after they've gone on and on about how costly this weekend has been for the team for an hour, you're finally released, but not without one last reminder to "think about what you're doing here and whose time you're wasting".

it's natural to lose all energy and confidence after a race like this. but the second you're back in ollie's arms, it's like the world around you just disappears. he's always been the best at keeping you grounded.

you've probably never hugged him this tightly before, but you can't help it. the second your arms wrap around his neck, you pour everything you have into the embrace.

he looks so good, so handsome and professional dressed up in his ferrari race suit. not just his prema suit with the ferrari logo on it, but an actual ferrari outfit. he looks like a real f1 driver – and the realization that he indeed is a formula one driver now brings tears to your eyes.

"hey," he says around a chuckle. "don't cry on me, woman."

"i won't..." you reach up to wipe away a drop from the corner of your eye as you pull away slightly from his embrace, shaking your head. "i won't. i'm just so proud of you."

"why are you so sappy?" the scene in front of him brings a huge grin to ollie's lips – he finds you equal parts adorable and hilarious. "i'm just going out there to drive a car. no biggie."

"no biggie," you repeat with a scoff, dabbing your other eye quickly before doing your best to blink down your other tears. earlier today, you were the one saying all of this was no problem. and yet, now he is the one who has to convince you of it. "right. it's just your passion, the thing you love. but i'm still proud."

an engineer catches ollie's attention above your head, sending him a certain look that has your boyfriend nodding before giving you one last squeeze. "i think i should-"

"of course, go," you usher him, retracting from his arms. "i'll be here after, no matter what happens." he nods, and he's about to leave when you speak up one last time. "have fun, okay?"

"always."

who would've imagined that ollie would not only score points in his first ever f1 race, but also win driver of the day, have the most overtakes, and score a seventh place as the second best british driver of the race?

well, you had imagined everything from him coming last to winning the race by horse lengths. and yet, this was all so unexpected. if someone had told you on wednesday that ollie would score six f1 points three days later, you would've laughed in their face. but now, it feels like it's been a long time coming.

you weren't allowed to stay in the ferrari garage for the actual race – it would've been a pr nightmare for everyone involved – so your nerves were all over the place since you weren't able to hear ollie's radio messages, info about the strategies, and so on. at least you get to wait right outside the garage with jamie, chris and his dad david, being the first to congratulate him after such a good debut race.

he looks completely worn out when he finally walks out through the door, but you can almost feel the pride and happiness radiating from him. his sweaty hair rests messily on top of his head, and an ice vest is draped over his body already to cool him down from the insane heat. and, most importantly, the smile on his lips is bigger than it's been all week.

ollie looks like he doesn't ever want to let go of his dad's hug, his face nuzzled in the crook of david's neck for a long time. you can only guess what things the father is whispering in his son's ear, but when the result is ollie pulling him even closer, your heart expands in your chest.

when they part, it's jamie's and chris's times to congratulate the point-scorer, and when he pulls away from his manager's arms, his eyes land on you. you're pulled into his embrace in just a second, a giggle slipping past your lips when he lifts you up into the air and spins you both around. his strong grip around you never eases, not when he sets you down on your feet again and not when he starts speaking.

"i knew it would be hard, but..." he shakes his head, a sweaty fringe brushing against the side of your head. "my entire body is ruined. like, it doesn't hurt because i have so much adrenaline, but i'm going to be in so much pain later. my neck and my shoulders and-"

another one of your waves of laughter cut off his ramblings, and he joins in once he realizes what he's been doing. when you finally pull apart slightly and your hands come up to cup his cheeks, you're just staring into his eyes for what feels like forever.

your boy, the f1 driver.

"this is from your mum," you whisper to him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "and this is from your sister." a kiss to his other cheek. "and... this is from me."

ollie has to crouch down slightly because even when you get onto your tippy toes, you can't reach all the way up to his forehead. but once you press your lips against his skin, all of the hidden tension in his eyebrows disappears. he's like putty under your touch.

"i'm so proud."

ollie's groans are muffled by the pillow his face is pressed into, head twitching when your thumbs press into some tense areas of his neck. you shush him jokingly, like a mother comforting a crying baby, but your movements never halt.

ever since he got out of that car, he's been complaining about how sore he is. especially his neck and shoulders, and all of the muscles that were most affected by the g forces. you don't blame him, however – he's got a free pass for pretty much everything for the next week, you think – but you decided to be a nice girlfriend and help him out. the strings of whines and swearwords he keeps letting out don't seem to be stopping anytime soon, though.

the lotion on your hands is enough for you to be able to glide your fingers across his upper back, along his shoulder blades, all over his freckled skin. as you're straddling his lower back, you can reach pretty much all angles of his upper body, and the knots in his muscles seem to be disappearing despite how painful your massage seems to be.

eventually, ollie tilts his head to the side, his blushed cheeks decorated with lines from the pillow underneath him. his slight pout is on full display and his tired eyes flutter closed as he speaks. "hey, y/n?"

"yes, ollie?" you reply, your thumb pressing into one especially stubborn knot in his right shoulder. ollie stays quiet for a few moments and takes a deep breath, almost as if he's gathering courage for something.

"you know that i love you right?"

the world around you stops.

everything freezes.

he loves me?

your breath hitches in your throat at the words. it's the first time he's ever said them, and though it's not the most uncommon thing for someone to tell their girlfriend of over six months, they make your head spin.

a mishmash of thoughts clouds your mind. they won't shut up for even a second. but the loudest thought is the only one you shouldn't have; it's about the only person you can't be thinking about right now.

the way that your mind instantly wanders off to paul is frankly embarrassing, but you can't help it. he's the first boy you've ever loved, the first person you've ever uttered those three words to. the only one. and no matter how badly you wish you could just forget about that and move on, he's still a part of you. he's your only real experience of love.

and this just isn't the same.

you want to say it back to ollie, you truly do. but at the same time, you don't want to say it if it isn't true – it's not fair to him.

ollie senses that something is up. your signs aren't exactly subtle, anyway; your movements have stopped completely and he can't even hear you breathing anymore. "hey, i'm sorry-"

"don't apologize," you interject instantly, shaking your head as you start to climb off his body. "you did nothing wrong. i'm the one who's sorry."

"stop that, you shouldn't be." he turns around, staring up at you with those big, brown eyes of his. "i don't expect you to say it back if you don't want to. i just..." he lets out a low sigh. "i wanted you to know, i guess."

you sit still for a few moments, before leaning down to place a kiss on his rosy cheek. "thank you." another pause. "it means a lot, you know?"

"well, you mean a lot to me."

and he does to you, too.

but is that enough?

ollie loves me.

he actually loves me.

he told me today after the race, and... i didn't say anything. i just sat there like a complete moron.

i couldn't say it back. i just don't feel what i felt for paul yet.

what's wrong with me?

why don't i race like i used to? why can't i control my emotions? was the sprint race yesterday just luck? did i really deserve that podium?

why does paul still affect me this much? why is he always there in my thoughts – when i'm racing, when i'm with ollie, when i try to sleep...

i have a perfect boyfriend and a great car, so why do i feel like everything is falling apart?

yourusername just posted!

yourusername p2 in the sprint 🥈 big thanks to the team for the hard work!! and i got to witness the rb p1-2 up close, congrats redbullracing 💙 also check slide 4 for an appearance from me and my former family on f1tv <3

show all 96 comments

user y/n and the prema staff during the driver's parade 😭 they're so cute

→ user her referring to them as her family, byeeee

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user why is no one talking about the last slide???

→ user because i can't talk while i'm crying, sorry

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user great job this weekend y/n !!! thank you for signing my cap 🥺

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user loved to see her celebrate the red bull double podium even after a hard feature race ❤️

→ user she had to balance out the post with that max and checo pic 😭 would've been just ollie & prema otherwise

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎