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targaryenrealnessdarling · 10 months

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Breaking the Rules

Modern!Aemond x reader | Summary: Aemond was the one who established the rules of your fwb relationship, but can he really follow them? | Word Count: 5.4k~ | Warnings below the cut~

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: fwb relationship, fingering, p in v, pussy slapping, dirty talk, degrading, ass slapping, hair pulling, creampie, insinuation of oral (m receiving)

That little slither of time between submitting your dissertation and actually graduating was heaven.

The last student finance payment hit your bank, as well as everyone else’s, and as soon as exams were over, it was time for a party. One last part to send you all off into the big wide world.

Doing a four year course was akin to starting school for the first time, as it seemed everyone around you had done three years instead, graduated a year ahead, and you had to remember people’s names, make new friends and circles, all over again.

At least it was only one year.

There was only one person who had also done a four year course, your bestie, Helaena. Who just so happened to be the reason you met your now fuck-buddy, Aemond, of just over a couple of years.

Truthfully Helaena was the only thing keeping you sane. She was ‘mother’ on night’s out, the one who made the best hangover dippy eggs ever, but also just an all round good friend. Your absolute rock. She’d been supportive, albeit protective, when she’d learned of yours and Aemond’s…unconventional friendship.

Could it be called a friendship, if he wasn’t really friendly?

Not that he was ever mean. He just didn’t have a social bone in his body.

But an absolute freak in the sheets.

For a man so quiet and unsociable, he was surprisingly rough. He craved control, and this obsession didn’t stop in the bedroom either. But you enjoyed that about Aemond. It always felt raw, dangerous, as if he needed it. One flip of the switch and he was in that headspace. And the moment it was over, he’d retreat back into himself and leave soon after.

Helaena was the type of person who could spend all night in the 24-hour Library, head in her books and like it was any other day, have her hair looking pristine, face clear ready for her 8am lecture the next day. You, on the other hand, turned up, but looking considerably worse for wear than your dear friend, a messy bun perched on top of your head, and hefty dark circles under your eyes.

Your lovely, silver-haired friend was sat cross-legged before a floor length mirror, pulling a curling wand through her thick strands of hair, only leaving them long enough to form a loose wave. The phone screen perched on your bed lit up.

“That Aem?” Helaena asks, looking at you in the mirror.

You furrow your brows, “Baela. She’s meeting us there” you answer, typing out the response to her before clicking the phone away, “What are you wearing tonight?”

"Nothing terribly impractical. I'm not impressing anyone" she answers, dusting some highlighter over her cheeks. Not like she needs it, the cheeky sod, she already has amazing bone structure.

"Liar" you smirk, biting your lip, "You know Floris is going to be there and you're purposefully wearing a low cut top"

"Oh my god, leave me alone"

"I'm just pointing out the facts"

You get up and go to your wardrobe, pulling out a floral dress. It's July, so the nights are still bright and it's humid all the time, something short should do the trick.

Part of you wants to wear nothing underneath, just to see how far you can take it. Would Aemond be jealous? He shouldn’t be. He was the one to suggest you two weren’t exclusive, and that if either of you bumped into each other or just felt like it, you’d fuck.

But it's a party with old uni mates, so begrudgingly, you've opted to keep on a lace black thong, one you know gets guys immensely riled up. It's quite entertaining really.

Usually, you’d be disgusted to turn up to Aegon’s house. He was single, and unapologetically filthy. However, when you arrived, you were relieved beyond measure to find that Aegon had employed the use of a cleaner (probably at the behest and payment of their mother) before inviting people over. No used condoms, cigarette butts or lingering weed smell.

Since graduating, Aegon had opted to move into (quite permanently) one of the homes that Viserys had owned on the outskirts of the city. When their dad died, Alicent found no use of such big homes and so rented them out as Airbnbs. You remember Aemond telling you how Aegon was more than happy to just slip in unannounced one day, and that he’d paid for the first month’s rent, but after that had mysteriously stopped. Alicent let him stay anyway, as long as he behaved himself.

Which, of course, he didn’t.

You walked hand in hand with Helaena through the front doors, the bass and sheer loudness of the music audible from even the curb. Aegon had gone all out. Some of his friend’s were graduating as well, so he’d invited everyone. Pretty much half the university by the looks of it. Even though by student standards it was still fairly early, the party was heaving, so much so it was difficult to tell in the low light of the inside who was who.

“There she is!” Aegon’s voice boomed, a cigarette already between his lips and that lazy, dozy look in his eyes. You give Helaena a knowing look. He’s quite clearly been drinking a while.

He makes a show of leaning in to fake kiss his sister on the cheek, “My darling sister and …oh it’s you”

You playfully swat his shoulder, “Shut up”, you raise your eyebrows with a smirk, “Oh, nice to see you respecting the no smoking inside rule”

Aegon merely winked, flashing a smile with all his teeth before being dragged away for shots.

Helaena gasped quietly, “There she is, there she is, there she is”

Floris was on the other side of the room, leaning against a chair with a can of gin and tonic, wearing quite the piece. The effort almost rivalled Helaena’s, and your silver-haired friend was vibrating with excitement.

“Okay okay, deep breaths. Calm the kitty and just go talk to her”

She goes instantly pink, looking quite ethereal against the violet of her eyes, “I can’t just-”

“You can. I have every faith” you say, giving a reassuring smile and pushing a can of g&t in her hands.

Her eyes look nervous and worried in equal measure, “You going to be alright on your own?”

You nod quickly, “I’ll be fine, I’ll badger a Lannister or something”

She smiles anxiously and takes a breath, crossing her fingers. You watch as she crosses the room, dipping her head to Floris’ eyeline to initiate a conversation. She’s so cute, you think as she flushes pink.

With the party in full swing, now several cans deep and a nice buzz, you’ve found yourself ‘engaged’ in a conversation with a Martell, Baela and Rhaena having ventured outside for a smoke. You don’t remember his name, you only know that he smells dizzily of Tom Ford Black Orchid and that he’s giving bedroom eyes.

You say ‘engaged’ in conversation. Martells aren’t exactly known for their conversational skills, so you’re mainly nodding along to whatever he says, hoping that he might show you his bedroom skills associated with the stereotype.

Your phone vibrates and you look at the illuminated screen.

You furrow your eyebrows at his texts. What on earth would he need to talk about? And the unsent text messages are giving horror movie vibes, so with the buzz of the alcohol as well as your disinterest in him (and heightened one in the Martell) you click your phone off and put it back, only to be dragged to the dance floor by your hand.

Ok so he's not the best dancer either. If anything a tiny bit clumsy and mostly just grinding his clothed dick into your ass any chance he gets. But the buzz of the drinks, low lights and loud music drowns out all that. You and Aemond hadn't fucked in forever it felt like, and a woman had needs.

It's not even that you were pissed off at Aemond. The rules were rules, of course. But everything you did was always on his terms, and you felt you couldn't say a single thing about it.

It's not like you were his girlfriend.

You knew he was fucking at least one other girl. Alys Rivers. She was fucking gorgeous, but also quite a bit older. Something about the entire thing felt wrong. Like she might have been grooming him or something. But of course, who were you to judge? He had his own life. Could make his own choices.

He didn't know you weren't fucking anyone else though, things like that you kept close to your chest. The terms were no feelings. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that he was the only one you were fucking and for one inescapable reason.

That you’d violated those terms.

So, in the interest of figuratively getting back at him, you smirk up at the Martell and push your ass back against him. His hands on your hips, pulling you back, moving with the best of the music. The dress leaves so little to the imagination that if he ventured merely a few inches lower, he could easily dive between your thighs.

The thought makes your insides clench. And you feel the Martell get hard behind you.

Your head zips up quickly, slightly dizzy, as a flash of white hair passes. At first you think it's Helaena, but there he stands, Aemond, on the other side of the room with a bottle of beer nestled in his grip. His violet eye watches darkly, as you continue to dance with the Martell. He almost looks amused, but frustrated at the same time.

Aemond hates parties. Especially now that he's graduated. So why the fuck is he here?

After rolling your eyes and finishing the song, you decide to not give Aemond the satisfaction of knowing you care enough to ask, instead going to the table to mix yourself another drink. The Martell guys isn't far behind, a hand on your waist.

You can feel his stare at the back of your head, even more so as the Martell’s hand ventures down, over the curve of your ass. One move under the hem, and he’d be touching bare skin. Something about it ignited a spark inside, knowing that he was watching.

Looking over your shoulder, he was watching still.

The fuck is his problem?

Some poor girl was standing at his side, trying to engage in some kind of conversation, which was clearly going well. He wasn’t giving her an inch of attention, and you smirked at her attempts, taking sips of your drink every now and then.

Around you, the party had almost doubled, some people you didn’t even recognise. Aegon’s house would be trashed in the morning, but looking over at the other Targaryen brother, who was happily dancing on the dining table, pouring the contents of his bottle down a girl’s top, he didn’t seem like right now he cared. In the corner, Helaena and Floris sat together, knees touching, looking pink in the faces with alcohol and chatting quietly amongst themselves over the loud music.

You downed your drink, wincing at the alcohol that hadn’t been mixed at the bottom, before whispering to the Martell, “Just going to the toilet”

You give a sigh as you ascend the stairs. Another nice thing about Aegon’s place is that whenever there are parties, going upstairs is a nice breather. Yes the bass still vibrates through the walls, but the bathroom is far enough away that it gives a moment of respite and a chance to sober up.

Which you promptly do once you’ve washed your hands, wiped under your eyes for any runaway mascara in front of the vanity, and take a breath to face the party again. To face him again.

It turns out, you didn’t have to. As soon as the door opens, you gasp and stagger backwards as Aemond firmly wraps his palm around your neck, just as a means of holding, not squeezing. Your back meets the wall with a thud, eyes looking wide up at him in a mixture of confusion and anger. His eyes have more in them, as he stands in front of you, tight lipped and fired up, ready for confrontation as he promptly shuts the door and locks it, setting your heart to a faster rhythm.

“You know, I was going to be nice” is the first thing he says, “But now I think I won’t”

He stares back with conviction with his one good, violet eye, his other a clouded over light blue, with the angry scar that ran through it somehow looking more painful that you’d seen it before. All you knew about it was that he was secretive about how it had happened, and only a handful of people had been told.

You were considered not worthy enough to know clearly.

You can’t deny, this side of Aemond thrills you. But despite the fluttery feeling in your stomach, your expression hardens into a frown.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

He has the audacity to scoff, his hair, now shoulder length, sways as he moves, fingers flexing against your neck.

“The fuck is wrong with me?” he says, “I don’t think that’s the question we should be asking, is it?”

It occurs to you now that he’d been looking down at you, because now when he rights himself to his proper height, you have to look up at him. You swallow thick, some part of you nervous, and his eye glints when he sees the weakness there.

“I think we should be asking what the fuck you were doing out there” he finishes, low, attempting to be threatening.

You scoff, “Is that what this is about? Me dancing with an empty-headed Martell?”

“I wouldn’t call that dancing”

“And I would say I’m not your fucking girlfriend, Aemond” you bite back, expression hard against his. His mouth forms a line, “We just fuck, remember?”

His tongue hits the inside of his cheek in annoyance. But you’re not backing down.

“Although” you grin, looking him up and down, “We don’t even really do that anymore, do we?”

He takes a sharp breath in, releasing your neck to grip your face and tug you close to him.

But you just laugh, “What’s wrong? Can’t get it up?”

“Fuck you”

“Save that for Alys. See if I care” you hiss, trying to pull out of his grasp harshly.

An annoyingly smirk makes its way to his face, and you have to reaffirm to yourself to be mad at him, “Someone's jealous”

You scoff, “I’m not the jealous one here. You’re the one on my case because a Martell stared at my ass” you counter, his fingers digging into your jaw almost painfully, “I’m the one playing by the rules”

“And what rules are they?”

“The ones you made, dumbass” you argue, attempting to pull your face from his grip, but failing, “You know, not having feelings, being a cold, dead cave of a man who doesn’t want to admit he’s just having sex because he likes being in control”

Aemond’s face right now is unreadable, and he’s so close that you can feel the hot puffs of air that come from him. He’s angry, and you can see it. Something simmering beneath that cold gaze.

Under that though. It’s clear as day. He’s being put on show for his behaviour, in a manner someone nobody has dared to do before. And it is this vulnerability it’s clear he doesn’t enjoy.

His chest inflates large, taking a deep breath in before he speaks. But when he eventually does, it’s a surprisingly quiet whisper.

“I’ve not been with Alys for months”

The admission takes the breath from your lungs, and his fingers loosen somewhat. Moving along your jaw in a gesture too soft from what he was doing before.

“What?”

His face hardens a bit again, “She isn’t around” he admits softly, “It’s just you”

“Aemond-”

“I’ve changed my mind” he says, his his eye darting about your face, taking in your shocked expression, “I don’t like to share”

Your lips part and stay frozen where they are when his other hand squeezes the bare flesh of your thigh under your dress, tugging the skin painfully before venturing up to stroke his two fingers against your clothed pussy, his breath hitching when he feels the wetness already there.

“I’m very disappointed in you” he chastises softly, dipping his head into the crook of yours, running his sharp nose up the side of your neck, making all those little hairs stand on end. You feel like your heart is hammering so hard all the blood feels like jelly in your veins, a hotness creeps up your shoulders, and a pull of arousal tugs at your gut.

His lips part and he bites the skin there, semi-hard, enough to break skin if he really wanted to. You whine with your eyes shutting softly, his fingers drawing mini-circles around your entrance, and it’s difficult to not move your hips to meet his touches.

“You weren’t playing by the rules anyway, were you?” You mewl as his tongue runs over the site where he’d bitten, breath stuck in your throat as his fingers move your underwear aside and collects your slick on his fingers.

Warmth blossoms in your core as his fingers gently massage your bud, “Fuck-Aemond...”

His shirt is bunched in your fist, and you can feel him smiling slightly against your neck. The glint of the chain that peeks out from under the neckline of his shirt catches your eyes for a quick moment. He never took it off. Even when you fucked. Truthfully, it was sort of thrilling, watching it dangle in front of your face whenever he was on top of you, holding your legs up to your shoulders to-

“Were you fucking other people?”

Shit.

Two of his fingers sink all the way in, setting a flame ablaze inside. His breath is hot against your tender skin, his fingers far too effortlessly finding that sweet spot inside and brushing against it, stoking the fire within.

“You were so talkative earlier. What’s wrong, baby?” he asks in a faux sweet voice, not able to hide that shit-eating grin as he fucks you slowly with his fingers, “come on, you can do it”

Your breath feels so thin in your lungs it’s difficult to think, but his teeth bite at you again, as if to reprimand and your body jolts briefly, “Fuck-uh…No-no I wasn’t…”

“Wasn’t what?”

“I-” fuck this guy, “I wasn’t fucking anyone else”

“Hm” he hums low in his chest, pressed right against yours, you can feel it in your own, “I think that was against the rules, wasn’t it?” he asks, adding a third finger into you.

The first genuine moan manages to escape with the addition of his third finger, quiet, but it feeds his ego nonetheless. And he fucks up into you with renewed vigor, his breath coming in hurried pants, as if he cannot function unless he makes you come apart on him. His palm is grazing so hard against your clit with each micro-movement, that it honestly makes it difficult to breathe.

“The rules were we fuck who we want. No feelings” he reiterated, lips against your ear, “You broke the rules first”

“I didn’t-” your voice falls apart as he pushes, the pads of his thick fingers rubbing hard against your g-spot. That feeling returns in a wave of warmth, settling with pressure deep in your core and you squeeze impossibly tight at the incessant stimulation. Aemond groans quietly and low, feeling the soft, silky walls of your pussy clenching around his fingers alone, legs trembling trying to stay standing.

“You think I didn’t see it?” he asks in accusation, voice hard and stern, “You’re a smart girl and yet-” his other hand holds you around your waist, pulling you towards him as your body trembles, a white-hot, blazing orgasm making its way devastatingly through your core. His fingers never letting up their pace, “-you’re acting like a stupid little slut right now. All wet for me”

The degrading manner of his words and the pleasurable assault of his fingers prolong your orgasm, fading into your limbs with a dull buzz. But one that doesn’t last long. His fingers pull out of you, covered entirely by your arousal, and he presses them against your lips, groaning as your mouth accepts them and licks his digits clean. It’s so erotic you hum around his fingers, looking up at him through your eyelashes and smirking with pride once he pulls them away.

He doesn’t look any less stressed out. If anything he looks more pent up.

“I can’t stand you”

Your lips part in surprise, a quiet mewl escapes and a pained pleasurable jolt running through you when Aemond practically rips your underwear down your legs and delivers a hard firm slap to your wet heat.

“Aemond-” you start as his hands curl around your nape, pushing you harshly down over the vanity of the sink. You can feel him pressing behind you, your hips digging painfully into the porcelain, and feeling utterly exposed in your sundress now that he’s pocketed your underwear.

He flips the bottom of your sundress over your back, his palm meeting the flesh of your ass with a loud slap, making you whine as your cheek is pressed to the porcelain. It hurts, but you can’t help but feel that familiar throb of arousal in your core as it clenches around nothing. Your skin blooms in anticipation as you look back over your shoulder, hearing the clinking of his belt. You can’t help but smirk at how quickly he pulls his cock out, the angry red tip poking out through his fist as he strokes himself to full hardness.

“Don’t fucking look at me” his fingers thread into your hair at the crown and grip hard, pushing your head back down, pressing his erection against your slit and teasing you slowly.

You moan softly, moving your hips back to seek more friction, which earns several more hard slaps to your already tender ass in discipline, each followed by a desperate whine that falls effortlessly from your mouth. He almost gently soothes the angered skin with his palms after, clearly happy with the colour he’d made. He’d always been rough when it came to sex, yes, but this felt so much more exciting.

“You think you deserve it, hm?” he asks, barely pushing the head between your slick folds, parting them only slightly. It all feels so sensitive it almost hurts. What you’d give for him to just fuck you already is honestly pathetic.

“Please-” you say quietly, moving your hips towards him, even if it means he’ll punish you again.

He chuckled darkly, leaning over to pull your head up, your eyes meeting his gaze in the mirror. You look a bit of a mess, with mascara smudged at the sides, the waves you’d put in your hair slightly frizzy and cheeks flushed a dark pink. And as much as Aemond likes to put on the persona of control, his cheeks are just as flushed, as desperate for this as you are.

“Look how pathetic you look right now” he grins, his hand moving to your front to tug the dress over your front, a low growl forming in his throat when he finds no bra underneath. He palms your breast, teasing the hardened bud between his fingers and the feeling sends a cold tingle through your body.

“Beg for it” he whispers, mouth next to your ear. But all coherent thought is gone when the head of his cock runs down your slit, over your entrance and slaps it mockingly against your clit, the throb from the previous release still lingers and it sends shots of fire in your belly.

“Come on, baby”

“Please- fuck me” you breathe, so desperate that it sounds borderline cringeworthy to say. But you cannot bring yourself to care.

He grins. That was easy.

Your lips part in a gasp as his length slowly splits you open, stretching your pussy onto his cock. He knows what he’s doing and takes his time, allowing you to feel every vein, every ridge, even the way the tip tucks into that sensitive rough patch inside, your back arching with the electricity it gives you. It surprises you everytime, just how full you feel when Aemond fucks you. He is long and thick, able to fill you in a way that you’d never been able to find in a guy. And fuck did he know how to use it.

"Gods, tightest little pussy I've ever had…" he moans quietly.

Your body and jaw slackens as he pulls out and snaps his hips back against you to slam inside, a choked moan falling from your lips. His hand moves to your jaw, keeping your gaze in the mirror to look at him as he fucks you slowly at first, watching how your ass bounces with every push of himself inside. His head is buried near your neck, breath hot against your skin,

“You like that, huh” he breathes against you, hearing the strain evident in his voice. Your voice is useless right now, only able to make a few soft sounds of pleasure, “like it when I fuck you?”

Only a struggled moan comes out, and you catch your lips between your teeth, hyper-aware that you’re still fucking in a bathroom at a party.

"No need to be shy. It's just you and me" he utters against your skin, “Let me hear you. Or have I fucked you dumb again”

He punctuates his demand by pushing you forward harder, the porcelain digging into your hip bones and spreading your ass cheeks so that he can somehow get deeper. And he makes a grunt of displeasure when he doesn’t get the reaction he wanted. So instead he grabs the flesh of your calf and bends it high over the counter, spreading you impossibly wider.

It’s unconscious the way your mouth opens now, releasing your lips from your teeth as you moan helplessly, feeling the way his cock bullies your sweet spot, the way his flesh hits yours with every wet smack.

“Are these sounds just for me?”

“Yes…yes…” You chant almost imperceptibly.

“And it’ll only be me” he grunts, “do you understand? You’re mine”

You nod quickly. The pleasure is so overwhelming that you’ll agree to just about anything right now. Your core winds so tight, it feels like a fist is curling inside you and Aemond fucking you is just accelerating it.

“Say it” he demands, pressing your body against the vanity, his cock punishing your insides faster and harder. With each thrust comes the hard thud of the furniture against the wall, which you hope that the bass of the music downstairs covers enough.

“Yours…I’m yours…” your voice sounds almost pitiful. Every bit of you just desperate for that final reprieve.

Aemond grins against your skin, “Good girl…” he coos, his lips finding purchase on your neck and biting down, grunting into your skin at the way your pussy tightens around him as your second, more powerful orgasm echoes throughout your body.

"Shit- couldn't have any other pussy-oh fuck-you're perfect, baby" he coos next to you, the term of endearment making warmth creep into your chest.

It has Aemond fuck into you desperately, prolonging your seemingly never-ending pleasure into a long stream of fucked-out moans and breaths. With one final slam of his hips against your ass, his grip so tight it’s almost painful, you feel the warmth of his cum paint your walls. His cock twitches, trying to stuff as much of him inside you as is physically possible. Thank the gods for IUDs.

“Fuck-”

Both of your breathing is equally heavy, his hot against your shoulder. You can feel the intensity of it through his chest as it’s pressed against your back. His cock softens inside the longer you two remain in this position, until his hips leave you and he pulls himself out with an almost pained sigh.

Gulping air back into your lungs, your legs shakily meet the ground, tiredly pulling your dress back over your ass and bracing the sink, feeling the pleasant sting at your hips where they’d continued to meet the furniture.

His gaze meets yours in the mirror as he tucks himself away, looking somewhat flushes and uncharacteristically soft, especially after the way he’d just fucked you.

It’s so quiet, it’s like whoever speaks first, loses.

“I meant it” he says, somewhat breathily as he too gains grasps his energy, “I’ve not seen Alys in months”

You turn around to see him properly, half sitting against the vanity, feeling the soft throb of your heartbeat through your core still.

“Why?”

Aemond looks almost bashful, his cheeks still pink from the force of your little tryst just now combined with the way he nervously licks his lips.

“Because I’m the one who broke the rules first”

You furrow your brows, “What do you mean, Aemond?”

He swallows thickly, making a point of looking right at you.

“I caught feelings and…” he pauses, searching his mind for the rest of the sentence, “...didn’t want to scare you off”

Your lips remain frozen, parted. Your eyes flit about his face and he raises his arms, as if annoyed he’d even told you.

“I’ve never had this before”

“Had what?”

“Had this” he gestures between you both, “It’s never been like this with anyone else” he admits, his voice withering away at the end, “and I’m just fucking shitty at showing it, I know-”

“Aemond” you step forward to cup his face, halting his irritation in its tracks. Your thumb runs over the scar on his face, gaze on his eyes entirely, “you don’t need to explain yourself to me” you say softly.

"But I do" he argues, without that sternness to his voice now, but rather so quiet it's almost a whisper, "I didn't want to fuck things up. Because I always do"

You shake your head once, "What do you want? From this?"

"I want you" he says almost immediately, swallowing his saliva with anxiety, "and I want you to be mine…"

You laugh at his sweetness, he's never been like this, "I already said I was yours, remember?"

Your hands wrap around his shoulders, chests touching, "Think I always was"

The first genuine smile you ever see from Aemond Targaryen, is when you tell him this. It looks good on him. The way his eyes crinkle up is just too charming to resist.

Before he can say anything, you lean up on your tiptoes and kiss him, fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck, tracing over the silver chain. You hum in delight when you feel him shiver at the touch.

Kissing him as softly as this, your lips parting for each other to slowly consummate this budding relationship, it feels like you're meeting each other for the first time. Feels so intimate, like you're the only people that exist right now, despite the thump of the party downstairs.

You both pour everything you feel into the soft caresses of your lips and tongues, trying to make him feel as loved as you think he deserves.

He smiles bashfully when you break, fiddling with the hem of your dress.

"This was a good touch" he says jokingly, "was it for me?"

You laugh, "It might have been"

"Cheeky little minx" he replies, pressing a soft, tender kiss once more to your lips. It feels so right, you want to hit yourself for not addressing this sooner. It feels nice to have your heart so full like this.

Aemond grasps your hand in his large one and goes to unlock the door. A motion you stop immediately, pushing him by his chest.

"Um, what are you doing?" You ask, a teasing smile on your face.

A moment of panic passes his face and it makes you want to laugh. His eyes wide and mouth open, wondering what he's done wrong.

"Getting back - to the party?..."

You shake your head, your palm running over the prominent bulge in his jeans.

"Not with this you're not" you smirk, "was all this just from kissing me?"

He bites his lip, trying to hide his grin and the way he visibly flushes from your hand on his erection.

"...Maybe"

"Maybe?"

"Maybe" he grins.

Your hands go to his belt once again, making light work of it. Aemond groans breathily as your hand encircles his length, giving him a few languid pumps that are just painfully too slow.

You smile through your eyelashes as you sink to your knees, feeling yourself become aroused just at the sight of him like this, all vulnerable and at your mercy.

With his cock heavy in your palm, you press your lips to the base, making your way slowly with your tongue to the top, tracing the vein there on the underside. His musky scent, smelling of sex and sweat envelops the air around you.

"Let me take care of you first" you grin, watching his eyes crinkle as he smiles.

Perhaps rules were made to be broken.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

General Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics @theoneeyedprince @thelittleswanao3 @hb8301

Aemond Taglist: @m00n5t0n3 @boofy1998 @merakiaes @hanihoney88 @let-love-bleeds-red @bellaisasleep @watercolorskyy @heavenley1927 @ryswritingrecord @partypoison00 @gaeela-6 @saeselkie @padfooteyes @introverbatim @queenofshinigamis @thatkingofgirl @ryswritingrecord @dahlias-and-marigolds @triscy

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grimesgirll · 3 months

Text

you'd been begging daryl to take you hunting.

"why don't you take her?" rick implored. "she's not a bad shot."

"we'd be bowhunting, not rifle hunting." daryl distinguishes with a grunt.

"i can learn," you assure him, holding your compound bow in your hands. "technically, i've been shooting since i was seven."

"once a summer for fifteen minutes while peddling cookies," he states.

"c'mon, she learned a lot at camp." rick rebuts, grinning at you. "right, doll, didn't you learn how to build a fire and purify water?" you nod. "none of us have frozen to death or gotten diphtheria yet, so i'd say you should at least give her archery skills a chance."

"please?" you borderline beg, breath hitching as you see your morning not going how you planned. "i really wanna learn to track."

daryl doesn't say anything, just looks from you to the bow in your hand. rick interrupts whatever thoughts he has with a sigh. "daryl, why don't ya just take her? she clearly wants to go with you." he gestures to you. "how can you say no to her when she's asking so nicely? unless you think it's too hairy for her out there and we should just spend the day tucked inside here."

you whine at the idea. you want to be outside.

that spurs daryl into saying a rushed, "grab your heavy coat and your arrows."

you grin at rick who despite assisting in your victory, looks disappointed that you'll be gone for the day. while daryl is busy grabbing his crossbow, you slink over to rick, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“thanks,” you seal your gratitude with a kiss.

he wraps a firm arm around you. "you're welcome, sweetheart," your leader punctuates with a hand dug in your hair while he brings your face to his. you almost don't notice daryl until he's huffing by the doorway and you're kissing rick goodbye one last time and scrambling to grab your bow before dashing out the door after your boyfriend.

gone from alexandria, you and daryl take off on foot towards what he’d described as the best hunting grounds in the nearest fifty miles.

"be sure to quiet down," daryl tells you, abstaining from cringing as your boots crunch every leaf on the forest floor beneath them.

"sorry," you giggle. you try to quell your footsteps but it's hard when you're so captivated by the beauty of the woods.

before everything happened with the dead walking, you loved being outside. growing up in scouts and regularly camping had turned you into someone who was all too reckless outside for their knowledge of the woods. yes, you knew that predators and walkers lurked around every corner out here but you just want to crane your neck and stare at the sky through the trees, or let your eyes wander over the meandering streams.

that's why daryl is watching you like a hawk.

years of tracking has made him hip to everything going on around him. truth be told, if anyone or anything were on your trail, you were a dead giveaway. stomping about the way you are, you're bound to scare off any small game but he's trying to be patient with you. it's not like you had to keep it down at your hippie dippie kumbaya girl scout camp or on sunlit afternoon hikes. daryl, on the other hand, moved about undetected like it was second nature. had to be quiet if you wanted to actually to leave the forest with a meal.

he's watching you and the woods just to be safe. it's hard not getting distracted by you the way you're getting all caught up in the trees and the vivid greenery surrounding you.

the sight of you; pink lips parted just slightly with your head tipped all the way back to look for bird nests have his jeans getting cramped. you're just so excited to be outside.

it's not like you don't go on walks every day in alexandria with judith or join them on occasional outings beyond the walls. there's just not as much room for you to leave with how dangerous even just scavenging is turning out to be, so it's harder to get you out for a remote nature walk.

"what're we tracking for?" you ask.

daryl pushes a branch out of the way, holding it back as you pass under before catching up. "whatever you don't scare away with all that noise."

you snort. "so no deer?"

the redneck laughs. "not with the way you're tramping through here."

"what about pheasants?" you question, tiptoeing over a particularly rocky section of daryl's trail. "or do we need dogs to find them?"

"you don't need no damn dog to hunt pheasants."

"a decoy?"

"you just gotta' be patient." he clicks his tongue. "but it's not like you'd know anything about that." you let out a small whine and his breath hitches.

"just askin'."

"i know, girl."

"so what're you shooting for?"

daryl shrugs. "think' we can probably find something further up the ridge. rabbit, squirrel, something 'for you to aim at."

you nod and knock an arrow. following your boyfriend as he takes you past one of his favorite creeks outside of alexandria, leading the way as you pad along on the forest floor behind him.

your shotgun is slung on your back in its strap, understudying the compound bow you’d dug out of the armory. there were many fewer bow users in the apocalypse than there should’ve been. for every bow hunter, there were fifteen idiots blowing off the head of whatever or whoever they encountered with some barely functional, scavenged handgun. maintaining the skill and the arrows for a bow wasn't necessarily for the lazy.

you really didn't have much experience with archery or hunting for that matter. rick joked that you were a duck hunter but that had been dumb luck. while scavenging for gas along a riverside park, you'd seen some geese and fired your shotgun. rick couldn't be upset about the noise when your impulsive assault on the waterfowl was what filled your stomachs that night. and as a reward, rick filled you up just the way you liked it that night.

you'd go out firing on random flocks of geese more if it meant rick would fuck you the way he did that night. you were losing your mind - putty in his hands - from all the praise. his good girl who shot their dinner. marking every thrust with more praise.

the naughty bundle of nerves between your legs awakens at the thought of receiving the same treatment from daryl. he didn't love spanking your ass red or doling out punishments like rick, but you wanted to see his face after you caught something. after you shoot a deer with your bow. he would be so proud of you, giving you a celebratory kiss before helping you field dress your harvest.

whatever route daryl is following takes on an impressive incline, giving way to a fragmented vista of the tiny green valley. you wish you had binoculars. once your eyes stop scanning the sky for hawks, an auburn mess of hair catches your eye. even through his black windbreaker, you can see the outline of his muscles along his back. his form and thoughts of him taking you up against a tree cloud your brain until you hear your name.

"yeah," you answer, looking up at daryl who's stopped to pause below a short, dense pine. he motions for you to squat with him and you do, settling into a perched position with your loaded bow sat on your knees.

“right here is the perfect pass along the ridge to come up and over the mountain,” daryl explains, blue eyes catching a bit of sunlight. “a bunch of game will be scampering around as the day goes on. won’t see any deer right before noon though. not that they’d wanna walk up here with your loud ass.”

you snicker before sending him an apologetic look. “sorry, dare’. i’m not used to being quiet like that.”

i know, baby, he wants to say but just points to your knocked arrow. “wanna have that ready. never know when a squirrel’ll come skippin’ by.”

“yes, sir,” you croon, smirking at the way his eyes darken and he playfully ruffles your hair.

settling into a cozy state of surveillance, your eyes start to droop. rick had kept you up after daryl went to bed. this was before you woke up with the urge to accompany daryl on his hunt, so you probably only got four or five hours of sleep. typical rick keeping you up with sweet temptations like his hands on your breasts, his warm mouth on your torso, licking down to your clit and reigniting that fire that’s consumed your core earlier in the night.

you start to feel it stirring when your mind wanders to the man sitting beside you. you smile sweetly at him when he catches your gaze and ask an innocent question about pheasant hunting again that breaks the silence.

then you’re relaying the story about the time your cousin fell out of his tree stand after one too many beers.

daryl guffaws. “that’s some’ shit merle would do.”

"yeah, it was pretty stupid of him."

the quiet returns. you sigh. the silence meant to lull the local game into a false sense of security is boring you. you came out here for some one on one time with daryl and to learn to track, not to sit in silence in the cold for god knows how long.

you close the distance between you and daryl. tucking yourself into his side, you earn a look from him. "i'm cold," you commiserate.

the archer has to look away from your doe eyes to keep his zipper from popping. he mentally debates pulling you closer until he gives in and tugs you to his chest, ruining your position holding your bow.

both of you know you’re eventually going to do what you do best in the cold; get distracted by warming each other up. it’s evident from how you sink back further against daryl. nonchalant even when you feel his hardness against your ass.

“feeling warmer,” you update him.

“good,” he murmurs when you press your head back to his chest. you feel warmer; despite your layers, daryl has gotten your core going enough for you to feel it from head to toe.

you imagine a wave of pleasure, not just flickering body heat as you turn around and face his groin on your knees.

“not out here,” he mutters with a gasp of your name. his belt falls and your hands start on his zipper, progressing the metal zip all the way down until a sturdy hand grabs yours. “don’t you wanna catch something?” he reminds you of the reason you even trekked up here.

you shake your head yes.

“then what’s this all about?”

you roll your eyes. “dare’, I’m bored!”

“i told you that half’a hunting is waitin’!” daryl chides, pushing your hands down.

tears well in your eyes. the older man exhales; he’s fucked.

“dare’-,”

“don’t you start.” he tells you, grasping your chin in his hand and leaning down to kiss you. you tilt upwards eagerly into the kiss from the pine needle littered ground. “you’re gonna scare anything left up here.”

daryl disconnects from you when your bow is lowered to the ground. his thumb slips into your mouth and without hesitation, you treat his thumb to the same treatment he’d gotten last night.

it’s not long before he’s finally saying, “fuck it!” declaring out loud what you’ve been yearning for the entire morning.

with another smirk, you strip him of his pants until he’s popping out of his boxers. your mouth is on him an instant - it’s cold after all. first thing, you envelope him in your mouth, pulsing downstairs again when his hands find warmth in your hair. you don’t need him to guide your head down to the base of your cock for you to take him into your throat.

the black shotgun you’d proudly toted - even after it’d been confiscated at terminus - is deposited hap-hazardously on the ground while your bow is on the other side of your legs. daryl’s ditched his crossbow at this point, opting to explore the far reaches of your throat with his cock while the bow stands against the other side of the tree.

your boyfriend’s breath hitches again. you overfill as much of his cock as you can into your mouth until you slide yourself up and off, taking a break to catch your breath.

fucked out and face flush in spite of the cold, daryl is pleasantly surprised when you dive down to pay his balls some serious attention. you loll each one into your mouth, leisurely progressing up his length with gentle licks until you’re gingerly kissing the head, locking eyes with him.

disregarding the chill beneath your knees, you dip your mouth down on him again, licking a new trail up his rock hard cock. thinking about how painful it must be in this cold, you give into him when he thrusts into your mouth.

hands in your hair, daryl is in heaven. getting head under the trees? sign him the fuck up. you two have fooled around outside before of course but that wasn't usually by choice. without having to worry about a horde of walkers hot on your trail or horrors like cannibals hunting you, he could lean back and just enjoy the sight of you between his legs, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock.

for a moment, he worries that the sounds you make as you swallow his length will attract walkers but he's too hard to care. you bob up and down, trying to take more of him each time. his hands guide you until he's bucking in your mouth and feel him spill down your throat.

daryl's gonna have to take you hunting more often.

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ganymede-princess · 1 month

Text

A Hazy Shade of Winter | Angus Tully

PART 2

ship: Angus Tully x fem!OC

warnings: Angus is literally so mean, but he's like that in the movie anyways.

summary: Carol's parents send her to spend the winter break with her uncle at Barton Academy, and a certain curly-haired boy takes an immediate (dis)liking to her.

word count: 2790

a/n: I watched the Holdovers like 2 nights ago and I’m obsessed with it now so here’s this! Maybe a second chapter coming?

written by @ganymede-princess

Misery. Absolute fucking misery. That’s all Angus could see for the foreseeable future. Just an ocean of black, sticky misery, stretching out to the horizon in every direction. As he settled his bony rear on the hard edge of the ping-pong table and listened to Hunham gleefully dole out their sentences, he thought he would vomit any moment, or drop dead. He kind of hoped he would. He scoured his eyes over the pitiful creatures he’d be bunking with this winter break; two little boys: a religious fanatic and a foreign exchage student, the school’s star quaterback, and fucking Kountze. Five little Christmas orphans. Angus would blame karma, if he believed in that hippy-dippy shit. The most unbelievably unfair part of all this was that he wouldn’t even be able to jack off in peace since all five of them would be bunking in rooms one and two of the infirmary, with Hunham in room four. God knows why they couldn’t use room three, but Hunham seemed determined to avoid any questions pertaining to that.

Just when he thought his holiday couldn’t get any worse, the girl arrived. She skittered in like a mouse, out of breath, red-faced and shaking like a handbag dog. Six little Christmas orphans.

“Ah, you’re here.” Hunham extended his hand welcomingly, and gestured to her to step forward.

She crept over, giving the ping-pong table and couch full of boys a wide berth, then nervously shook Hunham’s hand and scuttled away to sit on the floor and tuck her knees up under the frumpy men’s jumper that swallowed her whole, like a turtle retreating into a shell. She waved at the five of them, cherry lips curling into a tight smile.

“Is that a girl?” Kountze said, loudly.

“Indeed, it is. Students, this is Miss Carol Hunham, my niece. She will be joining us at Barton for the winter break.”

“Teddy Kountze.” The little freak said, practically falling over himself to shake her hand. He looked ridiculous crouching there beside her like he was about to accost a rabbit at a petting zoo. If brown-nosing was a sport, he’d be a world classer. “Wonderful to meet you. If you need a tour guide, come to me. I know this place like the back of my hand.”

She nodded in thanks, regarding him with huge puppydog eyes. Angus thought she must be dumb or tongueless. Five-foot-nothing, wearing unfashionably tapered plaid pants and Chelsea boots that were all the rage a decade ago, huge turtle-shell glasses that made her brown eyes bulge out of her head like a salmon… the only cool thing about her was her dirty blonde shag haircut, but even that came across as trying too hard. With that, and those round cheeks and fat mushroom of a nose, Angus almost expected to hear Hunham introduce her as his niece. Almost.

“You’ll be taking her nowhere without a chaperone, Mr Kountze. Now, gentlemen, and lady, off you go to the infirmary building.” Hunham’s one good eye roved over the room, then settled on Angus. “Mr Tully.” He addressed him in his weasley way, voice dripping with schadenfreude. "Be a gentleman and help Miss Hunham take her bags to room three."

Now it made sense why they'd been forced to leave it empty. The little fuck had a whole room to herself.

"I'm not a gentleman." He responded, insolently as possible.

"Then play the part."

"Fine." The ping-pong table screeched backwards as he stood up, grabbed his case and stormed over to the girl who leaped to her feet, eyeing him warily as he marched her out of the room and collected one of her ridiculously heavy suitcases and set off outside with the puppy in tow.

"Um." She began, her voice a pathetic whimper. "I'm Carol Hunham."

"I heard."

"And you?"

"Angus Tully. Are you deaf or something?"

"He d-didn't say your first name." Angus grunted in response. "So, you're- you're holding over?"

"What?" The question was so insipid it made him stop in his tracks and gawk at her. "Of course I'm holding over! Are you stupid?"

"Sorry." She whispered, averting her eyes. Angus felt a rush of regret as her lip trembled, but he swallowed it and marched on.

The air was biting cold, and Angus wished he had two jackets on- or better yet, a hot-blooded model on each arm- but unfortunately he was stuck between this girl making goo-goo eyes at Kountze and her machiavellian gargoyle of an uncle. As the rest of them caught up, his simmering rage suddenly bubbled over and he broke the silence in a voice thick with hatred.

“This is the most bullshit ever! If we have to stay, why’d we have to draw Wall-eye?”

“Uh, y’know he used to be a student, right?” Quaterback drawled.

“Yeah, that’s why he knows how to inflict maximum pain on us, the sadistic fuck.”

“Yeah.” Quaterback agreed with a giggly laugh. “I mean, no offence Hunham, but your uncle sucks.”

“I don’t know him.” The girl had retreated to the fringe of the group, and when she spoke up her voice didn’t command much attention.

“At least we didn’t draw Decker, he’d be perving all over us.” Kountze sidled up alongside her and let his arm brush against her. “And we wouldn’t have Carol here with us.”

Angus rolled his eyes, but felt vindicated when he noticed her pull away from him, almost fearfully.

“Hey, guys, hold up for a second.” Angus leaned up against the pickup at the side of the road and lit up a cigarette, eager to relieve all this tension.

“No, I got something else.” Kountze pulled out a stinking doobie and gestured for his lighter. “Gimme that.”

“Hey, don’t smoke that out here.” He chided. “I don’t wanna get busted by Wall-eye.”

“Don’t be such a pussy.”

“I’m not a pussy.” Angus felt his blood pressure rise. “I just don’t want to get up at Fork Union paying for your mistake.”

Kountze didn’t bother responding, just blew out a fat drag and smiled in satisfaction.

“Teddy Kountze.” He said, offering the joint to Quaterback and trying to sling an arm around Carol but she sidestepped him to Angus’s amusement.

“Jason Smith.” Quaterback responded with a sickeningly charismatic smile.

“Yeah, I know who you are.” Fucking bootlicker. “You wanna hit this?”

He cast a glance up the road, but Wall-eye was nowhere to be seen. “Uh, yeah.”

He took a puff and offered it to Carol.

“No, thanks.” She held up her mittened hand. “I-I hear pot can give you the heebie-jeebies.”

“The heebie-jeebies.” Jason repeated, grinning. “Cute.”

She was sort of cute- Angus begrudgingly admitted now that he’d seen her up close- in that pitiful way that those fucked up little pug-dogs are cute. He wondered if she had asthma. Besides, it’s not like he cared. At least, if somebody like her could be cute, maybe he was too, with his hawkish nose, narrow eyes, five o’clock shadow, gangly limbs, scraggly hair… No, that’s ridiculous. Unless… He wondered if she thought he was.

“It’s mellow stuff, babe.” Kountze assured her.

She blushed and shook her head, then turned her massive obsidian orbs to Angus.

“C-can I…?”

He sighed heavily, arranging his face into a scowl before he handed over the cigarette. She took a dainty puff, then handed it back. He took a drag himself, savouring the knowledge that his lips were touching the same place that a girl’s had just rested.

“More?” He offered it back.

“No, thanks. I don’t really… y’know.”

“‘Course you don’t.” He scoffed and stuffed it back in his mouth. “Such a pristine girl, I bet you never did anything wrong in your life.”

Flushing, she averted her eyes.

“So, how’d you get stuck holding over?” Kountze queried, his demeanor forced casual.

“I’m supposed to be skiing with my folks up at Haystack,” Jason said cheerfully. “But my dad put his foot down, said I can’t come home unless I cut my hair.”

“So why don’t you just cut your hair?” Angus snorted, feeling a fresh rush of anger. How could you throw away a perfectly good winter break just because you’re sentimentally attached to your godamn freak flag?

“Civil disobedience, man.” He grinned.

“I dig it.” Carol spoke up suddenly. “Conformity is a dangerous thing.”

“See, she gets it.” Jason put his arm around her shoulder.

“You like Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young?” Her blonde lashes fluttered as she gazed up at him. Angus could have puked all over the sidewalk, and Kounze looked like he might actually do it.

“Man, I love ‘em!”

“Almost Cut My Hair?”

“My anthem.” He nodded solemnly. “That album was my whole life last summer.”

“Neat.”

Angus noticed her head tilt to rest on his shoulder as he offered her the joint. This time she took it, allowing herself a long drag. He gritted his teeth and fought off the urge to deck that filthy hippy then and there.

“Anyway,” Jason waved his hand, as if clearing the conversational slate. “My dad’s cool. It’s just a battle of wills. Still, I was kinda hoping he’d cave first, because the powder up at Haystack is so sweet right now.”

Jason’s hand made its way into Carol’s hair, curling a lock of it around his finger. Angus’s fist closed involuntarily while Kountze’s eyes narrowed as he looked around, lip slightly curled in frustration.

“What about you, Mr Moto?” He said, locking onto his target. “Why are you here?”

“Uh, no. My name is Ye-Joon.” The boy explained innocently. “Uh, my family is in Korea, and they think it’s too far for me to travel alone.”

“I figured it was because your rickshaw was broken.” Kountze laughed and looked around for approval, to which he found none.

“Uh, wh-what’s a rickshaw?” Ye-Joon seemed genuinely baffled.

“You’re an asshole, Kountze.” Angus said darkly. “Your mind’s a cesspool, and a shallow one at that.”

“Who’s the asshole, Tully?” He sneered back. “You’re the one who blew up history.”

“Hey.” Jason held out his hand gently, then turned to the other kid. “What’s your story, man?”

“Alex Ollerman.” He responded, his voice stronger than the other boy’s. All that faith in a higher power, I guess. “I’m here because my parents are on a mission in Paraguay. We’re LDS.”

“Mormons, right?” The kid nodded proudly.

“Don’t you guys wear some kind of, like, magic underwear?” Kountze gawped.

“That’s a common misconception.” Alex began. It seemed he had all his bases covered, and he turned to address the Korean kid too, as if he might convince someone to join. “Actually, it’s called a temple garment, and we’re only supposed to wear it when we-”

“Hey, what’s up with the townies?” Kountze interrupted, already distracted by something shiny. Angus was mildly relieved he wouldn’t be hearing any more panty-talk- he’d had quite enough for one day, what with his bathing suit and all- but, his relief quickly turned to annoyance when he noticed the two men coming down the road, hauling a Christmas tree between them.

“Hey!” He hollered. “What are you doing with our Christmas tree?”

“The school sold it back to us.” One of them responded. “Scotch pine, still fresh.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna put it back in the lot.” The other explained. “We do it every year.”

Angus turned back to the group and shook his head darkly.

“This is the most bullshit ever.”

______________________________

Angus didn’t think he’d ever be so happy to be in the infirmary, but when they stepped into the heated building, he might have sighed in relief if he wasn't in such a black mood. His arms absolutely caned from carrying that stupid suitcase, and Kountze had been smack talking the whole way up the hill. He thought the only thing worse than bunking with the two kids would be sleeping in with Kountze while he tries to tickle Jason’s balls. He’d much prefer to cosy up in the girl’s room, irritating as her face may be. He abandoned his luggage outside room two and hauled Carol’s down the hallway while she pattered along at his heels.

"Why do you need two cases, anyway?" He sneered, stealing the comfort of silence. "You can't have that much shit to carry."

"It's-" She paused and cleared her throat. "Well... well, why should I tell you, huh? You're- you're-"

"What? An asshole? A jerk? A philistine, as your mole uncle says? Y’know, I'm pretty sure there's a faculty rule against targeted insults towards pupils."

"You're mean." She admitted in a small voice. "And I don't know why."

"Yeah, well get used to it sweetheart. Just wait till Kountze gets over your gyno-gimmick and starts treating you like he does everyone else, you'll be begging for 'mean.' And by the way, you’re just antagonising him by hanging all over Jason all the time.”

“What’s Jason got to do with it?” She snapped, raising her voice for the first time.

“Aw, I hit a nerve, huh?” He delighted in watching her face turn scarlet.

"Y-y'know, when you stood up for Ye-Joon earlier, I thought you might actually be cool. I'm disappointed."

She said nothing else, just ducked her head and ran ahead to open the door for him. Baffled, he barged past her and dumped the suitcase on the nearest bed.

“Thanks.” She whispered.

"Why are you even here, anyway?" He rounded on her, suddenly tired of the way she let him walk all over her. "I mean, other than to ruin the ambience with that hideous sweater-"

That did it. She let out a choking sob and made for the door.

"Hey, hey wait!" He flailed out his long limbs and caught her around the arm, but she wrenched herself from his grip and made off down the hall, away from Hunham and the other boys to Angus' relief. "Carol, wait I didn't mean it."

She didn’t respond, just sped off and careened around the corner. Angus caught up just in time to see the door of the broom closet swing shut. He clucked his tongue and sat down on the hard floor outside, feeling a wave of disgust as he listened to quiet weeping. Gently, he rapped the door with his knuckles.

“Carol?”

“Go away.”

“Carol, I’m sorry.”

“Go away!”

He paused for a moment, and considered his options.

“Your sweater isn’t actually ugly, by the way. I was just ribbing you, y’know? Horseplay?”

“No.” She said firmly, voice muffled through the wood. “No, I know ribbing and that wasn’t it. Y-you were being cruel, and you wanted to see me cry, I know it.”

“What? No!”

“You enjoy it, don’t you? You’re so miserable, the only fun left for you is making everyone else feel as wretched as you.”

He swallowed thickly, feeling a lump of shame coating his Adam’s apple. He took another long moment to collect himself. He resented how easily she read him, but if he wanted to keep her from finking, he’d have to choose his words carefully, and eat a large portion of his pride.

“It’s true.” His stomach roiled in revulsion as he grovelled to her. “I’m sore about holding over, and I wanted to take it out on someone, and you looked like easy pickings. I’m brash, I’m rude, I hate everyone including myself, and I make it everyone else’s problem.”

She paused her sniffling, as if sizing him up.

“Well.” She said thickly. “Thank you for admitting it. That was very… self reflective.”

“I go to a shrink, I kind of have to be self reflective.”

“Ah.” She sniffled. “You can leave me alone now.”

“I would,” Oddly, it felt good to tell somebody… Good enough that he was able to go back to being sly. “But this closet doesn’t open from the inside. Every time we get a new janitor they get locked in here. Happens like twice a year.” She said nothing, but Angus heard her breathing pick up in pace. “I mean, I can always leave you in here.”

“No!” She said urgently. “Let me out, please.”

“I will, if you promise not to fink.”

“I-I won’t fink. If you leave me be, I won’t fink. Pinky promise.”

“Alright. I’ll stay as far away from you as humanly possible.” He clambered to his feet and opened the door for her. She was already standing, and as soon as she saw the light, she tried to scoot out beside him, but he moved his arm to stop her. “Pinky promise, remember?”

Begrudgingly, she curled her finger around his, then slipped out past him and returned to her room. Angus watched her go, and something broke inside his chest as the door closed behind her.

#dominic sessa #dominic sessa x reader #the holdovers #angus tully #angus tully x reader

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