Maroon (part Three)
Maroon (part three)
modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader
You were standin' hollow-eyed in the hallway Carnations you had thought were roses, that's us
A series loosely based on the song Maroon of off Midnights by Taylor Swift ▪︎ read more Daemon & Aemond midnights imagines here: masterlist
series list: part one - part two - part three -
themes/warnings: angst!, mutual pining, jealous!Aemond, language, description of accident/injury, Aemond in his stalker era
word count: 8.7k
a/n: proposed ages of the characters in this series - Viserys (64), Daemon (55), Alicent (53), Rhaenyra (44), Aemond (26), Helaena (25), Daeron (22), Aegon (30), Lucerys (22), Jacaerys (25), Joffrey (15), Alys (35) ---- as much as I'd like to pretend this took 5 minutes... heh. The Math simply wasn't Mathing for a long while. Anywho, just thought I'd write this in since I've aged up the characters.
Also - with all the time I've spent on this fic, I've decided to ultimately restructure part three. So part four will cover the night of the Dragonstone ball, where it's all about to go down.
Everything that occurs leading up to the Dragonstone ball - the outcome of the accident, Aemond struggling with his current state, and the reader left hoping for a love, that perhaps, never truly was.
Lucerys Velaryon has already garnered quite the reputation, at only 22 years old.
A darling of the masses, everyone loved the young heir to Driftmark, a great company built by his grandfather, the notorious shipping tycoon, Corlys Velaryon.
But having the name Velaryon is a double-edged sword for Luke.
It only increases his privilege and prestige, already being a Targaryen on his mother’s side. Luke is set for life; he has everything he could ever need at his disposal. As a young boy, he has always enjoyed cars. Tinkering with them under the guidance of his father Laenor, as well as his uncle Daemon. Luke got himself into kart racing at the age of 9. Illegal street racing, much to his mother’s disappointment, at the age of 14. And just recently, he has been competing in Formula 2 division racing.
From the outside, he is just like any other boy. Apart from the fact that his family is literally worth billions, that is.
But Luke has never been content. He has never been self-assured, borne out of the truth, one that everyone simply chooses not to mention, that Laenor Velaryon is not his true father. That he is a bastard, and therefore, not the rightful heir to Driftmark. He has always known this, despite his mother’s pleas otherwise. He knows this each time he hears the employees of Driftmark whisper amongst themselves after he passes by. Whenever he is invited to sit in the council meeting of the company, he feels his true status in how the shareholders disregard his opinions like he’s just some intern.
He grew up amidst the tension between himself and his brothers, and their young uncles, especially Aemond. When Aemond and Lucerys were growing up together, they simply did not learn to exist well around one another. Luke had bullied his young uncle long ago - an act of rebellion, of a boy growing up with resentment in his bones - when Aemond had been weak and scrawny as a child. Aemond retaliated in kind; but he finally matured and found some inner calm in his mid-twenties. A year or two before you met him.
Luke's uneasiness has only worsened, now that he is nearly set to take his place on Driftmark. Since his family hails from Valyria, everyone expects them to uphold the tradition of only passing down inheritance to rightful heirs. Never bastard children or outliers.
But what the hell. Luke has never been one to follow the rules. His very existence does not abide by them, so why should he?
The night of the accident, Luke had to sit in yet another board meeting for the company. This time, Aemond was there too. Only he was treated as he should, being a Targaryen. Like someone capable, someone worthy.
It should not have made any difference, really. Luke thought he was used to it all by now - the stares, the hushed whispers, the poorly masked scorn. They think Aegon or Aemond to be more competent. If the board had their way, it would not be Luke who would inherit Driftmark. Perhaps, his grandfather’s brother, Vaemond. Or hell, even his cousins Baela and Rhaena, though they never expressed any interest in the business.
Anyone but Luke.
-----------------------------
As a child, Aemond Targaryen saw himself as some kind of a ghost. A spectre simply moving around his family, their company, their horde of sycophants. Not the first to be considered. Not the designated heir to anything. The second son of the owner and chief executive of Dragonstone, and his much younger, barely beloved second wife.
Once upon a time, his father Viserys had been well and truly happy.
He was married to the love of his life, Aemma, and they had a lovely daughter who was loved by all due to her charm and fiery nature.
When Aemma passed in childbirth, Viserys had been near inconsolable. But he could not remain so for very long. Soon enough, his board of trustees, his advisors, urged him to remarry. He did not have an heir yet after all, and as per tradition, he soon needed to have a son so that he might raise him to become the next CEO and owner of their business empire.
But Viserys decided to essentially bypass such tradition, for less than a year after his wife’s passing, he had publicly announced his only daughter as his successor. It did not matter what the board of trustees or the shareholders preferred. They may have considerable sway over the affairs of the company, but in the end, the word of Viserys prevails.
And so Aemond and his three siblings have been pushed to the periphery. Not that they ever stood a chance anyway. In the end, their father will always uphold his precious Rhaenyra over them. Their mother plays the part of a mere trophy wife, though she is a noble Hightower herself, having to feign contentment in spite of all the times she and her children are slighted.
Aemond thought himself calmer now, and matured. Painstakingly made every effort to be far from that weak boy who had no place anywhere. He is still unsure if he likes the person that he is, and perhaps he never has. But he morphed - or masked - this self-loathing into an unfailing desire to do better, to be better. He’s always wanted more. And he has learned to be strong for his mother, his sister. Himself.
And now, you. How unpredictable you had been, bursting into his life like the Dornish comet of ‘07. He knew early on that you liked him, sort of, with how your eyes would dart back and forth to his direction whenever he’s in the room.
It made him uneasy, at first, when his looks developed in such a way that garnered him plenty of attention. The spectre of the city turned ‘Prince of the city’, a strapping young man who can have anyone he wishes.
But, funnily enough, all those socialites, models, glorified urban princesses with millionaire parents, Aegon’s harem of traditionally near-perfect friends from Lys that he often offers - none of them ever stood a chance to you, his sister Helaena’s earnest, gentle, and quick-witted best friend.
Aemond would be lying if he said he fell for you immediately. It would be far from his nature to do such a thing. But he had, slowly, found himself enveloped in your light, and only feeling warm, only feeling home - only feeling like he could truly love himself - when you look at him with those soul-piercing eyes of yours. Maybe he isn’t so bad after all, if you can see him in the way you do. And he trusts your judgement; when you profess to want him in turn, then he must be worth more than he thinks.
But the night of the accident, his forsaken shadow seemed to envelop him like an old friend. One that he can never shake. His anger, his darkness. He had long buried the Aemond Targaryen who frequently got into fistfights. The Aemond who deliberately ordered the expulsion of certain people he simply did not like from the employ of their company. The Aemond who chose to openly mock the truth of his raven-haired cousins’ parentage.
That night, that Aemond resurfaced, and with dire consequences.
The night of the accident, four months before the Dragonstone ball
The storm had begun just before the board meeting ended. Heavy rain spattered against the Driftmark tower, with the night sky illuminated by streaks of lightning.
Aemond and Lucerys were coming to a head at the council table, and the other members were having to intervene at multiple points, just to mitigate the rising tension. The storm brewing inside the young men’s hearts could easily rival the one threatening to flood the streets.
Lucerys repeatedly interrupted Aemond’s suggestions, having grown tired of his own being cast aside by everyone else.
“Wait for your turn to speak, my Strong nephew.” Aemond smoothly countered when he did not get to finish addressing Vaemond Velaryon.
“I didn’t think what you were saying was particularly important, uncle.” Luke retaliated in kind.
“Hmm. Some things never change, it seems. You still don’t know your place.”
“My place will soon be the highest seat of Driftmark. And you will still be grandfather’s second son, a mere placeholder at Dragonstone.”
“Please, sirs,” the meeting director complained. “We must get on with more urgent matters.”
Aemond and Luke barely contribute for the remaining minutes, opting to glare and sneer at each other from across the table.
But their council tiffs would not end up being the most unpleasant occurrence for that night. As if the storm also cast its darkness over their reasoning, they soon found themselves racing towards Gods Eye.
-----------------------------
It was meant to be a game. A show of bravado. Two young men, though in their depths still wounded boys, found themselves spewing offenses in an attempt to lower the other.
“You might inherit Driftmark, but everyone knows the truth, plain as day. You will always be a bastard.”
“Sure, but I am still more than you. What have you ever truly accomplished, uncle? Poor y/n, if she’s fallen for your tricks. Does she know who you truly are? She’s too bloody good for you.”
When Luke raised the challenge of racing to the edge of the cliff of Gods Eye, Aemond grasped at the opportunity to humiliate his nephew. To prove all of his claims to be wrong.
It might have been either one of them, or both, who deigned to edge their car close to the other’s, trying to veer it off course. Just a little nudge to make it spin out of the road.
But the turbulent weather was strong, causing mud and water to pool along the gravel. When the cars collided, Aemond’s took the brunt of the hit. Before he could even register the impact, his car was already spinning right towards the treeline.
Luke had veered off road, his car rotating upside down. His right leg suffered from multiple fractures, including a busted knee cap.
But Aemond…
His screams resounded despite the ceaseless pattering of rain, louder than even the roaring thunder overhead. A shard of glass had been wedged deep on one side of his face, splitting the flesh open.
So much blood had pooled into his one remaining eye, that he feared he went entirely blind. The memory of your face flashed across his mind, and he despaired at the thought of never being able to see you again.
Later in the operating room, when the full extent of his injuries was delineated to him, Aemond thought that perhaps, it is you who would never want to see him again.
Why would you, with what has now become of his appearance?
Two months before the Dragonstone ball
You’re finding it hard not to keep tabs on Aemond, still asking Helaena every now and then if he’s really alright. To which she always responds with some version of “He’s okay. He just needs some time.”
Time. That’s fine. You suppose that the accident must have shaken him up, enough to cause him to go into hiding and to avoid everyone.
Unfortunately… painfully, including you.
You find your mind drifting back to him every day - during your lectures, at work, at home, whenever you’re spending time with Helaena and you’re trying so hard to simply not just pester her about her brother.
You think back to those secret moments you shared in crowded rooms, up in their penthouse, whenever Aegon would throw a party. Back then, you did not know one another yet, not really. But he would sit on the couch adjacent to yours, shoot you a smile, and silently keep you company while you wait for Helaena to return. He did so because he could sense that you were anxious, and that loud gatherings aren’t really your thing, as he revealed to you when you were… dating. As short of a time as that might have been.
Gradually, you got to know him, in all those rare moments. His knowing, mischievous smiles. The subtitles nuances in his expression. His calculated manner of speaking.
You knew him, you had him, you lost him. Well, you do still know him - he is your friend, is he not? But it just as well could have been the end, the night of the accident. He has become a kind of spectre to you, leaving you yearning for what could have been.
Weekends offer some respite from the whole ordeal of having to miss him. Your job at the bookstore allows you to just sit in silence, entertain customers once in a while, and bury your nose in your book-of-the-week.
Once in a while, a friend even drops by. This time, Jace burst through the entryway, bell chiming in his wake, beaming with a brown takeaway bag in one hand.
“Hey, stranger,” you put down your novel, and leave your post on the counter to greet your dear friend with a tight hug. Jace takes note of the fact that your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, and his spirits sink. But he immediately gets to work on making you feel better.
“I’d say you’re going to love me for this, but you probably do already,” he says, presenting you with the paper bag.
“Don’t be so sure,” you jokingly say, narrowing your eyes at him, before peering inside, hit with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries.
You shrug, starting to dig in with no hesitation. “Actually, good of you to be sure.”
He laughs as you drop the bag on the counter, and rip it open to reveal all the goods. He takes his own coffee and leans closer to have a bite of the profiterole you eagerly wave in front of his face.
“Thanks,” you manage to puff out, with a mouthful of pastry.
“Anytime, sweet.” Jace swallows, giving you a once over. “How are you holding up?”
It’s hard to act all nonchalant when he gives me those puppy-dog eyes. Jace’s innate sincerity almost makes you want to just cave in and vent all about Aemond. “Nice of you to be concerned, but it’s not like I was the one who got into an accident.”
“I know, sassy, but I also know that you and Aemond were… you have seen him recently, no?” he asks, sounding certain of the answer to his question, which downright confuses you.
“No,” you shake your head. “Along with the rest of the city, I haven’t seen nor heard anything from him.”
“Really?” he remarks, incredulous.
“Come on, Jace,” you take a comforting sip of coffee, still warm. “You know this. He doesn’t want to see me.”
“Huh,” his head tilts back slightly as he mulls over your response. “It’s just…”
“What?”
“I could’ve sworn that was his car parked across the street. Right outside.” he says, jutting his thumb over his shoulder. You freeze, but your eyes are drawn straight toward the shop windows.
“That’s not - ,” That’s not possible, you want to say. But your feet already drag you to the edge of the shop, with Jace in tow. “Which one is his?” you ask, knowing Aemond’s got quite a few cars, privileged boy that he is. Your voice comes out in a hushed tone, as if you don’t want Aemond himself to hear. Ridiculous, you chide yourself, it probably isn’t even him.
“That silver Jaguar idling on the curb,” Jace answers, and you see it. Slantwise on the opposite side of the road, stopped right before the bus stop across the bookshop.
“Are you sure?”What the hell could he be here for? You didn’t want to admit it, but you feel the hope right in your bones. You want him here, of course. You want him to come see you.
“Yes,” Jace easily replies. “There’s only one vehicle in the city with that personalized plate."
Before you can stop yourself, you take a tentative step outside, hand still on the shop door.. I’m sure he can see me, if he’s really there.
The windows of the Jaguar have the darkest tint, making it nearly impossible to see inside.
“That’s him,” Jace says from behind you. “He doesn’t let anyone else drive his cars. I even thought he was already inside the shop when I arrived.”
“Well shit,” you breathe, your heart racing in your chest. “What do I do?”
“What is he doing?”
“Fuck it.” You only manage to take a step forward on the sidewalk before the car roars to life, engine purring smoothly. Aemond maneuvers the car from its spot and leaves, driving right past you, a cloud of leaves and dust billowing all around.
“What the fuck?” Jace scoffs, thoughtfully waving his arm around to keep the dust from your face. “What is he on?”
“Aemond,” his name escapes your lips in a soft whisper. A silent plea that will never reach him, but you say it all the same. That it doesn’t matter to you, whatever state he is in after the accident. That even though he chose Alys over you, you can understand, or at least try to. He is still the same boy who captured your heart not so long ago.
But why did he just leave? What is he so scared of?
“Come on,” Jace says, holding the door open for you. “Your coffee’s getting cold.”
When you go past the entryway, you turn on your heel and hang up the ‘On a break. Come back soon’ sign on the door. Sighing heavily, you shrug at Jace, “What a day, huh. You sure know how to bring drama with you.”
Jace only smiles, well-used to your banter, “How is this my fault?”
“I dunno,” you raise your hands, and walk back to the counter. You’re not sure how you feel at the moment - anxious, worried, disappointed? It’s all up in a haze since Aemond suspiciously drove off, and so, you can’t control the flood of dry sarcasm spilling out of you. Like some kind of coping mechanism. “You must have called Aemond here, so you two can drive my poor heart into a frenzy. Like I don’t already have a lot on my plate.”
“Oh yeah, definitely.” Jace slowly nods, playing along. “Aemond hasn’t even spoken to me since everything went down. But I definitely sought him out today, and definitely forced him to watch you from out there in his car like some obsessed creep.”
“I knew it!”
-----------------------------
Fifteen minutes into your impromptu break, the tone has lightened to some degree, and you sit at a corner table with Jace, sipping the remains of your coffee.
After a lot more banter, and catching up about Luke, Joff, and the rest of his family - those who can still tolerate your presence,that is - Jace finds you staring blankly at a bookshelf. “Hey,” he says, “I don’t think my uncle is hiding in between those books.”
“Ha-ha.”
“Anyway, enough about him, eh?” Jace offers, taking your hand from across the table. “I actually wanted to ask you something.”
You squeeze his hand in return, staring back into his doe brown eyes, “Yeah?”
“Seeing as Aemond isn’t taking you to the Dragonstone ball,” he pauses, gauging your reaction. He decides that it’s all good when you remain impassive, “How would you like to come with me instead? I did mean to ask you, you know, but dear uncle beat me to it.”
“Oh.” Your hand loosens around his a bit, as you take in his words. “Well, I mean I would love to but - ”
Jace adds quickly, as if he is already reading the thoughts whirring through your mind. “No pretenses about it, I assure you. I’m not expecting anything else. Just that you honour me by being my partner to the ball.”
“Mmm,” your shoulders relax, and you find yourself smiling at Jace’s heartfelt nature. One that immediately warmed you to him when you first met. “Partners, huh?”
His tongue makes a clicking sound in confirmation. “What do you say?”
“Jace,” you start, weighing the options in your mind. “I would go with you, of course - ”
“That settles it then.”
“- but I just… I don’t know, if… Aemond does not want to see me, maybe I shouldn’t just show up at the ball?”
Jace rolls his eyes, “He doesn’t own the bloody ball, you know. He can’t control whether you come or not.” He leans in, voice lowering like he’s sharing a devious ploy, “Besides, if he doesn’t want to see you, then why would he be loitering across the street simply to watch you through the shop windows? Let’s be real now, eh?”
Fair point. You reply, “Far be it from me to know what he’s up to.”
“So come to the ball with me and ask him yourself. I’ll even back you up. With my own pitchfork and everything.” The way his eyes blaze in excitement sparks something in you. Being around Jace is always fun, like you’re free to do anything - you could even cause any kind of trouble and he would only be cheering you on.
If only… if only you liked him the way you do a certain someone, then you might actually have a greater sense of calm. Your self-doubt might be assuaged, your days brighter.
But no. It is Aemond who fills your wandering thoughts. Aemond who haunts your sleepless nights. It was him who nearly made your heart stop that night on their rooftop, who laughed with you and held you close when you were a fumbling, wine-stained mess.
Perhaps unfortunately so… it is Aemond whom you love.
That realization makes you straighten in your seat, scaring some sense back into you. Fuck, what am I even thinking? It’s Jace right in front of me. Jace who is asking me to the ball.
“You got yourself a deal, mister,” you playfully hold your hand out for him to shake.
-----------------------------
Later that night, the Targaryen penthouse in the Crownlands Tower is relatively quiet. Most of the family is away, save for Helaena, their housekeeper Talia…
… and Aemond, who sits in front of his desk, staring at the object atop it which is aglow under lamplight. His eye drifts to the metal surface of the lampshade itself, and he sees it. A scar stretched from his forehead to his cheekbone, with its edges tinged with maroon.
Revolting. It’ll take some time to heal, they all say. Well it’s been two long fucking months, and it doesn’t feel any better. Nothing feels right.
It isn’t fair, his mother wailed upon seeing him. None of this is. It was the rogue Lucerys’ fault, she insisted, for egging Aemond to go on a damned speed chase in the middle of fucking storm.
His father Viserys merely appraised him for a long moment, before mumbling something that sounded like, “I am sorry this happened, but you’ll be alright”. Then to his mother, “Lucerys is injured as well. This is what they’ve always done, as you know. Luke and Aemond don’t really get along but they’re grown now.”
He added with a warning gaze to Aemond, “They have to learn to be civil to one another. We are all family, after all.”
“Family,” Alicent spat the word like a curse. “Family should not be the cause of grievous harm.”
Aemond remembers the shrug that Viserys did. It is a gesture he has seen endlessly, it might even be the first thing he remembers of his father. All of his pains, and his achievements will always be met with a nonchalant gesture. Some father he is.
There’s only one thing that would make Aemond feel better in this moment, and even that, he cannot allow himself to have. He shall not present himself, this self, to you. He looks at his reflection and he hates what he sees. Perhaps he always has. But he also learned to love himself around you. How easy it can be, like second nature.
Maybe he was drawn to the fact that you are not from his world, with all its intrigue and playacting. How you choose not to perceive status as a tool, and how you can be kind to anyone. You, the girl who always keeps a book in her bag, even at parties, even if she most likely won’t have time to read it. Just in case, you had said, you never know. You, though very well-mannered, called one of Helaena’s so-called friends a “spoiled cunt”, when you heard her making nasty jokes at Helaena’s expense behind her back.
“Sorry you had to hear that,” you had said to Aemond in a grumbling tone, still quite irate, when you found out that he was just in the library adjacent to their living room. “They were just being so… so…”
“Fucking rude?” he finished your thought, his dimples showing in amusement when your eyes widened. “Don’t worry, doll. Maybe I would have done the same. Though that Beatrice would never say shit about Helaena in front of me, seeing as she tried to claw off my jacket once. Her fake nail got caught in the leather. Her attempt at seduction, I suppose.”
Your mouth fell open, then closed once more. You were at a loss. Your blood was just boiling at having to confront Beatrice, who has thankfully left the penthouse, and now Aemond is standing in front of you. Aemond, sharing some story, in good humour. About some girl trying to get with him, and failing. Later on, you will find yourself jumping in frustration in your living room, thinking how in the hell your mind must have short-circuited because you responded with, “It’s a good thing I keep my fingernails trimmed and plain then.”
It was Aemond's turn to stand there, lips parted in surprise at your sudden show of audacity. Where has this girl been hiding all this time? Or has she always been this way? Then your face morphs into one of shock, and you remain still, waiting for some other pin to drop. Something to distract Aemond so you can mumble some excuse and run away. Aemond observes the minute changes in your expression, like you’re struggling to get your bearings, and he finds it all endearing.
Suddenly, the door you had been leaning against is pried open, making you take a step closer to Aemond. An unruly, blonde mop of hair that can only belong to Aegon pokes itself inside, “What are you nerds doing in the damn library?”, then he turns on his heel letting the door slowly close on its hinges, “Never mind, I’m gonna get a drink!”
At the exact same time, you and Aemond burst out in a fit of laughter, the pure and melodic sound of it echoing throughout the room. The very first time that Aemond witnessed you laughing freely in front of him, and his thoughts would later drift back to this moment. To the way your eyes lit up, how your teeth clamped down on your bottom lip to keep from laughing harder, and how your dainty hand clasped his forearm, holding on to him for a while.
He did not know then, not yet at least, that he had started falling for you.
When your desire had become apparent, you did not attempt to cross a line. Correctly inferring that Aemond valued his solitude, you became content with admiring him from afar, treasuring every small interaction.
Everyone keeps remarking at how different he is around you, and maybe you do not realize the truth of their claims, because you had never seen him… like this. So broken. His mask of composure torn to shreds.
No longer the caring, attentive, and self-assured Aemond you claimed to desire.
“Aemond?” Helaena's voice drifts from his door, which is opened narrowly. She silently lets herself inside when he does not respond.
“Care for some dinner?” she asks, her gentle voice almost breaking through Aemond’s resolve. Perhaps it might have been able to, but not anymore.
“No, I’m not hungry.” Aemond answers, barely audible.
“Right.” Helaena doesn’t press further; she knows that nothing will shake her brother while he’s in such a state, so she tries to bring up something else. Something that might get his attention. “So, I, uh… y/n just called me.”
Helaena notices Aemond slightly tense up at the mention of your name. So that’s what it takes, she thinks.
“Aemond,” she steps closer, now standing beside his chair. “Why were you outside the bookstore where she works?”
Aemond shuts his eyes. Of course you had seen him. And he saw you, clear as day. Beautiful as ever. With bloody Jace right next to you, laughing while sharing some coffee he had brought.
“She misses you, you know,” Helaena says, and the words drive straight through Aemond’s heart. “I really think you just should speak to her.”
“Hmm.”
“What are you even afraid of?”
A long pause, as Helaena waits for a reply. Fidgeting with the edge of her sweater, she begins to say something more, when Aemond finally says, in a muffled, reluctant tone, “She deserves better.”
“Of course she does!” Helaena perches on the edge of Aemond’s desk, and his eye drifts over her for just a second, before looking down at the object again. “So call her and - ”
“Better than me.” Aemond clarifies, croaking the final word as if in pain.
“Oh, Aemond.” Helaena’s lifts an arm in an attempt to offer comfort, but Aemond instinctively flinches.
“No.” He breathes. “I can’t.”
Helaena nods in understanding, though her heart aches at the sight of her brother like this. She looks to the side, and sees the journal-seeming object sitting on his brother’s desk. The thing he seems to be staring at.
Helaena lets her fingers run over the smooth forest green cover, and she instantly recognizes it to be Valyrian leather. A rare commodity, so this must not be just any ordinary journal.
“May I?” she whispers, to which her brother shrugs in response.
She gently pries open the leather clasp, and she sees a dedication on the first page, in a swooping scrawl that can only be Aemond’s. Some special ink was used, staining the page with a deep shade of maroon. It reads in High Valyrian, their native language - Ñuha prūmia iksis aōhon.
“I meant to give that to her… before…”
My heart is yours.
“Aemond-” Helaena mutters, her mind stuck on the words, and she knows exactly who they are meant for.
Aemond abruptly rises from his seat, and puts on his black coat, “Just put that back where you found it.” Reaching for something else on his desk, he puts it on his face to conceal his deformity.
Before her brother reaches the door, Helaena manages to voice out, “Where are you going?”
“Away.”
Two weeks before the Dragonstone ball
The accident finally seems to have departed from the mainstream, turning into fodder for small talk as all sensational news pieces do.
Unsurprisingly, despite the tragic event, excitement abounds. The city is buzzing in anticipation. Everyone is already poring over the main list of attendees which has been made public online. You only glanced at it once to confirm that you are on the list as Jace’s partner, but something else catches your attention. You immediately close the tab in your browser after you read - Aemond Targaryen - and across from his name, as his designated partner - Alys Rivers.
“For fuck’s sake,” you sigh, biting your lip. You opt to open Youtube, but immediately your homepage reminds you of your recent activities. Not stalking, no. Just some curious research. Aemond has never been one to give interviews. That’s more in Aegon’s wheelhouse. Daeron especially, since he also works as a model, gracing the front cover of Vogue thrice already at only 22.
When Aegon graces the headlines, it’s most likely due to some disorderly conduct at a high-class party or a local dive bar. True to his brand, there is no in-between when it comes to Aegon. It’s either go big or go home. Which usually means he ends up drunk on the sidewalk, having to call Aemond to pick him up and give him a ride without letting their parents know.
But they always find out, of course. It’s hard to be discreet when you’re one of the most recognizable faces in the country.
As for Aemond, you’ve always found it hard to find even a single crumb of him from the internet. Save for a couple of sightings, including those of him and Alys Rivers, and clippings from the few times when he would speak in press conferences on behalf of Dragonstone. But even those were kept mostly private, and not freely available on Youtube.
As it happens, there have been some rumours of Aemond allegedly coming into blows with the Duke of Lannister and his entourage, after humiliating the man’s sister. Onlookers claimed that they saw the poor girl coming onto Aemond at some party in Pentos, flirting with him. Apparently, he was far from welcoming of her affections. There were some pictures of the fight, or at least, that’s what people say. You were not in the loop when the news spread, sitting through a lecture. Any trace of such pictures quickly vanished from the internet. The Targaryens are always on the lookout to protect their precious image, but they’ve never done anything so methodical when it comes to such occurrences, such as Aegon’s countless mishaps.
Aemond does have an Instagram profile. You asked him about it once, ages ago, even before your brief - what would you call it… Tryst? Dating period? Well, whatever it was, it’s all done for now.
“Was it your idea to have a profile anyway?” you asked him, after he had playfully teased you about stalking him. That was the only verified account of Aemond’s that you found, complete with the blue tick. His profile was empty, and the following list was at a whopping zero. Though of course, he had about 3.7 million followers, just waiting for the moment that he would choose to do anything on the site.
“Yeah, I suppose.” Aemond looked down and smiled, and you did not know it, but he found himself feeling warm due to the interest you were giving him. He’s confident about nearly everything, but when on the receiving end of attention from the woman he secretly longed for, he felt almost shy. “It was mostly due to the fact that I wanted to have one sole verified account online. I’ve heard talks of impersonators sending people messages and all that. Fucking annoying.”
“Ah, yeah.” You did not tell him, of course, but you knew of those fake accounts, having clicked on several slightly convincing ones to see if they were actually his. But none of them matched. You found yourself muttering, “He would never post that.”
“Didn’t hurt that I got to look through your pictures, too, love.” He smirked then, regaining his confidence.
You nearly melted into a puddle on the fancy designer-carpeted floors of their apartment, right then and there.
That doesn’t matter now. You sigh, slamming your laptop shut. Instead you choose to dramatically jump onto your bed and growl your frustrations out onto a pillow.
You roll over, amused at the whole thing. The digital alarm clock Helaena gave you reads 6:32 pm, it’s a Friday night, and you’re left with nothing to do. You’ve already finished the majority of your exams, and for the next month or two, you’re free to go on holiday and do whatever you wish.
But what? You finally decide to give Helaena a call, and reach for your phone on the nightstand. But right then, it lights up. ‘Hel’s Bells’ is calling you. An inside joke the two of you came up with about a week after you met.
“Speak of the devil,” you smile, and press accept. “Hel! I hope you’re just about as bored as I am.”
She laughs on the other end, “I don’t even have time to be bored. Mother has us doing all these preparations for the ball.”
“Do you need any help? I’m no expert at pomp and pageantry but I’ll do my best.” She had just stayed at your apartment a few nights ago for a sleepover, and you noticed that she was careful when mentioning anything about the ball. Trying not to stray into Aemond and Alys territory for your sake, you assumed.
“Sure, come over whenever you want. I don’t really have any idea what it’s all for, but hey, at least we get to put on fancy dresses and look pretty.”
“Oh, you always look pretty,” you say sincerely.
“Thank you, doll,” she says, before sighing dramatically. “Anyway, I actually called to tell you something. You’re going to come over to our place on Sunday night. We’re throwing a little party.”
“A party, huh.” Will Aemond be there, you wanted to ask, but held back.
You haven’t seen him for the last three months, after the fateful night of the accident. There was that incident when he parked outside the bookstore, but it was barely anything.
Word on the street is that the ‘Prince of the city’ had gone into hiding, as comical as that sounds to you. For what exactly? There has been speculation - perhaps he was left horribly disfigured from the accident, which is also why there isn’t any trace of the alleged pictures taken of him in Pentos. But Helaena immediately dissuaded that notion. My brother is not disfigured, she insisted when you brought it up, he’s simply recovering.
If Aemond wants to keep things to himself, then he has the right to do so. He would tell you if he wanted. Call you, send you a message. Anything.
“A party,” Helaena repeats. “It’ll be for our inner circle. Which includes you, of course. A little prequel to the ball, so everyone can catch up with each other.”
“Aegon’s idea?” you guessed with a wry smile.
“There might be a direct correlation there, yeah,” Helaena laughs. “Anyway, come over! Since you’re coming with Jace to the ball, then we have to plan everything for you, too! What colour dress do you want to wear? Well, there is a theme but we’ll work with that. Mum assigned a stylist and hairdresser for me, which means they’re for you too and - ”
“Hel, I don’t really need - ”
Then she says something that puts a stop to your protest. “Oh, Aemond won’t know what’ll hit him.”
“Huh.” The thought of seeing Aemond again gives you a surge of excitement. And nervousness. Your yearning for him reawakens, but it never truly left.
Having made her point, Helaena knows she’s got you hook, line and sinker. “I’ll expect you in the next hour.”
-----------------------------
Sunday came rolling over soon enough, and the party at the Targaryen penthouse is well under way.
The ballroom on the 2nd floor is packed, filled with people whom you either don’t know or barely recognize. Of course, it wouldn’t be complete without some snooty heirs and heiresses who would openly regard you with what could be confusion or derision. Until a Targaryen or Velaryon would approach you and eagerly whisk you away in conversation.
“Who is she?” you hear someone say when Jace takes your hand and directs you to sit on the couch with him and Daeron. “Why is Jace so close to her? And what on earth is she wearing?”
Unfazed by it all, and already used to such comments, you smile sweetly in that girl’s direction and greet her with a friendly, “Hi, how are you doing?”, without giving her a chance to respond.
Jace watches the exchange proudly. As you sit down, he says, “Aegon invited her, I think. I don’t really know, I don’t like her much.”
“How come?” you jest. “You two have so much in common. Heirs to the kingdom and all that.” Your sarcasm again comes out of you in waves, trying to temper your nerves. You look around the room, though it is not the first time you’ve scanned through everything.
“I’d much prefer your company,” Jace easily says, then notices your divided attention. “He isn’t here.”
In a transparent attempt at surprise, you ask,“Who?”
Daeron overhears the exchange, after his friend stands up to get a drink. “Aemond’s not here, y/n. At least I haven’t seen him. Last I heard he was holed up in our holiday estate in Pentos.”
“Oh.” Your face visibly falls. You didn’t know what to expect, really. Of course Aemond would not just show up at this party after avoiding everyone for too long.
“He will be at the Dragonstone ball though,” Daeron pats your knee in sympathy. “He might be going through some shit, but mum would lynch him if he misses that event.”
Jace and Daeron continue to look at you, seeing if they need to offer more comfort, and you can’t stand it. “Alright, you two. Thanks for… I don’t know… but this is a party! We should just go and have fun. No need to be concerned about me and…” You choke up at his name, negating your false show of indifference.
“Okay,” Jace says, saving you from saying anything further. “How about I get you a drink, hmm?”
“Yeah,” you say, but something crosses your mind. You stand at the same time as Jace, grabbing his arm, “Actually, I’ll go get some air first.”
“Are you alright?” This time, Jace’s sincere gaze is not enough to distract you from that familiar gnawing ache.
“I am,” you smile placatingly. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
-----------------------------
Aemond Targaryen, contrary to what everyone in the party believes, is no longer wasting his days in Pentos.
He had slipped back into the city earlier that night, and in the safety of their 7-floor penthouse. Right in time for the revelry. He has no intention of making an appearance, but when Helaena let it slip that you would be attending, he could not help himself.
The fact that you would be under the same roof was enough to get Aemond to scurry back home. While he might not be ready to show himself just yet, there are methods which allow him to see you. Watch you.
Helaena would probably smack him upside the head, if she found out. That not only had Aemond come back without telling her, but also that he is watching her friend through the CCTV cameras littered throughout the penthouse.
Perhaps it is unsavoury, and you might cross your arms and huff at him if you found out. Oh, what I would give to see that in person. But he’ll take what he can get. Do what he must. To still have you, still see you.
His left knuckle is taut, still bandaged and bruised from his recent activities. Luckily, the stitches on his face had not come loose and the medical treatment his mother is putting him through has done considerable wonders. What would you think, I wonder, if you saw me like this, my love.
His laptop is propped up on his desk, right next to the green journal he means to give you. On the screen, he watches as you trail Helaena for a while. As you sit alone, watching everything unfold. As Jace comes for you, and you sit together on a couch. Too close. Too comfortable for Aemond’s liking. Is something going on between you and my fucking Strong nephew?
When news reached him that you would be coming to the ball with Jace, Aemond had broken something. He can barely remember what it was, just the sound of it shattering against the wall. A wine bottle? A vase? A mirror? Whatever it was sent his company fleeing from their table, and Criston had rushed forward to make sure that he wasn’t harmed.
Aemond glares at the screen you walk after Jace and whisper something close to his ear.
Jace regards you for a long while. He better not…
But then you nod and smile, stepping away from him. Aemond finds himself breathing a sigh of relief, predictably, and he almost snorts at his own reaction.
You walk out of the ballroom, and Aemond has to switch between cameras to follow your path. You pause down the hallway, and lean next to the wall.
What are you doing, ñuha jorrāelagon?
Seemingly decided on something, you swing the door to the staircase, forgoing the elevator. The cameras on each landing track you as you continue to climb upward, panting slightly when you finally reach the entrance to the rooftop.
You take slow, sure steps toward the golden railing. For a moment, you just stand there, seemingly watching the city below.
I have to see you. I have to try. In a split decision, Aemond slinkers out of his room, the party below still unaware of his presence.
Then he heads up the flight of stairs as you had done, feeling more apprehensive with each step. What do I even say to you? Do you still want to see me? He finally reaches the final landing, and heart in his throat, he pries the door open as silently as possible.
You no longer stand at the railing. Instead, he spies you sitting on the plush seat the two of you shared on that one night. Facing away from the entrance, looking up at the stars.
Aemond knows that isn’t as it was before. He cannot simply approach you and watch as your eyes immediately welcome the sight of him. It’s not the same, and it is all his fault. He wonders if your heart might still race because of him, or will it have become cold, after all this time?
He draws closer, with each footstep uncertain. But your pull is stronger, taking precedence over all of his worries.
“I miss you,” is all he can bring himself to say, throwing caution to the wind. You freeze at the sound of his voice.
Then a shiver runs up his spine as it dawns on him - in his haste to see you, he left his eyepatch in his room below.
-----------------------------
I must be dreaming. The hairs along your arms stand in your shock, and you keep both hands flat on the seat to keep you steady.
Is it… You start to turn back, but cease all movement when Aemond pleads, “Don’t. Please don’t turn around.”
“Aemond?” your voice is shaky, and you feel a tear threaten to escape. “They said… we all thought…”
“They do not know that I am back yet,” he answers. “Just you.”
“Oh.” Your head is still turned to the side, and you have to fight the urge to simply rise from your seat and face him. You exhale, trying to calm down. When that doesn’t work, you lean back against the seat, and force yourself to count the windows on the building down the road.
6… 7… 8…
But the sudden feeling of his hands on your shoulders makes you lose all train of thought.
“Did you miss me?” Aemond asks, standing right behind your seat now, his sweater grazing the back of your head.
Your mind is flooded with thoughts of all that happened between the two of you - the beginning, the brief affair, the end. Is it the end?
Answer him. “Did I miss you?” you bite your lip, and your brows scrunch in frustration. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Your expletive makes Aemond take a step back. “I-I’m sorry…”
“I’ve been so worried about you, Aemond!” Your hands bunch up into fists beside you. You did not realize you had all this pent up anger, with the past few months being spent pining. Longing. Yearning. Like some silly little fool. When he didn’t even make any effort to reach out to you, and the most you got from him was that episode outside the bookstore.
“Oh yeah, and what the hell were you doing outside my place of work?” you stand then, and lean against the railing in front of you, careful not to turn and catch a glimpse of him. “You wanted to speak to me? Well, why didn’t you just do that?” You can feel your erratic heartbeat pounding in your chest, and for a moment you become afraid that it might just stop altogether.
“I did want to speak to you. To see you.” Aemond sighs heavily. “I always want to see you, my darling. You’re all I’ve ever thought about since - ”
“Yeah, right. I bet you did.” You threw the offhand accusation over your shoulder.
“I did,” Aemond swears. “I miss you every day, I -”
His voice is softer than before, and kind of nervous. Your resolve is at risk of breaking, because… Why does Aemond sound… broken?
He finishes, “I just needed some time.”
There are so many more that you want to ask him - What really happened in that accident? Where have you been all this time? What is going on with you and Alys? Where do we truly stand?
But instead you mutter the one thing you are most certain of, “I miss you too.”
Aemond breathes a sigh of relief. He moves to stand behind you, and steps closer.
Closer. You don’t dare move a muscle, because you just might turn around and forget about his request. He moves closer, until his chest is pressed against you from behind. Closer, until his hands squeeze both of yours on the railing.
You feel Aemond rest his face on your shoulder, inhaling deeply. At this point, he is practically enveloping you. Each breath he takes warms your neck. His thumbs run over your knuckles, and he says, “Are you still angry at me?”
“Should I be?” You lean your head back to rest on his right shoulder. From the corner of your eye, he looks as he always has. Almost ethereal, with his silver-blonde Targaryen hair and sharp, defined features.
Aemond moves his head slightly toward the left, careful not to reveal the ruined side to you, when he feels your wandering gaze.
“Please don’t be angry with me,” he pleads. You hum in affirmation, and in a lower voice, he purrs, “Close your eyes, darling.”
You try to ask why, but then you feel his lips lightly press against the nook between your neck and your shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut on their own goddamn volition.
His mouth parts even more, before coming down once again and nipping at your skin. His arms wrap themselves around your waist, and his hold tightens until your entire body is flush against him.
Still, you haven’t seen all of him.
Your hand reaches up to touch him, and your fingertips graze the side of his face. When your thumb runs over a bit of what must be raised flesh, like some partially healed lesion, Aemond jumps away. At once, you feel the cool evening air hit you, the warmth of his embrace having gone.
“What is - ” you start to ask.
“It’s nothing.”
“Aemond…” you hesitate. What could possibly be so terrible, he won’t even allow me to look at him? “If anything happened to the way you look… it wouldn’t matter to me. You would still be the same boy that I lo - ” The words hitch in your throat, their sentiment heavier than anything you’ve ever said.
Everything is at a standstill. Aemond does not say a single word, but you know that he understood what you were trying to say. He must.
And how can I even gauge his reaction when I can’t even look at him?
“Aemond?”
Much to your surprise, his voice is already farther away when he responds with a hurried, “I’ll see you at the ball.”
You swiftly turn around in your disbelief. Did he just fucking leave?
The door to the penthouse shuts behind him, and you are left dumbfounded at his actions. The old Aemond would have never done that to you, but what do you know?
Perhaps my Aemond is truly gone.
The ball is coming up next!!! Reader may finally learn to let go of Aemond, or at least give him what he wants - a whole lot of space and time.
Also, reminder - Aemond's injury is still pretty fresh, considering the damage. So no, he hasn't stuck a sapphire in there yet. Imagine how little Aemond looked in episode 7, with angry stitches running down his face, but a bit more healed. His eye socket is still sewn shut, and it still causes him much pain, so go easy on our boy, y'all.
taglist still has some spots left! I've managed to continue it in the comments 🖤
and I would LOVE to hear your thoughts on this, and what you're hoping to read in the next part!!!
Series taglist: @caught-in-the-afterglow @aemondtargaryensrider @punggo66 @dollfaceyourfear @candypurplebutterfly @moonmaiden1996 @mxrgodsstuff @lolitaisreal @blue-serendipity @melsunshine @thejanecampaign @fxngsfxgxrty @padfooteyes @msmarvel-19 @tempo-rary-fix @lauraneedstochill @julczimozart @sarcasticfangirl @witchyvik @pyjama-shorts @bellaisasleep @zillahvathek @thincrusttheworks @krispold @yougotthatlove @raging-panda @fleetingly-artistic @throughgoeshamilton @polireader @katsav17 @minttea07 @kravitzwhore @meggiemay82 @hedonefox @daenysx @schniiipsel @namoreno @afro-hispwriter @aemondswifeisme @emcharra @malfoytargaryen @iiamthehybrid @fullmetalriotts @kellzlib @justsumtuffstuff @daydreamy-me @yentroucnagol @kezibear @queenofshinigamis @paprikaquinn
More Posts from Ccallistata and Others
''The Dreamer'' Aemond Targaryen x OC Series Masterlist
summary: Daenys Velaryon, the brown-haired second child of Rhaenyra and Laenor, travels to King's Landing with her family to visit the King, her grandfather, and to witness Jacaerys' and Baela's wedding. As tensions between house Targaryen rise, Daenys and Aemond cross paths once again, and the prince discovers an annoying attraction to the Velaryon girl. (AU where the Dance doesn't happen because I said so and I just wanted to write an Aemond fanfic that isn't too complicated lol)
ship: aemond targaryen x original female character
info: targ!cest, uncle/neice
part 1
part 2
part 3
part 4
part 5
part 6
part 7
part 8
part 9
part 10
part 11
you’re my absolute favourite lando fanfic writer, i get so excited whenever you post. can you do some sort of fake dating x enemies to lovers with lando & some angst & grovelling please? i leave the rest up to you, i can’t wait to see what you come up with<3
THIS IS THE BEST MIX OF TROPES I HAVE EVER SEEN I LOVE YOU FOR THIS also thank you so much for saying I’m your fav lando writer I’m blushing ☺️
You Were Never What I Wanted, (LN4)
Summary: Lando and Y/n have never liked each other and it’s only the distaste the world has for them when McLaren forces them to “put on a show for the public”. At first, a few hand holds and light, quick kisses seem to be tolerable, yet feather light touches turn into longing stares and, suddenly, they’re falling in love. Although, hatred is a powerful emotion. Can love really trump it?
Warnings: language, sexual discussions, very mild smut, lando and yn yearning, yn calling lando a man whore not affectionately, talks of death, a crash, she’s long so grab popcorn, omfg this one hurts
Note: i love a good fake dating y’all don’t GET. IT. Also i added the reformed playboy trope to this to spice things up! It’s very mildly mentioned tho
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Lando screeches, body flying from his chair beside Y/n.
Charlotte smiles tightly at him, nodding slowly and putting her hands up, “Lando, yes. You know this is the only way to clean up the reputation you two have developed together.”
He groans, turning to pace the room when Zak interrupts, “Lando, be a fucking man and clean up the mess you’ve made.”
He turns quickly, eyes bulging as he yells, “It wasn’t fucking me! It was her!” He turns to look at Y/n, bewildered look in his eyes as he points furiously at her, “It was you! You got us into this mess! You clean it up!”
Y/n rolls her eyes at him and he almost loses his head, “You’re just as at fault, Lando. You’re the one that openly criticized my driving in a room full of reporters and cameras!”
“I was asked a fucking question, Y/n. It was my job to answer it honestly.” He shoots back.
She scoffs, “Are you fucking psychotic? Or just that fucking stupid? Our job is to lie to the press, that’s what it’s always been. Don’t fucking change it when it’s convenient for you.”
Lando’s hands claw at his eyes as they continue to bicker, “The only person who’s stupid here is you.”
“I was standing up for myself!”
“Oh, yeah?! Now, look where that’s gotten us! A fucking PR stunt!”
“Get over yourself, Lando! You’re just as at fault!”
“You’re so fucking annoying, Y/n! Can’t take any fucking accountabil-”
“Oh, please, you’re one to ta-”
“OKAY!” Charlotte claps her hands as she stops the two drivers. The image before her is one she never thought she’d see this season. Lando Norris, a McLaren driver and well known playboy, getting mad he had to kiss one of the most beautiful women to grace the sport of Formula 1, fellow driver on the grid, Y/n Y/l/n. She surely would’ve chuckled if Lando’s eyes weren’t alive with an angry fire she needed to diffuse immediately.
“You two need to just realize that whose fault this was doesn’t matter. What you need to focus on is pretending you’re in love, so the media stops breathing down McLaren’s and Red Bull’s necks. This is the only way we can make all this bad press go away.” She explains, hands moving rapidly in front of her as she tries to calm the two down.
Y/n, the more rational one, nods, accepting her fate with grace. Lando, on the other hand, stomps his foot on the ground and mutters a sentence of agreement before storming out of the room.
Y/n laughs, turning to Zak and Charlotte, the papaya employees looking as if five years had just been taken off their lives, “I don’t know how you put up with him. He’s so fucking childish.”
Charlotte, media trained, smiles, “He’s better when he isn’t angry.”
Zak, not media trained, nods, “Y/n, I’ve never agreed with you more.”
The man and woman share a look, a subtle scolding glint in Charlotte’s eye as she stares at Zak. He backs down, earning a giggle from Y/n as she begins to leave the room.
“You’ll send the NDAs and other contracts over to Red Bull, right? I’d like to get this started and over with as soon as possible.” Y/n smiles, a soft one that makes others feel warm inside.
Charlotte nods, “Of course. Consider it done.”
Y/n, keeping her smile and composure, withdraws from the room, the door closing with a loud click.
Zak and Charlotte are left to sink down into the chairs behind them. Slugging, Zak’s head lulls to her side, “This is either the best idea we’ve ever had or the worst one.”
She laughs, “They either fall in love or hate each other more.”
—
“Okay, so,” Charlotte smiles at Lando and Y/n from her side of the SUV, the two on either side of the car, sitting as far away from the other as possible, “This is going to be a short outing.”
“Thank God.” Lando mumbles under his breath, earning a scowl from the girl beside him.
Charlotte huffs, continuing, “Just a coffee run. You’ll go into the cafe, holding hands, maybe a kiss or two, get your drinks, and then leave. Very quick. However, I need you two to give it your all. This will be the first time the public sees you as something more than enemies. It needs to be convincing. Heart eyes and maybe, if you’re comfortable, roaming hands.”
Lando’s head turns in utter disgust, “If you fucking think I’m going to touch her ass or some shit, you’ve absolutely lost it.”
Y/n’s body whips around, whole torso facing him as she stares him down, “Oh, please, Lando, you get no fucking women. You haven’t touched anybody’s ass, let alone a girl’s, in fucking ages.”
“Oh, yeah? Then, explain the girl that woke up in my bed this morning!” He fires back, head tilting in a challenging way.
Y/n shoves her arms across her chest as she sits back and whispers, loud enough for him and Charlotte to hear, “Man whore.”
Charlotte’s eyebrows lift slightly, exhaling a breath, “Well! This should be fun!”
The car comes to a stop in an alleyway, hidden from prying eyes. Charlotte lets the silence pass between the two for a few moments before leaning over and opening Lando’s door, “Well, get on with it! Chop chop! Don’t have all the time in the world.”
Lando slides out of the car, shaking his head and grumbling incoherently. Y/n follows him, however, when she gets her legs hanging out the door, she is reminded of just how high the car is off the ground. She goes to turn her body around, opting to slide slowly out on her stomach in avoidance of an accident, but, before she can get positioned, Lando grabs her hips and lifts her from the car, down onto the ground.
There’s a moment where she’s so taken aback, surprised, by the movement, all she can do is grip onto his biceps and stare down at her feet, safely on the pavement. It’s only when Charlotte starts yelling, “Yes! Yes, Lando! Just like that! Look at her like that!” That she looks up. What she finds is deep green eyes completely dilated and lost in the sight of her. She reminds herself of the hatred this man has for her, brushing off the way his hands squeeze over the flesh of her hips desperately, and removes herself from his hold.
Immediately, he comes to, the snarl replacing whatever emotion had taken over his face before. She trails down the dirty, smelly passageway, hearing Lando’s feet patter behind her.
It’s as if she’s achingly aware of his presence when he reaches her, just before they turn onto the public street, and takes her hand in his. The way his cologne wraps around her body, suffocating her in the most addicting way, and the feeling of his fingers fitting perfectly in the divots of hers, soft against her skin, has Y/n reeling. She goes along with his movements, relying on him to guide her as she travels to a place where Lando’s just the man she used to think he was; insanely hot and incredibly charming.
He pulls her back, however, when he opens the door for her and quietly says her name when she doesn’t walk through.
“Y/n?” His hand tugs against hers, smiling softly at the way she stares off into space. Whether that smile is genuine, although, Y/n has no clue.
She shakes her head, murmuring a thank you to him as she scurries past the threshold. When they both enter, their presence is immediately clocked by the other customers waiting for their orders. That’s what Y/n tells herself when Lando comes up behind her, arms around her waist as he rests his head on the top of hers.
“What do you want, baby? I’m paying.” He says, low enough for it to come across as a whisper, but loud enough for the girl in front of them to turn her head slightly in curiosity.
He’s surprisingly good at this, falling into the role demanded of him in a way that has Y/n faltering. She was expecting a man who was so distant from her, the same as her past partners, she had to beg for his attention. Yet, here she was getting showered in affection by a man she was convinced didn’t have the capacity for it.
Her response is easy, covering for the feelings arising within a certain part of herself she can’t quite name, “Just a cappuccino. Thanks, Lan.”
His grin is sweet as he lays a kiss on her temple. His hands rub over her hips as he detaches himself from her body and moves in front of her, teasingly pushing her away from the register with a light laugh.
Lando spews off the order to the man behind the counter as Y/n moves to the other side of the establishment, residing where the orders are dropped off. It could’ve been strategic, it probably was she promises herself, but Lando yells across the store to her.
“Y/n! Love, do you want food? They have your favorite here,” He smiles at her, earning a few giggles from fawning girls in the corner, “Croissants!”
Did he know croissants are actually her favorite or was that just a lucky guess?
Y/n gives him an airy chuckle, head falling back slightly in a lovesick way as she shakes her head, “Nah, I’m okay. Just gives us another opportunity to come back here.”
He nods at her, shaking his head at the barista and handing him some cash.
He tips the change, a hefty amount seemingly as Y/n watches the worker hesitate and thank Lando profusely. Her heart warms, shining on the inside as he treats hardworking people, those who are usually treated horrifically, with the utmost respect.
These reactions she’s having toward him are confusing, a far off nagging in her brain that she might’ve always wished for this type of attention specifically from him.
Nevertheless, she forces her mind to end its overwhelming thoughts when he waltzes over and sidles up next to her. She’s determined to keep this transactional, however she can.
She can’t get feelings.
She won’t get feelings.
And that was that, she decided.
“Lando!” Another worker calls out, setting down two drinks on the counter in front of them. Y/n goes to pick them up, however Lando beats her, giving her a cheeky grin as he mumbles, “You’re my girlfriend, Y/n. You don’t get the drinks, I do. Don’t be barbaric.”
She stands staring at him, mouth agape at his comment as the girls sitting behind them, somehow closer now, gasp.
Y/n hits his arm, the liquid jostling in his grip, “We weren’t supposed to say anything yet!”
He shrugs in return as he pushes the door open with the side of his body, and waits for her to walk through, “I guess I just couldn’t wait, baby. Too in love.”
She shakes her head at him, taking the drink from his hand, their digits brushing against the other’s in an electrifying way, “Down the toilet goes the soft launch plan.”
As they turn the corner, the smile he had been adoring her with suddenly vanishes and the usual pain that fills his expression when he’s around her returns.
“I’m just trying to get this over with, Y/n. Waiting a whole fucking month to tell some fans we’re together is so fucking stupid and I’m not doing it.” He bites out, a hostility to him she had forgotten in the ten minutes he had just treated her like she was his everything.
She drops the coffee on the ground as they grow closer to the car, shock at his quick change in attitude forcing her body to go numb. Lando stops when she does, both of them staring down at the leaking, steaming drink.
He dryly laughs at her, “How fucking stupid! Can’t even hold her own drink! No wonder you’re a shit driver!”
He gets in the car, shutting the door harshly and leaving her to internalize his criticisms.
For some reason, after getting a glimpse at what being loved by him feels like, his words hurt more, mean more.
What a dangerous game.
—
Lando is a known party animal. He’s in love with the blinding lights, loud music, and alcohol flowing without a care in the world what hangover he’d be graced with in the morning. However, with her here, it proves to be a much more stressful experience.
She’s glued to his side, not particularly the clubbing type, and Lando feels his heart quicken when other men bend their backs to see her walk away. A month into the arrangement they structured and he’s consistently feeling as if he’s fighting off every man that floats their way.
He’s worried someone will try to take advantage of her; he’s worried someone will spike her drink; he’s worried someone will touch her weirdly; he’s worried someone will bother her.
He’s worried about her.
A thought so pressing he forces it out of his mind, away from the impending cloudiness that accompanies a topic so big; the way he feels toward her.
The way it was explained to him, by the joint teams of McLaren PR and Red Bull PR, was that, for the first few weeks, their relationship outings would consist of soft dates, quick times spent out together grabbing takeout or a few pictures here and there on both their social medias that addressed their relationship status. Once they got past that time period, they would begin to see the public more often as a union. Long dinners, a handful of charity functions, a gala, and nights out clubbing riddled his calendar now.
Something he wasn’t too opposed to he was coming to find out.
That was the phase they were entering now; the hard launch. After his stunt in the coffee shop those four weeks ago, the teams had to regroup. The girls who had been hanging around had heard his slight confession of love, plastering it on the internet for every person to see.
The consequence? Lando didn’t get to be seen with Y/n for a week as the PR teams waited for the attention around the news to subside.
He wouldn’t risk that now.
Not when he was beginning to get used to the way her hand held his bicep as his fingers tangled in her other hand below.
“Lan?” She yells in his ear, their footsteps just now reaching the VIP section as the bodyguard lets them through.
He looks down at her, their faces centimeters away, lips centimeters away, and Lando’s scared.
Scared of the things he wants to do as her plump, pink lips sit right below his.
“Yeah?” His eyes avert to Max, his best friend, the boy giving him a knowing glance as he sips on his glass.
“Get me a drink please? I would do it myself, but I don’t want to risk having to talk to a random guy and-” He interrupts her immediately when she mentions the possibility of someone else hitting on her.
“I got it.” He’s spinning around, fast walking toward the bar before she can tell him what she wants.
She turns around, wandering over to Max and plopping down beside him on the soft, black couch in the corner of the room.
Max shakes his head as he looks at her, chuckling softly before letting his head fall to his chest.
“What?” She asks, eyebrows raising at the boy she had grown close to over the time she’d spent with his friend.
“You two are so funny.” He continues giggling, his girlfriend smacking his arm with a cautious look.
Y/n’s eyebrows furrow, “What?”
“You guys say you hate each other, but then you look at each other like you can’t wait to rip the other’s clot-” He begins, but Pietra slaps her hand over his mouth.
“MAX FEWTRELL!” She screams over the music, “NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!”
Her scolding makes him cower into himself, a drunken look on his face as he searches for mercy from his girlfriend.
Y/n is about to press for more when Lando shoves her drink in front of her, holding it out for her until she cradles it in her own.
Looking down at it, her head tilts, “A vodka soda with two orange slices?”
Lando stares at her blankly, “Yeah, you’re favorite, right?”
She nods, “Yeah.”
They look at each other for a moment. Confusion on both their faces for two different reasons.
“Is that a problem?” He asks her, hand dangerously close to her thigh and heating the skin of her leg up with the need for him to splay his fingers across it.
She shakes her head slowly, “No, just- How did you know it was my favorite?”
Emotions flash through his eyes, too fast for Y/n to decipher them. He withdraws physically, cold returning to her leg when his hand retracts to his lap.
“Uh, you just told me a few times.” He stutters.
If she knew him better, she might say for certain he was nervous.
Not mentioning the fact she had never told him what her favorite alcoholic drink was, Y/n moves on. It’s not because she doesn’t want to find out how he knew what she liked or that she simply doesn’t care how he knows, it’s because a camera catches her peripheral eye. Her head discreetly moves to the side, analyzing the drunken girl who stumbles over to the railing and points her phone right at them.
Y/n falls into Lando’s side, his body laid against the back of the couch and making for a comfortable cushion. His arm automatically wraps around her shoulders as her hand plants itself on his upper thigh.
When her fingers brush teasingly close to his crotch, he looks down at her, astonished, “What are you doing?”
“Camera.” She says, his eyes looking up through his lashes before he sees what she had witnessed before.
He nods subtly, leaning down immediately to press his lips to hers shortly. It’s a kiss like the ones they’d had before, quick and dry, yet, this one, instead of pulling away right after, Lando lingers. His lips brush against hers in hesitation, as if he’s deciding whether or not he wants to lean back in for more. His eyes stare into hers, top lip hitting her bottom one as he dips his chin down. He’s close to taking what he wants, breath heavy against her face as he holds her to him. His hands eagerly claw at her dress, forcing her to stay where she is, where he wants her to be, close to him. Yet, he continues to hesitate.
Finally, for the first time, Y/n sees the emotion that hides behind the beautiful color of his eyes; confusion.
It’s only for a split second though. She sees it only for a millisecond as Lando feels the way she breaks down a wall he had built up long ago. When she realizes the war behind his head, he retreats.
His hands fall from her back and his head turns to the side, rejecting what he wanted to do. She watches him look for the girl that had been filming them, eyes roaming over the crowd before coming to the conclusion she was gone.
“No camera.” He says curtly, pushing her off him as he gets up from the couch and walks back to the bar.
She watches him order another drink, no doubt for himself.
Her eyes train on the drink that sits, sweating, on the table in front of them.
Lando’s drink that’s completely full.
🏎️
Liquid courage is a real thing. It’s what drives Lando to ask Y/n to join him on the dance floor. It’s what drives Y/n to pull him into her and sway her hips right against him. They’re on beat with the music, it thumping in their hearts as Lando grips her hips and forces her body closer to his. There’s a newfound sexual tension, rather than the usual tension that consisted of complicated feelings and lingering hurt over past insults. Her hands drape over his neck, head in his chest as he lays his against her shoulder, withholding groans when she circles her hips and accidentally caresses his dick.
His head’s somewhere else, terrifyingly so. He’s not fully thinking through his actions or the thoughts running through his head, the consequences they would have.
All he can think about is the feeling of Y/n’s boobs pressed up against his chest, her cleavage cum-worthy when he looks down and sees her potential spill-out.
The chorus of Love Tonight pumps through the speakers, communicating the feelings they’re too scared to say.
All I need is your love tonight.
All I need is your love tonight.
All I need is your love tonight.
All I need is your love tonight.
The music spurs him on, almost nudging his head downwards to meet her in the same spot they had been in just a few hours before.
His lips hovering over hers with the same thoughts as before, Lando’s brain goes haywire. She’s panting against him, hips relentless as they continue to circle against him. He’s drowning in her, no escape from the hold she has on him.
Fuck it, he thinks.
He smashes his lips against hers, the first kiss they’ve had that truly puts into perspective how much they want each other. Teeth clashing, his tongue wandering the walls of her mouth, Lando and Y/n fail to come up with an excuse for their actions.
No cameras, no fans, no press.
Just the two of them, dancing and kissing with one singular goal.
All I need is your love tonight.
—
“Here’s your check! Thank you for joining us tonight!” The waiter smiles, setting down the black booklet as Lando quickly swipes it from the table.
Whining, Y/n waves her card around, “Lando, when are you going to let me pay? I don’t think I’ve paid a single time we’ve been together.”
He smiles at her mischievously, “Exactly.”
She rolls her eyes, “Lando,”
He eyes her as he scribbles onto the receipt, “Y/n,”
She scoffs, sitting back in her chair with a huff.
When he’s done, he gives her a sympathetic look before reaching across the table and grabbing her hand, “How about next time we get coffee you pay for your own?”
She looks away from him with a failing suppressive smile, “That’s like five dollars, Lan! You’ve probably spent thousands in the time we’ve been together.”
He shakes his head, “Doesn’t matter.”
Her face scrunches up, “Yes, it does!”
He’s about to rebuttal, but the screeching of people close to them takes their soft eyes off the other.
A mixed group of girls and boys stop at their table, smiling brightly at the two drivers. One of them stands in the middle, phone clutched to her chest as she asks, “Can we get a picture?”
Lando looks to Y/n, searching for approval, but she’s not looking at him. He watches her face light up, smiling big at the fans in front of them as she gets up from her chair.
“Yeah, of course!” She laughs, a sound so light and delicate, it makes Lando’s heart clench in his chest. He never saw the way she acted around fans, having been isolated from them in the times they were together. However, now, as he stays put in his chair and stares on, he adores the way she adores them.
His hands clasped in his lap, Lando sits motionlessly. He can’t take his eyes off the woman who is very clearly making this group’s year. They all stare at her as if she held the moon in their hands, a present from her to them. There’s a simple sparkle in their eyes as she takes pictures with each of them, a simple sparkle that tells him just how much these kids look up to her.
He’s enamored by her, just like they are. For different reasons, though.
“Lan, are you going to get up?” She giggles, hitting his arm and reminding him of the task at hand.
The group stares at him, not the same way they had stared at her notably. He can tell they value him, they’re excited by him, but they aren’t starstruck by him.
He can live with that, though. He gets what it’s like to become speechless over something so beautiful.
After a few more clicks of the camera, the supposed couple sits back down in their seats, but Y/n doesn’t let the fans leave yet. He watches as they brighten at her starting conversation with them.
He loves this. He loves he-
“I have to say, I was so surprised when I found out you two were together.” One of the girls in the group interrupts his questionable internal dialogue. He’s relieved, however. He can’t be thinking that way.
He can’t be feeling that way.
He isn’t.
Y/n tilts her head up at them, “Yeah?”
The group nods and one of the boys speaks up, “Yeah, you two, like, hated each other.”
Everyone laughs, Y/n sitting back in her chair as Lando watches her take the statement easily, “Well, we didn’t hate each other. We did love each other, just didn’t know how to deal with it.”
Her eyes meet his and, for a moment, Lando wonders if she truly means it or if she’s signaling for him to add on.
He goes with adding on, “Yeah, definitely. Who could hate her?”
You could, she thinks. You do, she thinks.
The words sink her heart to her stomach. A reality so crushing, she hates to entertain it. When this is all over, he’ll go back to hurting her with jabs that attack her self-confidence and she’ll be left to hang on to the man he had been when they were “together”.
She doesn’t want to go back to hating him, yet she’s scared she will. She doesn’t want to go back to knowing who he truly is at his core, yet she’s scared she will.
She doesn’t want to go back to knowing what he truly thinks of her, yet she’s scared she will.
By the time she returns to the conversation, the fans are simultaneously thanking them for their time and kindness. Leaving them alone, Lando stands from the table and checks the bill once more. Y/n grabs her bag, “Why’re you checking it again?”
He looks up at her as his pointer finger lingers on the paper, “Oh, just calculating what you’ll owe me when this is all said and done. You know, when we go back to hating each other’s guts.”
He says it jokingly, she can tell he’s teasing as he laughs it off, holding her hand gently as he leads her out of the restaurant. But, none of that stops the way she exhales a deep breath, a sigh that carries so much pain, she wonders where it came from.
Lando used to mean nothing to her, or so she thought.
Had he always meant everything?
—
Silverstone is supposed to be a fun race for Lando. It’s one of his favorites on the calendar. Although, that joy is rapidly tanking as he races quickly around the track, smoke emitting from behind him and filling the air, filling his helmet. He coughs harshly as he rushes into his radio, “Was that a crash?! Who is it?! Are they okay?! Is it on fire?! There’s smoke.”
There’s panic in his voice, knowing regardless of who it is, he’ll be worried.
Andrea’s silent on the other line, heightening Lando’s concerns.
“Andrea! What’s going on? Can you hear me?”
“I can hear you.” Andrea responds immediately.
Lando rounds a corner before he speaks back, confusions drenching his tone, “Okay, so who was that? Are they okay?”
Andrea is monotone, “I don’t know if they’re okay right now.”
Lando’s heart drops, “Oh, no, who was it? Was it one of the Williams? A Ferrari? Maybe a Haas?”
Again, Andrea doesn’t answer him and Lando is about to press him further when he reaches the crash site once more. Eyes trained on the color of the car, the words “Red Bull” hit him hard.
Andrea waits for the anxiety to kick in on the other line, fully prepared to talk him down as he watches for any updates on the crash.
“IT’S A FUCKING RED BULL! IS IT Y/N? ANDREA, IS IT Y/N?” He screams, voice shaking as he begins to slow down, cars passing him by and making him lose positions.
Andrea watches the decline of Lando’s car in the race standings, head falling as he realizes no information about Y/n will come quick enough to make him get back in the race.
Calmly, he responds, “I am not sure who it is yet.”
He hears Lando groan aggressively, “Bullshit! Is it her?!”
His yelling can be heard throughout the entire wall, everyone giving side glances to Andrea over the man who is currently screaming.
“Lando, I promise you, if I knew who it was, I would tell you.” Andrea gives, voice pleading.
It’s quiet for a moment, the only thing heard being the sounds of Lando’s heavy breathing. Solemnly, Andrea watches a camera zoom in past the smoke and center the number of the car in the frame.
Y/n’s car.
Clicking the button, Andrea speaks to Lando, “I can confirm it is Y/n’s car. No knowledge of if she’s gotten out of the car or not.”
Again, there’s silence before Lando’s hand smacks his steering wheel and he lets out a noise filled with anguish, “Please, tell me when you find out.”
Torturously, Lando passes by her car at every turn, watching only for a second as people work to try and get her out of the car.
Andrea watches in horror as a group of men lift her from the car, her body limp and unmoving as they run her to the safety car.
“She’s out of the car.” He murmurs to Lando, praying the boy won’t ask more questions.
He does, “Good! That’s good! By herself or did she need aid?”
The sound of Andrea’s heavy sigh kills Lando, “No, not by herself. She needed help.”
“How much help?”
Silence.
Lando yelps, “ANDREA! TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON RIGHT FUCKING NOW! THIS IS MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND! HOW MUCH FUCKING HELP?”
“She’s not moving.”
Lando doesn’t say anything, his mind racing as his eyes water.
Finally, he speaks, “I need to retire the car.”
Andrea and the rest of the pit wall turn to look at each other with outraged stares, “What? No, Lando. The car’s perfectly fine. The pace is great, no dam-”
Lando interrupts Andrea with a broken voice, “The car’s not the reason we need to retire the car. It’s the driver. It’s me.”
Everyone can hear it in the way his voice cracks, he’s crying, knowing he can’t see through it. It’s a danger, it truly is, and that forces Andrea and the team to comply with Lando’s demands.
When he parks in the garage, he clampers out. Shoving engineers, Andrea, his dad, Zak, and anyone else who gets in his way or tries to talk to him, Lando sprints over to the medical center. On his way, he loses his mind over the possibility that she might not be there, already at the hospital, or she will be there, but just her lifeless body.
He’s still drenched in sweat, the amount doubling from his running, when he gets there. Lando pushes past the people who stand at the front, not giving them time to tell him he can’t come in. He hears them call out in opposition, but he’s already in and he just doesn’t care.
There’s no time to address the feelings swirling in his stomach that feel ten times what he had felt for any of his past girlfriends. There’s no time to talk about the way he cries over the image of her burning car or her unconscious body being pulled from it. There’s no time to talk about the fact that, last year, he wouldn’t have acted this crazed over her accident. There’s no time to talk about the fact that, now, he’s fully prepared to brawl with anyone that dares to stand in his way of finding her.
There’s no time because he’s reaching her door and flinging it open. There are nurses beside her conscious figure, tending to the scratches and cuts she has from the car’s debris. Even with the bloodied bandages, Lando smiles at her smiling at him.
When she sees him, her arm reaches out for him without thinking. He takes long strides to get to her even in the small room and, when he does, he grabs her hand.
Kneeling down on the floor beside her, he squeezes her hand, “You okay?”
She nods, “Will be.”
“That’s good enough for me.” He whispers, nurses glancing at each other before exiting the room at the intimacy flowing between the two.
They really were selling this.
Suddenly, Y/n’s eyebrows knit together as her gaze lifts to the clock on the wall, “Wait, Lan, the race is still going. Did you crash?”
He shakes his head, eyes averting from hers, “No, I retired the car.”
Her other hand reaches to turn his gaze back to hers, holding his jaw softly as he smiles at her, “Why?” She whispers.
“Because I needed to make sure you were okay.”
The truth hangs in the air painfully.
They can’t speak of what that means or what that alludes to. They can’t speak of the way he clutches onto her hand as if she’ll go away. They can’t speak of the way he raced over here, throwing important people to the side in a state of pure panic. They can’t speak of the way they stare at each other, yearn for each other in a way that goes against every rule they agreed to when this started.
All they can do is kiss each other sweetly and lie.
Lie to themselves about what will happen after it’s over; lie to themselves about how much they truly care for each other; lie to the PR teams and tell them nothing is developing between them, that it’s safe to continue this.
And, most of all, later, when Zak asks Lando why he has lip gloss smudged against his mouth, they must lie.
—
“Can you zip me up?” Y/n turns around in the car, her back to Lando as her dress hangs open slightly at the top.
He nods, fingers delicate against her skin as he glides against it, trailing the cool metal up. His hands finish on her shoulders, slowly rubbing softly as she begins to lean against him.
“Lan, that feels good.” She mumbles, words slurred from the way his fingers work the knots under her skin.
Her body lies fully on him, his mouth by her ear as they wait to get to their destination. He continues to massage her, whispering random things in her ear about errands they need to run or complete tomorrow.
With her eyes closed and relaxed state, Lando admires how safe she feels around him. Five months ago, Y/n wouldn’t have dared to let him touch her in the way he was, in the way he had over the past two months, however things had changed. For better or for worse, Lando still wasn’t sure.
The driver in the front eyes them questionably, having witnessed the change in their dynamic over their months together.
With her body still limp against him, the car stops in front of the gala’s entrance. Photographers scream beyond the door and flashes of cameras blind them even as they sit behind the glass.
Looking at her and taking her hand in his, Lando whispers, “Ready?”
She nods, “Always.”
A man opens their door, the volume erupting as Lando steps out, his hand clutching Y/n’s as she follows suit. Immediately, they’re pulled into multiple pictures. Lando’s arm finds its home around her waist with Y/n’s hand resting on his chest, a couple so perfect for each other. Their endeavor had been so incredibly successful, both their teams’ PR divisions were pleasantly surprised. Lando looks on at her, a radiant smile gracing her face as she speaks to one of the reporters on the carpet, and hates the feeling of knowing how close the end is.
In just a few weeks, they’ll be sitting down to write a small paragraph, one that will be posted to their Instagram stories as it tries to sum up the romance they thought they had.
At night, he tries to think of words to describe the moments he’s had with her and, every time, he comes up empty.
Her laughing at the journalist’s joke makes him come to the conclusion there will never be a time where he can gather syllables to explain how undeniably perfect she is.
How he got to the place of being able to address how wonderful she was? Lando had an inkling it was because of the way she made his heart pound and hands sweat.
🏎️
Lando and Y/n easily make their rounds throughout the room, greeting sponsors and potential ones with their hands clasped together. It’s obvious how charming they are together, obvious when random strangers are flipping open their checkbooks at the sight of them. Lando knows it’s all her with her thoughtful sentences and engaging demeanor.
He’s a side piece and he’s okay with that, only okay with it when he’s her side piece.
They’re in the midst of sharing a new drink they decided to try, giggles shared between them as they pass the glass between each other. They had started doing this ages ago, when they first grew closer to one another. In order to make these events go by quicker, they started trying all the items on the alcoholic menu they had never heard before. Some of his favorite memories of her had taken place when she tried something she didn’t like and almost spit it out at him.
“I think this one’s good! What’s it called again? Something sexual, right?” She asks as he takes another swig.
Lando shakes his head, grin on his face as he lifts the drink up to their eye level, “I forgot, but it must be cum something. Sure does look like cum.”
Her mouth falls open and she screeches, “Lando!”
He falls over onto the table beside them, laughing, “What? You don’t swallow?”
She joins him in laughter, “You wish you knew.”
Of fucking course, he thinks.
“Lando?” A voice from his past calls from behind them.
Lando’s heart drops, turning around and seeing Luisinha.
“Hey, Lu!” She moves to hug him, squeezing him lightly before letting her eyes drift to the girl quietly standing with him.
“Hi, Y/n.” She speaks, smiling softly as she hugs her.
Luisinha giggles before looking between the two, “I assume I need to be reintroduced to you. Before, you were Y/n, driver for Red Bull. Now, you’re Y/n, Lando’s girlfriend.”
Y/n nods, a gesture that looks to come so easy to her, Lando wishes it was real.
They hug again, chuckling at the situation before Luisinha directs her attention back to her ex-boyfriend, “It’s nice to see you, Lan! All those nights spent on the phone just aren’t the same as seeing you in person.”
Y/n loses her breath over Lu’s words, gaze drifting immediately to Lando and watching as he nods along.
“Yeah! Seriously, talking to you over the phone isn’t enough.”
His response, easy and light, crushes her.
Y/n steps in closer, “Sorry, um, you two still talk?”
Luisinha looks to Lando, intrigue in her eyes as she searches him. Lando, the boy stuck between his past and present, realizes his mistake.
He shakes his hands, “No, I mean- Yes, but it’s not like that, Y/n.”
Luisinha stays silent as she watches Y/n try to keep her composure, “When was the last time you talked?”
Lando can’t bring himself to answer, so Lu does for him, feeling for the girl in between them, “Last night.”
He watches Y/n’s face slowly process the information. It’s as if reality comes crashing down on her, a harsh moment that reminds her of what they are to each other at the end of the day.
Y/n nods, smiling at the two before beginning to walk back, “I need a minute, sorry.”
Lu watches Lando long for her, momentarily wishing Y/n would just understand how much he feels for her, and Luisinha, finally, gets a wave of closure. She understands now why they broke up. When he ended it, Lando had told her he loved her more as a friend, something that broke her, yet, now, she understands why she had been so confused. Originally, she thought he did love her, he just been too afraid to tell her the real reason for their separation, but, as she stares at the pooling in his eyes, she sees a look she never got.
A look of intense love.
She nudges his arm, “Don’t let her get away.”
He nods at her, running off in the direction Y/n had left, eyes searching for her in the sea of people.
🏎️
Lando catches sight of her gorgeous y/h/c hair off in a small hallway of the hotel. He jogs over, her back to him, and lays a soft hand over her shoulder.
She stiffens, refusing to turn around and meet his eyes. However, his voice coaxes her, “Y/n, look at me.”
As much as she tries not to, she does and it breaks her further.
Her watery eyes and lost head tilt are a stab to Lando’s heart, her choked up voice speaking, “So, you were talking to her the entire time we were doing this?”
He’s at a loss, knowing that’s the perfect truth, yet knowing it isn’t fully, “Yes, but it doesn’t mean what you think it means.”
Her body jerks away from him and the anger he was usually greeted with returns, “Oh?! Then, what does it mean, Lando?! Because it looks like I meant fucking nothing to you! I know it isn’t in my head! I know what’s happened between us isn’t just some people getting over the hatred they had for each other! I thought you felt that way too!”
“I do!” He yells back, frustration at her obliviousness getting to him.
Tears leak down her face, “Then, why did you spend the entirety of this talking to your ex! Why’d you agree to this if you still love your ex?!”
Lando groans, “I don’t love my ex! I don’t love Lu! I love you!”
Her tears fall harder, “Do you? How could someone love another person they used to loathe?!”
Lando shakes his head, overwhelmed at what’s going on in his brain, “It just happened, Y/n! You think I thought this would happen?! No, I didn’t!”
Y/n resigns, quiet taking over other than their heavy breathing, “I don’t believe you.”
His annoyance takes over, “Well, then I don’t know what to tell you.”
I want you to tell me why you love me, she thinks. I want to know where your hate turned to love, she thinks.
Those things go unsaid.
Instead, she huffs, “I think this has gotten too out of hand. I think we need to end this arrangement early.”
She sees the unmistakable sadness etched into his face, “How early?”
“Like, tonight.” She whispers, protecting herself from the world of hurt that would be being loved by him. She isn’t Luisinha, she isn’t a model or breathtaking woman. She’s a girl who fell in love with a “boy’s” sport, a girl who has seen the flaws within herself and tried, desperately, to change them, rewrite them. She never does, although. She always comes out the same on the other side.
The truth catches up with her and images of the beautiful women Lando has had in his bed fill her mind. How does she know this isn’t some elaborate prank to get her vulnerable and then humiliate her out of the resentment he holds against her and the situation she got him in?
Lando musters up some sort of guard, distaste returning after its five month long hiatus, “Fine. I’ll let McLaren know. This works anyway. You served your purpose, got my reputation back to where it was before you came in and fucking destroyed it. You ruin everything, you know that, Y/n?”
She nods, cries intensifying at what she had been afraid of: his hatred for her returning after getting to know a side of him so tender.
“Got it, Lando.” She whispers, slinking past him and out of the building.
He watches her walk away, confused at how he had confessed his love for her and ended it by telling her she was destructive.
She isn’t. How could he say that?
How could he tell the one woman who had built him up that she had tore him down? How could he let frustrated anger replace the love he had for her?
How could he let her get away?
A/N: TUMBLR GLITCHED OUT AND WAS CRACKING DOWN AT HOW LONG THIS WAS SO I WILL MAKE A PART TWO WITH A HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE
ao nykē perzōñi iksi masterlist
you and I are made of fire
Daemon Targaryen x Stark!Reader
Summary: A tourney at Winterfell will change your life forever...
Warnings: canon-typical stuff, messing with the original timeline
• chapter 1 • ñuha dāria • my queen • summary: a dragon meets his match
• chapter 2 • ñuha prūmia • my heart • summary: celebrations after the tourney
• chapter 3 • ñuha ābrazȳrys • my wife • summary: you are presented to the court
• chapter 4 • ñuha dārilaros • my prince/my princess • summary: another celebration, another wedding
• chapter 5 • ñuha zaldrītsos • my little dragon • summary: you prove that you have more than enough fire in you
• chapter 6 • ñuha dārys • my king summary: a new king is crowned
It's so hard when you're country have a fucked up education system
"Scandalous" - Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader Gossip Girl/Boarding School AU - Series Masterlist (ONGOING)
Good morning, Crownlanders. Gossip Girl here giving you an exclusive look into the scandalous lives of King's Landing's elite.
Fall has arrived and with it, our favorite topics of conversation are all returning home to start the new year at Septa Maegelle's Academy for Young Ladies and Septon Barth's Academy for Young Gentlemen.
Jace and Cregan were seen arriving in the Stark family limo after spending the whole summer in Winterfell, accompanied by new student this term, Cregan's little sister, Sara. She and J seemed awfully close, which makes us wonder how that's going to go down with his long-time girlfriend, Baela.
B and her twin sister Rhaena also appear to have returned from a long holiday in Pentos with their parents, looking gorgeous as ever. It begs the question, though. J has accompanied B for every Pentos summer so far. What made this year different?
Aemond has been home all summer, mourning his break up with Floris. However, Little A was spotted going to the airport this morning, our first sighting of him all summer. What could have brought him out of hiding?
And finally? Our beloved Princess has returned home. She was deplaning her family’s jet at King's Landing International Airport with her Louis Vuitton luggage set in tow, coming home from doing some summer work for her mom's company in Sunspear alongside now-graduated bestie Helaena. But our sweet girl seems different somehow. What happened to her this summer?
And where in the world is Aegon? We miss you and your messiness, Big A.
When I find out, you'll be the first to know. You know you love me.
Xoxo,
Gossip Girl
Fandom: House of the Dragon
Main Pairing(s): Modern Aemond Targaryen x Reader
Side Pairing(s): Aegon Targaryen II x Reader, Cregan Stark x Reader, Platonic!Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader, Baela Targaryen x Jacaerys Velaryon x Sara Snow, Aemond Targaryen x Floris Baratheon
Chapter One: Dornish Holiday
Chapter Two: The Breakfast Brunch Club (Coming Soon)
Chapter Three: Petty in Pink
Chapter Four: St. Barth's Fire
Chapter Five: F(r)ight Night
More TBA...
Twin Flame Masterlist
All parts linked below the cut :)
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Twelve
Part Thirteen
Part Fourteen
Part Fifteen
Part Sixteen
Part Seventeen
Part Eighteen
Part Nineteen
Part Twenty
Part Twenty-One
Part Twenty-Two
Part Twenty-Three
Part Twenty-Four
Part Twenty-Five
Epilogue
save me team black man. SAVE ME.
darilaros (princess) │ Chapter 2: Dolls
terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!
Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 (Work In Progress!)
Synopsis: Lady Aemma brings a new child into the world—you. As the second daughter of Prince Viserys, soon to be King, you experience firsthand what it means to belong to the House of the Dragon.
Hello! My apologies for the wait. There was a whole mess of stuff that killed my drive to write for a few days. BUT, I’ve managed to write this one, featuring baby!Babey as a POV character! I’ve tried hard to keep it in a ‘small person’ voice, which got real old real fast, lol. Keep in mind that she’s around 3 years old in this one, so she’s not hella mature or anything. My thanks to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for reading this asshole over, lol.
TRIGGERS: child doing child things, child narrating Episode 1 of HotD, character death.
Keep reading
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞
"we have never heard the devil's side of the story, seeing as god wrote the book"
warnings: explicit language, drinking, motorsport accidents, mentions of sex, mentions of death, mature themes
graphic by @schuvries 🫶🏻
chapter zero
edits
playlist
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
chapter eleven
chapter twelve
chapter thirteen
chapter fourteen
chapter fifteen
chapter sixteen
chapter seventeen
chapter eighteen
Behind The Facades | Part II
An unrequited pining over a certain super solider.
Navigation: Part I || Part II || Part III (end)
Words: 3.3k++
Pairings: avenger!bucky x female!reader
Warnings: angst. pent up anger. unspoken jealousy. conflicted feelings.
P/S: i heard you. i got you. since lots of you enjoyed the supposedly oneshot, so i decided to do a continuation for this couple. Hope you enjoy~
Read my other works here: Masterlist
Weeks gone by, months flown through and the team was already accustomed Bucky's girlfriend wandering around the tower. Though they thought she would move-in eventually, knowing that Tony allowed them to do so, but she hadn't done it yet.
While Y/N, on the other hand, felt like she was constantly walking on thin ice. Being tug in between holding herself together and breaking down.
What's worst about this was, deep down, Y/N wanted to hate her.
Gail Richards.
Bucky's girl.
A gorgeous red-head, sultry champagne-colored eyes, a deep dimple on her right cheek, sculptured body of goddess and heart of gold.
Y/N got to admit that she hated how perfect Gail was for Bucky. She had such a kind soul; it's impossible not to fall for her. In hindsight, she was exactly what Bucky needed in his life.
What he deserve.
And in the end, Gail managed to steal not just Bucky's heart, but also the entire team's.
Including Y/N herself.
The friendship between Gail and Y/N was true and genuine; even if it hurts her everytime when she was forced to see Gail canoodling with the man she had fallen madly in love with.
"So where's the date? Did he tell you or is it a surprise kind of thing?" Gail's questions snapped Y/N from her deep internal thoughts.
Her gaze fell into her own reflection in the mirror; she was fitted with a simple black satin dress, with a quite scandalous slit on one side on her thigh. Standing behind her, was Gail, helping her out with the pearl necklace she was graciously lending it to Y/N.
"I don't remember the name but it's that new michelin star restaurant." Y/N replied as she straighten her dress, suddenly feeling conscious of how tight the dress was hugging her body.
"Oh! I know that fancy new restaurant. It opened last week, right? Bucky and I haven't had the chance to go yet. I heard it's pretty hard to get reservation. I must say, I'm impressed."
While Gail seemed to approve of Y/N's date, she didn't notice the way Y/N's body froze as she mentioned Bucky's name.
Her fingers were itching to dug it's nails somewhere, anywhere; as she try to keep her composure as neutral as possible, "Yeah, I'll definitely give you my review before you guys go on a date there. Who knows if its not up to the standards, right?"
Oh, how desperate she was on wanting to hide her pain away.
"That's great, y/n! But, I'd rather you actually enjoy the date rather than secretly being an undercover food critique. Forget about everything and have fun for once! Who knows this one is a keeper, huh?" Gail rubbed her hands to side of Y/N's arms; her eyes brighten as she encouraged her.
Ignorance is truly a bliss; though it's not that she knows that Y/N had been in love with Bucky this whole time.
On the other hand, Bucky was starting to feel the effects of what Gail had warned him before. He doesn't want to feel like she doesn't love him because she does.
At least she tries to.
Persuing Gail was not necessarily easy; not because he was lacking or she played hard to get. But because of how honest she was; how self aware she was.
"Being with me is a hell of a challenge, Bucky. My emotions are unpredictable. Today, I will love you ever so truly; I will drown you with all the kisses and cuddles you could ever imagine but the next day you might not being able to talk to me or even see me."
"I'll go M.I.A and isolate myself from the world at any time, with no warning. I shut down without any reason."
"I might not be there for you when you needed me the most. I might abandon you when all you wanted for me to stay."
"Worst part about it is I won't feel sorry for what I did because I can barely feel anything during those time."
But he insisted to try.
Maybe it was the sudden surge of passion when he met her but he was determined that they could make it work.
So, try they did.
As his relationship with Gail progresses, his and y/n's started to astray. He noticed y/n has been keeping her distance with him since he got together with Gail.
She had been cooped up in her room more often. There was a gradual changes in their schedule. Lesser trips to the corndog stall that y/n was obsessed with, canceled trips on visiting Alpine, the cute little kitten they have been eyeing at the adoption center, and almost none of the late night coffee trips.
He missed her.
From her annoying laugh to her odd habit of scratching things in her sleep.
Her smile, her voice, her presence.
He missed all of it.
He missed her.
Which was why Bucky thought it was better to talk it out with her. Maybe there was some sort of misunderstanding that needed to be clear out.
It took just single knock before Bucky intrude himself into Y/N's room, "Hey, y/n I don't want to disturb you but can we..." Bucky's sentence did not managed to end with a period, thus his words was instead left hanging just like his mouth.
"Oh, wow."
For a moment there, Bucky literally forgot how to breath. It was as if the reality around him was deteriorating, leaving just the perfect view of Y/N. For a split second, his gaze seemed to dilated into a trance, slowly getting bewitched by the beauty before him.
Bucky was so captivated by how, almost sinfully, beautiful Y/N looked in that dress, he didn't notice his own girlfriend was standing right next to her.
Gail carefully slide her way towards Bucky as she prompted, "So... what do you think, Buck? Gorgeous isn't she?" A dreamy sigh escaped from Gail's lips as she admire the woman in front of her.
"Yes. Yes, she is."
Those were the words Bucky wanted to say but his mouth wasn't listening to his heart, rather it followed his head, "I didn't know you were coming over, honey." Bucky arms reached towards Gail as he scooped her close to him, placing a soft kiss on her cheek.
It was subtle but if they paid enough attention, they could see how Y/N's gaze quickly shifted downwards to her feet. Her teeth sunk between the insides of her left cheek as an effort to distract herself from the thunderstorm within her chest. A little bit more force on her teeth would've tore her up and left her bleeding from the inside.
How much longer she must be in this torment? How much suffering her heart needs to endure until it adapt to the pain? She's tired of the ache in her chest but at the same time she can't help it when her heart yearn for a love that's never going to be hers.
"Well? Is she not goddamn beautiful?" Gail playfully slapped Bucky's arm, demanding her question to be answered.
"I mean..." Bucky stuttered to find words. Especially when those round doe eyes of Y/N's spark with anticipation.
All those milliseconds of time Bucky had to think of an appropriate, truthful answer but somehow he only come up with, "...i guess, you could do better."
Idiot.
Straight up dumb.
Bucky immediately regret his words when the gleam in Y/N's eyes suddenly faded; turning into something cold and stoic.
Gail huffed in denial, before taking Y/N's side, "Then you sir, need to check your eyes because she's absolutely stunning". Y/N gave a small smile as Gail pulled her for a side hug.
"Why are you dressed up anyway?" Bucky wanted change the topic before he said something stupid again.
There was a noticeable pause on Y/N's side as he asked, as if she was unwilling to tell him. However, the reluctantcy only arouses his curiosity.
Y/N turned around and faced the mirror. As she fixed the necklace near her collarbone, she made an eye contact with Bucky through his reflection and answered, "I have a date."
Something shifted in the air; as if it was getting heavier, sturdier.
"Who's the guy?" Bucky was clearly not amused with the idea. It barely filtered through his stern tone.
"Daniel. One of the SHIELD agent I worked with before." Y/N noticed how his expression morphed into a frown.
"Why is he making that face? "
Bucky seethed, "That douchebag? Really y/n?" There's a hint of disappointment in his voice; like how a father would scold his daughter of doing something stupid.
And that ticked her off.
She's a grown-ass woman; she can do whatever she wants, date whoever she wants. None of it was Bucky's concern.
"What do you mean?" Annoyance flowed through her tone.
Bucky rolled his eyes as he recognized that name.
Daniel.
That scumbag whose always staring at her. And not in a cute, crush-like way. There's nothing innocent about the way he stare at Y/N's ass and boobs, or always finding excuses to touch her.
However, Y/N has been oblivious to it since Bucky had always been with her.
Since when did that douche got close to Y/N? How did he managed to get Y/N agree to go to a fucking date with him? More importantly, how did Bucky not know all of this?
There was this uncontrollable, unexplainable rage within Bucky that he was unable to contain; like a venomous poison it seeped through his head, "Are you that needy to even consider going out with such scum? Come on, y/n. You're being naive, it's ridiculous." Bucky scoffed as his tone laced with scorn and mockery.
Gail gasped in complete shock, "What is wrong with you, Bucky? That's not--"
"That's not fair. How can you have the luxury to fall in love and lived happily ever after while I have to continue to break and break, again and again?"
"Ridiculous? Am I a fucking joke to you, Bucky?!" Y/N could hold back her own anger as she turned towards him. His face remained the way that it is; red and furious and he was not willing to put his ego down either.
"You know what?" Y/N swerved towards the bed, "I am going to go this date with Daniel, whether you like or not..." She took her purse on the edge of the mattress, "...and I am going to enjoy every second of it!"
"Thanks, Gail. I really appreciate your help today." Y/N smiled as she briefly took Gail's hands into hers. Blinking in confusion, Gail replied, "Y-yeah.. sure--" though her speech was cut short when Y/N interrupted.
"And you!" Y/N shot a glare towards Bucky before marching towards him, "You can go fuck yourself." She clashed her shoulders into Bucky's before walking out her own room.
Bucky gritted his teeth; his jaw clenched in pure vexation as his frown grew deeper.
Looking at her very angry looking boyfriend, Gail let out a tired sigh, "Why would you say such thing to her, Bucky?
Why did he say those things?
He could explain it much better way, knowing that he had plausible reason to why he thinks she should not go to this date.
But, why did he not do that?
Why did he lash out and spat those hurtful things to her?
Even Bucky himself was not sure why.
After that Bucky spent the rest of the night at the gym, and this was the third punching bag that he had completely destroyed. He could see his girlfriend coming in from the corner of his eyes, with an emergency kit in her hand.
She sat at a nearby bench before, "Bucky sweetheart, come here." Gail softly asked him sit with her.
Despite the grunts and gruffs that slipped from his lips, he still obeyed her; though partially was because she had been sternly staring at him.
Gail gently remove his boxing glove of his right hand, then lo and behold his knuckles was crushed and bloodied.
"The wrappings is there for a reason, you know?" She knew he would this; especially when he is guided by rage. Bucky remained silent, knowing that if he did not control his anger first; then he would probably do the same thing he did to Y/N again.
There was a comfortable silence as Gail was tending his wounds. Bucky looked down at her, focusing on cleaning the wounds. She was always careful and tender while handling Bucky; as if she was taking care of a child.
"You love her, don't you?" Gail calmly asked as she started to wrap Bucky's hand.
The question caught him by surprise, "What do you mean?"
She chuckled softly, "y/n. You love her. Am I right?" she reclarify.
It didn't need a genius to figure out how Bucky truly feels about Y/N. Even if he himself if not aware of his own feelings.
But she can see right through him.
She noticed how attentive was Bucky towards y/n. How he looked at her; like she's his whole world. How every single thing he does somehow relates back to Y/N; and he cannot go by a day without mentioning her name in their any conversation. How peaceful looked when y/n is anywhere near him.
She noticed every single one of those detail.
"Of couse, I do. It's y/n we're talking about here." Bucky replied as-matter-of-factly. Though there was some truth in his answer but it was not all.
Gail shook her head lightly as she holds Bucky's wounded hand in hers, "No, Bucky. You love her." Her brows crunched into a pleading curve as her gaze turned gentle.
Bucky frowned in confusion; he looked down at his hand where her thumb caressing his knuckles and he thought back all the moments he spent with y/n.
From the very first day he met her, on those nights she stayed with him, through thick and thin, her eyes on his, her smile on his cheek, her laugh in his arms, her voice in his ears, her skin on left arm, everything flashed through him so fast until a single moment when he realizes.
"I love her."
Gail recognized the glint his eyes, "And she loves you too, Buck." She coaxed.
The frown on his face turned into a shock as she spoke. Even if Y/N does love him, what does that mean?
"What are you saying?"
"Go." Her voice were somehow calmer than she was supposed to speak in such a dire situation.
Bucky knew what she meant; he knew what those eyes were telling him, "Gail, you--"
She cut him before he could say anything, "We did agree to see where will this take us..." her smiled was somehow bitter-sweet, "And I guess this is our end of the line."
A hit of pain struck Bucky's heart, "You don't have to do this." His left hand raised to tenderly cupped her cheeks; it was warm. Unlike his winter cold hand, she was warm. Like the soft heat from the morning sun.
She placed her hand on top of his as she craved a reassuring smile, "I want to."
And that broke Bucky's heart. And it broke for her.
He loved Gail.
All the feelings he felt for her was real. As real as the feelings he felt for Y/N. The only difference was he didn't realized he was in love with Y/N, but he did with Gail.
"And to be honest, I'm not sure I can keep up with the emotional commitments, I'm always M.I.A and lost in my own head..."
As Gail starts to ramble, Bucky wasn't hearing any of it. His eyes stings and his vision blurred.
There was only so much any man can handle.
There was joy in realizing his was in love with Y/N but there was also agony in knowing he had to break Gail's heart. Unable to hold back his emotions anymore, his tears finally broke out.
She was prepared not to cry today but seeing Bucky like this; who wouldn't tear up, right?
"Hey hey hey, I'll be okay. We'll be okay." She placed her palm on Bucky's cheeks, wiping away the tears with her thumb as she lead his gaze to her own.
"Bucky, listen to me. I don't want you feeling like you're alone." she cooed, her eyes had gotten glassy as tears filled within them. "You deserve so much more than what I can offer you, do you understand?" Bucky can simply nod as he feels like his voice will betray him.
"Good." Gail closed her eyes and leaned into a kiss. A soft innocent kiss on his forehead, as their tears fall on each other's bare skin, "Now, go get your girl."
<< Part I || Part III >>
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: Feel free to leave some feedback behind! And what do you think of Gail? I thought it'd be nice to have a different characteristics for her instead of the cliche 'bitchy and rude' girlfriend.
There's no actual taglist. So, I only include those who reblogged with comments and/or commented on the previous part. However, do tell if you want or do not want to be tagged.
Taglist: @ghostofwinter @angstysebfan @erinallene @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @paarthurnax59 @nomajdetective @kentokaze @dexter99 @nana1000night @prettyinpink350
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