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justaaveragereader · 3 months

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I Hate You

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Dom!Hwa, Toxic Hwa, Sadistic Hwa he’s just a huge red flag tbh , Mafia!Hwa, Hate Sex, Sub!Reader, Spit, Name Calling, Passing Liquid From One Mouth To Another, Degradation, Oral (Giving), Unprotected Sex, Cream Pie, Choking, Angsty, Manhandling, If I Missed Anything…👀Lemme Know👏🏼!

A/N: Hear me out…some about Hwa with a damn grill gone do it for me EVERY TIME! Him and that dang fur coat is giving mafia, if you disagree…you are blind. I was listening to Amy Winehouse ‘You Know I’m No Good.” and instantly thought of this for Hwa! Then I saw the unit pic him and Hongjoong took where Hwa is wearing black and white with that sleazy, smoldering look on his face and internally screameddddd! I swear ever since bouncy Hwa plagues my mind faithfully😔, I’m down bad fr. Also this isn’t fully proof read so if there is some mistakes…💀 my bad yall.

✍️Masterlist✍️

“Fuck you Park Seonghwa.” You spit through gritted teeth, both cheeks squished between one of his lackey henchmen.

“Give me the word boss, and I’ll end her pretty ass right here.”

Letting out a deep chuckle, man spreading even further in his chair, long brown fur coat draping against his seated figure. Letting out a click of his tongue. He snaps his fingers, the henchmen immediately let go of you. Your figure smacks the floor with a loud thud.

“You do have quite the mouth on you.” He says through laughter. Mocking you, like you are the scum of the earth. His eyes cut through you like sharpened glass. Your eyes shoot up briefly taking in his figure. Shirt unbuttoned right below his pecks, showing quite a bit of skin. Adjusting himself, you realize he’s bricked up against his jeans, the fabric dancing with different material down both pant legs. Was this fucker really getting off seeing you in misery?!

“I like them mouthy, it turns me on.” Getting up from his lax state in the chair, he makes his way over to you. You clench your face in disgust as he walks closer to you, shoes echoing with each step. You’ve seen this man in the daylight, and would never assume he was a monster by night.

His henchmen stand still almost like toy soldiers. Not daring to move an inch. This single man held so much power in just his aura it felt almost suffocating. Intoxicating…he’s got the type of power you could get drunk off of. Flicking his head to the side the group of men quickly file out. Leaving you and Seonghwa alone in the back of the warehouse.

“You wanted to see me.” He pauses his sentence, lifting his hands up, turning in a slow circle so you can soak in his full presence.

“Bask it in princess, because here I am, in the flesh.” He says almost too cocky for your liking. Smacking your lips at his over the top response. You roll your eyes, finding anything but him to look at, refusing to stroke his god-like ego.

“Now the real question is, I heard you were looking for big ol’ bad me.” He says through a pout, inching his way closer and closer to you. He moved swiftly, and was just as smooth as a snake.

Squatting down to your level, he places his hand on your jaw making you look at him. Your eyes burn holes into his. Lips drawn up tightly, almost snarling at him like you are kind of wild animal. Your veins can’t help but be filled with hate for this man. You hate that you seek him out, you hate how perfect he is in your eyes, you hate how he can do no wrong, you hate how hard you fell for him. You aren’t supposed to fall for a man like Park Seonghwa, no one was supposed to fall for a man like Park Seonghwa.

“Why are you looking for me? Aren’t you done with me?” He says nonchalantly. You feel like he’s spitting on you, like he’s showing you nothing but disrespect, like you mean nothing to him.

“Shut the fuck up.” You grit out, trying your best to move your face out of his grip, but he’s stronger than you. Making your head swoon with his strength, he was a no good for nothing man, but you were drawn to him. A true damsel in distress.

“Ooo I like when you talk nasty to me, it gets me hard. Real hard…” he says practically breathless, clearly he was turned on. He had been bricked since he saw his men toss carry your fighting body in the warehouse.

“I fucking hate you.” You spit at him. Words laced with venom. Laughing in your face, this was your routine with him. You say you hated him, how you weren’t looking for him, which lead to fucking, and him kicking you out. You’ve both danced with routine before.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop asking about me, stop looking for me.” He says kindly, but you know there is another layer to his soft spoken words. He's so unbothered at your hate for him, so sick and twisted in the mind that it fuels his body. Your eyes just cut to him, before rolling, darting away from him again. You didn’t want to admit out loud, nor give him the satisfaction of admitting that you were looking for him.

“Don’t look away from me y/n.” He states firmly. Gripping your face tighter, eyes flickering with games beneath them. Your eyes shoot back to him, almost annoyed at him.

“You hate me so much right? Then quit asking for me, quit looking for me.” He spits, making you wince after each word he speaks to you. Your eyes water slightly, moving your eyes to look to the side you were not going to give him any satisfaction.

“I hate you more than you can imagine Park Seonghwa.” Your whisper out loud, he can hear the broken record playing in your voice. The routine you constantly bestow on him.

“You know who I am, and you know just exactly what I do. So don’t shed any tears for me.” Shoving your face slightly back, he stands up, moving to sit back back on his chair. You watch as his fur coat sways from side to side as he plants himself on his chair. That crooked smile of his, gracing his face. You were disposable to him.

Your eyes watch his every move, popping open a bottle of liquor he takes a swig, shooting it down his throat like it was water. Smacking his lips obnoxiously, as he keeps eye contact with you. It was a battle in dominance that you knew you would lose. Leaning back in his chair, with the bottle resting between his legs. Your eyes slowly trace his body, soaking in every thing about this twisted man. Your body screamed for this man, your heart cried for him. You feel a flush of heat in between your legs at his cocky demeanor. With each sip of liquor he takes, he makes sure to keep eye contact with you while he shoots the tart liquid down. You catch a sly smile of his before he tips the bottle to slowly drip liquid down his chest.

With his head slightly cocked back he watched you through hooded eyes. His Matz neck tattoo sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Go on now princess, lick it up.”

You watched as the liquor ran down his body, drenching his neck and abdomen. Your eyes flicked down to his stomach, slowly traveling up his neck, meeting his eyes. Park Seonghwa was no good, you knew he was no good, hell, even he knew he was no good but that didn’t stop you. It didn’t stop the feeling of need growing in your core. With a smack of your lips you get on your hands, as you were still on the floor, slowly making your ways towards him, degrading yourself even further for him. Hands coming up to rest against his clothed thighs. Hard on staring you right in the face, thick at the base, with a lean to one side. Your fingers brush over it, trailing the thick vein that pulsates. His grin takes over his whole face, checkmate.

While he’s slack against the chair, man spreading so you fit in between his legs, he looks down at you. Grill twinkling in the poor fluorescent lights, he looks like trouble. His eyes say more than his own words do.

“Go on now sugar, be a good girl and put that tongue to use.” He says through a small chuckle, chest vibrating with each laugh.

“I know that pretty mouth is good for more than saying how much you hate me.”

You lick your lips slightly, before inching your body closer to his, your heated tongue comes into contact with his abdomen. Licking the liquor that remained there. The flavors makes your mouth water, while liquor was never your vice. Park Seonghwa was. He grips the handles of his chair, the feeling of your warm, soft tongue on his skin was like a reward. You were practically waving the white flag in his face. He won, he always wins.

Your tongue dips between each individual ab muscle, making sure not to leave any inch of skin uncovered. He tasted like heaven, yet you know this was far from it. As you inched further down his body you come right below his belly button. His happy trail right beneath your tongue, eliciting a loud groan out of him. He comes to cup the back of your neck, encouraging you to go lower. The fur from his coat tickles the sides of your arms, fingers on the button of his jeans, giving him a once over again you pop the button. Shimmying his pants down to his thighs his hard cock springs out, of course he was going commando. You stare up at him in disgust, jealousy lies beneath your skin.

His hand grips the back of your neck firmly, almost like he’s a mother cat, snatching his kitten up. He stares at you from beneath his nose. Taunting you, getting off at your misery. His member jumps slightly at seeing you in such a distressed state.

“I knew you were coming today ma. I knew you were going to warm my cock, so I thought why not forgo the boxers.”

You swallow loudly, gulping down the jealousy you were harboring. You should feel dirty, disgusted at the fact he knew you’d warm his leaking cock. Yet you can’t help but feel a swell of pride in your chest. He was waiting on you.

“You must’ve been pretty excited to see me.” You say, not looking him in his eyes but your voice gives you away. The small cracks and whimpers that leave your mouth are enough to know he’s got you in his trap per usual.

His black hair framed his face perfectly, the poor lighting made him look like he descended from heaven. Gripping his hard cock, you move the pre cum around the tip of it. Letting the back of your neck go, he leans back, watching the scene in front of him unfold. The feeling of your soft padded thumb on the tip of his head made him let out a groan. Black hair falling in front of his face.

Gathering all the spit in your mouth you slowly let it drop on his cock, the cool contrast to his hot member has him hissing, like the true snake he is. You lower your body, your soft lips engulf the tip. Giving it a few sucks, tossing his head back he grips the arms on his chair so tightly you watch his knuckles turn white. You look up at him through your lashes, it’s like he has sensors any time your eyes are on him. Biting his lip he says through a breathy chuckle..

“It’s been a while ma, take it easy on poor me.”

Your pussy flutters at the thought of him not giving himself to anyone but you, women threw themselves at Seonghwa, hell, even men threw themselves at Seonghwa. Times like this are when your head gets filled with disappointment but your heart gets filled with joy. Popping off his cock you lick a stripe up his leaking member, tasting the saltiness of him. Your mind clouds with thoughts…were you the last person he was with? Did he truly wait for you? The thoughts are too loud in your head, and Seonghwa notices. Brushing a thumb over your cheek, it breaks the spell on you. Crashing you down to reality.

“I’m not doing this.” You whisper out, brushing your hands off on his fur coat. You stand up, dusting your knees off. Looking him straight in the eye.

“I’m not dealing with your mind games Seonghwa!”

Everytime you raise your voice a higher octave his cock bobs up and down. The spit still pooling on his waiting cock, wrapping his own hand around it, he slowly strokes himself up and down watching your frantic figure yell at him.

“Mind games? What mind games?”

“Fuck you Seonghwa! You know exactly what I’m talking about! You fuck with my mind! You tell me to stay away from you but then you fill my head saying shit like ‘oh it’s been a while’, you know exactly what you do!” Yelling so loudly it bounces off the warehouse walls, echoing down the room. Not caring if his tin soldiers hear. Letting out a quiet laugh he looks up at you through hooded eyes, eyes so pitch black they swallow up his pupil.

“You know what I am, you know exactly who I am.” He says while continuing to stroke his cock, getting hard at the thought of you yelling at him, causing such a big fuss for lil ol’ him.

“You are such a piece of shit you know that?”

Biting his lip he leans forward, almost taunting you. Stomach muscles contracted with how fast he was close to reaching his peak.

“You are all bark and no bite, you hate me so much. Always screaming how you hate me but you always come crawling back. You hate me or you hate the thought of being without me?” He says matter of factly, hitting the nail right on the head. Steam is practically radiating off your body. Letting out a huff you march over to him, snatching the liquor bottle from his side, taking a long drink from it, before hovering over him. Sticking out his tongue, you let the liquor splash into his mouth, and down his throat. Shoving his upper body back, you slap his hands away. Shoving your pants down to your ankles before stepping out of them. Ripping the shirt over your head. Placing each of your thighs on the outer side of his legs, hovering over his waiting member.

“You taste so good.” He says through a whisper, licking his lips, drinking down any leftover liquid you splashed in his mouth. Grabbing the empty liquor bottle he takes another swig, groaning as you slowly lower your sopping wet pussy onto his waiting cock. He fills you wall to wall. Deliciously just like the last time. Gripping you by the back of your neck, he brings you close to his face, the tips of your noses brush against each other.

“You know I’m trouble, you know I’m no good, but here you are on my cock. Admit it baby..” he says, slapping your ass cheek real hard with his free hand. Bringing your naked chest to his own, the bottom half of his shirt brushes your lower stomach, making your body liter with goosebumps. He was practically fully clothed while you were stripped down for him.

“You hate me so much because I’m all you want.”

Pulling you back by the neck so there is distance between the both of you. His hand grips your ass, beginning to move you slowly up and down his cock. The fill of him has your mind on cloud nine. You want to wipe that smirk off his face but you know he’s right. Your heart tugs when he’s near.

“I’m all you need, you want me to survive. Think I’m going to run away with you? Hang this life up for you?” He says through grit teeth, ending his sentence with a slight laugh, mocking you. Not even sparing to sell you a dream because you’ve already sold yourself one. You should’ve known by now you can’t change a man, and he was not just any man. He was Park Seonghwa. You start working your hips to meet his thrusts, picking up speed as your walls get custom to his thick size in your cunt.

Squelching noises fill the warehouse, you both are breathing each other in. His eyes glimmer every time you slam your hips down on him. Tossing his head against the back of the chair, he grabs both of your ass cheeks slamming you down even harder into his length, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with each slam. Tossing your hands on his shoulders to stabilize yourself while you bounce around like a doll for him. Letting one of your ass cheeks go, he grabs the bottle of liquor.

Pouring it on your naked chest, he sticks his warm tongue against your heated skin, trying to slurp up the liquor that’s coated on your flesh. His cool lips, mixed with his warm tongue, has you mewling. Gripping the sides to his chair, you bounce faster up and down on his cock. Leaning your head back, you are in heaven right now. Licking a stripe up your neck, he laughs into your neck. You can feel him pulsate in your soft walls. The coolness of his grill has your pussy clenching down hard on him. He’s so deep in you that you can practically taste him in your mouth. The pleasure bringing you a whole new feeling has your eyes filled with tears of pleasure.

“Talked all that shit earlier, look at you now, bouncing on my cock like you have no fucking sense.”

You let out a pathetic cry, tilting your head back you try to take in as much air as you can. Every stroke up it feels like he’s knocking your lungs loose, your body burns with the constant need of this man. Biting your lip you look down at him through your lashes, trying your best to keep your eyes on him, scrunching your face, attempting to toss him a smug glare.

“Go on baby..fu-fuck. Tell me how much you hate me, it makes my dick hard.” He grits out with a chuckle watching you bounce up and down on his cock. Your hips still at the tip of his cock, as he clutches your ass, pistoning into you. The wet sound of his cock hammering away at you, has your eyes rolling, you are on the brink of an orgasm.

“Oh my god.” You moan loudly, nails digging into his clothes shoulders. Diving his face into your chest, he sucks and nips your skin, leaving small marks behind on the plush of your breast. Your mouth falls open, jaw going slack. Taking the opportunity he places his pointer and middle finger in your mouth, tugging down your jaw with his fingers.

“You are a fucking dick head.” You mumble out with your mouth full of his fingers, drool begins to pour landing over your breast that are flying in his face. His eyes briefly roll back, letting out a groan he pulls you closer to his face by your bottom jaw, wiggling his fingers in your mouth.

“Awww I’m a dickhead, yet you are drooling all over this dickhead.” He says through a chuckle, one harsh particular thrust has you practically biting down on his fingers. Letting out a low breathy moan, he removes his fingers from your mouth crashing his lips against yours, his grill clinking against your teeth. His hands travel to your ass again bouncing you faster. Your toes curl on the sides of his thighs, his grip on you is bruising, the wet skin slapping against his upper thighs. Tears fill your eyes once more at your orgasm building up

“I told you I was trouble, you know that I’m no good but look at you, bouncing on my cock like a bitch in heat.” He moans against your lips, nipping at your bottom lip, running his tongue along it, the taste of him on your mouth was sending you over. Tears overflowing from the pressure build up.

“Go on, tell me how much you hate me.” He grits wrapping a hand on the back of your neck in a possessive manner.

“Because you do, right? Hate me so much you wanna cry on this cock every night.” Slapping your ass harshly, feeling his heated hand print stinging on your skin you let out a choked out moan.

“Go on, tell me, I wanna hear you say it again. It turns me on.” He moans out, hips continuing into you, tears stream down your face, landing on his heated skin.

“I-I ha-hate you.” You say breathlessly, gripping his shoulders tighter. Your orgasm is at its tipping point with the way his cock is brushing against your cervix. Slapping your ass hard once more.

“Louder!”

“I ha-hate y-.”

“I can’t hear you!”

“I fucking hate you Park Seonghwa!” You scream at your orgasm tips over, clutching your fists into his shirt, hips immediately stopping, you fall over into Seonghwa chest pressed tightly against his very own while his hips continue to slam into your sopping cunt, your juices rolling down, soaking his jeans. Tossing his head back, his grip on you is bruising.

“Fuck Seonghwa, please!” You whimper out, your body is overly sensitive after your intense orgasm, and his bruising pace is making you more delirious.

“Fuck! Yes, yes yes!” His yells echoing in the entire warehouse without a second thought. With one final slam into your cunt he’s cumming deep in you, hips jerking up every couple of seconds to make sure you take every drop of him. His hands jiggle the meat off your flesh, before lightly rubbing where his bruising grip was.

Your heavy breathes are all that fill the room, pushing off his chest slightly, you groan at the feeling of his cum trickling out of you and around his member.

“You are so fucking stupid. I swear you are.”

He looks at you with one eye open, while the other remains shut from his post orgasmic bliss. With a deep chuckle, he pushes his black hair out of his face. Grabbing your chin between his fingers, bringing you close to his face. You stare him directly in the eyes, before the shimmer from his grill catches your eye.

“If you want me again for round two that’s all you have to say.” He whispers against your lips.

“Oh please, I barely enjoyed myself.” You say shoving him back by the chest, carefully removing yourself from his lap. You can feel his cum start to run down your inner thighs. Cutting your eyes at him you tug on the sleeve of his fur coat. Barely moving an inch he laughs at your frazzled state, pulling up his pants he buttons them again, watching your naked body move around quickly to find your clothes and put them on.

Just as you are buttoning your own pants. You hear the warehouse door slam open, the orange fur from the coat immediately catching your eye. Hongjoong is back…

“Oh..did I interrupt?” Hongjoong says, clearly unamused at Seonghwas actions.

“Hongjoong! You’re back early!” Seonghwa says, voice full of cheer.

Buttoning your pants all the way up, turning around all they see is the back of your shirt and pants as you walk away, feet practically stomping with each step.

“Fuck you Park Seonghwa!” You scream out, echoing so Hongjoong can hear.

“Seonghwa..” Hongjoong says quietly scolding him.

“Oh don’t you worry Hongjoong, she’ll be back!” He yells loudly, making sure that you hear him. Turning around you flip him off before continuing to stomp out of the warehouse.

“She always comes back..” he whispers quietly to himself as he watches your fleeing figure.

DO NOT REPOST.

GIF made by @justaaveragereader

#ateez x reader #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #dom! Seonghwa #mafia ateez #park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa smut #park seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #dom! ateez #dom! ateez smut #ateez imagines #kpop smut #ateez au

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armageddidnt · 8 months

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Welcome to My Collection of Random Thoughts during my nth* rewatch of Good Omens Season 2

*only amazon prime knows the exact number at this point but I’m fairly certain it’s in the double digits

Episode 1: Gabriel’s fly lurking in the box when Aziraphale first takes it inside 👀

Crowley’s promise of “two minutes” basically means that he’s been homeless and living in his car for the past 4 years strictly so that he can be within 2 driving minutes of Aziraphale at all times in case his angel needs him I’m not crying you are

So here I think the key word is “fragile,” Crowley knows they are ostensibly safe from their respective sides but that could change at any moment so he’s basically spent the last 4 years in anxiety-ridden terror hovering as close to Aziraphale as he can to try and protect him from heaven, hell, and anyone else that would want to bring him harm after all that business they pulled in season 1 with stopping Armageddon

Episode 2: I just happened to pause the episode while Aziraphale is lying to the angels about his miracle and LOL Michael really outdid himself here (Sheen, not the Archangel)

Gabriel trying to swat flies and almost smashing the repository of every single one of his memories

I’m cAckling

So if Good Omens exists in Good Omens, does that mean Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett exist in Good Omens?? Do you think they based their Aziraphale and Crowley characters on Aziraphale and Crowley??

Episode 3: So I’m trying to find any hints or foreshadowing of the Gabriel Beelzebub thing bc tbh I did kind of feel like it came out of nowhere which is really the only issue I have with them. I found this one scene where Beelzebub almost ?? seems to be concerned about Gabriel ?? But it’s blink and you miss it and there could be lots of other reasons why Beelzebub doesn’t want to fail in locating Gabriel (pressure from/leverage over heaven, etc) so idk

More Foreshadowing Fly content 🪰

Episode 4: So here we’ve seen that Shax can just appear inside the Bentley bc she did it earlier to talk to Crowley. Shax only pretended to be a hitchhiker so she could be invited in because Azirpahale was driving so technically she needed permission to cross the threshold of an angel 👀

This scene will never not destroy me the 1941 flashback is the absolute sOFTEST thing ever to happen on this show

We really need more context here I need to see the Crowley-Furfur Monkey Rides

Episode 5: ahahaha thank you google translate for absolutely destroying my sanity this evening

POP goes the Ziraphale

Okay I know you can’t hear it in the gif but just before Nina takes Maggie’s hand, there’s a very quiet miracle noise, like Azirpahale literally MADE Nina dance with Maggie, he said I’m writing a Mina Jane-Austen-Ball-AU and my otp will KISS godDAMMIT

Azirpahale seems lowkey kind of manic this whole scene tho, he’s controlling literally everyone to force Nina and Maggie together and whenever Crowley says anything that pokes holes in Aziraphale’s Magical Jane Austen Ball Fairytale, Aziraphale just straight up denies it. He wants Nina and Maggie to dance and he wants him and Crowley to dance and he refuses to acknowledge anything beyond that.

Is this just Shax insulting Crowley for how much of a nuisance he’s been or a reference to his former status as an angel ???

They’re both completely dismissive of each other when they’re trying to say something important and that’s the main issue they’ve been having this entire season tbh

Episode 6: I think it’s funny that Crowley describes the angels as bees here because in the book, Neil/Terry describe humans the same way. Guess we have more in common than we thought huh?

So the metatron was the one who originally decided Gabriel would be memory wiped and not sent to hell, and he was also the one that decided not to sound an alarm about Gabriel for some reason and said ‘just go find him yourself’ instead. The metatron has definitely got his own agenda and you can bet he doesn’t want Aziraphale up there in heaven because he’s a “leader” and he’s “honest” like that’s exactly what Gabriel was and look where it got him 👀

There’s just something I can’t quite put my finger on about the metatron bringing Aziraphale a coffee from “give me coffee or give me death” and then asking Aziraphale if he’s going to take the coffee he’s giving him…

I have not seen a single person talk about this since s2 came out but Nina literally calls Maggie “angel” because that’s the term of endearment they hear Crowley using for Aziraphale !!!! I’m still going fERAL over this and I can’t believe no one else is eitHER

Something about this part of The Final Fifteen compared to this scene from the first episode is so representative of the entire season. Azirpahale keeps saying “my way or get out” and Crowley finally hits a wall and can follow Aziraphale no further. So he does just that. He goes.

I’m sure a lot of us by now have seen this post that brings up how Aziraphale literally pushes the remains of Crowley into his mouth and swallows and it’s the only thing I see when I watch this now

We still don’t know for certain if Crowley queued up this song to play on their way to the Ritz or if the Bentley started playing it all on its own and it’s driving me insane

Basically how I am doing after my Truly-Alarming-Number-th watch of this traumatizing episode/season. WELP hope you enjoyed this garbage dump of my thoughts and feelings time to go cry for a bit again BYE

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #my season 2 rewatch aka: I Went Insane #i am unwell #I haven't slept properly in 44 days and counting #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #angel #demon #armageddidnt-blog #armageddidnt-gifset #armageddidnt-screaming #armageddidnt-pain #good omens 2x06

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dumbseee · 9 months

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stalker. pt.5.

masterlist.

charles leclerc x reader. / carlos sainz jr x reader.

fc: lalisa manoban.

note: listen to don’t blame me by taylor swift for this :)

trouble in paradise?

it seems like y/n l/n isn’t very faithful to her new boyfriend, carlos sainz if we believe his teammate charles leclerc who is also y/n’s ex boyfriend, #messy 👀. in case you lived under a rock, y/n and charles broke up a few months ago and only a month later she started dating sainz. these two looked in love until charles posted some weird insta stories hinting at y/n’s possible infidelity. the internet has been divided ever since that story with either #teamy/n or #teamcharles.

one thing for sure, y/n lost the support she had when she broke up with charles. we tried to get in touch with sainz but his team politely declined our calls, as for charles he only commented that his story was self explanatory and he didn’t need to add anything else. y/n on the other hand disappeared from social media since her comments sections were being jeopardised by haters.

and you, who’s team are you on?

landonorris just posted a story!

tagged: @.y/n @.francisca.cgomes

carlos put down his phone and got out his car, he was just in front of charles’s house and he came ready to put an end to his behaviour. he had charles’s address since they were teammates and once friends. the spaniard knocked multiple times, thinking about what he was going to do once charles opened the door, he rehearsed his lines a thousand times because he was scared that anger would take over once charles was in front of him. he just wanted to ask one question: why? why would he do that to you, when all he did during your relationship was hurting you over and over again.

"carlos. i knew i’d see you soon. how are you? my friend?" charles opened the door with a big smile which took carlos off guard but angered him even more. "your friend? do you even know the meaning of that word?" he answered through gritted teeth, taking a step inside charles’s apartment. "oh because you do? mister steal your girl?" charles’s attitude made carlos want to strangle him on the spot. "you really want to play that game? you cheated on her, coño how dare you act like you’re the victim here, hm?" carlos slightly pushed charles which made him take a step back.

"don’t fucking touch me." carlos knew that if he let his feelings get the best of him, this could end very badly, and he couldn’t do this to you. "you say that you still love her, that cheating on her was a mistake, but what about what you’re doing right now? everyone think that she cheated on me with you! that’s not love charles, it’s obsession." carlos added, trying to resonate the monegasque. "you don’t understand the bond we have, sainz. she’s just messing with you to get to me." charles smiled. "leave her alone, leclerc. don’t make me repeat myself." the monegasque took a step towards his teammate and grabbed him by his collar. "or what, sainz? what are you going to do, hm? because i’m never going to stop, y/n is mine and mine only." the spaniard couldn’t recognise the man in front of him, the one he once called his ‘hermanito’, the one he loved to piss off during training and the one he loved to film challenges for the fans. the man in front of him wasn’t the charles he knew. that’s why carlos didn’t feel bad for what he was about to do.

"i came here to see if i could resonate you, it was the last chance i was going to give you. but you made me realise that the charles i knew was long gone. what you’re feeling right now is not love, i’m not saying that you never loved y/n, it’s not my place to judge that, but right now you’re nothing but a stalker, charles." carlos pushed charles off him and rearranged his collar. "what i’m feeling for y/n is true love because i know that once i’ll realise that she’s happier without me, i’ll leave her alone immediately, because her happiness is more important than mine." and with that, carlos left a speechless charles behind.

later that night, carlos came back to your shared apartment, he found you asleep on the couch while your favorite tv show was playing. he smiled and took off his shoes and jacket before slowly crouching next to you. he brushed the strands of hair in front of your face and kissed your forehead. that made you open your eyes, and what you saw in front of you made you think you were dreaming. "carlos?" you asked, tears forming in the corner of your eyes. "yes, cariño, i’m home." you bit your lip and hugged him tightly while he was stroking your hair. "i’m so sorry for making you cry, i never once doubted you."

y/n just posted a story!

taglist: @ferrariloverr @incoherenciass @avengersheart @roseseraj @styles-sunflower @thievin-stealing @hiraethrhapsody @ariagonzalezsstuff @vellicora @buckybarnessweetheart @leclercloml @ru-kru @slytherheign @95lomty

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bigfatbimbo · 2 months

Note

Hate sex velvette hate sex velvette!!!! 👀

a/n — Oh boy, I had fun with this. I love enemies to lovers or rivals prompts.

summary — At one of those overlords meetings, you and Velvette decide to have a little fun beforehand. Even if you hate eachother.

warnings— Smut, top!reader, bottom!Velvette, rolls are kinda switchy though, desk sex, you two are very mean to eachother, gn but afab implied reader

It doesn’t take long for Velvette to pull you into a separate room and slam her lips against yours. The overlords meeting could wait, she thought, and besides, you had time.

Your hands are quick to hoist her up by her thighs and place her on the nearest desk. Items fall off on either side, crashing to the ground with loud clunks.

“Could you try to be less of a fucking wrecking ball?” Velvette sneers at you, temporarily breaking the kiss, “There are people around, you dunce.”

“Oh, so now you like it gentle? Because last time—“ Your cut off by an annoyed groan from Velvette as she pulls you back in for an aggressive kiss.

Your hands lean on the table on either side of her hips as she works to unbutton your shirt.

“Did you bring the strap?” She pants into your mouth.

“Why the fuck would I bring a strap to an overlords meeting?” You hiss at her, hands falling to undo her belt.

“You say that like you weren’t looking forward to having me like this,” She smirks at you, resting her hands on your bare chest as you sneer down at her.

Instead of giving her a response, your lips fall on her neck and start sucking. She sighs excitedly, assisting you in taking off her bra.

Your lips slowly climb up her neck and rest in an area far too obvious for her liking.

“Hey, stop that. What the fuck are you trying to do, tell the world, or something?” She snaps.

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with telling the world when you were screaming my name at that party last week,” you laugh, but oblige and stick to much lower, less apparent area of her neck.

“Fuck you,” Velvette pulls you up to her lips for another kiss, and your hand slips lower and lower until finding her panties.

Your hands slips lower and rubs at the wet spot of her pink lacey underwear.

“Wet, already? And here I thought you hated me,” You gloat, drawing an annoyed groan from Velvette before being abruptly pushed down by your shoulders.

“Your lucky ass should make it count,” She hisses down at you.

You didn’t waste time, the meeting was drawing closer and closer and you needed her fast.

Pulling her panties down, you don’t hesitate to shove your tongue into her pussy.

Velvette squeaks from above you, hands finding your hair and pushing you deeper into her.

“Oh fuck, just like that,” she moans as you bury your face in her cunt.

A part of you hoped no other early overlords would hear you, but then again, another part of you wanted to make sure you were heard.

You suck on her clit like you were dying of thirst, lapping up everything you can get. Velvette struggles to stay quiet above you, every now and then glancing at the doorway.

It was hard be cautious when someone she hated was eating her out in a way that was, for lack of a better word, incredibly hot.

Still buried in her pussy, you push her back on the table to get a better angle.

“Fuck that’s good. Oh god, don’t stop, darling,” Velvette struggles to not whine too loudly as you devour her.

There was something so appealing to her about this situation. It was obnoxiously clear that you two didn’t like each other. And yet, these stolen moments were something Velvette looked forward too more than anything.

And from that looks of it, the same goes for you. The affair wasn’t new, in fact neither of you could remember when it really started.

But for the longest time you two would follow the same routine; arguing like you were gearing up to kill each other, and then fucking until one of you couldn’t even think to utter any witty retorts.

“I’m— fuck— I’m close, darling, god,” Velvette moaned a little too loudly for your taste as you continued playing with her clit.

Eagerly lapping her up, you drew out desperate and content moans and whines from her. Although you lacked time, you wanted to draw the orgasm out. Even if you two did hate each other, neither of you ever really wanted to session to end.

However, today there was no time for that. So you gave generously long licks and your hands roamed that area around her thighs.

Finally, with one guttural, incredibly loud moan, Velvette released all over your tongue and face.

You didn’t come up for air for a long moment, at least until Velvette pulled you up herself.

“You’ve got—“ she said in between pants, “—You’ve got a little something on your face, dear. Looks rather messy.”

You lean into kiss her but she stops you, “Fuck no, full face of makeup on, remember? Don’t need you fucking shit up with your nasty cum-covered face.”

And like that, you were back to being pissed off at her. With a roll of your eyes you groaned and pulled away, “Always so fucking pissy. And it’s literally your fucking cum too.”

“Doesn’t change the fact you’re a filthy pervert,” Velvette hopped off the desk and pulled up her panties, looking in a near by mirror to fix her disheveled clothes.

“I didn’t bitch about it when you grabbed my hair like it was your life line,” You sneer, grabbing nearby, hopefully clean, napkins to clean off your face.

“Well, it’s hard to bitch with a face full of pussy,” Velvette laughs haughtily.

“Yeah, well, it’s also hard to bitch when you’re moaning like a slut over your enemies tongue.”

She pauses, blush rising, “Fuck you. Besides, hasn’t stopped me before.”

“Oh, give me a break,” You say walked towards the door, cracking it open to peer outside. When you don’t see any one of value, you open it widely and usher Velvette outside.

“Ladies first,” you say, dramatically bowing.

“Oh, how kind,” Velvette pinched your cheek aggressively before trotting out the door, muttering a few insults as she left, “Fucking asshole.”

As you watched her leave and head towards the meeting room, you couldn’t help but sigh. You didn’t want her to go. In fact, part of you didn’t even want her to hate you.

God, you were so, totally, fucked.

a/n — Please oh my god the hate sex prompts are so fun. I literally have shit like that coming out with Charlie later and i’m boutta have a blast.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x you #dom reader #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette hazbin hotel #hazbin velvette #velvette x reader

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suzukiblu · 4 months

Text

Hey kids, I've got some more "Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good!" behind this here read-more. You know, if that's a thing you're into. 👀

“I don’t know what names are good,” Superboy says finally, his voice stiff. “Or sound good. I never even heard music before Kid Flash was–I just don’t know what sounds are good. Or whatever.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s ‘good’,” Billy says, wondering why Superboy cares so much about his name “sounding” good and also why Cadmus is apparently the worst. They never even played music for him? What, at all? He makes an immediate mental note to figure out how to set up the wireless speakers Batman had delivered and, like, Spotify or something. “You just have to like it.”

“Oh,” Superboy says, just barely frowning again. “Are you . . . sure?”

“Yeah,” Billy says firmly. “I’m definitely sure.”

“Oh,” Superboy says again, then looks down at his feet. Billy feels bad for him and is going to set up like, a million different playlists the first chance he gets. Just like a lot of different stuff, so Superboy can figure out what he likes.

“Do you still want suggestions?” he asks. “I promise I won’t pick anything that sounds bad.”

“. . . fine,” Superboy says, still looking at his feet. It’s not a resounding “yes” or anything, but it’s no a “no”, Billy’s pretty sure, and he does want to help Superboy pick a good name, so . . . it’s probably okay to try again, he thinks.

“Okay,” he says, trying to think of something really good and not just random stuff this time. Like–names are important, and Superboy obviously cares about what other people are gonna think of what he picks, so . . .

Superboy keeps not looking at him. Billy tries not to worry about it. Maybe Superboy just doesn’t like looking at people at all. He didn’t make eye contact with Kid Flash’s parents while they were here either, and barely even with Kid Flash. Which makes sense, he guesses, because why would someone used to telepathic communication really feel a need to look at anyone’s face? Superboy probably doesn’t have the . . . instinct, or whatever.

Well, it’s fine if he doesn’t, Billy figures. Either he’ll learn it or he’ll just not like it either way, and neither of those options are a big deal or anything. The name thing and coming up with rules and stuff and helping Superboy feel comfortable are way more important right now.

"Um . . . actually, my mom's name was Marilyn," Billy suggests a little shyly as an old idea occurs to him. It’s been a while since he really thought about it, honestly, but . . . "So you could be 'Lynn', maybe? If that's not too weird? I used to think that if I ever had a kid I'd name them after my mom, 'cuz my dad's name was Clarence and that's pretty old-fashioned, though I guess if you were a girl you could've just been 'Claire', so . . . well, maybe Clarence could be your middle name, actually? If you like it, I mean."

Superboy . . . pauses. Frowns at the floor.

"Why would you name me that?" he asks skeptically. "You might have an actual kid someday and want to use it for them."

"I have an actual kid right now," Billy says reasonably. "Why wouldn't I use it for you?"

Superboy sits very, very still, and doesn't say anything. Billy starts worrying that maybe that was weird or too much and maybe he's already the worst dad ever and maybe now Superboy thinks he's weird and too much and the worst dad ever and is just gonna get up and go straight back to Kid Flash's house and never even talk to him again or–

"I count as an actual kid to you?" Superboy asks, his voice completely neutral.

Oh, Billy realizes.

Man, he's dumb sometimes.

"Yeah," he says firmly. "You definitely count."

". . . okay," Superboy says, looking at the wall. "'Lynn' works."

"Awesome," Billy says, smiling at him as wide as he thinks he can get away with. He doesn't want to look fake or like he's trying too hard or to be overwhelming or anything like that. He just wants to make it obvious that he's happy right now. "Nice to meet you, Lynn Clarence Batson."

"Nice to meet you too," Superboy says–Lynn says–glancing sidelong at him just a little bit hesitantly. "Um . . . Dad."

Billy grins.

Okay. Not the worst dad ever after all, then.

#billy batson #conner kent #captain marvel #shazam #superboy #young justice #wip: billy adopts conner and it actually goes pretty good!#rinfic

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stardew-shitposterino · 6 months

Text

Stardew Valley Bachelors and how they deal with their secret crush on the farmer

———-——————————

BEHOOOOLD! I’m kind of back but I’m not because I have a job and feel tired most of the time. I still need to get used to adult life. Anyway, here are the bachelors and how they deal with having a fat crush on you, you cutesy farmer person covered in filth!

Contents might be a bit NSFW so MINORS…you know what not to do *fights them off with a stick*

Enjoy my brainrot 🍓🥰

Sam:

-Sammy is a cute little guy, almost like a dog wagging it’s tail when they see their owner.

-he is SO BAD at hiding it

-he will dream about you two jamming on a big stage together. In his ideal world, you two are a successful duo who make noise rock (kind of like the white stripes minus the weird siblings or married controversy)

-Sam will write songs about you. It’s not intentional per say, and he thinks he really sucks at writing love songs, but it just happens whenever he has to think about you. The words just start flowing.

-he might or might not have had some steamy shower fantasies about you…while in the shower. Jodie keeps complaining about the water bill being unusually high 👀

-yet, Sam is usually not too horny when he is in love with you. He is more gushy and daydreamy than anything

Sebastian:

-homeboy works with nightcore versions of love songs to cope with his longing

-he isn’t the type to show his feelings so openly, so no one really notices his crush on you. Maybe Sam, but well, he is Seb’s best bud. Of course he can tell

-He notices how his sleep has improved since having a crush on you. He willingly goes to bed earlier to have some time to imagine scenarios of you two

-just you and him together on his cool ass motorcycle, driving into the night and ending it with a passionate kiss (sounds familiar?)

-well,,, let’s just say Seb is increasingly horny since having a crush on you. Before, he was almost certain he is some sort of asexual, but nope 😃 he’s healthy and extremely down bad for the filthy farmer who eats raw fish out of the pond 🥰

-what I mean by horny? Uhhh… he didn’t really need to rely on certain websites to satisfy his needs, that’s for sure 👀

Harvey:

-Harvey is a good man. A very good man

-god bless his soul 😫

-Harv isn’t the type to have crushes easily…I can’t believe it either, considering his crush on Maru who is way younger than him 💀

-but in my head, he isn’t the type to be all lovey dovey over someone. That’s why he’s so bad at hiding it. But you don’t really notice. You just suspect it but it could also be his usual anxiety lol

-it happened anyway😎 and he doesn’t know how to cope. At all.

-he has to think about you at all times, especially when he looks at the empty jars of delicious pickles you’ve made him

-This man is usually collected, but now?! He forgets everything, can’t even form a comprehensible sentence at times when his mind is busy thinking about a romantic picknick date with a lovely farmer

-Harvey’s libido is pretty much a dead beat horse 💀 but now he even feels the desire to do some nasty nasty at times. It’s still pretty tame, he’s a gentleman through and through, but wild for him to have those feelings and longings after what feels like decades. He’s not mad at it. He has felt low-key dead inside for so long so this is very exciting and he’s eager to explore this side of him…despite being anxious 😭

Elliott:

-bet your ass he’s the prince of crushes

-he is very dedicated and welcomes those refreshing feelings with a kiss

-feeling better than usual AND having inspiration to write ?! SIGN HIM UP

-he will use every chance he can get to talk to you, maybe even get you drunk (in a non creepy way) because he likes when you’re unapologetically authentic and let loose. It makes him feel more in touch with your soul (or some shit idk I’m not a poet)

-Elliott is NOT SUBTLE

-you practically know from the start that he has the hots for you, but it’s kinda funny seeing him try to pretend it’s not that way…if you can even call that pretending not to be 😭

- his passion doesn’t end at his artistry. This guy will spend a lot of time in his shower thinking about what could be, or sitting at the docks at night just staring at the sea (he’s NOT doing anything nasty in public, peeps. Don’t get it twisted)

-I can also see him recreate a romantic bedroom date he’d love to have with you…but it’s just him 🤷🏼‍♀️ self care king 👑

Shane:

-like Harvey: HE CANNOT COPE!

-he hasn’t felt like this since high school. Every other encounter with potential partners was surface level and only based on sexual satisfaction

-so caring about you, thinking about what makes you happy and how he could be the reason you smile every day, that’s a lot for him

-as stupid as it sounds, he spirals and becomes low-key miserable over it. Give this man a 101 lesson on how to process emotions 😭

-despite the constant anxiety he feels, he low-key enjoys it. It’s kind of hopeless as well as pointless in his honest opinion, but there is this believe, that 0.00001% chance (in his mind) that he could turn his life around and be happy with you, married and maybe have a child of his own one day

-but that’s wishful thinking, riiiiiiight? So what does a self loathing piece of alcoholic man do instead of making a move? Yeah, self pleasure even more than usual, to get at least a bit of serotonin and the willpower to get his shit together, at least for you if it isn’t for him. He’s pretty rough with it too (ouch, unless you’re into that)

-sorry bros but him having a crush is not really all that cute. He’s my cutie pie, but let’s be real: him dealing with those feelings he tried to shut off for so long will be tragic in a way. He’s battling his inner demons here. So yeah… :(

Alex:

-my man, my maaaaan 🥰

-he has earned a soft spot in my heart, bless his soul

-so Alex has a crush on you from the start, it’s basically canon

-can he show his feelings? Yes! Can he do that in a way that can be read as the feelings he tries to get across to you? NO!

-low-key bullying is his love language 🥰

-at least in the beginning. He’s a bit anxious and fears he isn’t good enough for you, so he doesn’t try to be authentic. Being the jock jerk everyone expects him to be gets a reaction out of you and that’s better than nothing, right?

-he’s neither the poetic nor the intellectual type, so he doesn’t process his emotions by writing them down or putting them into words. Just imagine him going about his work-out routine, just thinking about your beautiful smile and rocking bod while sweating like a hog

-Alex and quiet ? Yes that’s possible. I imagine him to go quieter than usual since having a crush on you. He processes everything internally and that takes a lot of time for him as he usually just shrugs off his emotions and doesn’t try to brood too much on them. But now?! He can’t but blush in silence as he just imagines how soft and small your hands must be next to his (yours are way more impressive than his and calloused to the gods, but let him have this moment)

-when it comes to being nasty…Alex is a serial romantic. We know that he probably was the lady’s man back in school so he probably got some action one way or another. In other words, man has the libido of a teen that just hit puberty 💀

-despite being quite horny, he was able to manage to just do it every other day. Now, he cannot even get out of bed in the morning before doing it as you pester his dreams and make his hormones go crazy first thing in the morning…so many nice boxer shorts were lost along the way 🫡

-he also did his own laundry for the first time during that period lmfao

#stardew valley #sdv #sdv shane #sdv bachelors #sdv Alex #sdv Sam #sdv Elliott #sdv Harvey #sdv sebastian #sdv headcanons #stardew valley harvey #stardew valley shane #Stardew valley Sam #stardew valley sebastian #Stardew valley Elliott #Stardew valley Alex

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masonreds · 4 days

Text

mason mount x reader

Summary: Y/N distances herself from Mason thinking that it would help her feelings.

word count: 3,7k words

notes: sorry if this is a bit too dramatic for you’re liking 👀 also take a shot for everytime y/n says sorry 😂😂 I’ve also not posted in a while so please leave feedback if you can, it will be appreciated 💞

This isn't how you expected tonight to go.

Here you were, in the bathroom locked away from the fun downsatairs, away from your own birthday party. You just couldn't handle it anymore.

You couldn't handle your feelings for him anymore. You hated being friends when deep down you know you knew what you wanted and the possibility of him turning you down, rejecting you just thinking about it made you an anxious mess.

You couldn't keep this up anymore. You wanted more.

The knocking on the bathroom door made you snap back into reality, and you already knew who it was without them even talking.

You just knew it was Mason.

The person who'd you been trying to avoid for the rest of the night.

'Last I checked, the afterparty hasn't been moved to the bathroom.'

'I'll just be a minute!' You say, trying to sound normal enough.

'What's wrong?' Apparently not.

'What do you mean? I'm just freshening up a bit.'

'What's bothering you?'

'i don't know what you mean,' you try to laugh it off , but the pressure in your chest becomes a little too tight and it comes out as a more gasping noise than a light chuckle. You clear your throat. 'i told you, I'll be out in a minute. It's getting late, everybody else has probably gone, you can go too. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?'

Mason just ignores what you said. 'You would've at least made five sarcastic comments in the last two minutes if everything was fine. You forget how i can read you like a book.' He pauses. 'And you certainly wouldn't be hiding away from your own birthday party for most of the night. Especially when you always refuse to let me leave without helping you clean up.'

Shit

'Mase, i told you, I'm -'

'Cut the bullshit, Y/N.' He told you sternly, before continuing, 'I watched you blow out the candles. I saw that look you made after you made your wish, and you looked up at me for a split second. And that look you had on your face, as if you were going to start crying right there and then. You masked it quickly, but I saw it. I’m not going to stand here and pretend I didn’t see it.’

‘I don’t know what you’re-’

‘Yes you do,’ he interjects. ‘Because right about an hour ago I’m handing you a drink and the next thing I know, I see your face crumple like that again. And-’ he takes a deep breath before continuing. ‘And it fucking broke my heart.’

You stood there, stunned.

‘So, are you going to tell me what I did wrong?’ He asks.

‘You didn’t do-’

‘Because you’re my best friend,’ he reminds you. ‘And I feel like I have a right to know what I did that made you make that face.’

There’s a beat of silence, and he says, in a lower tone than before. ‘Because I would do anything to make sure I never see it again. It breaks my heart seeing you like that.’

Stood still, your gaze is fixed at the door speed the two of you.

‘Y/N.’ He calls out, sounding more desperate than you ever thought him capable of being.

And that does it. The tears you’ve been desperately holding back through every conversation with him you had, not only tonight, but since the day you realised that you were in love with him. You’ve reached the point where there was no return, and the person you want to run to the most is also the one you couldn’t possible bare to see you in this state.

The stretch of silence following your name from his lips feels endless. You feel like you’ve been standing in front of the door, with your face painfully scrunched in a vain attempt to stop the tears from falling, for an eternity. That is until it’s broken by your shuddering gasp for air.

‘Y/N.’ He says again. Only this time his voice has shifted, even thought the distance hasn’t changed, you can feel his voice everywhere now. It has penetrated the walls and filled every corner of the room. You realise this is the first time he’s seen you cry.

Well, no. He still can’t see you.

He can only hear you, which means there’s still time to fix things going from bad to worse.

‘C’mon princess, don’t cry sweetheart,’ he beckons. ‘Please. Just come out and we’ll fix whatever’s happening. I swear.’

Those nicknames, which he sometimes throws around fondly and always makes your chest tighten in joy every time you hear them. It feels worse now. It feels torturous and cruel to hear him casually call you things you wished he truly meant.

And that only makes you cry harder.

Oh how you wish things were different, and how you wished you were destined to be with him.

‘I-I’m begging you,’ his voice sounds strained, and you feel guilty for putting him in such an uncomfortable situation.

‘I’m fine,’ you manage. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll be okay in a sec.’

‘But you never cry,’ he says. Which was true, you never let him saw you raw emotions. You wanted him to think that you were fine and that you could handle it, until you couldn’t anymore.

‘I’m sorry,’ you whisper.

‘Stop apologising,’ he says firmly. ‘Now, can you please come out?’

‘I can’t.’

‘And why’s that?’

‘Because,’ you squeeze your eyes shut as more tears spill over. ‘You can’t see me like this. I don’t want it to change our friendship.’

‘Well what if I want it to?’ He counters.

‘What?!!’

‘What if I want it to affect our friendship?’ He sighs. ‘What if I want you to think you can come to me when you’re upset? Do you really think I’d push you away when you’re like this?’

You can’t get any words out. All you can do is let out a pathetic sob at the kindness of his words.

At my crying he stammers, ‘I’m sorry, did I say something wrong? I just meant-’

‘No!!’

‘No?’ He questions.

‘No,’ you can’t help but smile a little.

‘Well, look, I’m not going to force you to come out,’ he says. ‘If you truly want to be alone, I get that, and I’ll leave and you can come out whenever you’re ready.’

Good.

I think I can work with that - you thought.

‘But if the only reason you’re not coming out is because you’re afraid of how I’m going to react, then I’m the one who fucked up for making you think that you always need to be in a good mood around me,’ his voice softens. ‘I’ll leave you alone if you want, but please don’t try to push me away.’

Damn.

You almost left out a huff of laughter, because you know that no matter what you promised yourself, he always weakens your resolve. And it’s at this moment where you realise just how exhausted you are - how nearly two years of suppressing your feelings have been slowly eating away at you. And the weight of your misery becomes unbearable, and all you want is to leave the terrible ache in your chest behind.

More tears come running down your cheek, that you couldn’t seem to stop. You don’t bother wiping them away as you stare at yourself into the mirror. You see the hollowness of your eyes, the way you look pale in the dim bathroom light, and you know you can hardly handle the weight of your secret for much longer. Giving yourself an almost nod of understanding before reaching the door handle, unlocking the door and throwing common sense out of the window.

‘Princess?’ He asks. Your chest tightens at the sound of that stupid nickname again. It started off as a joke, Mason teasing you after you shared your love of fantasy books and fairy tales with him. And it stuck around, quickly becoming Mason’s favourite way to make you flustered while you always shoot him with an annoyed glare. You always told him you hated it, but after a while you began to carry it with a sense of pride. As much as it pained you to know he was only joking, it always made your heart contract in a way he was only capable of causing.

‘Promise me one thing?’ Your voice is unsteady from all the crying you’ve been doing.

‘Anything.’

‘Shut your eyes, will you?’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Not to brag or anything but I’m certain I’m one of the most ugliest criers out there. And I’m not sure if I can stand you see me like that,’ you do your best to joke. ‘Just for now, at least.’

‘You don’t realise how silly you sound, do you? But if that’s what makes you come out, then yeah sure.’ He says.

And with that, you pull the door handle down so you can open the door.

Mason’s perched at the very end of your bed, his hands resting on his lap. He’s facing you, and you’re relieved to see that his dud are still shut, as promised. You stand there for what feels like an endless amount of time, too stunned to move. But slowly, his hands move from his lap and palms his face up, beckoning you over.

It’s all the cue you need, and you step forward, placing your hands on his forearms, your grip is still shaky. Whilst his eyes are still closed, he engulfs you into a hug. You have hugged Mason plenty of times, more than you can count, but never with you crying into his arms. One hand rubs your back while the other gently caresses your hair, but the tenderness and kindness he’s showing only makes you cry harder.

‘Can I open my eyes?’ He murmurs. All you can manage is a quick nod against his chest. He tries to pull back from the hug so he can face you, but you figure that he cant see your tear stained face if it’s buried in his hoodie, so you remain firmly planted in the hug.

A few moments pass like this, both pressed impossibly close to each other and you can feel your heart rate begin to calm as your tears slowly subside. The exhaustion has saturated your body as you feel as though you can fall asleep on his chest before you heard him speak.

‘You’ll tell me what I did wrong, won’t you?’

‘I want to, but I can’t,’ you tell him.

‘Why?’ He doesn’t sound annoyed, his voice has a playful tone to it with a twinge of worry.

‘Because-’ you whisper. ‘Because you’ll hate me.’

‘Impossible,’ he says. ‘You’re one of my best friends, I don’t think I could hate you even if I wanted to.’

‘As much as I want to tell you why I gave you that look tonight,’ your voice is slightly muffled with your face buried in his hoodie. ‘I know it will ruin our friendship and I don’t think I can bare losing you.’

‘You’re not making any sense. I thought I was the one who upset you,’ he manages to pull away, untangling my arms from around his neck. He slowly rises from his perch, towering above me as he rests his hand on my shoulders. You can’t look at him though, so you lock your gaze onto the floor. ‘Seriously, Y/N, you know I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to, but you’re starting to scare me.’ His confession makes your heart ache impossibly.

He brings his hand underneath your chin and slowly guides your face up to meet his. A few more tears escape your swollen eyelids, and he gently brushes them away. ‘I want to tell you,’ you avert your gaze, not being able to stand the intensity of his eyes on yours. ‘But I know how it’ll end. And I know you’ll resent me for it.’

‘Please don’t say that,’ he tries to meet your eyes. ‘There’s nothing that you could say to me right now that would make me even think about hating you, okay?’

‘But there is!’ You grip on to his forearms, relishing your closeness one last time. You know you’re going to be selfish you’ve ever been and ruin the most important thing in your life just to give yourself a moment of peace. ‘And I thought I was fine keeping it to myself, but I just can’t go on like this anymore.’

You stagger backwards, as you see the panicked look on his face. ‘I can’t eat or sleep,’ your fingers begin to nervously tangle themselves into your hair. ‘And I know you don’t deserve this, but I can feel myself going crazy and I know that I can’t keep this up.’

He slowly moves closer to you, his brow knotted in concern. ‘Keep what up?’

‘I can’t keep pretending that I’m not in love with you.’

There it is.

There’s no going back now.

He starts to say your name, but you cut him off quickly. ‘No, just let me finish,’ you bury your face in your hands, knowing damn well that you cannot possibly handle his reaction. You try your best to steady your breathing. ‘Because if I don’t do this now, it’ll just continue to eat away at me until I won’t even recognise myself.’

You take his silence as a cue to keep going. You remove your hands from your eyes but focus your attention on the floor. You eyes catch on a potted plant in the corner of the room by three window, and you keep your gaze focused on it as you utter your confession.

‘I thought it was just a little crush,’ your voice isn’t much louder than a whisper. ‘When we met a couple years ago. And then it was like one day I blinked and you and I had become best friends. I couldn’t remember a time when I was so happy.’

You’re crying now. You take another moment to gather your strength, and carry on, refusing to look up at him.

‘I thought us being friends would be enough, and for a while it was. I was fine loving you platonically, because I figured having you in my life as a friend would be better than not having you in my life at all. But my feelings never went away, they just continued to grow stronger and stronger and-’ you try to discreetly wipe your eyes. Your tears blurred your vision almost completely. ‘I knew you would never love me like I love you, because guys like you don’t date girls like me. The date models or influencers. The type of girl you brag to your friends about.’

‘I feel terrible because I’ve lied to you our entire friendship. I feel like this secret has just been festering inside of me and honestly I’ve been so miserable when I wake up everyday thinking this is it, this is the day you’ll find someone else and I’ll truly be nothing to you. But no matter how badly I try to protect myself from getting hurt in the end, I just can’t stay away from you.’ You let out a weak laugh.

You’re rambling now, you can feel it. You find it impossible to stop until he speaks. ‘What if I feel the same?’

You jerk your chin up to meet his eyes. He’s standing closer now, and you have to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact.

Your stubbornness got in the way. ‘No you don’t. You could never love me.’

It feels like time stops when he says, ‘who said that?’

You shake your head, and viciously swipe your hands under your eyes. ‘No, Mase. Don’t say things you don’t mean. I know we joke around a lot but I would never fuck around with your feelings like that.’ You can feel panic rising in your chest.

‘I’m-’ Mason tries to go on to say until you interrupt.

‘You don’t have to let me down gently.’

‘Please give me a chance to speak, will you?’ He grips your shoulders gently, placing his face close to yours. And then he goes on to saying something you would’ve never expected. ‘Could you just pump the breaks for a second so I can tell you that I’m in love with you too?’

You stood stunned for a while before you managed to come out with ‘what?’

‘You do realise that I’ve been crazy about you for years now, right? I just didn’t know where you stood so I never had the guts to ask you out,’ He lets out a breathy laugh and runs his hands through his hair. ‘Oh god if I had known that you liked me back even a little I would’ve said something! I–I just thought you never saw me like that,’ He trails off. He stops and turns to me suddenly. ‘Princess, I am so sorry. All this time you felt like you couldn’t be yourself around me, like you couldn’t just tell me how you felt.’

You’re still staring at him, dumbfounded. You’ve realized that you still haven’t stopped crying, much to your absolute humiliation. If what he’s saying is true, you think, then why on god’s green earth can’t you calm down? But at this point the panicked sobbing has taken a new shape, now strangely mixed with exhaustion, giddiness, and confusion. You attempt a smile, but you imagine it looks very off-putting, considering your emotional state.

His hand on your arm breaks you out of your thoughts. ‘Sorry,’ I furtively wipe your eyes. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me – I mean, I should be jumping up and down with joy, but,’ you release another shuddering breath. ‘I can’t seem to calm down.’

The look he gives you is one you’ve seen many times before, though you never knew how to describe it. Calling it a look of kindness or interest didn’t seem like it was enough to describe the depth of his stare, and it felt too far to call it a look of worry. Only now after these past few minutes have you understood what his gaze is implying. It was more than affection, it felt like love.

‘Hey,’ he murmurs. ‘It’s okay, you’ve been through quite a bit just now, baby.’

I laugh a little at that. ‘That’s a good way to sum it up.’

He smiles again, and your stomach does more than just flip, it somersaults and launches itself into a dive roll. And then he pulls you into his arms again, and though you can’t stop the tears leaving your eyes, you feel like you can at least control your breathing a bit more.

‘Now I know you have a tendency to overthink,’ he says after a moment or two. ‘But there can’t be any of that right now, alright? Don’t think about tomorrow or this new thing between us, alright?’

You pause, but relent with a small nod.

He continues. ‘I care about you like I always have, and my priority right now is to make sure you’re okay.’ His hand rubs reassuring circles on your back as he speaks. ‘It’s late now, and you must be exhausted after everything tonight.’

You let out a small hum of agreement. Now that he mentions it, you feel absolutely wiped out, and a dull pain has begun to take roots in your temples. Mason gently moves back, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear and taking in the sight of you in front of him. For what felt like the millionth time, you feel yourself becoming self-conscious. You know how red and swollen your face becomes after you’ve cried, and you’re willing to bet that the mascara running down your cheeks gives your features an added air of insanity.

‘How about you let me deal with some of the mess in the living room, while you wash your face and wind down a bit?’ he suggests.

‘Yeah,’ your breath still comes out a little shaky as you restate his commands. ‘No overthinking.’

He nods, satisfied with your answer. ‘And when I come back tomorrow, we’ll talk, and then you can let that brain of yours ask a hundred and one questions as it always does. But not until then,’ he finished with a smile.

You can feel your heart start to drop at his words

‘You’re not staying?’

The words are out before you can stop yourself. You know he doesn’t want you thinking about this new thing between us right now, but he has no idea how much overthinking you’ll do if he walks out that door. You know if he leaves, you’ll barely get a wink of sleep all night, wondering if our heated exchange was nothing more than a champagne-induced dream.

Mason looks at me with a smile. ‘Of course I can stay.’

‘Are you saying that because I asked, or because you actually want to?’ You shoot him an incredulous look

‘Let me tell you something, princess,’ he stares deeply into your eyes, refusing to let your gaze slip from his. ‘I’ve never, never left your side willingly.’

His words cause your breath to hitch and for your heart to constrict almost painfully, but you refrain from grabbing the skin over your chest, from making sure that your heart is, in fact, still beating.

‘I wanted you to know that you don’t owe me anything right now, and that we’re still – we’re still us,’ he says. ‘I didn’t want you to feel weird if I stayed the night, that’s all.’

You let out a soft breath. ‘Thank you, Mase,’ you whisper. ‘I trust you, you know that I do.’

‘Good,’ he replies. ‘That’s a relief because I honestly didn’t feel comfortable leaving my girl alone right now.’

You have to physically hold yourself back from grinning at his words. My girl. The thought of those two words, and all they could possibly imply, made me feel light-headed. All you can do is nod your head in agreement.

He gently brushes some hair behind your shoulders, giving you a soft grin. ‘So how about you get ready for bed, and I’ll grab a T-shirt from my car and put away the stuff in the living room. I’ll be back in a few minutes, alright?’

‘Okay, I think I can manage washing my face before I pass out,’ you say jokingly.

Mason chuckles as he walks out of the room. ‘That’s my girl.’

#mason mount x reader #mason mount one shot #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fluff #mason mount smut #mason mount imagine #mason mount blurb #mason mount #mason mount x oc #mason mount oneshot #mason mount fan fic #mason mount fics #mason mount fic #mason mount x you #mason mount x y/n #mason mount angst

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f1byjessie · 2 months

Text

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part six.

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user AIN’T NO WAY HE FINALLY POSTED HER

user girlies i hate to say it, but maybe this one’s actually serious… 🫢

↳ user i refuse to believe it…

↳ user he’s literally never posted another girl before tho??

user king of aesthetics

user i can’t believe he’s actually dating her

user what does he actually see in her?? like gen what is it cuz i cannot see it from here 😒😒😒

user she’s just using you for your clout garrett DON’T FALL FOR IT 😫 SHE’S NOT THE ONE THERE ARE BETTER FISH IN THE SEA

↳ user she’s fr just using him for the money and fame it’s so sad

↳ user right?? like he’s posting her which means he’s probably serious but i doubt she is and it’s just gonna hurt him in the end 😔

↳ user this is why i hate when celebs or athletes get with ppl who aren’t in the same sphere as them, cuz like if she were another celeb then we would know she has money or if she were actually a football fan then we would know she’s invested in helping him get better but she’s neither 🤷‍♀️

↳ user it hurts to see such an innocent man get used

user wait she’s actually kind of pretty tho 👀👀

↳ user she lowkey is

user can’t wait to see you back on the field soon garrett!!

user mad style bro

user came over from y/n’s account to say that you fans are exhibiting behaviour that is genuinely so immature and disrespectful. it’s sickening. you claim to support this athlete but you don’t support his decision to enter an exclusive relationship with someone? you say it’s bc she doesn’t know football or that she’s controlling or that she’ll ruin his career, but you know nothing about her and i’d bet you all would say the same thing about anyone. she could be a professional footballer herself and you would still say she isn’t fit to be with him. get over yourselves and bffr. none of you had a chance with him to begin with, and you hating on an innocent girl so much that she had to turn her comments off so she wouldn’t keep getting death threats is actually crazy. you all are delusional.

↳ user THIS. i’m so tired of the hatred

↳ user i’m honestly surprised garrett hasn’t said anything to his fans about them leaving her alone yet…

↳ user he probably thought GROWN ADULTS would know it’s inappropriate to act like BABIES but i digress 🙄

↳ user whether he thought they were mature enough or not, the fact that he probably knew it was happening (she’s his gf, there’s no way she didn’t tell him or he didn’t see the comments himself before she turned them off) and still hasn’t said anything is a major red flag imo. he’s posted her/acknowledged that she exists on his acc now, but he STILL hasn’t addressed the hatred his “fans” have been sending her and continue to direct towards her in the comments of his own post.

↳ user i think it’s a out of sight out of mind type situation tbh. if neither of them acknowledge them, then the haters aren’t given the attention they want. they might just be waiting for it to die down.

↳ user i don’t think that’s a good enough reason tho?? if i was a celeb and my significant other was being harassed by jealous and delusional fans, i would absolutely say smth and try to get them to stop, partly bc my s/o doesn’t deserve to be spoken about like that just bc they’re in a relationship with me and partly bc i personally wouldn’t want to see that type of negativity directed towards the person i care about. it’s a matter of respect for your partner.

“I’ll be honest with you, Garrett━ I don’t like you very much.”

The restaurant table you’re both sitting at is tucked away in a corner and gives you enough privacy to feel comfortable having this conversation with Garrett out in public. The restaurant itself is exclusive in its own right, similarly to the first place Garrett took you. It’s not as high class in the sense that you feel underdressed with business casual, but it’s the type of locale that other celebrities or higher class individuals tend to frequent and it makes you feel secure in the fact that the staff are trained to be discreet about anything they might overhear.

“But,” you shrug, “I don’t think you need me to tell you that.”

Garrett takes a slow sip from his coffee and raises an eyebrow at you over the rim of his cup. While he does so, you appraise him. The only other time you’ve seen him in something other than his training attire or some equally comfortable athletic-adjacent wear was the first night you both went out, and you hadn’t really been paying much attention to him then━ too focused on trying not to scream your head off in frustration.

He looks good though, which you’re loath to admit. Garrett, at the very least, has fashion sense if nothing else. If he were even half decent his style might’ve been enough to make up for the rest of the decency he’s missing, but as it stands he’s so far below the bar that his ability to dress nice only serves to get him within jumping distance of your lowest standards.

He lowers his cup back down the table with a faint clink, and then steeples his fingers together on the table.

“Quite frankly, Y/N━” the way your name sounds on his lips makes you shiver, but not at all in the way it’s described in the romance novels you used to read back in school. It’s like the human equivalent of your hackles rising, sensing danger, knowing you need to make yourself bigger to appear like more of a threat, “━I don’t really care what you think of me. This is more of a business transaction than an actual relationship. You don’t need to like me, you just need to pretend you do.”

He ends it with what would be a charming smile on anyone else, but knowing who he is beneath his charismatic facade makes it look sleazy.

You scoff. “For a guy who’s so desperate to fix his reputation, you sure aren’t doing anything to actually try and fix who you are as a person.”

It’s his turn to scoff. “I don’t actually need to be a better person, I just need everyone to think I’m a better person.”

“Fair enough.” You can’t argue with that. “But if I’m going to be spending a prolonged amount of time with you, you’re gonna have to at least pretend to not be a total dick.” You take a sip of your coffee.

He watches you for a moment━ observes your face, your hands, the way you tap your fingers against the table once your cup has been lowered. And you watch him right back. His steepled fingers have intertwined together, and he’s resting his chin atop them in a show of nonchalance, but his eyebrows are furrowed tight and his shoulders are pulled tense.

“What do you even want out of this?” He finally asks after another few seconds of silence broken only by the quiet drone of other restaurant patrons in the background. “What’s so important to you that it matters more than whatever notoriety being with me could give you?”

The Manchester skyline outside the window draws your gaze as you ponder how to go about explaining your answer. The storm-darkened sky casts the city streets below in a heavy shadow, which mimics your own mood as of late. It’s the weekend now, but Lando’s call and the things he’d drunkenly said still looms over you. You’d spent the week in a bad mood that not even your newfound friendship with Jack was capable of easing, and each day with continued radio silence on Lando’s end━ the fact that he can’t even bother to apologize himself━ only sours things more and more.

It had soured even more when McLaren’s PR team manager had reached out to you with the knowledge that you could plan on being back at the Technology Centre in Woking by the end of the month, in just under two weeks. In and of itself this hadn’t been bad news, but it meant seeing Lando again and unless he reaches out first to extend an olive branch, you could almost guarantee you’d be in for an uncomfortably awkward reunion.

But none of that matters right now.

“I’ll admit, I’m taking a page out of your book and being a prick,” you say as you turn back to Garrett. “But, in my case, it’s entirely warranted because he was a prick first.”

“What’d this guy do?”

In an odd turn of events, it feels as though you’re gossiping with Garrett Ward of all people. Without the context of your relationship with him━ the real one, not the one you’re pretending to have━ you imagine you probably look like two friends talking shit, or pretty close to the couple you’re supposed to be. Despite being such a twat normally, Garrett really does just come across as being a normal guy.

You have to remind yourself just what he threatened to do. He’s not a normal guy━ he’s dangerous. But he’s also a crucial part of your plan, and there was certainly some truth when he’d called things between you a business transaction. You don’t have to like him, but you have to trust that he’s got his own best interest in mind and you can certainly capitalize off of that.

“He had some choice words about our ‘relationship,’” you start, fiddling with the handle of your cup. “And even though we aren’t actually together and I probably wouldn’t touch you even if we were the last two people on Earth, it’s the principle behind it all. He has no right to judge me so harshly for my relationship choices, so I’m going to flaunt that I don’t care what he thinks, he’s not my keeper, and I will date whoever I damn well please,” you finish with a huff.

Garrett blinks at you. You’re starting to think he just has a staring problem, but before you can call him out on it he rolls his eyes, crosses his arms, and leans back in his seat━ looking the part of the smug douche he actually is. “You like this guy, and you want to use me to make him jealous because you’re pissed that he hasn’t given any hint at being interested in you but still feels as though as if he can be possessive over you.”

You blink at him. “No. Absolutely not.”

He raises an infuriating eyebrow.

“Fuck you,” you mutter into your cup, taking a sip to avoid having to say anything more.

Garrett heaves a sigh. “I suppose I could help you with that. We’ll be doing the couple shit anyways, might as well kill two birds with one stone and solve your problem and mine.” The way he says it makes it seem as though he’s doing you a favor, and if you weren’t so sure that he’d rescind his willingness to help if you argued with him, you’d call him out on the fact that technically he’s the one who owes you after you agreed to help him with his dilemma in the first place.

“Why not just be honest with him?” He says after another moment.

You snap your eyes back to him. “What?”

“Why not just be honest?” He repeats with a shrug. “Aren’t you worried he’ll lose eventually lose interest if he thinks you’re off the market?”

You scoff, “I’m not off the market. I’m just not available to the public.” You’d sat awake at night not long after things with Garrett began and realized that it really was all just an act. Actors kiss in front of a camera all the time, but at the end of the day they go home to their real partners and that’s the only person that really matters. Things aren’t all that different between you and Garrett. You call yourselves a couple, but side from the agreement that you’ll act like one in public, there’s no obligation or commitment to put one another first. Garrett will always prioritize his career, reputation, and friendships over you, and you’re rather inclined to do the same.

He purses his lips.

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes. “As if you expect me to believe you aren’t still planning to pick up a few birdies at the pub and show them a fun time.”

“My situation is different than yours. I’m the one trying to convince the media I’ve changed, which means I need someone who can be discreet, and a birdie from the pub certainly isn’t that.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Not getting laid for a few months is just a sacrifice I have to make to keep my place at Man City.”

You don’t mention that no matter what he does to try and clean up his act, Manchester City won’t be keeping him around after his contract expires. He wouldn’t believe you anyway, but even if he did you doubt he’d be all that willing to continue with this facade.

“More fun for me then,” you say instead, returning the smug smirk he’d given you earlier.

He glares.

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footballfansofficial UPDATE: Manchester City Forward Garrett Ward once again seen out in public with girlfriend and Formula One photographer Y/N L/N! The couple were caught sharing a romantic evening for the first time on the 5th of January, and have once again been spotted Saturday, the 20th, following Ward and L/N’s public posts on social media platform, Instagram. Ward has reportedly been making progress with his injury recovery, and is speculated to be rejoining the team on the pitch in February if all continues to go well. As the 2024 Formula One season draws nearer, it’s also expected that L/N will be returning to her McLaren roots, after working with Manchester City to photograph their winter training, which leaves fans wondering how their relationship will fare. Check the link in our bio for the full article!

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user i’m starting to warm up to the idea of them as a couple… 👀👀👀

user I WAS SO CONVINCED SHE WAS WITH LANDO NORRIS??? WERE THEY NOT EVER TOGETHER??? 🤯

↳ user i don’t think they were which is super shocking bc she posts him all the time on insta

↳ user i mean?? that’s technically her job?? as a photographer for mclaren she takes and posts pictures of the mclaren drivers. if you scroll across her feed she also has a lot of oscar from 2023, and carlos and daniel from their years with the team. she’s been working with manchester city recently too and has been posting the players as well. it’s just that she’s worked with lando the longest consecutively so ofc her account is gonna have him posted more than the others

↳ user LET ME BE DELUSIONAL I ACTUALLY THOUGHT THEY WERE SO CUTE 😭😭

user i really wish garrett would actually focus on his career instead of dating women bro’s contract ends at the end of the season and he doesn’t even seem bothered

user MAN CITY RE-SIGN GARRETT WARD 2024 🩵🩵🩵

user i hope the long distance makes them break up

↳ user me toooooo that bitch needs to get away from my man

↳ user he’s too good for her

↳ user be so fucking fr, she’s never had a scandal in her entire career but garrett ward has had dozens in just the past few years. if anyone is too good, it’s her 🙄

user MCLAREN WCC 2024 🧡🏁 AND MAN CITY TREBLE WINNERS 2024 🩵⚽️

user don’t hate me but i totally thought garrett ward was gay

↳ user ah, yes, most notorious casanova, known for his many nightly escapades with women, that’s 100% proof that he’s gay

↳ user idk that was just the vibe i got

↳ user be so fucking fr 💀💀

user will city even want to re-sign him after the season is up?? he’s been on loan for the majority of his contract anyway, playing in the championship of all things, and now he’s back but he’s missed a majority of the season cuz of an injury. i personally don’t think garrett ward stands a chance against the current starting forwards, so even when he’s recovered who’s to say he’ll play in any matches?? just seems like a waste for city to keep him around if he isn’t even being used

user if ward is actually cleaning up his act then good for him

↳ user real. all these ppl acting like she's suddenly changing him into a whole new person against his will, but none of them have stopped to think that maybe he WANTS to change.

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry @sideboobrry11 @d3kstar @mcmuppet @happylittlereader @casperlikej @5starl1ght @bellezaycafe @whentheautumnleavesfall @mess-is-my-aesthetic @ssprayberrythings @landosgirlxoxo @lifelessfan @81ja

━━ a/n: i did it! got this part done so much faster AND i didn't wanna rage while i did it 😌 feeling pretty proud of myself for that. anyways! hope you all enjoy!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 #oscar piastri

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dark-fics-4-you · 9 months

Note

step bro rafe who plays football or hockey. idk it just seems hot🙏

Number One Fan

I’m gonna combine this with this request: Something with step bro rafe where the reader calls him rafey and it turns him on but she doesn’t know…

(This can be read as a continuation of my previous step bro!Rafe fic, but i’m not sure if I want to make a bunch of drabbles or one connected narrative so we’ll see what happpens ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

Warnings: drinking, relationship between step siblings, rafe is having unpure thoughts👀

The stadium was packed with college students and fans, roaring as the whistle blew.

You were close to the field, eager to get a good view of Rafe. He was the star quarterback of East Carolina University, and for good reason.

He had led the team to victory in all 10 of their last games.

The score was evened out, with only a few seconds left on the clock, everyone was eager to see what would happen next.

When the whistle blew again and the ball was passed to Rafe, you cheered loudly.

He dodged two players, dancing around them before running all the way to the endzone.

Everyone on the crowded bleachers jumped to their feet, cheering and screaming at the touchdown, but no one was louder than you.

“Go Rafe! Go!! Woo!!!”

You beamed proudly as you watched him pump his fist in the air, fist bumping his teammates as they congratulated him.

You were one of the first people to rush to the field, running up to your older brother and practically jumping on him in your excitement to hug him.

“Oh my god, Rafey! That was such a good game!” You squealed. “You were awesome! That last touchdown was amazing!”

Rafe flashed you a grin, perfect teeth winking in under the bright lights of the stadium. “Thanks, Y/N/N. You know I win every game just for you,” he joked and you giggled along.

“Hey, some of my teammates and I are gonna go out for drinks after we get cleaned up, wanna tag along?”

“Sure!” You smiled up at him. You were always happy when he included you in things he was doing, which admittedly was a lot of the time.

“Perfect, sugar. Here are my keys,” he tossed you them. “Why don’t you bring the truck around to where the locker room exit is, you can wait in there till I’m done. Okay?”

“Yeah! Sounds good!” You parted ways, heading to the truck but you didn’t notice how his gaze stayed on your back as you walked away.

~~~~~~

“That’s a pretty hot piece of ass you had hanging around you, Cameron,” one of Rafe’s friends joked, suggestively nudging the blond with his elbow.

“Shut up, Wilson,” Rafe snapped. His stomach lurched at the comment. He didn’t like the idea of any of his friends trying to sleep with you.

In fact, he didn’t like the idea of anyone trying to sleep with you. The very thought made him sick.

“Hey, I’m just saying, I wouldn’t mind if she came around more, amiright?” Wilson asked the other guys around him that had seen you and they all laughed and nodded.

“Knock it off, seriously,” Rafe warned. “She’s not interested.” He could feel his irritation rising, his face heating up.

“Damn okay Cameron, chill. We were just joking,” someone else interjected.

“Well I’m not fucking laughing.” He pulled on his shirt before slamming the locker door. “I don’t think I’m gonna go out tonight anymore. See ya at practice.”

A few guys complained, “come on Rafe, we didn’t mean anything by it.”

But he was already halfway out the door.

~~~~~~

“Change of plans,” Rafe said as he climbed into the driver’s seat and you clicked your buckle.

You looked at him inquisitively. “Oh?”

“We’re gonna go out, just the two of us. None of the guys.” He started the truck, pulling out of the parking lot and towards the road.

“Oh, okay.” You said in a confused tone. “Why are they not coming?”

He was silent for a moment and you glanced at him again.

“Rafey?”

“I just decided that I’d rather go out with my favorite girl instead,” he said with a smile, ruffling your hair and you grinned.

“Oh, okay!” You said happily. “Ooh could we go to this bar that I know, it’s on Seventh street.” You babbled away about the bar you wanted to go to.

Rafe shifted in his seat, trying as hard as possible to hide his growing erection, nodding along but he was finding it hard to pay attention to anything you were saying, attention shifting between watching the road, and turning to examine your features.

He pulled up to the bar and you hopped out of the car. You both showed your ID’s at the door and found a booth to sit at, Rafe pulling you in to the same side he was on so you could be closer.

A waiter came to get your drink orders, you got a fruity cocktail and Rafe got a beer, and Rafe ordered a plate of loaded nachos for you to share.

Your drinks came quickly and you offered Rafe a sip of your cocktail, which he took before offering you a sip of his beer.

You took a quick swig, face scrunching up at the flavor. “Bleh, I still have no idea how you like beer so much, Rafey!” You giggled, leaning against him in the small booth, his arm wrapped around your waist.

“You get used to it if you drink enough, Y/N/N.” The blond laughed, grabbing a nacho off of the plate in between the two of you.

“I just think it’s so gross,” you shook your head, smiling.

“Please, you’re one to talk. I still remember that time you tried to make mixed drinks for us at that party and they sucked so bad I nearly threw up.” He chuckled.

“Shut up! I got better afterwards!” You laughed hard at the memory. “So mean, Rafey,” you said with a fake pout.

“Not true, I’m always nice to you, Y/N/N,” Rafe sounded surprisingly earnest. “You know I would do anything for you.”

“I know, I know,” you finished your cocktail, catching the waiter’s eye before ordering a second.

You leaned back, melting into your step brother’s arms.

“You’re my favorite person in the whole world,” Rafe whispered quietly. “You know that, right?”

There was a strange moment when you met his eyes, odd feelings washed over you. The intensity in his look stirred something in you that you couldn’t identify.

“Yeah I know, Rafey. You’re my favorite person too.”

He smiled at that, pulling you closer to his warm body. You cuddled against his chest, enjoying the circles he was tracing lazily into your back with his fingers.

Your second drink arrived and you downed it quickly, feeling a little beyond tipsy by the time the two of you stepped out of the bar.

He drove you home, comfortable silence most of the way. You felt warm and the alcohol in your system made you feel much more affectionate.

Rafe opened the front door of the house for you, allowing you to lean on him drunkenly as he guided you inside.

When you reached the top of the stairs, you paused, not wanting to go to bed alone.

“Would it be okay if I slept in your bed tonight, Rafey?” You asked, looking up at your step brother with hopeful eyes. “I just feel more comfortable when you’re by me.”

“Sure, Y/N/N.” Rafe smiled at you, leading you to his room.

You kicked off your shoes, taking your shorts off before dropping them on the floor. “Do you have a shirt I could wear, Rafey?”

His eyes fell on you, noting your bare legs and the pink panties you had under your shorts. His mouth felt dry, and it took him a second to remember you had just asked him a question.

“Um, yeah I should have one…” he searched in a drawer, before tossing you the oversized shirt.

You pulled it on, unclipping your bra underneath the shirt before putting it with your shorts and top.

Rafe kicked off his shorts, stripping to his boxers before pulling his shirt off over his head. He stepped towards his door, flicking the lights off.

You crawled into his bed, breathing in his smell in the sheets, scooting over when he followed.

Usually when you slept in Rafe’s bed, you were the one who pressed to him, hugging his back as he faced away from you, but this time, you were surprised when you felt the warmth of his chest press to your back, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you closer to him.

As you dozed off to sleep, you were none the wiser that your step brother was beside you, hard as a rock, and imagining things that were far from brotherly.

#rafe cameron #outer banks #dark!rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #obx #drew starkey #rafe cameron fanfic #stepbro!rafe #stepbro!rafe cameron #number one fan

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unsolvedjarin · 8 months

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Can we have more mentor!Seb x Ferrari driver!reader? Maybe she wins in Monza the same season as the last fic? 👀

note: sorry it took me so long to get to this request, life has been KILLING me lately. this one is pretty short but hopefully you enjoy!

FOCUS.

part one here but can be read without <3

pairing: (mentor! sebastian vettel x ferrari driver! reader) (mick schumacher x ferrari driver! reader AT THE END)

summary: monza was never an easy race, and that certainly wasnt changing anytime soon. but maybe some luck is on your side this year— and a supportive mentor.

content warning: none besides my verb tenses being all over the place

Max had gotten pole. So not good for you.

You lost P2 as well to Lewis by two-tenths of a second, but P3 was fine, P3 was good. Hopefully good enough for today. It was finally Sunday, and you couldn’t be more excited— it was finally Monza.

“Well the goal is to win,” you say, although it comes out muffled with food in your mouth. Sebastian had invited you to paddock brunch on race day, and you were not one to turn down free food.

Swallowing, you add, “I mean obviously the goal is to win. We’re in Monza, that’s every Ferrari driver's goal.”

The Aston Martin driver had been listening intently to your complaints about Ferrari’s performance recently, and from what he’s hearing, it’s not looking good. Not only was the car lacking in pace, the team itself had bad strategies left and right. While you had gotten a podium back in Spa, it was starting to look like it'd be the last podium for Ferrari for a while.

Charles had DNF’ed last race, and you ended up P9. Not a great result, but it still kept you third in the Construction Championship. This race, however, was too special to have a mediocre result.

It was the home of the Tifosi; the people, the cheers, the chants, it was all for Ferrari— all for you. You couldn’t lose in Monza.

“So you think you’ll win later then?” Sebastian asks, taking a bite of his own food.

“Well I don’t don’t think I’ll win, so there’s that.”

“What a strange type of confidence.”

“Thanks, I try.”

Sebastian laughs, a genuine one that makes you smile as well. You’d been spending more time with him since learning about his retirement at the end of the season, which says a lot when you were already always together. He didn’t mind though, he loved spending time with you above all the other people on the grid– well, except for Mick. He tagged along sometimes when he could. You liked having him around too.

“If it amounts to anything, I think you can win it.”

He always says that. ‘If it amounts to anything’ or ‘If it matters,’ as if everything he says wasn’t important to you when it was. “Thanks Seb, but save that optimism for yourself, you need it,” you tease.

You say it in a joking manner, but Seb knew there was a hint of seriousness to your words. Aston Martin hadn’t been performing well either, and if you considered Ferrari’s performance bad, then you could call theirs atrocious. You knew it wasn’t Seb’s fault, he had been trying to contribute to the efficiency of the car with his knowledge and he pushed it every race.

Nodding, he sighs, and you can sense the tiredness in his breath. 2 years of a slow car will do that to you. Before you could give him any comfort, however, a Ferrari employee calls out your name for you to get ready for the race.

“Good luck Schatzi, I believe in you,” Seb says, getting up from his seat. You get up and hug him tightly, smiling when he hugs you back just as tight.

“You too Sebby.”

“Do what I couldn’t,” you hear him whisper.

You don’t reply. You don’t tell him, ‘I’m sorry,’ because he already knows. He knows because you’ve told him it before many different times on many different races when he used to drive for Ferrari– but you’ll always remember Monza.

It was his dream, the most important thing he wanted out of joining Ferrari besides winning the championship with them. But he never got it. Every year he was there, something took the win out of his grasp. Engine failure, collision, slow pace, no grip, it didn’t matter what the reason was. He never got it.

You separate, both going to get ready. You’ll make him proud, you think to yourself.

The race was tight. Lewis was giving you a good fight, always just less than a second away, but conveniently farther whenever you were in a DRS zone which meant you couldn’t overtake him. Thankfully, he slipped up during a straight, and gave you enough slipstream and space to pass him.

Then it was just you and Max. He was 10 seconds away, and you were so sure it was over. But then he pitted a little too long, giving you enough time to take his position.

And then you were leading.

You were leading in a Ferrari in Monza.

Holy fucking shit.

Just one more lap, one more and you could see it– you could see the end.

“...Y/N L/N SEES THE CHECKERED FLAG, AND COMES TO WIN THE ITALIAN GRAND PRIX! FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2019, FERRARI WINS IN THEIR HOME RACE!”

You couldn’t believe it.

You won. You won in Monza. In a Ferrari.

You did it.

If the screams of the fans were loud in Spa, the cheers of the emotional Tifosi were deafening here. Exiting your car, still shellshocked, you’re immediately approached by Max, who gave you a quick hug in congratulations.

Slightly snapping out of your buzzed state, you run towards your crew who was on the other side of the barrier, practically jumping into their arms. They couldn’t believe it either. When you finally removed your helmet, the muffled sounds of everything else suddenly became clear, and somehow the already thundering roars of the crowd had gotten louder.

Despite all that commotion, all that chaos and celebration, there was only one man you were looking for. You heard he had DNF’ed, which meant he would be in his garage, but you didn’t care. You were going to look for him before you got on that damn podium.

While Max and Lewis went to the cooldown room, you got ready to sneak out and go to the Aston Martin garage, when a hand grabs yours and spins you around to face them. It takes you a second to realize what was happening, but when you did– “SEBASTIAN!”

He enveloped you in a hug, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. You could hear his proud laughs, and you started laughing as well. You had done it.

“I ca-”

“I-”

You both start at the same time, making you both laugh even harder. You gesture for him to start first, and he does. “I can’t believe it. You actually fucking did it,” he says, the joy evident in his cussing.

He walks with you back towards the Podium, an arm around your shoulder looking proud. When you get to the side stage you pause in protest, but he reads your mind before you can say anything. “Go, we’ll talk later.” He gives you a little nudge, and off to the platform you go.

You asked Charles once, and he told you that when you get up there on the platform, everything goes quiet. You would see the crowd, the fans clad in red, and you would feel the love, but you wouldn’t hear it– as if all their cheers mixed together into a large vast silence. One thing would come into focus, and when you see what you’ve focused on, it’ll all make sense. For him, it was a man wearing a shirt with the number 17 on it. In the large mobs, it was the one thing his eyes had focused on.

For you, however, it wasn’t in the crowd. It wasn’t in the endless support of the Tifosi, nor the trophy given to you. No, it was in the man you could see in your peripheral vision, standing on the side, clapping proudly and looking at you as if no one else was on the podium.

Sebastian. It was him. Your mentor, your father figure, your friend. You finally understood what Charles was always rambling about. That loving feeling— not one you feel with a romantic partner, but the one that buries itself deep into your soul and grows over time, unseen and unnoticed, but when you finally focus on it, everything makes sense.

The second the podium festivities ended, you ran into Sebastian’s arms and hugged him tightly, not minding the cameras all around you. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he hugged you back, not letting you go.

Tomorrow— not today while the chaos of the fans was still ongoing— the media will spew rumors about you and the older driver, but you don’t care. Not when you’re finally happy here; content.

With content tears flowing freely down your face— along with some champagne from earlier— you finally disconnected from the hug, looking at Sebastian with a grin.

He looked confused, “What’s happening? Are you alright? Is everything okay?”

Shaking your head with a laugh, you reply, “It’s fine, everythings okay. I just— I can’t believe I did it. And with you watching. I couldn’t be happier.”

Sebastian takes a moment to intake what you said. He had never felt this way before. Never felt so utterly proud of someone. You had done what he never could, had finally achieved the Ferrari dream he had always wanted for himself. He could see himself in you now, the sheer joy of a win with a team he always wanted to win with. He couldn’t be more happy for you too.

“Sebastian?” you ask, worried about his silence. Maybe what you said was too much, too forward. But then he smiles softly at you, and you can see the tears welling in his eyes.

“You have no idea how proud I am of you.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, “Oh thank god, I thought you were thinking of scowling in disgust or worse; not hearing what I said and making me repeat it.”

He laughs, a hearty one, and you laugh as well. The roar of the crowd was still loud, but amidst all the chaos, your eyes still only focused on one person.

“Dinner?” he asks softly.

“Yeah, let’s get dinner.”

a bit of bonus for my mick girls out there:

“Y/N!” you hear a voice shout from across the paddock. It catches your attention, and you turn your head to the Mercedes hospitality where the voice came from. Sebastian is beside you, an arm around your shoulder, accompanying you for a post-race dinner.

“Mick! What’s up?” you ask, disconnecting from Sebastian’s hold to walk towards him. He meets you in the middle, giving you a quick hug before smiling.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your win. We should celebrate!” he says, pausing for a moment as if thinking how to word his next sentence. “I was thinking— just a random thought really— we could…go out to dinner to celebrate? I mean just throwing ideas out there, you don’t have to.”

He’s looking everywhere but at you at this point, his eyes pointed down at his shoes and you can see his hands fiddling in his pockets. You notice Toto Wolff watching from the hospitality, but you pay no attention to him, instead keeping your eyes on the man in front of you.

“I’m sorry Mick I would love to, but I’m actually going out to dinner with Seba—”

“He can come,” Sebastian butts in. “He can join us, I have no problem with it.”

“Oh, then great!” you exclaim, nudging Mick softly. He looks up at you with a slight red dusting on his cheeks you don’t notice. Oblivious, you intertwine your arm with his, walking with Seb tailing the both of you.

You ramble on about the race to him and don’t notice when he turns his head around to face Sebastian quickly, who was giving Mick two thumbs up with a cheeky grin. The younger driver blushes softly, before going back to facing you and listening to you talk.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, however, the older driver was already secretly thinking of an excuse to get the two of you alone at dinner.

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workingbynyx · 1 month

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hello baby I love your theme !! i saw you were doing jason todd x readers so i’m gonna shoot my shot OFC NO PRESSURE

so we all know bruce is rich so jason must be as well but WHAT IF reader also came from a rich powerful family of Gotham, I think they would maybe meet through a gala or something and Dick would joke to Jason about how he is drooling at the sight of reader IDK BABES IT’S UP TO YOU, i hope it inspires you <3

City of Stars — Jason Todd x F!Reader

↷ summary — what happens if one of the bat sons meet the striking heiress of another powerful family? ˎˊ˗

↷ pairing — jason todd x f!reader ˎˊ˗

↷ genre — romance, fluff, slight comedy and eventual angst ˎˊ˗

↷ warning/s — a few curse words here and there ˎˊ˗

↷ a/n — hey!! tysm for this prompt oml its the cutest, and ik its a bit of a cliché but reader is an heiress to stark industries here 😭 i figured it would be interesting since, contrary to popular belief, tony and bruce wouldn't get along so it offers the question what would happen if their children got together (tea 👀🍵) this isn't based on anything btw! so there might be some ooc instances. OH AND I'll probably make a part 2 of this soon if i get motivationekehwjd soooo i hope you enjoy reading! ˎˊ˗

— wayne manor, present day

bruce fixed yet another gala for the year, inviting multiple billionare ceos and business owners to the humble party. gotham city strived under the great care of his trusted partners even when crime and corruption still runs in the city. the bat took care of that of course, with the help of his sons and daughters who also attended the event in simple dresses and suits and ties tailored to their liking.

the gala had been going on for a few hours or so which eventually became boring enough for jason to take a few shots and drinks by the bar as he scanned the crowd with people in bejeweled clothes and shimmering jewelry that blinded him as the chandelier shined on them. "is all that really neccessary.." he mumbled to himself, taking a sip of his 3rd drink of the night. "yes it is, would you rather people come into sweats like you would?" dick suddenly chimed in as he walked up towards jason and leaned against the counter of the bar, asking for a drink of his choice.

"It wouldn't hurt to try next year" jason said with a stern look on his face, occassionally shooting up a short smile to people walking by. "if bruce allows it, i doubt he would. the man practically lives in a suit and tie" dick replied, "well, tough shit grayson. you might be forgetting being the rebel is sort of my thing" jason shot back with a smirk. "ah, my bad" grayson said with a chuckle as he sipped on champagne. "so, anyone caught your eye yet?" "If you mean spoiled little kids running around with chocolate smeared on their faces then yeah" jason sighed while dick suppressed a laugh. "c'mon man, there's at least gotta be someone" "dick, i didn't come here to look for 'someone' nor do i ever plan to"

and right when jason uttered those words with no remorse, he immediately swallowed them right back when he caught a glimpse of you in the crowd. the dark yellow dress you wore complimenting the red of his suit, its like a match made in gotham, as one would say. the man had to double take in your way when you slowly walked through the room with your father, tony stark. the man behind stark industries, one of the richest companies based in new york. jason knew they recently opened a branch within the city to make way for new advanced technology and scientific engineering. that was probably the reason why you're here from jason's assumption.

"i'd say otherwise" dick snuck up beside jason and whispered to taunt him, his eyes following the lady that caught his brother's attention. "..what?" the other finally said, snapping out of it. "you should go up to her instead of drooling over here, you look like a total loser dude" dick patted his shoulder which annoyed jason. "cut it out dick, i'm not going up to her" "why not?" "i have other things to tend to" "like?" "...shut up" "jason, this is your only shot. are you gonna waste it on brooding the whole night?" "i'm NOT taking any of your dating advice" "i didn't say you have to date her dipshit, what could a friendly conversation lead to?" "a can of worms, go figure" jason then started walking away from dick as soon as he sets the glass down on the counter.

"jay c'mon," dick caught up to him which released a frustrated groan from jason. "she seems like a nice woman" "you're really living up to your name right now, stop it" jason said through gritted teeth.

in other people's point of view, it looks like two grown men are silently arguing in the corner of the big hall which then caught your attention soon after. you wanted to get to know bruce's children after he warmly welcomed you and your family to gotham before they got down to talking business, it obviously lost your interest so you quietly excused yourself from the conversation to wander the mansion.

you stumbled upon one of his daughters and had a nice conversation, they didn't seem intimidating as they said they'd be— not until you went up to his sons. you mentally prepared yourself as you slowly walked over to the duo, straightening the slight wrinkles on your dress and patting down your necklace.

"uhm, hello there. i hope i'm not interrupting" you called out to them which caught their attention. dick and jason quickly arranged themselves to look presentable, even if they were just arguing seconds ago. "hey" jason said as he cleared his throat, to which you replied with a smile. "its a wonderful party, i see mr. wayne has good taste" you tried to sound polite as possible...was it even worth trying?

"yeah, definitely" dick nodded his head. "i'm richard by the way, richard grayson. but you can call me dick" "oh uhm, pardon?" "it's unusual, i know. but trust me its fine" you couldn't help but slightly giggle at his statement, he was quite the charm. jason, on the other hand, couldn't stand seeing the two of you almost get along. he had to do something if he wanted to win you over.

you then looked over to him in anticipation, "jason" he says. "jason todd" he added. "it's nice meeting you, i've heard..interesting things about you" you said as you reached out your hand for a shake as he returned the gesture. "mhm, that's..great i guess" he nodded. "well uhm, i just wanted to come over and say hi. if our dads are gonna work together i should probably get to know his children too as a courtesy" you said with a smile, talking to bruce's oldest sons was quite nerve wrecking to say the least. they were tall, fit, sharp and certainly attractive, they're also intelligent one might add.

"huh" jason blurted out. "i didn't know bruce and mr. stark had to work together" he said. "oh, mr. wayne didn't mention anything?" "he never does" he replied. "hmm, that's a bit odd.." "trust me, everything's odd when you're around him" you couldn't help but chuckle which took jason back a bit, seeing you find his 'joke' funny enough. it was...adorable.

"i'll take your word for it, jason" hearing you say his name was like hearing angels sing to him. he didn't even realize he was developing a crush on someone he just met at a random gala, that never happened before. it must be something about you that attracted jason a lot.

"oh and, do you know where to get some fresh air? all this business talk has been making me ill for the past hour" you asked, a bit embarrassed to say it in front of them. but they seem to get your pain. "I'll let my brother show you, he knows this place a lot more than i do" "wh— you literally live here" jason whispered loudly. "i'll see you around ms. stark, i look forward to working with you soon" and just like that, dick had left you and jason alone.

your eyes followed dick as he walked back into the crowd until he was no longer seen, your gaze returning back to jason who was just staring at you unconsciously. at some point, you found yourself admiring his features for a moment. his eyes that shined against the light, his ruffled hair that sat prettily on his forehead, and his prominent jawline. 'he's cute...i guess' you thought to yourself, not until he cleared his throat when the silence got too loud.

"sooo, shall i show you around or are you gonna keep staring at me?" he said which made you lift a brow. "staring at yo— weren't you the one staring at me first?" you argued, making jason laugh at your protest. "relax, i was kidding" he added, flicking his head towards the staircase for you to follow him. "y'know, for a sec i thought you were a royal of some sort" jason started as the both of you went up. "how so?" you asked. "i don't know, you look all elegant and..the way you speak" you chuckled at his remark. "should i be flattered or is that a bad thing?" "not at all" jason said, a short smile forming. "well, that's what my mother taught me. she didn't want me to be a 'smartmouth' like my dad. he's probably annoying mr. wayne by now because of it" "bruce has already been around smartmouths enough," he turned towards you, "exhibit a" then gestures to himself.

you couldn't help but chuckle at jason. "is that so?" you asked with an exaggerated tone. "i didn't take you for a smartmouth if i'm being honest, more quite the opposite really" "well you might've if we met under different circumstances" "maybe, maybe not" you looked up to him with a mischievous glint in your eyes, a slight smirk forming on his face.

as the two of you walk through the empty halls of the mansion, you both reach the huge balcony where the doors are wide open. the cold breeze seeping through the curtains which sent shivers down your spine. you tried to fight the chills around your skin, but it was evident to jason you were clearly freezing. he unbuttoned his blazer and wrapped it around your shoulders, giving them a quick squeeze when you thanked him. "ahh, this is nice" you exhaled, relief washing over you when the distinct conversations are finally blocked. you stared into the dimmed city lights of gotham, poorly glistening from where you stood.

"it kinda is" jason added, his hands now both in his pockets as he admired the view...and you.

the longer you stared, the longer a thought began lingering. you cracked your head to the side to look at jason standing behind you, ushering him to come forward. "so uh, how long have you been here?" you started. "since birth, i'm pretty much stuck here" jason answered as he leaned against the railings. "but either way, gotham is my home afterall. i don't think i'll ever have the chance to leave this behind, even if i wanted to" there was a bit of sentiment behind his words, but you understood him. you were also pretty much stuck in one place before your father finally agreed to take you elsewhere, to finally let you handle things your own way when you came of age.

he was always protective over you which partially hindered you from living up to your true potential, but now that he's giving you a part of his legacy you have the chance to prove yourself.

"how was it like? y'know, growing up in a city like this" you followed up. "nothing to sugarcoat i'll tell you that, but uh...that's probably a story for another day" jason says, a quick glance to your direction. "another day?" "yeah another day" he said, studying your reaction. his eyes gleamed with hope, hoping that you'd understand where he's getting at. "are– are you saying—" "yes, ms. stark. i, jason todd, am hoping to see you another day"

your cheeks flushed pink, the heartfelt conversation suddenly turning into whatever this was. it was a pleasant surprise. "i— well, i don't see why i'd say no to that offer" you said with the brightest smile on your face. jason contained a smile however, letting his head fall down between his arms while he sighed in relief. that could've gone the wrong way. he tapped against the stone railing and brought his head back up, his cheeks also dusted pink. "a'ight so, when can i see you then?" he raised a brow.

"i'm in the city for the next few weeks, come visit at the flat two blocks away from the stark industries site. i'm at the third floor, second door to your right" jason took note of that mentally, making sure he got every detail down. "right," he nodded. "uhhh, how do they say this— so it's..a date?"

"it's a date, mr. todd"

#dc comics #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd x f!reader #✎ ─ nyx fics !#dceu

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theysaidhush · 10 months

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heyy i happened to see you asking for threesome related hard thoughts and i suddenly thought about brat taming with poly woosan uwu like imagine how teasing and mean they would beee <333

Woosan fucking some sense into your bratty mind (why is this so hot 🥵)

San is such a sweetheart but I feel like Wooyoung’s corrupting him ugh 🥵. Anyway here some mean Woosan for you fyp

Feedback are well appreciated 👀

"What a naughty girl, thinking she could get away with this."

San roamed his hands through your hair, gently massaging your skull before making sure the tie around your head was covering your vision.

"Hey, stop being so nice to her." Wooyoung tsked, grabbing your hair and pulling them roughly, the sweet touch of San long forgotten and replaced by a sting you were very much familiar with.

"I-I didn’t do anything…"

"Good girls don’t lie." Wooyoung sing songed before getting on top of you, straddling your thighs as you were laying flat on your stomach. "What should we do with this thing, huh ?"

He shook your head mindlessly, making you whimper at the sensation, before slowly starting to grind his clothed dick on your ass. He admired the red stripes on your skin, grinning at the memory of San spanking you again and again as soon as you all came home. He might act nice, but his lover wasn’t merciful.

"Ah, I’m not your thing, fuck you." You loved teasing them. Seeing this dangerous glint in their eyes, feeling their hands roughly manhandling you.

But as soon as those words came out of your mouth, you gagged on the dick that was pushed inside of it, tears feeling your eyes and broke whimpers stuck in your throat. "Ah~. Now, kitten, good girls don’t say b-bad words. Ah fuck your mouth feels so good around my dick..." San groaned, stroking your cheek before grabbing your jaw, making you open your mouth wider.

As Wooyoung got his dick out of his boxers, adjusting your body so your ass was at the perfect height for him to fuck, he smirked, entering your tight and leaking hole in one push, making you moan and wiggle under him, choking and spitting around your boyfriend’s cock. "This mouth is only good at sucking dick, isn’t it ? You’re so fucked."

San grabbed a fistful of your hair and pushed your head down his length, giggling at the sight in front of him. Your hands were roaming around the bed, trying to get a grip on something as Wooyoung was being relentless on you, slamming his dick in you in an almost painful way. You were so pretty. "Yeah, let’s fuck some sense into you."

#ateez smut #ateez hard hours #kpop hard hours #kpop smut #wooyoung hard hours #wooyoung smut #san hard hours #san smut #ateez x reader #woosan x reader

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changisworld · 3 months

Note

any hard thoughts about lee know? 👀

~ j

Hi j!

of COURSE i have hard thoughts of this man, who the hell DOESNT?!

this was pre-written ready to post but this was the perfect ask for me to post this to so THANK YOU

PSA FOR ASKS/REQUESTS: i WILL get around to posting everyone’s requests i’m just sorry if it takes a bit of time but whatever you request i’ll post it!! IM ALSO MAKING AN ANON LIST!! just send me anything & tell me what emoji u wanna be!<3

Word count; 911

18+, MDNI!!

main masterlist here

LEEKNOW HARD THOUGHTS

this man is obsessed with you & i MEAN IT! Leeknow loves to show this to you by making you feel as if you are on cloud9 every time you get into bed. He gets you SO riled up by doing the simplest things, whether that be from simply holding your waist as you both brush your teeth, twirling your hair or playfully biting you.

In bed however, he knows he is filing you up & knows exactly how to tease you. Says things like;

“but i am touching you baby, what else do you want? tell me” As he is teasing your folds with his fingertips, avoiding your needy clit completely.

“You want my tongue so badly? beg me for it then.” He would say, cat eyes looking up at you as he is in-between your thighs blowing cold air onto your puffy cunt.

“you take me so well baby, i have no idea how you’re always this tight.” He says as he finally buries himself inside you, your walls welcoming him like a really tight warm hug.

“already gonna cum? cum for me then but i wont be stopping until you squirt then baby.” (this man definitely has a huge kink for you cumming in general but especially squirting??)He groans as he is already pounding into you, your cunt is definitely not gonna be pain free later, already red from the constant abuse it’s getting from his dick, pelvis hitting against it & his fingers.

DEFINITELY DEFINITELY DEFINITELY has a dick around 6 inches & thick & KNOWS how to use it. He is all for ‘vanilla’ sex & enjoys it a lot but he knows you love dirty talk so he makes sure to make sure you know how dirty you are, letting him fuck you open as your eyes are leaking tears from the pleasure. he loves overstimulation especially on you, he loves watching you squirm around him, trying to get away from the pleasure but also to try get more.

He’s 100% more of a dom but he has let you switch roles a handful of times mainly for your enjoyment but he would be lying if he didn’t find it hot as fuck to watch you get off on him, using his thigh, stomach, dick or even face to get yourself off. He likes to say that he’s ‘acting’ when he lets out whines, begs & pleas to fit into the ‘sub role’ but you both know it’s leaving his lips subconsciously.

“M-mommy plea-se can i have your cunt… need it so bad” He whines as you edge him for the 3rd time.

“s-slow down! t-too wet, guna cu-cum!” he stresses with glossy eyes, trying to hold back but doesn’t dare touch you since you told him not to.

Definitely has an oral fixation, whether that be him watching you swallow his cock around your lips, gagging & gurgling as spit drips down your chin & his thighs, him watching you suck his fingers as he plays with your clit, eyes glossy or even you letting him suck your fingers which he always gladly accepts. He LOVES LOVES kissing you, tongues wrapping around eachother, fighting for dominance, the taste of your lips has him addicted. Loves biting your lips as he kisses you just to hear you whine. LOVES eating you out, he might even say it’s his favourite part of sex with you, your taste all over his tongue & lips could be all he tastes forever & he would be happy. knows exactly where to nibble, lick & suck.

“You taste better than pudding y/n, they should take inspiration.” He says nonchalantly as if your eyes aren’t rolling back through your skull & your juices aren’t all over his cheeks & nose.

“ahh, you like when i lick you here too now huh? i’ll remember that baby, can ya cum if i keep it up hm?” he asks with a slight cheeky grin, knowing he found another hidden sweet spot.

“cunt is so wet, so sloppy all for me baby, you’re dripping absolutely everywhere.” he says with a slight cheer in his voice, watching & feeling you clench around nothing.

This man doesn’t really have a favourite position since he knows how to adjust how he fits inside you to make you both see stars regardless but if he had to choose, he would choose mating press since that is the position that gets you into the floaty cloudy state you beg him to put you into.

He isn’t insecure of himself at all so likes to use vibrators, handcuffs, dildos & flavoured lube to make it even more enjoyable for you both & to also help achieve what you both want out of each specific time you are in bed, if it is a bed you’re both in seeing since this man has no issues with fucking you in every square inch of your house.

This man is an aftercare king tbh, always has water next to the bed & drowns you in kisses & cuddles & most of the time will let you choose something to watch, already knowing it’s gonna be the same few random movies you’re obsessed with & he thinks he can recite every single sentence at this point.

“You did so well baby, let me do this to you” He says as he pulls out slowly, eyes darting from your cunt to your flushed out face, his cheeks blushed along with his ears too.

“I love you so much y/n, my favourite thing on this earth is you.” He mumbles into your neck as he kisses it softly.

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heavyhitterheaux · 6 months

Text

Soft Launch

Requested by the cutie @jackslilsecrett 😘

AN: 🥰🥰

Synopsis: You're in the music industry and have been secretly dating Jack for close to a year. Now he wants to let the world know about you and how amazing his girlfriend is

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Jack Harlow Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

“Jack, will you stop it?!” You annoyingly asked your boyfriend of ten months who was currently drumming on your ass and making beats as you were trying to look over a script for a new movie that you would be starring in. Shooting wouldn’t begin for a while, but your manager thought that the role would be perfect for you.

“I’m bored. Are you almost done?!”

“Baby, I literally just started reading this ten minutes ago. I am nowhere near done.”

“Well, how much longer?” Jack whined while continuing to make beats, but soon stopped and just laid his head on you.

“I’m not sure, I don’t want to give you a specific time and then if I’m not done, you’ll blow a fuse.”

“I haven’t seen you in almost a damn month so yeah I’m about to blow a fuse. And I thought we both agreed not to do anything work related today?”

“I know but…”

All you did was look at him since he was now pouting and put the script face down on the dresser to give him your undivided attention.

“You are such a big baby.” You breathed out as you flipped over and opened your arms wide for him to come closer to you.

“Only yours though, so don’t get it twisted.” He answered as he laid his head on your chest and you began to play in his curls.

“Oh, I wanted to tell you something.”

“Of course, I’m all ears.” You replied while grabbing the remote to the television and turning it on Hulu to catch the latest episode of the Goosebumps reboot. You had been fascinated with the stories ever since you were a child and was excited to see them come to life on the screen.

“I’m having my Halloween party this year on the Saturday before it. You aren’t doing anything that weekend, right?”

“No, I should be free.” You answered while looking down at Jack who looked as if he wanted to say something else.

“Babe? Is there something else?”

“Um, what if we went together? To the party I mean?”

“Like…. As a couple?”

“Well, yeah. We are actually a couple so why not? I mean no one really knows about us besides like two people. But if you’re not ready, then that’s okay. It was just a thought I had. I want to be able to show my girl off to the world.”

You were quiet for a few minutes, going over different scenarios in your head when Jack looked at you curiously knowing that you were deep in thought.

“Baby?”

“I’m just thinking, that’s all. It’s just… if we do this we can’t take it back.”

“True.”

“And I liked having you all to myself.”

“And you’ll still have me to yourself. I’m not going anywhere, I’m yours and you’re mine.” He answered as he reached up to kiss you.

“Let’s do it then.”

Liked by y/nthesongstress, lilnasx, druski2funny, mariahthescientist, theshaderoom, and 2,171,937 others

jackharlow: Harloween '23

lilnasx: SOFT LAUNCH ANYONE?! ABOUT DAMN TIME! y/nthesongstressupdates: oh. this is interesting..... druski2funny: sooooo..... when she's not singing, jack is clapping her cheeks. confirmed. mariahthescientist: DRUSKI, PLEASE urbanwyatt: 👀👀👀👀 jackharlowsource: THESE HALLOWEEN COSTUMES ATE! sza: OKAY WOLVERINE AND STORM! COME THRUUUUUUU druski2funny: now jack and y/n see us up here in this comment section and just want to ignore us. ARE YALL TOGETHER OR NOT? urbanwyatt spill it since you know everything mariahthescientist: and the winner for best halloween costume is!!!! urbanwyatt: druski2funny what makes you think I know?!?! druski2funny: urbanwyatt don't ask dumb questions, give us the details urbanwyatt: ask them yourself druski2funny!

jackharlowdaily: so no one saw this coming from a mile away? they've been dropping hints for a while lol lilnasx: I'll stay quiet for now, but give me my credit where credit is due! jackharlowsource: Nas knows something and he needs to spill it and spill it NOW y/nthesongstress: jackharlow damn, we kinda ate this pic huh? jackharlow: y/nthesongstress you always make me look good 😏 y/nthesongstressupdates: well how long has she been making you look good for jackman? don't leave us hanging!

y/nthesongstress added to their story

Liked by jackharlow, lilnasx, reginaecarter, snohaalegra, hollywoodunlocked, urbanwyatt, druski2funny, and 2,183,394 others

y/nthesongstress: you can't get this thickness outta your mind 😜

jackharlow: definitely can't and I'm going to need my own private show 😍 lilnasx: yall nasty smh victoriamonet: jack has always been a groupie for y/n lol y/nthesongstressupdates: okay so we need details! how did yall meet? how long have yall been together? is it really as big as they say it is? jackharlowsource: y/nthesongstressupdates asking the real questions over here lol y/nthesongstress: lilnasx shouldn't have introduced us to each other then lol dojacat: damn mamas 😍😍😍😍 lilnasx: now I'm just the third wheel in that relationship. jackharlow I thought that it was me and you until the end of time? jackharlow: lilnasx and then y/n came along lol and you got pushed to the side urbanwyatt: lilnasx don't feel bad, he's forgotten about me too jackharlow: urbanwyatt LIES we just went to dinner LAST NIGHT urbanwyatt: jackharlow and you facetimed y/n for more than half of it y/nthesongstress: urbanwyatt omg Urby, I'll make it up to you, promise! I just wanted company on my ride home from the studio urbanwyatt: y/nthesongstress just buy me weed and we can call it even

Liked by jackharlow, yungmiami, lilnasx, urbanwyatt, justjared, hollywoodunlocked, mariahthescientist, and 721,273 others

y/nthesongstressupdates: I guess they've been dropping hints for a minute 😭

jackharlowsource: I just think it's so cute how lilnasx introduced them. him and y/n have been friends forever jackharlowdaily: come to think of it, any public event or award show they would always be sitting near each other lol lilnasx: and also making googly eyes at each other and making me sick smh y/nthesongstress: lilnasx you love it so shut up. I'll make sure you don't catch the bouquet with that attitude. mariahthescientist: I'm making sure that I'm going to be the one to catch it jackharlow: he's just jealous because I stopped making googly eyes at him and started looking at y/n druski2funny: y/n would have been better off dating me y/nthesongstress: now druski..... don't make me hurt your feelings urbanwyatt: lmaoooooo druski2funny: we could have done amazing things together y/n jackharlow: druski2funny don't make me kick your ass lilnasx: y/nthesongstress mani pedi date and it's your turn to pay jackharlow: oohhh mani pedi? count me in! lilnasx: andddd third wheeling again 😭

Liked by urbanwyatt, claybornharlow, quiiso, generationnow, champagnepapi,lilnasx, 2forwoyne, and 3,284,732 others

y/nthesongstress: I got the cutest dinner date 😍

druski2funny: I mean he's okay, he not alladat 🙃 lilnasx: and here his hating ass goes jackharlow: druski2funny will you give it up already?!? druski2funny: *insert bugs bunny meme* NO jackharlow: anyway 🙄 jackharlow: y/nthesongstress as long as I get to have you for dessert teyanataylor: can the two of you not keep your hands off each other for five minutes? jackharlow: teyanataylor no y/nthesongstress: teyanataylor no 2forwoyne: make sure yall bring me back any leftovers urbanwyatt: 2forwoyne I already called dibs, get in line y/nthesongstress: does yall best friend not feed yall? 2forwoyne: no urbanwyatt: no quiiso: no shloob_: no yungskylark: no jackharlow: now why are all of yall up here lying? 2forwoyne: y/nthesongstress your boyfriend hasn't fed me since the beginning of the CHTKMY tour jackharlow: 2forwoyne NOW....... y/nthesongstress: 😭😭😭😭😭

Liked by y/nthesongstress, dojacat, victoriamonet, urbanwyatt, glorillapimp, and 3,293,786 others

jackharlow: mesmerized every time I watch her. On and off the stage 😜

lilnasx: just like I said, NASTY. But my girl ATE though! get it baby! y/nthesongstressupdates: imma need her to sit on me jackharlow: me first y/nthesongstress: jackharlow you need to behave lol can't take you anywhere urbanwyatt: y/nthesongstress it's only going to get worse from here on out, I can feel it. it all started with him forgetting to feed us jackharlow: urbanwyatt yall are grown ass adults who can feed yourselves! and y/nthesongstress it's not my fault that you look so good all the time y/nthesongstress: urbanwyatt don't worry urby, I got your back. all of you can come over for dinner tonight and jack is paying jackharlow: WHAAAAT?! we were supposed to have a night in with JUST US 2forwoyne: pulling up in an hour yungskylark: someone come get me! jackharlow: not her volunteering me to feed the entire Kentucky army jackharlowsource: NOT HIM CALLING THEM THE KENTUCKY ARMY jackharlow: not about to have any food in my house smh y/nthesongstress: jackharlow oh, but you'll have plenty of food baby 😏😉 urbanwyatt: I..... please not in front of my salad jackharlow: y/nthesongstress OH, well I'm ready and urbanwyatt seriously? lilnasx: all I know is that I better be the first one to get a wedding invite and I want it hand delivered to me for putting up with all this lovey dovey shit

Taglist:

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#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow blurb #instagram au #jack harlow instagram au

315 notes · View notes

inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 6 months

Text

When The World Is Crashing Down [Chapter 9: We’re Friends When You’re On Your Knees]

Series summary: Your family is House Celtigar, one of Rhaenyra’s wealthiest allies. In the aftermath of Rook’s Rest, Aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother’s life. Now you are in the liar of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting…

Chapter warnings: Y'all, you are not ready for this one. Language, warfare, violence, serious injury, alcoholism/addiction, sexual content (18+), murder, Aemond "there are other Targaryens" Targaryen having feelings again (good ones?? not good ones?? both?? who knows bestie, not me!), an unexpected family reunion, must be the season of the witch... 👀

Series title is a lyrics from: "7 Minutes In Heaven" by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter title is a lyric from: "Our Lawyer Made Us Change the Name of This Song So We Wouldn’t Get Sued" by Fall Out Boy.

Word count: 8.4k.

Link to chapter list: HERE.

Taglist (more in comments): @tinykryptonitewerewolf @lauraneedstochill @not-a-glad-gladiator @daenysx @babyblue711 @arcielee @at-a-rax-ia @bhanclegane @jvpit3rs @padfooteyes @marvelescvpe @travelingmypassion @darkenchantress @yeahright0h @poohxlove @trifoliumviridi @bloodyflowerrr @fan-goddess @devynsficrecs @flowerpotmage @thelittleswanao3 @seabasscevans @hiraethrhapsody @libroparaiso @echos-muses @st-eve-barnes @chattylurker @lm-txles @vagharnaur @moonlightfoxx @storiumemporium @insabecs @heliosscribbles @beautifulsweetschaos @namelesslosers @partnerincrime0 @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @yawneneytiri @marbles-posts @imsolence @maidmerrymint @backyardfolklore @nimaharchive @anxiousdaemon @under-the-aspen-tree @amiraisgoingthruit @dd122004dd @randomdragonfires @jetblack4real @joliettes

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰💜

You watch her from the shadows of the dungeons, rusted iron, phantom echoes of falling water, chilling drafts that come from nowhere and everywhere. She has not yet noticed you. She is beautiful, regal, arrogant, even as she sits gnawing on crusts of bread and the gristle of chicken bones, scraps that Lord Larys throws to her like she’s a pig nosing its way through a trough, an animal that is clever and yet condemned. And if she is livestock, then what are you? A creature of darkness, of nightfall, lethal and treacherous, a wolf or a bat or a spider. You step forward and into a ray of light that cuts across the stones like the path of a comet.

Baela gasps and drops the tibia she’d been working on, cracking it in two, sucking out the dead-blood marrow. Her wide-set, almond-shaped eyes catch on you. She is not afraid; you have never known Daemon Targaryen’s eldest daughter to be afraid of anything. She is fascinated.

“I’m sorry,” she says, crawling across the floor of her cell. She grips the metal bars and peers out at you, kneeling there like she’s praying. You suspect Baela has never prayed to anyone or anything. “I didn’t mean to almost burn you. I didn’t realize you were standing on the steps with him until after I’d given Moondancer the order. It all happened so quickly.”

You cannot appear to be angry. You have no reason to be angry if you are Aegon’s captive. “I take no offense. I wasn’t harmed.”

“No one had any idea the Usurper was here,” Baela says. Still her eyes are bright, entranced. “We believed Dragonstone to be vacant.”

Good. You give her a dismal smirk. “No. Not so vacant after all.”

“Are you with child yet?”

A bolt shoots down your spine like cold lightning. “What?”

“That’s what he’s trying to do, isn’t it?” Baela says. “He wants an heir from you. His wife is dead, his sons are dead. He couldn’t get his claws on me or Rhaena. But you can give him a Valyrian-blooded prince.”

Aegon has never mentioned having children with you. You don’t know if this means he doesn’t want them, or if he does not wish to place demands upon you, or if he is indifferent, or if he believes it to be impossible. “I have nothing to show for his efforts.”

“Has it been unspeakably awful?” And if Baela seeks to console, this is secondary to her personal interest; she is curious, she is absorbed. Her fingers close more tightly around the iron bars. “He’s a drunk, a degenerate. He’s vile. He’s deformed. Has he tortured you? Has he violated you in a hundred different ways? Does he tie you down, does he strike you, does he cut and bruise you?”

And this is the Blacks’ story, one they could never begin to suspect might be fiction: that you are a martyr, that Aegon is a monster. In place of an answer, you give Baela the treasures you have brought her. You pass them through the gaps between the bars: a bottle of ink, parchment, a quill with a point like a blade.

Baela takes these objects, amazed. “You can help me send a letter back to Harrenhal?”

“I don’t know if I will be able to get to the rookery. But I’ll try.”

“The Usurper allows you this much free rein?”

He trusts me. He loves me. He’s bedbound and in agony. “He’s rather distracted at the moment.”

“He’s dying, hopefully,” Baela says. She has already begun to write. And there’s a reptilian sort of coldness that is snaking deeper into you, constricting around your bones, gliding through the blood-slick chambers of your heart, too much a part of you to ever rip out. But now Baela’s face softens. She looks up dolefully. “Moondancer, she’s…she’s gone, isn’t she?”

You bow your head as if this is something tragic. “She did not survive Sunfyre’s attack.”

“Fucking beasts,” she seethes, resuming her writing. “When my father learns of this, he and Caraxes will come to rescue us. And he will burn the Usurper alive.” She finishes her letter, rolls up the parchment, and hands it back to you.

“How will Daemon know that you authored this and under no duress?”

“My signature,” Baela says, grinning. “I end all of my correspondence to him with Your ever-obedient daughter. It is a joke between us. If it was absent, he would notice. His suspicions would be aroused. That is how I would signal if I was ever forced to write to him against my will.”

There is dark satisfaction like a spell shimmering in your arteries, nerves, the void-black pupils of your eyes. You return her smile. “Perfect.”

“Don’t fear,” Baela tells you, and reaches through the rusted iron bars to clasp your hand. You fight the reflex to tear away from her, this woman who certainly maimed Aegon and might have killed him. You find yourself studying her, measuring her height and weight, calculating how much milk of the poppy it would take to end her life. “Cregan Stark is south of the Neck now. He will move heaven and earth to possess you, everyone knows that. Soon we will have Northmen marching through the Riverlands with Caraxes and Sheepstealer safeguarding them from above. And after the Riverlands they will be in the Reach, and then finally King’s Landing to stabilize the capital. The Usurper and Sunfyre cannot fight. Daeron is scarcely more than a boy. The Betrayers are avaricious, overconfident drunks. The Greens will be vanquished before winter.”

“And what about Vhagar?”

“Together, Caraxes and Sheepstealer can bring her down.” But there is doubt in Baela’s voice, yes, a vacillation that is rarely heard from her.

“I hope so,” you reply, one of countless lies.

You take Baela’s letter to the rookery, open it, examine it carefully for the subtleties of her handwriting: slopes and dots and lines. Then you get a fresh piece of parchment and painstakingly draft a very different message. Not a plea for help, but an assurance that all is well; not a summons to Dragonstone, but a confirmation that the castle was found to be unoccupied and is now held firmly by Baela and Moondancer.

And you end the letter before tying it to a leg of the raven trained to fly to Harrenhal:

Your ever-obedient daughter, Baela Targaryen

~~~~~~~~~~

“Please eat something, Your Grace. I beg you.” Lord Larys Strong’s face is creased with servile, attentive worry. On the plate before you is fresh, warm bread and a dish of salted butter. In your bowl is a crab soup thick with vegetables, the broth tomato-based and red like Autumn’s hair, like blood.

“I can’t.”

“Would you like me to bring you something else? I could have the chefs prepare roast chicken, or duck, or boar…”

“No.” You push the bowl of soup away. You and Larys are alone in the Great Hall, seated at the high table which presides over a silent, vacuous chamber. The room was built to resemble a dragon lying on its belly; the entranceway is its mouth, two massive doors edged with stone teeth. There are dragons everywhere, these talismans of Aegon’s house, these creatures that are monsters to some and saviors to others.

Larys studies you closely. His voice is tender. “Your Grace, please. Can I do anything for you?”

You consider him, an enigma that is useful and subtle and dogged in his loyalty. “What is it that binds you so faithfully to Alicent and her children, Lord Larys? House Strong was so favored by Rhaenyra. Her heirs were your blood, no matter how much she tried to deny it. You could have risen high in the Black Council. Make no mistake, I am very thankful for your service to the Greens. I am glad to count you among the greatest of our fortunes. But what inspired you to turn your coat?”

Larys smiles at you. He has eyes like rain, the wavy abundant brown hair of his spurned family. His hands rest on the handle of his cane. “Your eldest brother is an acclaimed swordsman.”

“Yes,” you agree, caught off-guard.

“And so was mine,” Larys says. “House Strong, is it any wonder what we valued most? My father loved Harwin. He was so fiercely proud of him. He was interested in him, he understood him. They would whisper to each other all through feasts, all through tourneys, conspiring, chortling, enmeshed in this synergy that left no air for anyone else to breathe.”

“And your father never understood you.” Just like Bartimos Celtigar overlooks Everett, a son gifted with books and quills instead of horses and swords. “Never even tried to.”

“It is a terrible thing to be in the midst of your family and yet feel alone.”

“It is,” you say, remembering the Blacks’ festivities in King’s Landing.

“Now Lyonel and Harwin Strong whisper to no one,” Larys says, his smile widening into a dark, victorious grin. “And I am the Master of Whisperers.”

You remember the words that Otto Hightower spoke to you as he waited for his execution in the dungeons of the Red Keep: These dark, contagious facets of life change us all. They ruins us. Time, heartache, violence. You become capable of inconceivable things. You would scheme and deceive. You would murder. “Do you ever regret it?” you ask Larys softly. Becoming a sinner, a killer, a kinslayer.

“Never,” he replies. “Dowager Queen Alicent was the first person to ever truly listen to me. To make me feel worth something. Worth anything. To advance her interests in every way possible…that cannot be an injustice. It is the cleanest kind of loyalty. And I have no doubt my sacrifices will be repaid. If the Greens triumph, that is. When this war is over, Alicent’s son must sit the Iron Throne.”

“You mean Aegon.”

“Yes, of course.” But something mournful passes over Larys’ face like a shadow; he peers down at his hands to hide this from you.

He doubts Aegon will live. He foresees Aemond or Daeron inheriting the throne instead. You stand from the table, your chair squealing shrilly against the stone floor. “We should bring the king his supper,” you tell Larys. “He needs his strength.”

Aegon does not like you to be there when the maesters prod at him, scrub his wounds, rebandage his shattered legs. You were once his healer, yes, but now he believes you to be his wife. He does not want to be your patient. He does not want you to see him as a wounded man writhing in bed, as someone helpless, pathetic, weak, doomed.

The maesters are just finishing when you arrive with a tray of buttered bread and fresh soup, steam rising from the bowl of red like entrails that litter the earth once a battle has ended. The maesters are gathering up bloody strips of linen to be burned. Aegon is sobbing; his silver hair hangs in chaotic waves, both hands cover his face.

Your voice is hushed and heartbroken. “Aegon…”

“No, I’m okay,” he says, sniffling, mopping the tears from his cheeks with his bare palms. Then he reaches out to you. “Come here, come here, come here.”

You go to him, sliding the tray onto his bedside table until it clinks against the glass bottles there: rose oil, red wine, milk of the poppy. You climb onto the bed and Aegon’s arms circle around your waist, pulling you in closer as he buries his face in the warmth of your chest, your throat, covering you in hurried, imprecise kisses. Dimly, you wonder what he tastes when he breathes you in; you wonder what colors bloom in the sunless passages of his lungs.

“I missed you,” he murmurs. You can feel the dampness of his tears on your bare skin, the roughness of his scars.

“I was only gone for a few hours.”

“Too long,” he says. “Far too long. How’s Sunfyre?”

“He’s down on the beach, Your Grace,” Larys answers from the doorway where he has materialized like stars at dusk.

“Is he eating? Ambulatory? Wading in the water?”

“He’s…” Lord Larys hesitates. “He seems to be in a great deal of discomfort.” And yes, you know this to be true: Sunfyre the Golden’s wings hang in shreds, his wounds are inflamed with infection, and there is something wrong with him inside as well, a wheezing when he inhales, blood that seeps from his nostrils and his jaws. There’s nothing anybody can do for him. No one can touch him but Aegon, and Aegon can’t leave his bed.

Aegon says to Larys, low and sinister: “I want Baela dead. I want her burned.”

“She is far more valuable to you alive, Your Grace.”

“I am the king and I wish her to die.”

“Corlys Velaryon is her grandsire,” Larys implores. “If he discovers you executed Baela, he may recommit himself to Rhaenyra’s side. He may launch his own rebellion even after Rhaenyra is defeated. If you wish to win and keep the Iron Throne, I advise you to spare her.”

Aegon sighs and glares out the window that overlooks the Narrow Sea, his arms still linked around your waist. You begin to weave his braid for him. “Aegon,” you say gently. “We’ve brought you supper. Please eat it.”

“I’m afraid I’m too nauseated by my own inadequacy. Perhaps later.”

“You want to be well again. And you will be. But you have to eat.”

“I really don’t think I can.”

“Aegon, please.”

“Well…” He glances over at the bowl of soup and then gives you a mischievous smirk. “I suppose nothing tastes better than a crab, does it? Particularly when it is served in bed.”

“Or on the floor of a library.” You smile and kiss him: his pale face, his trembling lips. You finish his tiny braid like a silver chain and tuck it behind his ear. Then you pour him a cup of milk of the poppy, just one pearl-white splash, just enough to sand the serrated edges off his anguish.

“No.” He stops you, a hand on your wrist. “I don’t want to be useless again. I don’t want to be swimming in dreams. I want to be here with you.”

You shake your head. There are tears stinging in your eyes. “But you’re in pain.”

He grins, brushing your hair back from your face. “I’ve been in pain my whole life, Angel.”

And he manages to force down half the soup and two brimming goblets of wine before he sinks beneath the sea of his consciousness, while outside waves crack open against the rocks and Sunfyre leaks viscous threads the color of crimson, roses, flames.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You sent that raven a week ago,” Baela tells you when you bring her your offering, your clandestine kindness: apple cake, black tea. “More than enough time has passed for it to be received at Harrenhal and acted upon.”

You fill a porcelain cup with tea from the kettle and give it to her through the iron bars of her cell. “Perhaps the raven went astray.”

Baela ponders this as she alternates between unladylike chomps on a wedge of apple cake and slurps from the cup. “Maybe my father has been away from the castle. Maybe he’s out on the battlefield with the Stark men.”

Or maybe he believes you and Moondancer to be perfectly well and presiding unopposed over Dragonstone, and therefore not in need of his attention. What a welcome delusion to live under. I’m sure he’d rather be fucking Nettles anyway. You take the empty cup when Baela has drained it and refill it with tea. Baela accepts the nearly overflowing cup gratefully. She has had nothing to drink since she was taken captive except muddy rainwater that pools in one corner of each cell, guided by stone gutters that run along the outside of the castle. The tea is cloudy with cream and laced with sugar; still, her nose wrinkles a bit when she swallows it down.

“Bitter,” she notes distractedly.

“It’s made from leaves grown here on Dragonstone. Formidable, but not very sweet.”

Baela cackles; it echoes through the dungeon. This is the same voice that commanded Moondancer to brutalize Sunfyre, to send Aegon plummeting to the sand. Are her eyes already losing their viperish sharpness, is her heartbeat slowing? “Just like me!” She finishes her cup of tea and eagerly holds it out to you through the bars. You pour it full of the earth-colored brew once again.

You ask her as she licks apple cake crumbs from her fingers: “Why is Cregan Stark so determined to wed me?”

“He wants you. He considers you worthy of him.”

“But he doesn’t understand me. He doesn’t really know who I am.”

Baela shrugs indifferently. “None of us love anyone because of who they are. We love them because of who they make us believe we are.” She sips her tea and blinks groggily. “In any case, he will be your honorable savior, and you will be his illustrious damsel, and when the traitor dragons are dead he will spirit you away to Winterfell to bear his wolf pups. It’s not so bad a fate, I think. Not for someone like you. You aren’t ill-suited to matrimony. You are docile enough. A caretaker, a healer. You seem like the sort of woman who would be content with just one man.”

Yes. If he was Aegon. As you watch her kneeling on the stone floor of her cell, Baela sways and almost nods off, seemingly unaware that she is doing it.

“Burning might be too swift a death for the Usurper,” Baela says, smiling dazedly. “Cregan should have some of the Boltons flay him. They can all take turns wearing his hideous scars.”

“Yes. Skins shed, skins regrown, some of us change them over and over again.”

Baela stares at you inanely. She is beyond comprehension. Then she collapses to the stone floor, the porcelain tea cup spilling from her grasp and breaking into jagged white shards.

You take the key to the cell off the hook out in the corridor and unlock the door of iron bars. You step inside, still holding the tea kettle in one hand. You set the kettle down and drag Baela until she is propped upright against a wall. Her pulse is slow, but still present; she moans feebly as you position her. But it is all for a good cause; you must ensure she drinks the rest of the tea, the witches’ brew of leaves and cream and sugar and a fatal dose of milk of the poppy. Outside you hear a deep, prehistoric rumble as Vhagar flies over Dragonstone and scouts for a landing spot large enough to host her. Aemond is back again.

You angle the spout of the tea kettle between Baela’s paling lips and ply her with a small amount, less than a mouthful, then you rub her throat in just the right place to trigger her reflex to swallow. You know this trick well; you have used it on grievously wounded soldiers. You used it on Aegon after he was burned. You repeat the steps until the kettle is empty. Then you lay Baela flat again and watch her chest rise and fall slower, slower, slower until it stops. But still, you leave nothing to chance. You nick Baela’s wrist with a paring knife from the castle kitchens, until now tucked away in a pocket of your gown, emerald green silk to match the side of this war that you are pledged to. Her blood, unpropelled by the rhythm of a heart, dribbles sluggishly rather than spurts. She’s gone; she’s with her mother and Luke and Jace and the young sickly Viserys and Rhaenys, Otto and Helaena and Jaehaerys and Maelor and Autumn’s silver-haired son that she never had the chance to name. You wonder if the struggle goes on in the afterlife. Perhaps presently Otto and Baela are scratching and yowling at each other in a castle made of clouds.

Upstairs, Aemond is already in Aegon’s bedchamber. They are speaking in whispers when you enter, and you catch only pieces of the exchange: capital, Cregan, marriage, Daemon, crown. Larys stands in the corner of the room, his hands laced atop the handle of his cane. He gives you a reverent bow in greeting. He might not be so pleased to see you once he learns what you’ve done.

Aegon stops talking abruptly when he spots you and gestures for Aemond to go quiet as well, a commanding sweep of his hand. Aemond follows his brother’s gaze to the doorway. His lone blue eye climbs up and down you like a man on the rungs of a ladder. His hair is in one thick braid from his flight; stray white-blond strands that have been ripped free hang in disarray around his stoic, unreadable face. Aemond does not bow to you and never will. He only leers, a silver-haired wolf, a hawk with unhollow bones.

“Hello, Angel,” Aegon says, beaming or at least attempting to. He is frail and pallid and too thin and dripping sweat. There are indigo rings around his eyes like bruises. His legs are swollen, grotesque mountain ranges beneath the blankets. You rush to him and sit on the edge of the bed, feeling his forehead for fever and combing your fingers fondly through his hair.

Aemond sighs irritably. “Anyway, I’d like to torture her.”

“My prince…” Larys urges.

Aegon holds up a palm. “Now now, Lord Larys, let’s hear his proposal. Exactly how much do you intend to torture Baela?”

“Quite a bit,” Aemond says.

“To death?” Aegon asks hopefully.

“I don’t see why not.”

“My prince!” Larys says again. “Please, consider the possible ramifications, she is a prisoner of substantial strategic value, if your mother was here she would caution—”

“I’m afraid that Baela can no longer be interrogated,” you confess, and they all turn to you. There is a long, laden pause.

“And why is that?” Aemond says.

“Because she is dead of poisoning.”

“What?!”

“In her cell. Her body is there now. Feed her to Vhagar or Sunfyre, throw her in the sea, do whatever you wish with her. But she has paid her debt for the harm she inflicted upon us.”

Slowly, a grin splits across Aemond’s face. Larys shakes off his shock and resigns himself to it. But Aegon is neither proud nor reconciled. “You did that?” he says softly.

“You wanted Baela dead.”

“Yes, I did. But you don’t take life,” Aegon says, remembering what you once told him in King’s Landing. His oceanic eyes are stunned and fearful; not because Baela is was murdered, but because you were the one to end her. Because until now he was still able to tell himself that you could somehow escape this war unscarred, unruined. “You preserve it.”

“I preserve yours,” you reply. And when you offer him milk of the poppy—with no fear, for you know precisely how much it takes to kill a man—Aegon refuses it again, taking his suffering pure and sharp like the glass of a mirror.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What will happen to him?” Aemond asks you. You’re sitting on the stone staircase together under overcast midday skies, sipping wine and watching Sunfyre amble lethargically up and down the beach. You aren’t sure what’s made him so restless: his own dire injuries, Aegon in torment within the castle walls, something else entirely, some premonition that only beasts of ancient magic know. At last, Sunfyre seems to have exhausted himself and crumples onto the sand.

“I think Aegon will walk again. Eventually.”

“But he won’t be able to fight.”

You shake your head. “No.”

“Fuck,” Aemond hisses caustically, glowering out over the ocean.

You look at Aemond, needing to ask but terrified of the answer. “Can you win without him?”

“Can we win, you mean?” He smiles faintly, then sobers again. “I think so. Just before I left the Riverlands to come here, I received reports that Daemon had sent his lowborn little child bride away with Sheepstealer. He is trying to protect her from Rhaenyra’s assassins. My bitch of a half-sister has thus done us a remarkable favor. If Daemon is alone, I have no doubt that Vhagar can slay Caraxes. They say Daemon has fled Harrenhal. He’s hiding from me. I will find him, and I will burn him. I will end this war.”

“You need to be with Criston when his army faces the Northmen.”

“Of course,” Aemond says; but something in his face worries you.

There is a high-pitched shriek overhead, a glimmering flash of vivid gemstone blue. You startle and Aemond’s hand juts out, grabs you by the forearm, yanks you closer to him; then he relaxes when he recognizes who it is.

Aemond sighs loudly. “Why the fuck can’t he stay where he’s supposed to be?!” Then he stands, helps you to your feet while he’s at it, and heads down to the shoreline to meet Daeron and Tessarion.

The Blue Queen circles the beach several times, Daeron peering down as if struggling to understand something, his long white-blond hair whipping in the wind. At last Tessarion lands, her claws sinking into the wet sand, ocean froth bubbling around legs. Her long, swanlike neck stretches out towards Sunfyre, soft inquisitive squeals emanating from her jaws. Daeron leaps down from the saddle and strides to where Sunfyre is sprawled helplessly on the beach.

Alicent’s youngest child is clad in mint green—including a cape that billows out behind him in the seaside breeze—and glinting gold accents everywhere, buckles on his boots and the clasp of his cape and even a freckling of studs in his ears. He props both hands on his waist as he scrutinizes the crippled dragon. “Well, you’re not Moondancer.”

“He ripped Moondancer’s throat out,” Aemond says. “And then he ate her.”

Daeron whistles and gazes at Sunfyre admiringly. “I heard that Baela and Moondancer had taken possession of Dragonstone. I came to murder them. But now I see my services are unnecessary.”

“Baela is dead.” Then Aemond adds, nodding to you: “Here is the executioner.”

Daeron considers you, then laughs and assails you with a spirited embrace that nearly knocks you off your feet. “Welcome to the family, Lady Celtigar.”

“She’s the queen now.”

“Is she?” Daeron asks, eyebrows raised. “I was not under the impression that our brother was in any particular hurry to marry again.”

“His priorities seem to have shifted,” Aemond says.

“Can I see him?” Daeron looks around the beach and then up at the castle, shielding his eyes from the greyscale daylight. “Is he not outside with you? What is he doing in there? Not reciting prayers and composing poetry, I’d imagine.”

In Aegon’s bedchamber, Daeron cannot conceal his shock, his dismay; he gawks at the king like he is a three-legged dog, a blinded orphan. He stands thunderstruck at the end of the bed, taking in the vague yet horrifying outlines of Aegon’s shattered legs, the gauntness of his face, the fact that he is incapable of playing any meaningful role in the war for the foreseeable future. You sit on the bed beside Aegon, Aemond lurks by a window, Larys observes intently from a respectful distance, his eyes following every word as they flit through the air.

When Daeron recovers somewhat, he says: “I need to know what to do about Hammer and Ulf.”

“Why?” Aegon replies wearily. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Apparently, Mother once offered them the seats of House Costayne and House Merryweather as compensation for their efforts on behalf of the Greens, and they accepted. But now that’s suddenly not good enough. They’re asking me for the Riverlands and the Vale.”

Aegon turns to Aemond. “Is there anything left of the Riverlands these days? Should we find a new name for them? The Smolderlands, perhaps? The Everything-Is-Dead-Here-Now-Lands?”

“This is serious,” Aemond says flatly.

“I’m entirely serious.”

“Should I just tell them they can have whatever they want?” Daeron asks. “And then when the war is over and we’ve won…you know…pretend not to remember that conversation?”

“They can’t be given territory of any importance,” Aemond says. “They aren’t nobility.”

Daeron amends: “More relevantly, they are devoid of accountability and self-discipline. They drink all day and whore all night, and…oh, I mean no offense, Your Grace.”

“Fine,” Aegon says, preoccupied. There are fat beads of sweat on his bloodless face, glistening misery in his eyes. He gazes sorrowfully down at his left hand where he once wore his golden dragon ring before he lost it the same day he destroyed his legs. You pour him a cup of red wine and he drains it in seconds. You fill another.

“My point is that Hammer and Ulf are increasingly unreliable. I am only halfway convinced they could even show up for a battle before it was over. And yet we need them. Especially if Sunfyre cannot fight.”

“Agree to their requests,” Aemond says. “And if they survive the war, we will deal with them then. Rhaenyra’s faction is the greater enemy. We cannot risk the Dragonseeds racing back into her arms.”

“Lord Larys?” Aegon prompts dimly

“I could not agree more, Your Grace.”

“And on the subject of Rhaenyra,” Daeron continues. “Tessarion and I can take King’s Landing. Syrax is the only dragon in the city now, and Rhaenyra has never ridden her into combat.”

“No,” Aegon says. “We cannot risk setting the capital ablaze and turning the people against us. And Mother is there. Everett is there.”

“Everett?” Daeron looks around, baffled. “Who the fuck is Everett?”

“Angel’s brother. Not the firstborn son. The other one.” And as Aegon explains this, his chest is heaving and his eyes are glazed over. He tries to reposition himself in bed and has to bite down on his lower lip to keep from crying out, hard enough to draw blood.

“Is there anything else?” you ask Daeron and Aemond, a warning in your face. He needs rest. He needs to sleep, to heal.

“No,” Aemond says. He paces towards the door and snatches Daeron’s cape as he passes by him, hauling him out into the hallway. You follow after them.

As soon as he is out of earshot of Aegon’s room, Daeron tells Aemond: “He doesn’t look good.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Aemond, I think you should prepare to—”

“He’ll be fine!” Aemond snaps.

“You don’t think I’m losing something too?” Daeron demands furiously. “You don’t think I want him to be well again? Of course I want that. But if wishing people to live made it possible, the world would be a very different place.”

“You are needed in the Reach,” Aemond says, and that’s all.

Daeron glares up at him, incredulous, defiant. “This will be over soon. I hope you’re ready for what comes next.”

Then he storms out of the castle, soars down the long stone staircase, meets Tessarion on the windswept beach and takes flight into the southwest where the earth is green but the nights are an inescapable, dreamless black.

~~~~~~~~~~

Aegon is weeping again; you hear him from the hallway. It is after nightfall, and the castle is illuminated only by firelight. Candles flicker; the hearth crackles and pops. In the shadows, Aegon lies with his dragonfire scars and his fractured legs and his useless hereditary magic, tears streaming down his face. You have a vision of what he will look like when he’s dead; you imagine the Stranger reaching up from underneath the bed to seize him with claws like a raven’s talons and drag him out of existence.

“I need it,” Aegon sobs when he sees you, grasping for the glass bottle of milk of the poppy. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to need it, but I do.”

“I’m here, Aegon. It’s alright. Let me help.�� You pour him a cup of the bitter remedy, a strange gleaming white like pearl, opal, moonstone. Then you tilt the cup against his lips. Aegon gulps down the milk of the poppy and then falls back into his sea of pillows.

He murmurs, eyes closed as you graze the backs of your fingers feather-lightly over his unmarred cheek: “I wanted to start over with you.”

“You’ll still get the chance.”

“No,” he whimpers miserably. “I ruin everyone. Everyone I’m given, everyone I touch. Helaena, Jaehaerys, Maelor. We don’t even know where Jaehaera is, in Storm’s End, lost on the road, taken captive, dead. Otto, Autumn, Aemond, Mother, Sunfyre. And now I’m ruining you too.”

“You’re not,” you plead with him in a whisper. And not for the first time, you think: What do you require from me, Aegon? Wrath, compassion, healing, children? What can I do to give you hope again? Tell me and it’s yours. I’d do anything. I’d become anyone. “Aegon?” you begin, trying to ask him; but he is already unconscious. He’ll likely be out until sunrise.

You drink cup after cup of red wine and sit in the flame-lit shadows with him, in the quiet, in the liminal space between decisions, envisioned sins and prospective virtues. Then you leave the bedchamber like a ghost, a creak here and a tap there and no other trace. You wander down long, twisting corridors framed by dragons of iron and stone. And at the other end of the castle beyond a door you’ve never opened before is the lair of a very different breed of dragon: tall and lean and ambitious, his eyepatch removed and stowed away for the evening, his long silver hair hanging freely to his waist.

He is wearing cotton sleeping trousers but nothing else. He is seated at his writing desk and scrawling something onto parchment in black ink, a list or a diagram or a design for a new crown upon his ascension to the throne, you don’t know and you have no intention of asking. You have far too many things on your mind already. You feel nauseous and unsteady, you feel like you can’t possibly go through with this. You can’t imagine it. You can’t fathom what he would feel like, taste like.

Aemond steals a nonchalant glimpse of you, having no sense of your inner turmoil. “Can I assist you with something?”

“Yes,” you say simply, sipping your wine under the stone arch of the doorway.

He looks up at you again, his quill suddenly still in his hand. His two eyes are on you, one wide and river-blue, the other a soulless glittering sapphire in a tangle of ruined flesh. And now he understands. There are other Targaryens, he had said. “Take off your clothes. Sit down on the bed.”

You step inside his bedchamber and close the door behind you, setting your empty cup on the edge of his writing desk. You walk to his bed—dark green blankets, gold thread—and shed each piece of clothing you have on, a black gown and everything under it, not looking to see if Aemond is watching you, too anxious, trembling wildly. But you know his gaze is on you when you—standing naked and shivering in the firelight—begin to pull back the blankets and hear the sharp reprove in his voice.

“I did not tell you to hide yourself from me,” Aemond says. “Sit at the edge. Yes, there. Good.”

You perch on the bed and wait for him, your ankles linked, legs swinging restlessly, arms crossed over your chest. Aemond is staring at you from the opposite end of the room. You can’t look at him; you look elsewhere, at the tapestries of dragons hanging from the drafty stone walls, at the thick candles that drip white wax. And this won’t be like lying with a stranger, but it won’t be like lying with someone you want either, because you are profoundly uneasy and monstrously ashamed and perhaps even afraid.

Aemond is approaching now, firelight skating over his smooth, unsinged skin. He is undoing the tie at the waist of his trousers. He yanks them off, revealing himself to you. He is already hard, and he is massive, vast in length and width. The panic hits you like a breaking wave.

“Oh,” you gasp in alarm, unable to stop yourself. Then you explain so he won’t be offended: “I’m not going to be able to take you if I’m not ready.” You rest a hand on your bare thigh, slip it between your legs, begin to stroke yourself the way Aegon does, trying to relax, trying to think of him…

“No,” Aemond says, moving your hand aside. “Let me.”

Obediently, you rest your palms just behind you on the mattress, open your thighs for him, inhale sharpy as Aemond’s long, artful fingers touch you somewhere only one other man ever has. And you’re a traitor, the worst kind of traitor, because it’s working: you can feel yourself opening for him, hungering for him, coating his hand in slick warm wetness.

Aemond isn’t looking at your face. His eye is fixed on the place where his fingers are circling, where he is now pushing two inside of you, and while it happens abruptly and roughly enough to startle you it is not quite painful, or maybe it is, just the tiniest bit, but the pleasure eclipses the pain, the pleasure is a current you are powerless to swim against.

“You can tell me to stop,” Aemond says as he strokes you from the inside with his fingers buried to the knuckles, his breathing labored. “I don’t want you to. But if you tell me to stop, I’ll listen. Okay?”

You nod, and instead of an answer you give him a moan, stifled but unmistakable, dark treasonous forbidden ecstasy. And this snaps something in Aemond, it unleashes a part of him he’d been keeping tied up like an untrustworthy animal, one that could maul or maim or kill. He drops to his knees, hooks his arms beneath your thighs, drags you to him until his lips and tongue are on you with dizzyingly blissful pressure. You fall back onto the bed, one hand twisting into the blankets, the other in his waterfall of unruly silver hair, pushing him even harder against you as he licks ravenously. Aemond doesn’t seem to mind; with each roll of your hips and bitten-back plea his enthusiasm blooms, hums and triumphant chuckles spilling from his mouth as he swallows down the proof of your desire. It’s starting, that swift climb towards a high like nothing else on earth, something Aegon once taught you was possible. You are a betrayer, but with the very best of intentions; you are making a sacrifice, but it feels so much like a gift.

“Aemond, I’m ready,” you pant, your fingers hopelessly knotted in his hair. “You can do it now, you can…” And then you lose your words because instead of rising to his feet, Aemond stays right where he is, his tongue insatiable, his face drenched in your wetness.

He’s going to make me…I’m so close…

“Aemond, what are you waiting for…?”

His lips close around the spot where you are most sensitive and he sucks forcefully, and that feeling like a shuddering, irresistible unravelling strikes you harder and faster than it ever has before, so intense it is almost painful, sharp and commanding, not something he is doing with you but to you, and you know even in the golden haze of the climax that this is not about love but about power, pride, control, worthiness.

He doesn’t stop. He is licking you again, opening your folds with one hand, thrusting two fingers inside of you with the other. You are still feeling the pulsing, involuntary aftershocks of one high when the next begins building, building, building, and when you close your eyes all you can see are waves on the ocean in a storm, swelling to impossible heights and ungoverned by anything except the dubious mercy of nature.

“Aemond please,” you beg in a frayed whisper, bathed in sweat and guilt and frenzied lust. “I’m ready. Just do it, please…”

And then he wrenches you into another vortex and it takes everything in you not to scream, not to jolt awake the skeleton crew that tends to Dragonstone and its surreptitious guests. You are beyond complete thoughts, beyond sentences. You are boneless, your muscles have turned to mist and air, you are entirely under Aemond’s control and that’s where he has wanted you all along.

“Aemond, please, please, please…”

Unable to resist any longer, he stands—wiping the glistening, dripping sheen from his face with the back of one hand—and forces his cock inside you to the hilt. He does not slow down when he meets resistance, and you don’t tell him to. You moan in shock at the disorienting fullness, you cannot help it; it is a feeling on the knife’s edge between ripping agony and euphoric pleasure. It is something you would gratefully die of. He moves within you, deep and quick, his hands clasping your hips. Emotionally, you feel nothing but a razored, perilous, impersonal intensity; in your body, it is paradise.

Again? Again…?!

“Are you going to come for me one more time, Angel?” Aemond taunts you as he thrusts; and that’s Aegon’s name for you that he’s using, and it’s wrong, and Aemond knows that, and there is absolutely nothing you can do to break the spell he’s got you under, you can’t tell him to stop, you don’t have the will to, and if this is about power then you know who’s won out of the three of you, you know who has steel in his bones and lightning cracking in his veins.

It’s different this time, pleasure rising like the tide in your whole body, a peak that is not concentrated so clearly between your legs but everywhere: fingertips, spine, belly, heart.

“Come for me, Angel. I know you can do it.” And then for the first time Aemond leans in close to you, his pristine scarless chest pressed to yours, his lips traveling from your throat to the curve of your jaw, his tongue darting into your mouth before you can turn away, and he tastes like pure, mineral lust, and maybe that’s not just because of what he’s done to you, maybe that’s all he is all the way down, hunger that is never satisfied, a need to consume like fire burns flesh.

You whimper, a desperate vulnerable sound, a pleading for him to finish what he’s started and give you this one last high, just one more, just one, please, please, you’ll do anything.

“I’m better than him, aren’t I?” Aemond demands as he fucks you, and there’s no other word for it. This isn’t making love, this isn’t a meeting of souls, it is using someone else’s body to patch up all your hollows, all the pinprick voids you’ve been walking around with for years, losing yourself one blooddrop at a time until you pass by a mirror one day and think who the hell is that? “I know how to take care of you. I know what you want. I can do things Aegon never could. I’ll make you come again. I’ll give you a prince.”

And he coaxes it out of you like the memory of a dream, more like an ether than something you could name: a shimmering elation all over, a cry you can only muffle by biting down on Aemond’s neck as he pounds into you, and then he at last he surrenders what you came here for, but only after all the rest of it. He fills you with himself, so much of it that you can feel it pouring out onto the blankets, immense flooding wet warmth that gives you no satisfaction whatsoever.

I’m a traitor, you think, and for all the times you’ve changed your skin this is the very worst of them. I shouldn’t have done this. I wish I hadn’t done this.

Aemond lifts himself off of you and rolls onto his back, panting alongside you as you both stare up at the ceiling, drenched in each other’s salt and knowing things that were once so unthinkable. Aemond is gazing over at you. His clear blue eye is tracing your lips, your breasts, your hips, your folds that are soaked with his sweat and seed. You don’t want him watching you. You feel sick knowing he’s watching you. You get up from the bed and begin putting on your gown.

Aemond says: “We should probably try again tomorrow.”

You shake your head. “I can’t,” you reply quietly.

He sits up on the bed, his lone eye narrowed and suspicious. His hair is damp and now flows over his shoulders in disheveled silvery waves. “What?”

“I can’t do this again. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“So that’s it,” Aemond flings. “Just this once and never again. Never again in our whole goddamn lives.”

“It feels like betraying him. It is betraying him.”

“And what if he can’t father any more children?!”

“Then I’ll be barren.”

Aemond glares, petulant, affronted. “I thought you wanted to help this family.”

“You didn’t do this for your family. You did it for you.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m a fucking monster.” He tears off the bed, tugs on his trousers, ties the knot with swift furious hands.

“Aemond, I didn’t say that, I don’t think—”

“You’ve done enough,” he seethes, pawing through a chest of clothing. He finds a shirt and pulls it on, gathers up his things, rages to the bedchamber door. He whips it open and disappears into the nightscape corridor.

“Aemond!” you call after him in a fierce whisper, as loudly as you dare to. “Aemond, where are you going?!”

“To take Harrenhal,” he pitches over his shoulder. And then he’s gone, and maybe it’s your fault, and maybe it isn’t, but either way you are wholly convinced that it is.

You bathe in one of the massive tubs heated by the lava that runs deep beneath the rocky earth of the island, scouring away every trace of Aemond, lathering yourself with soap scented with pine, rinsing, lathering again. Still, you can feel the way he moved inside you with such battering, rapturous force. Still, you miss him, you miss being able to talk to him and look to him and trust that he will protect Aegon in every way he can, for no matter how much envy Aemond is built of you believe his love for his king is stronger.

You return to Aegon’s bed, always so careful now not to jostle his legs, his shattered bones that are only just beginning to mend. You are petrified that he will know somehow—that he will see it on your face, smell it sweating from your pores—but Aegon has nothing for you but seeking hands and contented, drowsy sighs.

“Where’d you go?” he mumbles, still half-asleep, drawing you in closer. “I missed you. I keep dreaming that everyone’s gone. I watch you walk through the doorway and I’m left here in bed all alone.”

“Aegon?”

“Yes, wife.”

“Do you need children with me to be happy?”

He waits a long time before he answers. When at last he does, he chooses each word carefully. “I have never felt a calling to be a father. I’ve never been any good at it. Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, Maelor…they were mine, but they also weren’t, and I can’t explain it. I felt nothing for them except a vague sort of sympathy that they had the misfortune of being born to me. Now, did a lot of that have to do with my relationship with Helaena? Probably. And do I think things would be different if I had children with you? Yes, I believe they would be, to some extent at least. But I don’t need children to be happy. I just need you.”

You say with tears in your eyes and your voice splintering: “I’m so sorry, Aegon.”

He is mystified. “For what?”

“For not being a better person for you. For not being able to cure or protect you. For not being able to end the war.”

“Angel, nobody can,” Aegon says, fingers snarled in your hair, lips to your forehead. Then he smiles; you can feel the warm, playful curl of it against your skin. “Well, except Aemond, of course.”

~~~~~~~~~~

She is there to greet him when he arrives. She creeps out of the shadows like a spider, long limbs and volcanic-glass eyes, whispers like wind in brittle fall leaves and flesh that will never refuse him. She wears black, not for one night like you did but always; she has long dark hair that she never cuts or braids or ties back. Sometimes there are raven feathers in it, sometimes herbs or powders from spells, sometimes twigs and petals, sometimes blood. It all washes out in the cold cryptic currents of the Gods Eye. Once Daemon Targaryen was here, but he did not have a wound in the shape that she could fill, could walk into like a doorway and stitch herself into the velvet-gore lining of his lungs, his liver, his heart. But now Daemon is gone. And Harrenhal has a new king to reign over the city of bones and ashes.

She meets him under the starlight that trickles in through the ruins of Harrenhal, less a castle than an architectural graveyard, less a place of beginnings than of calamitous ends. Her fingernails trace his scar and she tells him it is the mark of a hero. She touches her lips to his sapphire eye and tells him it reminds her of a god. And thus the doorway opens, and Alys drifts through it, silent and resistless like smoke, like a plague.

Perpetual Resurrection, Aemond thinks. He knows they are the words of House Celtigar. He has studied the mottos of every noble house in Westeros; but none speak to him more than these.

She touches him and he sees everything he could be. He tastes her lips and drinks down the smooth intoxicating fire that burns the boy he once was away.

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