#LET ME BE ABLE TO YELL AND SCREAM AND JUST SAY SOMETHING FOR ONCE

[whatcouldpossiblyg0wr0ng]

When will I finally FINALLY let go and be selfish I am WAITING.

[smutoperator]

Detention

Hong Eunchae x Male Reader

Tags: anal, bad cop, begging, daddy kink, dungeon, facial, (lots of) flogging, hole switcheroo, nipple clamps, punishment, teen, vibrator, virgin

Word count: 4020

Every time someone turns 18, they want to try something new that was once not allowed to them. It was no different for Eunchae, who had just got her driver's license.

Eunchae hopped in the car alongside her group leader, Chaewon, who would be instructing her. Both had taken a couple of drinks a few hours before as well but thought it was no big deal. However, things were about to change quickly.

A cop stopped the car Eunchae was driving. "Can you please show me your license?" you asked her. Eunchae started searching her pockets but couldn't find it, growing increasingly desperate. "I-I can't find it," she said.

"Sure, I'll check your alcohol levels too," you said, handing Eunchae a breathalyzer. She was shocked as she found out she was over the legal limit, feeling she was truly screwed. The teenager started crying, but you were merciless towards her. "You're under arrest," you announced to her, dismissing Chaewon shortly after as she passed her test.

Eunchae looked scared as you drove her to jail, detaining her in an individual cell. You kept looking at her tall, young body as she walked around the cell, pondering if she would be able to get bailed out without being involved in a scandal.

"How much do I have to pay to get set free?" Eunchae asked. You, however, just ignored her, checking the paperwork of her arrest. "Come on, I know you can hear me," she said. You finally got up and handed her a few papers. "I need you to sign this," you said.

"Can you explain to me what this paperwork is about?" Eunchae kept asking. "Damn, just sign it," you say, losing your patience and exiting the room. "Please, come back; don't leave me here," Eunchae begs.

"I'll sign it," Eunchae says as you return a couple of minutes later. "Good, that's what I wanted," you tell her. "Now, can you please get me out of here?" she asks. "Yes, but first I need you to take your clothes off," you tell her.

"Why is that necessary?" Eunchae asks. "I'm the one giving the commands; you just obey them, young brat," you say. "Fine," Eunchae says as she starts to strip herself, struggling as you handcuffed her during the arrest. "This is so frustrating," she says. "COME ON, TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES, YOU FUCKING SLUT," you yell at her, getting mad.

Eunchae obeys and slowly strips herself down. "HURRY UP, YOU'RE TAKING TOO LONG," you keep screaming. "You could help and take those handcuffs off me," she says. "Nah, that's not gonna happen," you tell her. "Now, take off your panties," you tell her.

"Ok, now what?" Eunchae asks. "Put your hands right here," you tell her, indicating an opening at the cell as you take her handcuffs off, staring at her naked teen body. "Put your hands behind your back, turn around, and put your ass over here," you keep commanding. Eunchae obliges. "Now spread your fucking ass for me," you keep ordering.

You pick up a butt plug and insert it in Eunchae's virgin asshole. It takes you a while as her tight butthole doesn't budge with the pressure of the object, but you finally manage to do it. "Ok, now put your clothes back on quickly," you tell her as Eunchae follows your orders, and you cuff her hands back again but release her from jail.

"Let's go to the room; I need to ask you some questions," you say to her. Eunchae is scared, fearing you'll do something bad to her. "Don't panic; if you behave well, you'll soon be free. Just be quiet," you tell Eunchae as you grab her face and open the doors of the room. However, as soon as she is in there, Chaewon calls her, and her phone rings loudly. 

"You had one rule and managed to violate it, such a fucking brat. Now you're going to the dungeon," you tell Eunchae. As she gets into the dungeon, you strip her naked, tying her body to a table while putting a gag in her mouth. She spots the signed photos of many idols, including her fellow groupmates. Her driver's license is on your desk, making her wonder if this was a set-up all along.

"I'm gonna punish you, young brat. All you had to do was follow my rule; now you'll face the consequences for being a bad girl," you tell Eunchae, looking at her face as you carry a whip in your hands. "Do you understand me?" you ask Eunchae, giving her naked ass a couple of spankings. Eunchae nodded positively as her mouth was covered.

"I don't think you had enough discipline; now I'm gonna teach you how to be a proper adult. Do you understand me?" You ask her, giving her ass a few more spankings. Eunchae agrees, but with the gag in her mouth, the words struggle to come out. "I WANT TO HEAR IT LIKE YOU FUCKING MEAN IT," you scream at her.

"How much do you want me to spank you?" you ask Eunchae. "Say it," you continue as her words keep getting muffled. "A lot," you finally manage to hear what she said. "And what do you want me to do to you?" you keep asking. "I want you to fuck my virgin holes," she answers.

Hearing it drives you crazy. You spank Eunchae's ass multiple times. "That's what she wants, you fucking bitch, a good fucking punishment," you tell her, laying your hands all over her body. "You're such a good little girl learning a lesson and teaching you the fucking rules, do you understand?" you keep asking. "Yes," Eunchae answers. "That's what I want to hear," you say.

You bring an even larger whip to hit Eunchae. "Is that what you want? Should have followed the rules, slutty bitch," you tell her, hitting her body with multiple angles but focusing especially on her ass. "What do you say when I spank you?" you ask her. "You say, 'Thank you, Daddy," you quickly answer.

"Thank you, Daddy," Eunchae says, trying to make you hear it despite the mouth gag. "If you take your punishment well, I'll give you a present. Are you gonna behave?" you ask her. "Yes, daddy," she answers as you keep flogging her 18-year-old body, turning it red.

"I think that's good enough," you say, looking at Eunchae's body now full of your red marks. You bring a Hitachi vibrator and place it in her virgin pussy. "What do you say?" you keep asking. "Thank you, Daddy," she answers. "Louder," you say. "THANK YOU, DADDY," she screams. "Now, follow the rules and don't cum without my permission," you continue, increasing the speed of the vibrator.

Eunchae tries to resist as the vibrator heavily massages her pussy. "Don't fucking cum," you tell her, taking the gag out of her mouth as the massage only gets more intense, making Eunchae moan with the pleasure it gives her. "How does it feel?" you ask her. "It feels so good, Daddy," she answers. "How many times have you had one of those massaging your pussy?" you ask her. "A few times, Chaewon unnie has one, and sometimes I borrow it to masturbate while she's away," Eunchae answers.

You spread Eunchae's tight pussy open, making it vibrate further. She moans, trying to resist as much as possible not to cum as you pick up the speed of your moves. Some juices leak out of her teen cunt. "Let me put you right on your fucking clit," you say, spanking her as well. "Thank you, Daddy," she says. 

"I think I'm being too nice to you; what do you think?" you ask Eunchae. "I don't know," she answers. "You don't know? Well, looks like you need more discipline," you say, hitting her with a whip. "Looks like you need some cock," you say. "Yes, daddy, my virgin pussy is aching for your cock," Eunchae answers.

"Say it like you mean it," you demand of Eunchae, shoving your clothed pants in her face. "I need your cock so bad, daddy," she answers, licking it. "LOUDER, BEG FOR YOU," you demand. "I NEED YOUR FUCKING COCK DEEP IN MY VIRGIN PUSSY," she screams shortly after.

"And what are you gonna do to get it?" you ask Eunchae. "Anything you want, daddy," she answers. "Okay, there you go," you say, putting a pair of clamps on her nipples. "Perfect, now I can give you some of that cock, but you better keep begging for it," you tell her.

"Please put that cock in my pussy, please," Eunchae keeps begging. You make it as hard as possible for her, shoving your dry shaft inside her virgin cunt. "Ahhhh, oh yeah," she moans as you go very slow, amazed at how tight her teen pussy is. "Tell me how it feels," you say to her. "So fucking good, daddy," she says as you slowly pick up the speed and grab her ass.

"Oh yes, you work my pussy so good, daddy, how does it feel to you?" Eunchae asks. "It feels so fucking tight; how does my big cock feel in it?" you reply, grabbing her hair. "Amazing, keep fucking and spanking me, daddy," Eunchae begs as your thrusts get faster and faster.

"Let me take this out," you say, taking a little break and removing the butt plug you placed inside her anus some hours ago. It struggles even more to get out just like it did to get in, but once it does, you can see her perfect virgin pink asshole and enjoy how small and cute it looks.

"Tell me how much you want that cock back; beg for it," you demand of Eunchae. "Please, Daddy, put it back in my pussy," she says. "Say it again," you tell her. "Please, put your cock in me," she replies. You got much faster this time. "Thank you, Daddy; keep spanking my ass," Eunchae begs. "Are you gonna fucking start listening to me? Oh fuck," you ask, but get interrupted by a groan as Eunchae's teen walls squeeze your fat cock hard. "You like that 18-year-old pussy a lot, don't you, daddy?" she asks.

"Oh yeah," you tell Eunchae. "Now I'll make you taste it," you continue, grabbing her head and fucking her face at full speed, making Eunchae choke hard on your dick. "Open those fucking eyes," you say as your cock gets deep in her throat and you treat her face like an onahole. "What do you say?" you ask every time she gags and you spank her ass. "Thank you, Daddy," she answers. "Then open your mouth," you continue, shoving your cock further balls deep in her mouth and covering her nose.

"You want more of this fucking cock?" you ask Eunchae as you grab her hair. "Yes, please, daddy," she begs as you jerk it off. You get back at fucking her pussy from behind. "Just like that, daddy, give it to me; it feels so fucking good," she says. You keep pulling her hair as you pound her teen cunt faster and faster, her ass completely red after so much spanking. "Is that what you want, young brat?" you ask her. "Ohhhh yeah, fuck my tight little pussy," Eunchae keeps begging as she answers you.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes," you keep saying as you get deeper and deeper inside Eunchae's pink pussy. "Keep going; show me how much you like that pussy," she tells you. "Don't fucking move," you say as you give her clit some rubbing and keep pumping her teen cunt. Eunchae turns into a moaning mess. "Yes, daddy, you fuck that pussy so good," she keeps saying, her perky young tits bouncing and her cheeks getting clapped as your thrusts only get more intense. "Oh yeah, daddy, use that young pussy," she says, making you grow even more animalesque, fucking her like a bull and masturbating her clit hard. 

"May I please cum?" Eunchae begs as your big hands are all over her throbbing clit. You don't answer her question, just getting more and more committed to fucking her teen pussy harder and harder before finally answering. "Yes, cum all over my cock, you slutty brat," you say.

You slow down and let Eunchae's juices coat your cock. "Taste that fucking cum," you tell her when she's finally done, turning around and shoving your creamy cock in her young face. "That's it, open that fucking mouth, show me how much you enjoy that fucking cum," you say to her. "Thank you, Daddy," she says. 

You grab Eunchae's face and spit on her. "You want more of this fucking cock?" you ask. "Yes, daddy," she quickly answers. "You want it in your fucking ass too?" you keep asking. "Yes, please," she answers. "Then beg louder," you reply.

"PLEASE, DADDY, I WANT YOU TO USE ALL MY HOLES," Eunchae screams. "Beg louder," you command as you spank her butt. "PLEASE, PUT YOUR COCK IN MY ASS," she says. "Keep saying it," you continue. "Put it in me, in my ass, please," she keeps begging.

You shove your cock in Eunchae's butthole in one go, as the butt plug spread it enough for an easy slide. "Ouch," she moans as if she were stabbed. "Oh fuck," she keeps moaning as you punish her as if she was a veteran of anal sex like her unnie Chaewon, not a young girl who to this point had only inserted bananas and butt plugs up her asshole, but never a real cock.

"You like fucking my asshole, daddy?" Eunchae asks. "Yes," you say as you spank her butt. "How about you, bitch?" you reply. She answers positively, but you can clearly tell she's struggling with such a massive cock in her tiny teen asshole, especially with the speed you fuck it. "Don't move that fucking ass; you're getting fucking punished," you say to her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, rub that clit, please. Thank you, Daddy," Eunchae says as it gives her some relief from the fast and deep thrusts you give inside her ass. "Keep going, daddy, you play with my clit so good," she says. "Oh, fuck yes, there you go; look at that ass getting stretched out by that big fat cock," you say, picking up the speed further. "FUCK," Eunchae screams as not even your hands in her clit can make her cope with the heat your cock puts in her asshole.

Luckily for her, you have some mercy and switch back to her pussy, but that doesn't change much, as Eunchae's holes are throbbing hard now. "OH FUCK YES," she screams as your cock goes back to pumping her cunt, losing no speed as it switches holes, staying at the same relentless pace.

"Back in your fucking ass," you say to Eunchae, at this point just toying with her teen holes. "Oh god, you're such a fucking tight slut," you say to her, clapping her cheeks and grabbing her hair. "OH DADDY, IT FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD, THANK YOU DADDY," she screams. "Open that fucking mouth," you reply, stretching it as you fuck her. 

"Now taste your pussy and ass right there," you say, shoving your cock in her mouth one more time. "You want it back?" you soon ask. "Yes, I want it back in my holes, please," Eunchae answers. "Which hole do you want it?" you keep asking. "Anyone you want, daddy," she replies. "Give me an answer, bitch," you tell her. "I want you to keep fucking my ass," she says. "Say it again," you say. "I WANT YOU TO FUCK MY ASS, DADDY," she screams.

You give Eunchae's ass very heavy poundings. "Fuck yes, put that fucking ass up," you demand. "You like the way my asshole feels on your cock?" Eunchae asks. "Yes, it's so fucking tight, such a tasty little 18-year-old ass," you say as you spank her butt for the hundredth time.

"I want you to fucking cum like the slut you are," you tell Eunchae. "Yes sir, keep fucking my ass like that and I'll cum hard for you," she answers. "You better fucking cum on that cock or I'm gonna punish you," you say, picking up the speed. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, OH FUCK," Eunchae moans as her asshole keeps getting stretched out. "Keep going; that feels so fucking good, ahhhh, yeahhh, ohhhh, thank you, daddy," Eunchae moans as you can't stop fucking her ass.

You pull out of Eunchae's ass and pick back the vibrator. "You're gonna cum all over it, do you understand?" you demand as you shove it on her pussy. "Yes, daddy," she answers. You massage her clit hard with it. "Right there," Eunchae says. "May I please cum?" she asks. "CUM," you give her a positive answer, letting her leak a lot of juices all over the table she's tied up to.

You quickly take advantage of Eunchae's weakness and shove your cock in her cunt. "Yes, please, put your cock back in my pussy," she begs. "FUCK, DADDY, I WANNA CUM ALL OVER YOUR COCK, YES, YES, YES, USE MY PUSSY, USE ALL MY FUCKING HOLES, I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING," she screams. "Yes, perfect," you say as you spank her ass and Eunchae cums all over your cock. "Keep that ass up," you continue.

Eunchae takes the little time you give her to breathe, but soon you flip her body around and start spanking her pussy. "I want you to beg again for my cock," you tell her. "I need your cock, need it in my fucking pussy so bad," she says as you put the vibrator back in her pussy. "Keep begging," you tell her. "I want your cock," she says. "It feels so good," she continues as the vibrator massages her clit. "More, you can beg better than that," you say, increasing the speed of the vibrator. "Give me your cock; I need it in my pussy, please, please, please, please," she continues, but you still ignore her pleading.

Eunchae tries to stretch her hands and jerk your cock off as she keeps begging for your cock. "Say it every time I hit you," you tell her, whipping her body. "I want your cock, I want your cock, I want your cock," she repeats countless times. "That's better," you tell her. "Is that what you want?" you ask, shoving it in her pussy. "Yes, thank you, Daddy," she answers.

You fuck Eunchae as you put the vibrator in her clit alongside it. "YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, ALL OVER MY CLIT," she screams. "YOU LIKE THAT, YOU FUCKING SLUT?" you ask her as you spank her face. "Yes, daddy, it feels so fucking good. Thanks for fucking me, daddy. Thanks for using my holes," she replies.

You switch back to Eunchae's ass. "Oh fuck, nice and slow," she begs, already completely wasted as the vibrator makes her clit throb further and further. "Yeah, yeah, just like that," she begs. "I want you to cum in my fucking cock again," you say to her. "Please, daddy, may I please cum all over that cock?" she begs. You spank her face. "Right there, right in my clit, FUCK, I'M GONNA CUM," Eunchae says.

"CUM ALL OVER IT, BITCH," you say, picking up the speed as you fuck Eunchae's ass and grabbing her waist. "Oh yeah," you say as she squirts all over your cock. But you don't stop, getting addicted to her teen holes and quickly moving to her pussy again. "OH FUCK, THAT FEELS GOOD, DADDY," Eunchae moans. "Oh yeah, sure it does," you say to her. You now just toy with her holes, switching from pussy to ass from time to time while hitting her face and her tits, treating Eunchae like a fucktoy as you choke her. "Don't get loud, you bratty bitch," you say, rubbing her clit hard and spanking her whole body with that whip.

"Thank you, Daddy, for using me like that," Eunchae says. You fuck her pussy hard, enjoying your cock bulge under her young belly. Then you switch to her ass and choke her harder than ever. The switcheroo keeps going, Eunchae's whole body getting redder and redder, her rolling her eyes and struggling to breathe as you grab her neck with full force and rub her clit. "Please, daddy, rub my fucking little clit; you're gonna make me cum again," Eunchae moans as she gets completely overwhelmed by your moves in her cunt and her clit. "Fuck, just like that," she says.

"Is that what you fucking want?" you ask Eunchae. "Yes, daddy, but I want your cum too," Eunchae answers. "Then beg for my cum," you reply, spanking her face and keeping your fingers all over her clit, playing a lot with it. You spank her pussy and switch back to her ass, fucking it as hard as possible while you choke her. "I want you to make me cum with that fucking ass," you tell Eunchae as you pump it hard, her struggling hard as you have fucked her for nearly half an hour at this point. "You like that fat pussy too?" she asks as you pinch her clit while fucking her ass. "I like you shutting your fucking mouth, you bratty slut," you answer her.

Ass to pussy, pussy to ass, you keep switching, much to Eunchae's enjoyment. "Use my holes, Daddy; pick whatever you want," she begs as you fuck both of them really hard. Her face is now completely red from all the spanking and choking. "I want your cum," Eunchae begs. "Look at this bitch showing her true colors," you say.

"I want your cum all over my face," Eunchae begs as she gets choked and pounded. "Use my holes, use my fucking pussy, use them for your pleasure," she keeps begging. "Open your mouth wider; show me how much you want that cum," you command. But then Eunchae says the words that finally push you over the edge.

"I want you to cum all over my pretty little 18-year-old face," she says. As soon as you hear it, you pull your cock out of her cunt and ejaculate all over her face, covering her full of sperm like a good teen slut. Eunchae sticks her tongue out as she gets glazed, getting herself full of cum from her hair to her chin, kissing your cock as she thanks you for one final time. "Are you gonna start following the rules now?" you ask her. "Yes, daddy," she replies as you slap your cock in her face.

"You're free now," you say to Eunchae. "Thank you, Daddy," Eunchae says. But as soon as she is ready to get out of the dungeon, another girl arrives and catches both of you.

"Looks like she had a lot of fun," Chaewon says as she looks at Eunchae's face completely covered with your semen. "Sure she did," you tell her.

"Let me see how she tastes, hmmmm, delicious," Chaewon says, putting her mouth on your cock and tasting it as it's still full of your cum and Eunchae's juices. "You know, I think we should give her some extra training," she continues.

"Like what?" you ask.

"Let her learn some new positions and turn her into a proper slut," Chaewon says. "Are you ready, Manchae?" she asks her.

"Yes, unnie," Eunchae answers.

"Then sit your ass on his cock," Chaewon commands, and Eunchae obliges, following her unnie's instructions. "Lock her legs; let's see if this slut can take a full nelson," Chaewon instructs you.

"Oh fuck," Eunchae screams as soon as she's completely immobilized. "AHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH," she starts screaming as you resume pounding her ass under Chaewon's watch.

"Let me make this a little harder," Chaewon says, getting out of both your sights as she switches clothes while you keep fucking Eunchae, returning with a strap-on attached to her waist.

"Let's see if she can take this in her pussy too," the naughty unnie says.

"FUCKKKKKKKK," Eunchae screams, and her second round at the dungeon is just beginning.

[sophie-looks-at-stuff]

The Dragon and the Dragon-less

Pairing: Aemond x Strong niece reader

Summary: The night Aemond had lost his eye, his sweet niece was the only one to provide him any sense of comfort. Many years later, when she returns to Kings Landing with her family, what should become of the two? ;)

Warnings: bad ship terminology (idk boats y'all sorry), Rhaenyra being kind of a bad mom (love her tho), Targcest/incest, softer Aemond, smut in the dragon pits, this one is kind of long haha

AN: Hey y'all! Since my first fic seemed to be received so well (thanks so much to everyone for that:) I decided to write another one! I'm staying on the Aemond train since I've never left it since day one haha. Let me know tho if there are any requests!

PS: I haven't gone through and totally edited this so don't mind the spelling or grammar issues if there are any!!

It had been awful, you remembered hearing the screaming and shouting from your chambers. The screeching having woken you up from a rather pleasant dream about eating cake–

In nothing but your night clothes, and a quilt draped around your shoulders, you padded down the chilly hallways of Dragonstone. 

“ – it was my sons who were attacked!” You hear your mother yell. Concerned you took a few more steps forward, finally able to make out the scene before you. Your mother and your brothers to one side, while Alicent and her boys on the other, the fire raging in the hearth between them. 

Your wide lilac eyes meet those of your stepfather, Prince Daemon, he reaches a hand out towards you as if to say “Come here”. Your feet did not move, rooted to the spot, eyes glancing around the room once more. You see something you hadn’t noticed before, Aemond, in the corner of the room, surrounded by maesters. A hand over his eye, thick, sticky fluid oozing from between his small fingers. Gasping, your own hands fly to cover your lips, perhaps to muffle the noise, or maybe to tame the scream building in your throat. Aemond’s healthy eye meets yours, pain, sadness but most of all fury over taking his features. 

Just then your mother turns to meet you, her gaze worried and frantic, “My sweet girl! You should return to your chambers this is no sight for you dearest,” her hand, also bloody you notice, rests above her heart.

“Mother, w-what has happened? Aemond, h-he, is he alright–” You begin to question, Daemon takes a step towards you and you take one forward into the room. Your concerned gaze flits over to Aemond once more. Despite the fire in the hearth, the chill of the room has set into your bones, causing you to pull the quilt tighter around your shoulders. 

“Come now byka zaldrīzes (little dragon) let us return you to your quarters. Aemond will be fine,” Your father attempts to comfort you. Maybe you are too tired to argue, or too shocked, your mind still attempting to comprehend what has happened. But you let your father guide you back to your chambers, the quilt trailing behind you like a cloak. 

With a lullaby and a pat on the head, Daemon bids you good night once more. Closing the door softly behind him, his heavy footsteps receding off into the distance, presumably back to your mother and brothers. It feels like hours as you stare at the ceiling, listening, straining your ears for even just a morsel of information. But the halls beyond your door remain as silent as the grave. The chill in your bones is stubborn, making you shiver. Sitting up and swinging your feet over the side of the bed, you wrap the quilt around your shoulders once again. As silently as possible, you open the door, the hall is empty save for the torches lining the walls. You’re bathed in the fiery orange glow as you step fully into the hall. 

You’re not quite sure where your feet carry you until you turn the corner and are met with Ser Criston Cole. His tall stature taking up the door frame of the young prince's room, his gold cloak behind him like an inverse shadow. It’s not until you come to stand in front of him that he addresses you. 

“Princess, you should not be here. You should return to your chambers,” He looks down his nose at you. Your knuckles turn white from the tight grip you have on the quilt.

“Please, Ser, I must see the Prince. What has happened to him? I must know if he is alright–” 

“Your brothers have maimed him. Who’s to say you aren’t here to do the same? Perhaps your whore of a –” The door behind him creaks a bit, one of the maesters appears in its place. Bloodied rags and a needle are held in his hands. He sighs “The prince says she may pass Ser Cole,”

With one last look of annoyance and a warning mumbled under his breath, the knight lets you pass. The room is dark, lit only by a few candles on the bedside table. Aemond’s hunched form lays on the bed, the blankets up to his chin. As you make your way closer you can see the true horror of what has happened this evening. Where his eye once was, now lays only marred flesh, red and angry, the stitches pull at the swollen skin. You gasp, shocked, a sick feeling settling into the pit of your stomach.

“Ugly isn’t it?” Aemond asks you, bitterness lacing his voice. As he speaks you make your way to his side, sitting lightly on the bed, next to his hip. Your small hand searching for his under the covers, to comfort him, or maybe to warm your own. 

“H-how did this happen? Who could possibly have–”

“Your brothers. Lucerys stole my eye. But an eye for a dragon is a fair price to pay is it not niece?” A proud, sad smile graces his features. While your brothers had dragons since they were but babes, you were not as lucky. Syrax had not laid a full nest, and your mother had decided it was best to give your brothers the two eggs. All the while you have remained dragonless. 

“Vhagar is now mine, and on the morrow, we shall leave this wretched place. And I will fly on dragon back to the Red Keep.” His singular lilac eye meets yours. “I promise you, sweet niece, one day I shall take you for a ride on dragon back. Show you the freedom that comes with it,” His previously bloodied fingers intertwined with yours. 

“I would like that very much uncle,” Looking down at your joined hands, a small smile of your own matching his. 

— — — — — — —

The waters of the sea lap against the side of the ship, the slap against the wood echoing around you. Overpowered only by the screeching of your family's dragons above you. Alone, you ride on this ship, well alone save for the ship hands and captain assigned by your father. Still, at the age of nine and ten, you remain dragonless, made to travel to the Red Keep by boat.

Your brothers claim to Driftmark had come into question, prompting the visit back to your old home. You hadn’t been back here since–

Your mother and father had determined it best to keep the family at Dragonstone after Aemond lost his eye. Although you had always suspected part of the reasoning for that was your mothers fear of retribution from Alicent for what your brother had done. Perhaps it was a long time coming though, your brothers as well as Aegon had picked on Aemond ruthlessly for years prior to that night. You had been spared only by the simple facts that you were a little girl, and just weren’t in there presence as much. Despite your pleas to join in the yard for training you had been denied, and turned towards the library instead to study “things more befit for your station” as your mother had put it.

“We shall dock shortly Princess,” the ship captain’s voice drifted to you from behind the wheel. You stood on the platform with him, looking beyond the masthead, you see Syrax and Caraxes land in the dragon pits. You sigh, it looks like you’ll arrive alone at the Red Keep, not expecting your mother to wait for you. Her and Daemon needed to prepare for the events of tomorrow. 

Arriving at the Keep felt haunting, the lack of a welcome only contributing to that fact. Once docked, you were met by a singular carriage and it’s driver. The captain had assured you that your belongings were to be delivered to your chambers shortly. For all your fathers faults he did have good trust and faith in those he employed. The ship’s captain had been with your families since you were a girl. He and yourself not unfamiliar with these lonesome journeys. 

The gates of the Red Keep came into view as you rolled over the bumpy roads of Kings Landing. Gold Cloaks lined the gate’s walls, closing the massive gate doors behind you, shutting you in, locking you within the castle grounds. The carriage comes to a jumpy halt, the driver offering you his hand as you disembark your ride. Your fingers slip into his as your boots squelch in the mud below you, the clanging of swords and metal meet your ears. 

“Nephews, have you come to train?” A voice says, one you could not recognize. From across the yard you see your brothers, you wave to them, hoping to catch their eye. Luke turns his head towards you, a small smile playing at his lips. Noticing this, the source of the voice follows his gaze, a singular lilac eye meeting yours.

“Niece, how you have grown–” Aemond’s lone eye takes in your figure. My how you’ve grown indeed. Last time he had seen you you barely came up to his chin, your silver locks a messs contained in small braids. The flush that never seemed to leave your cheeks remained however. You had grown taller, still standing shorter than himself, which he finds excites him a bit. More than it should perhaps. You had grown into yourself in a way that was very pleasing to his eye, your face fuller and lovely. Your curves soft and plush, inviting him to touch and caress them. 

“Uncle,” you offer him a small curtsey. You can hear Jace scoff, as if annoyed by the action. Wanting yo say more, but not knowing what, you continue to look at one another. Your own eyes take in your uncle, he had grown taller, much taller. His muscles lean and corded beneath his tunic. His silver hair almost as long as yours, is pulled back slightly in a braid. Some hanging free, escaping their confines during his sparring. His eye was now covered in an eyepatch, made of black leather, the tops and bottoms of the scar still visible even with it on. 

The arrival of another carriage turns your gaze to the left, where you yourself had arrived only moments ago. Vaemond Valaryon steps out of the carriage and into the yard, sparing a glance at the Prince and your brothers. A look of disgust crosses his face as he lays his eyes on Luke. 

— — — — — — —

The meeting to question Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark is long and dull, at least in the beginning. Mustering his limited remaining strength your grandsire had sat the thrown. Disputing Otto and Alicent in their claims. He looks horrible you think. His skin looks to be gray and sloughing off of his bones. The Stranger would be coming for him soon. It is not until Vaemond brings into question your brother’s parentage once again, that the apprehensive peace shatters. 

“And she is a–”

“Say it,” your father’s hand that rests on the hilt of Dark Sister tightens, knuckles whitening. 

“ – a WHORE!” In one swift blow, Daemon sends Vaemond’s head rolling across the floor of the throne room. Blood trailed behind the appendage like a snail’s trail. The room is filled with gasps and short screams. Your own eyes widened looking at the head on the stone floor before you. By no means are you unfamiliar with your father's violent nature, and nor should the rest of the court. 

“Let him keep his tongue,” Daemon wipes the blood off of his blade, stepping back, sheathing the sword once more. 

As if some kind of magic pulls you, you lift your eyes from Vaemonds severed head and meet those of your uncle. A smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, he looks to be well entertained by the violent display. Caught in your staring, Aemond’s gaze rises to meet your own, his smirk widening into a more sadistic smile. 

“Now, for the final order of business. A more pleasant way to end this affair,” the king says, his mellow voice carrying across the stone-lined room. “I am blessed by the Gods to have such a large family, but it appears that the Gods hope to bless us some more,” It was becoming increasingly more clear that Alicent’s love for The Seven has bled not just into the castle but its people as well.  You think maybe it gives the king something comforting in his final days. 

“My son, Aemond, a fine warrior and scholar,” Aemond stands rigid and straight, uncomfortable with the new attention from his father. “And my granddaughter, if your mother had not already claimed the title of Realms Delight then it would be most certainly passed to you.” Your cheeks flush a bright pink, warmth rising to the tips of your ears. 

“This family has been divided for quite some time, I tend to rectify that. Aemond, my son, and my granddaughter the princess, shall be married,” The reactions around the room are mixed, some people applaud, some cover their shock with their hands. Wide, prying eyes jump between you and Aemond. You dare a look in his direction, he is still staring, the smile gone from his face now. Confusion, shock, anger? You cannot tell but it is not sweet, and it is not kind.

A wave of confidence washes over you as you step forward, “What is the meaning of this? Why have I not had any indication of this until now?!” You feel your mother’s hand grasp your elbow, urging you to stand beside her, silently. “It is the wish of your grandsire, byka zaldrīzes (little dragon). He is dying, do not fight him,” Your head whips aside, meeting her eyes, eyes filled with sadness. Did she know of this? Did she approve of this? Your father would not meet your eyes, nor your brothers, Jace toeing at an invisible stone on the floor. Did they all know, except for you? 

You tear your elbow from your mother’s grasp, she opens her mouth to speak once more, but your back is already turned. Your feet lead you towards the grand door. You had to leave, you needed to be anywhere else but here. Your chest tightens, your breathing ragged. Not with sadness or grief, no, but with anger and fury. You feel as though you could breathe fire as the dragons do. An angered scream tears past your lips, reverberating off of the stone walls of the Red Keep. 

— — — — — — —

You had decided it best to skip the family feast. And a good thing too, unbeknownst to you it had gone horribly. Lucerys mocking Aemond over the roasted pig, Aemond's “final tribute” to his Strong nephews. No, instead you had taken your dinner in the library, back amongst your beloved books. The sun had set an hour or two ago now, the torches along the halls lit. You didn’t know how late it was, you had been much too absorbed in your novel Lady Coryanne Wylde, A Cautionary Tale for Young Girls. 

The wax on the candles had burned low, and your wine had turned cold. It was time to retire. Taking the book with you, you began to make your way toward your chambers, your old chambers. The last time you had slept there you had been but a girl. As you turn the corner you are met with a hard wall of warm, corded muscle. Your book tumbling to the ground. A pair of strong hands plant themselves on your shoulders, to steady you. 

“Careful niece, someone might think you are up to no good, wandering the corridors, at night–alone” The smile from earlier returns to his lips, and just then, he notices the book on the floor. His smile becoming impossibly wider, you don’t think you’ve ever really seen Aemond smile, not like this anyway. It’s nice, you think to yourself.

“What’s this dear niece,” he bends down to pick up the novel, his slim fingers sifting through the pages, his eyebrows lifting. “Well, well, who would have thought–”

“Give that back!” You reach to snatch it from him, like a child, but he just holds it higher over his head. “Tell you what, I made a promise to you. Do you remember?” Of course, you remembered, you still thought about it sometimes, but all hope of fulfilling it had left you.

“Yes–” it came out more hoarse than you had intended. Your hand frozen, outstretched, Aemond still held the book over his head. 

“Come with me to meet Vhagar, for a ride,” he leaned closer to you, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “Come taste the freedom of the skies with me niece.” He had tucked the book behind his back. Aemond wasn’t a man who typically waited for an answer, nor was he one who liked when people disagreed with him. He’d throw you over his shoulder if he must. Even though his hatred for your family ran deep, he could never seem to hate you. You had endeared yourself to him time and time again as children, but the night he lost his eye. The night you visited him, the only one not angry, the only one not repulsed by his face. He knew then that he could never hate you, no matter how hard he’d tried. 

Words had suddenly failed you, your tongue dry. You simply nodded instead. In response, Aemond straightened to his full, imposing height, and turning without a word, he began his stride down the hall, towards the dragon pits. You followed him, but neither of you spoke, the halls of the Red Keep filled with an odd sort of comfortable silence. His hair had grown longer, much longer, and he walked with a sense of confidence that hadn’t been there before. 

The night air was chill, a slight breeze blew through your hair, tousling the strands. You were glad you had worn a gown with longer sleeves, it must be chilly up in the clouds. Aemond was sporting his riding clothes, the leather over his tunic reaching his wrists. He looked good, really good, you thought to yourself. The flush from earlier returning to your cheeks, as well as the warmth in the tips of your ears. 

Aemond comes to a stop before the pits, waiting for you, the book still behind his back, taunting you. You suppose that was his insurance policy in case you had said no to joining him. You can only imagine your father's reaction to seeing you read such debauchery. You were his sweet little girl after all…

“Come now niece, no harm shall come to you while I am near,” He held his hand out to you, and you slipped your fingers between his. His hands are much smoother than the ship captains from earlier, you thought. His hand was warm, the blood of the dragon coursing through his veins. The sound of beating wings from up above drew you out of your daze. A dark shadow crossed over the pair of you, coming to land only several passes in front of you. Vhagar stood proud and strong, if not slightly tired. Her form was weathered by time and battle. It’s a blessing from the Gods that she can still take to the skies as she does. 

Aemond drew you nearer to her, your hand still held tightly in his, like all those years ago. “Give her a pat, she won’t bite, not unless I tell her to,” He chuckled a bit at his own joke, your eyes widening slightly, making him laugh all the more. “No need to be frightened, she’s quite gentle actually,” He guided your hand up to the beast's snout, his fingers had moved to circle your wrists, making the action easier. Your hand lay splayed out before you against Vhagar’s scales, her skin impossibly hot. The hand on your wrists moves to cover your own on the dragon. From behind you, Aemonds other hand rests on your waist lightly, like a whisper on the wind. Mayhaps this marriage won’t be too bad after all? Your anger from earlier was not directed at him you realize, but rather at the other members of your family. You were never pleased when things were kept from you when you were lied to. You like his hand there, you like it a lot, it provides you a sense of comfort and security as you stand before this large beast. You wonder how his calloused hands would feel elsewhere…

Aemond retracts his hand, yours following closely behind, you can still feel the heat of Vhagar’s scales on the skin of your palms. You begin to be tugged backward in the direction of Vhagar’s saddle. Aemond motions for you to begin climbing the ropes that lead to the mount, he follows behind you; prepared to catch you should the need arise. The saddle is less like a saddle and more like a small chariot on top of the dragon. It comfortably seats the two of you, and could even squeeze in a third. 

Aemond positions you in front of him, his legs caging yours, his arms reaching around the front of you to grasp onto the reigns. “Are you ready?” The question is whispered to you, his lips brushing your ear once more as he speaks. You rather like this position, the warmth radiating off of his body will surely keep you warm above the clouds. 

“Yes, yes I think I am,” Your own hands come up to rest atop his, surely just to steady yourself, and not at all because you were becoming increasingly more desperate to touch or be touched by the man behind you. 

“Sōvēs Vhagar!” Aemond pulls back and yells into the night air, sparring your delicate eardrums. The beast below you growls and jolts into action. She takes a few long strides before beginning to beat her wings, as she takes off into the crisp night air. 

Eyes glued shut you think you yell out a little yelp of initial fear and surprise. Aemond’s legs press tighter down on your own as if to reassure you that you are safe with him and his dragon. As Vhagar evens out her flying, coasting just above the clouds, you dare to open your eyes. Behind you, Aemond cannot stop the smile from spreading across his lips, he cannot see your face but he hopes it is a happy one. He’ll take you out flying every day that you are married if it will make you happy. He would burn the world down if it meant he could keep you safe and happy. To make you his. 

Truthfully he wasn’t all that surprised by his father’s announcement of your betrothal. As a boy, even before the incident, he had asked his mother and grandsire, Otto, what lords would court you, and if any would be good enough for a princess. It wasn’t until after he lost his eye that he first breached the subject of marriage to his mother. He’d told her he deserved it, that after all the pain he had gone through, it was only fair for him to spend his life beside someone whom he cared so deeply for. At the time his mother had just given him a kiss on the forehead saying “Perhaps one day, we shall see,” A sad smile had crossed her face then.

He’d given up on the hope of marrying for love after that. The ladies of court found him elusive and repulsive, opting to flirt with his brother, despite his marriage to Helaena. A few moons ago, Aegon had made a jest at Aemond’s expense, something about being tied to a Strong for all eternity. He had ignored it, deeming it nothing more than one of his brother's drunken comments. However, after the events of today, it seems he was not jesting after all.

Aemond is broken out of his thoughts by a lovely, bubbly sound. You’re laughing, your arms spread wide, fingers splayed out letting the wind rush through them. He immediately goes to grasp your waist, his legs still caged around yours, steading you, anchoring you to him and the saddle. 

“What the sweet Hells are you doing?! Put your hands back on the reigns!” He exclaims. You giggle some more, the wind drying your teeth as you smile. 

“I cannot uncle! You were right, this is marvelous! I feel as though I could rule the world from up here!” He had never seen anyone as dazzling as you were in this moment. Vhagar gave a slight jolt as she began to descend back downwards, causing you to jump forward a bit, hands grasping the reigns once more.

“I told you – “ He murmurs against your hair, placing a small kiss on your head. After another moment Aemond begins to guide Vhagar back towards the dragon pits. There’s a strain in his trousers he can ignore no longer. Years of pent-up desire and want boiling over. Ever the gentleman, he assists you in descending the beast. This time he goes first, his hand in yours as he helps you with the final jump down. 

“That was incredible, uncle that was truly –” Aemond uses his grip on your hand to tug you forward, clutching you to his chest, his lips meeting yours. You gasp into his mouth, surprised by the boldness of his actions. Before you are given the opportunity to reciprocate, he pulls away, a slight frown on his face.

“My apologies, I should not have–” 

“Yes, you should have actually. Why did you stop, I was quite enjoying myself,” You pull on the collar of his tunic, tugging his chapped lips back down to yours. Aemond uses his taller stature to guide you back up against a pillar within the pits. The two of you made only out of sight by half of a pillar, and Vhagar’s sleeping form. 

“And what if I were to take you, right here? Right now? Like a scene from your debaucherous novel,” He exclaims, his lips moving, forming a trail from your jaw down to your collarbone. Surely leaving marks, and love bites as he goes. Oh if only his brother could see him now, he thinks that perhaps Aegon would congratulate him on finally “getting it wet”. 

His grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you impossibly closer to him. He was everywhere, all of your senses were overwhelmed by him. The smell of the oils used to wash his hair filled your nostrils, the smokiness from Vhagar had made a home in the threads of his clothes. You’re nearly positive that you must smell similar, you’ll need to get your gown cleaned certainly. 

Your hands began to fumble with the belt of his trousers, your fingers making clumsy work of the buckle. Aemond pulls away only for a moment to assist you, then he begins to work on the strings of your corset. His movements were desperate and quick, neither of you having the patience to wait much longer. All the while his lips never left your skin. You feel him smile against your skin as Vhagar makes a slight noise of annoyance at your escapades. Somehow between your messy kisses, your skirts had been rucked up to your hips, Aemond’s deft fingers making contact with your small clothes. 

“You’re rather wet dear niece. Do I rile you up so huh? I wonder how wet you’ll be with my cock inside your sweet cunt,” He says that last bit almost more so to himself rather than you. In response, a small whimper escapes your lips. Aemond looks up to meet your eyes. A certain twinkle reflects at you from his. 

“Another night I shall spend hours ravishing you, but I need to be inside you, now.” He gives his cock a few strokes, preparing himself. Your eyes widen at the sight, his shaft long and thick, his head red and leaking arousal. It was, invigorating, knowing that you could illicit such a response from him. With a delicate kiss to your lips and one final look of permission, Aemond sheathes himself inside you. Your warm walls squeeze him perfectly, welcoming him in. Gods he could stay right here like this forever. 

“ – move. Aemond Gods move please,” You begged him, your walls had adjusted to him. Feeling wonderful and full. He began slow, his thrusts taking on a rhythmic flow. Aemond tucks his face into the crook of your neck, smelling your hair, his grunts and groans in your ear. You drag your nails down his clothed back, perhaps next time you’ll be able to fully leave your marks on his skin. Thank the Gods Vhagar had decided to remain put, it would ruin your honor should anyone find you like this; even though your virtue was promised to him already.

“Fuck– I don’t know if I’ll be able to last much longer ñuha jorrāeliarzy (my beloved). You are just too perfect–” He cuts himself off with a grunt.

“Finish then, let go Aemond, let got for me please, I–” You beg him, you need it just as much as he does.

“Not before you ñuha jorrāeliarzy (my beloved).” Aemond moves down to circle your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure up your spine. The pace of his thrusts picked up, your hands remained looped around his neck, anchoring yourself to him.

“Aemond, oh Aemond, Gods I’m gonna–” The words that left your mouth made hardly any sense. The words and phrases twist and turn into a bizarre hymn to your betrothed. 

“Cum, cum for me Jorrāelagon (love), give yourself over to me–” Aemond begged you. His lips biting and nipping at the flesh of your neck. On his command, a wave of pleasure washes over you, like the seas crashing into the shores of Driftmark. You remember drifting off to sleep as a girl to the lullaby of the sea. Aemond’s own release follows closely after your own. Still nestled inside of you, he rests his forehead against yours, sighing contentedly. 

“You know, when I was a boy, I had asked my mother to ask Rhaenyra for your hand. I had begged her actually,” He chuckles a bit at his anecdote.

“Did you?” You laugh along with him, less at the story and more so at the ridiculousness of your current situation. You feel him nod, his forehead brushing against yours as he does so. 

“Well,” you say in response, “ I had always wanted a dragon of my own. I had begged my mother actually”, you imitate Aemond’s words, giggling a bit as you do, “but now I need not ask any longer. For I have my very own dragon right here.” You place a kiss on his nose as you say this.

“Well my love, no longer shall you be dragonless, not as long as I am around anyways,” Aemond reassures you. He supposed he had two dragons now as well, with Vhagar he would burn the world down, but you gave him a reason to do so. With fire and blood he would protect you, love you, for that is the way of the dragon, that is the way of Prince Aemond Targaryen, your beloved betrothed. 

Tag List:

@ helaenaluvr  @ anukulee

[kammazi]

★ katsuki and yourself weren’t big drinkers. sure after you two had graduated, you had gone to a few parties here and there but you were never a fan of the whole spinning dizzy feeling that alcohol brought with it, especially since you two are heroes. patrolling while hungover under the heat of the hot summer sun was dreadful.

so when you get a call from katsuki one evening while you were on patrol saying how kirishimas and the rest of the guys were going out for a few, who were you to say no? even though you knew the invitation for yourself always stood, katsuki needed some time for himself and by the time you would get off patrol it would already be past midnight.

so after exchanging some ‘i love you’s’, you disconnected the call and got back to whatever strolling you were doing.

and as the night went on you got more and more notifications that buzzed in your back pocket from who you assumed was your boyfriend. you eventually had a quick break and chugged an energy drink while fishing for your phone.

you let out a snort of laughter and looked around to make sure no one heard you before looking back down at your screen. there you saw multiple pictures took by denki of him standing on what you assumed was a stool while taking 0.5 picture’s of katsuki. what made you laugh even more was his flushed face and droopy eyes that held no fight in them as he stood there with his hands by his sides.

you could tell that he had drank quite a bit and as your break came to an end you had a short two hours left of your shift before you were able to finally get home and most likely take care of your said boyfriend.

and you were correct because as soon as you even such as stepped in through the doors of your shared apartment your phone once again started buzzing, this time it was a call.

“hello?” there was a shuffling noise before shouting hit your eardrums along with the music that blasted in the background.

“HEYY LOOK, ARE YOU-” you grimaced as you hear a glass breaking alongside some yelling. “huh? hello?”

the phone was picked back up. “THIS IS KIRISHIMA, KATSUKI IS KINDA REALLY DRUNK AND-” you then heard a whooshing sound and another crash. you stood there looking at your phone and then brining it close to your ear again. “uhh..kiri..shima?”

you heard the phone being picked up and panting into the microphone. “SORRY I JUST LAUNCHED MY PHONE HALFWAY ACROSS THE DANCE FLOOR AND IT HIT SOMEONE IN THE FACE.” you had to physically distance yourself from the phone before answering.

“kiri you don’t have to yell i can hear you!” you felt as if it was a screaming competition at that point. you heard a cackle before kirishimas finally got to the point.

“sorry, sorry! it’s just that bakubro got hella drunk and he’s kinda unmovable right now. he keeps saying your name and won’t really listen to anyone, would it be alright if you could come and pick him up?”

you were already picking up your keys and sliding on your shoes. “of course, be there in five.”

and so here you were pulling into the parking spot outside of the front doors of the building.

as you stepped in, you already felt exhaustion hitting you as you strolled around to try and find your boyfriend and those goons.

and then you saw him, sitting in a corner seat, with a cute sleepy look on his face, arms still crossed as always. kneeling in front of him, you saw denki, sero and kiri sitting across as they helped gather his stuff. you placed a palm against his face and patted his knee with the other.

“kats, love?” he groaned and slightly opened his eyes. “hey i’m gonna take you home okay?” and then suddenly, he moves his face away from your hand as his face held something like a mix of disgust and offence.

“get those damn hands away from me. i’ve a girlfriend.” although his speech was slurred you blinked before letting out a chuckle as the guys behind you hollered and stumbled over eachother.

you raised a brow, amused to see him act that way. “oh really? sorry about that kats, i won’t do it again.” his face whipped around to face you as he grimaced again. “oi. don’t call me that. only she can and you ain’t her.. so back off...” his sentence held no malicious intent as his head slowly tipped back. “where is she. i miss her.”

kirishima then came up next to you and patted his back. “bro shes right here! see?” in response to his words, katsuki raised his head and squinted at you for a while before slowly smiling. “heyy it’s my girlfriend.” immediately his head landed on your shoulder. he started babbling as he wrapped his arms around your frame, almost knocking you to the floor from the sudden weight. in the meantime, you glanced at his red headed friend.

“i’m sorry how much did he drink?” in response he scratched the back of his neck before holding up three fingers. “JESUS KIRI THREE BOTTLES?” kirishimas shook his head before cackling. “three drinks.”

now you knew your boyfriend was a lightweight but this was a tad too funny to you, not that you would ever tell him.. obviously.

with the help of kirishima, you managed to walk out a stumbling katsuki and just about sat him in the passenger seat before strapping him in as he babbled on about how much he missed you. sero and denki handed over his wallet and phone to you and you thanked them before saying your goodbyes as you sat behind the wheel.

on the drive back katsuki acted like he hadn’t seen you in months by the way he held your hand and kissed it every two seconds. with him telling you how much he loved you and how beautiful you where. in that moment you could not only feel somewhat giddy but be thankful for having this man in your life. no matter how tough he looked or acted, it really was true that he was a softy, drunk or not.

after arriving, getting him into bed wasn’t even a problem. he listened to your every word as he clung to you like a koala. you helped him brush his teeth on the toilet seat as you sat on his lap. even while drunk, his grip was still firm but gentle.

you then got him changed, him getting stuck in his t-shirt a few times, and you both finally climbed into bed. there was pure silence other that his quiet snores as he rested on your chest. as expected, he ended up passing out the second he wrapped his arms around you.

as you pressed a kiss on his forehead, you could once again feel the wave of exhaustion crashing over you as the warm pressure of katsuki’s body lulled you to sleep.

and in the morning katsuki awoke with not only a headache but also a lovely picture of his drunken state as a 0.5 printed and framed photo hanging in the living room as a forever reminder of that night.

[inbabylontheywept]

Weird Grandpa Story #2

I remember asking my mom once, if her dad had gotten ornerier as he'd gotten old. I'd heard about that happening, and it would've made sense for him. He was already the orneriest old cuss I'd ever met. Couldn't even imagine him being grumpier than he was.

Instead of answering the question directly, she told me about what it was like going to church with him as a kid. Their church was a small Mormon ward out in the sticks of Colorado, and he served as their Bishop - mostly by virtue of being the only one willing to do that much unpaid work. He was also the ward pianist. He actually liked playing piano, and he liked having an audience, so it was more or less understood that he was willing to be the bishop in exchange for being the pianist. 

Which could've been a good trade, but there were a few problems.

The first problem was that Grandpa Dale played every song at about triple speed. He was a deeply impatient person, and that extended to how he played music. The second problem was that he had a bad habit of cursing under his breath. That would've been a scandalous  enough habit for a Mormon bishop, but was made much worse (and also much funnier)  by him being pretty damn deaf. So what he thought of as "quiet" cursing under his breath was more of just a verse hoarse way of yelling. I only visited him for a week or two every summer, and I still learned most of my bad words from him. 

So every Sunday would start with a quiet prayer, and then Bishop Grandpa Dale would go to the piano, sit down, and play the nightcore version of Praise to the Man. He would occasionally play other hymns, but he really, really liked that one. This would continue until he hit a wrong note, which was basically inevitable because his music philosophy was that if he could play a song flawlessly, it was time to play it faster. So he'd play until he hit that wrong note, at which point he would scream-whisper SHIIIIIT and, because he did not actually read music so much as memorize it, the only way he'd be able to get his rhythm back was by going back to the start. 

If it was a good Sunday, he could get it in two tries. Some Sundays took as many as five. 

I learned two things about Grandpa Dale from this story. The first was that he could play piano. I'd never actually seen him do that before. Still haven't, come to think of it. Second was that the man that I visited once a year, who always seemed on the verge of exploding, who scared the absolute dickens out of me, was actually the chilled out version of the man my mom grew up with.

And it helped knowing that, actually. I'm actually a pretty anxious person, and my mom is, also, a pretty anxious person, and as a teenager we'd sometimes get in these doom loops where we'd wind each other up until our springs cracked. She'd be worried about me growing up to be happy, and I'd be worried about letting her down, and my worrying would make me unhappy, and my unhappiness would make her unhappy, and we'd just kind of dissolve into these anxieties like cotton candy in the sea and become totally unbearable to be around for a bit. Then my dad would sit us both down and very politely tell us that we were being crazy. He had this quote how being sad that someone else is sad that you're sad is the emotional equivalent of being a Klein flask and that at some point you have to just say I am allowed one (1) single layer of emotional recursion, at most, and ideally zero. 

And it was always kind of embarrassing and silly, but when I was tempted to be more upset with my mom about it, I could remember the piano story and go: Sheesh. She has more of a right to be anxious that I do. For me it's really just genetics, but she grew up with the Cactus-Killing Gopher-Smasher. A whole 18 years of that. I spent two weeks every summer with that guy, and I love him, but I always came home feeling like I'd survived something. She's a trooper.

[seungfl0wer]

*𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒏*

Pairing: Chan x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Fluff/Smut (Short Oneshot)

Warnings: Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding, mentions of getting pregnant, Oral (Both), mostly just a fluffy story with fluffy sex lol. Sorry for any mistakes or missed tags

Find The Request(s) Here

-🖤

You loved going on tour with your boyfriend getting to spend time with him and seeing all the different places. Getting to see him perform and everything it was just so exciting. Yesterday you landed in Australia which Chan was ecstatic to show you around. He brought you to see his parents which you’d already met a few times. His dad made some dinner while everyone talked and had a good time.

“Babe wanna go see my favorite spot?” He asked with a smile.

“Of course” you said smiling back.

As everyone finished dinner Chan asked if you were ready. He drove you to a beautiful spot, it was lit by the moon light. The ocean crashing against the shore, the sky just as stunning. Chan interlocked your fingers as you sat on a small bench just staring out into the vastness of the ocean. He kissed you lovingly, you couldnt help but notice him staring at you. He had a habit of this, just taking in your beauty. He studied your face memorizing every little inch like he would forget it if he looked away.

“I don’t know what’s more beautiful, you or the ocean” he said with a fond smile.

“I can’t compete with the beauty of your first love” you say with a teasing sigh.

He couldn’t help but chuckle kissing your cheek “you both are my loves” he teased.

You both sat there contently in silence enjoying the sounds of the waves and small birds still chirping. “Can I ask you something?” He said softly.

“Of course silly” you said smiling.

“You love me right?” He said.

You were taken back a small bit but chuckled “yeah most days” you teased.

He let out breath before kissing you lovingly. His hands came up to cup your cheek, he looked into your eyes. You could see how much he loved you. How his eyes almost formed hearts as he stared into yours.

“I have another question for you then” he said voice stuttering a bit.

You tilted your head looking at him “and what’s that?”

“Well first you gotta close your eyes.” He said with a nervous smile.

He could feel his heart racing, his hands were getting clammy. He knew you wouldn’t say no however he still was a bit nervous. He wanted everything to be perfect, he wanted it to be special. He got up getting down on his knee In front of you. He pulled the ring out, Funny enough it was a ring you picked out before. You had joked about how if he was ever gonna propose this was the ring. He saved it. That was almost 2 years ago and he still remembered.

“O-ok open” he said. As he watched your eyes open going wide as you realized what was happening.

“My beautiful, my love. Will you- will you make me the happiest man alive by being my wife? I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Growing old together.” He said his words coming out fast.

“Chan” you started to sob happy tears of course. You flung yourself on him wrapping your arms around him. “Yes, yes a million times yes. I wanna be with you till we are old and grey yelling at kids to get off our lawn” you giggled through your tears.

He wrapped his arms around you pulling you into him trying not to cry himself. A few small tears falling despite his best efforts. When he pulled away he cupped your face whipping the tears from your cheek. “Y/n I love you with every fiber of my being.” He said kissing you passionately. “May I put the ring on?” He asked pulling away.

“Oh yeah!” You said making you both chuckle.

He slipped the ring on kissing you once more.

“Christopher! No fucking way!” You almost screamed. “You remembered the ring?” You said not being able to believe your eyes.

“Of course I remembered silly” he said.

He sat back down beside you, wrapping his arm around your side. He pulled you into him, into a warm cuddle. You both sat there for a few hours just talking and enjoying each other’s presence.

When you got back home his mom was smiling ear to ear. “I assume it went well” she said before pulling you into a tight hug. “I’m so happy he has you” she said. Here came to tears again.

All the boys who had been outside came in smiling at you. They all looked so happy. “Wait y/n you said yes? Really? To this old man?” Seungmin teased.

“Yep, my old man” you said making him roll his eyes.

The next morning the boys were off to the concert, it went flawless as always. Chan had a special glow to him though. He just couldn’t stop smiling. Before ending the show for the night Chan stood there that smile still plastered to his face “Stay!” He yelled out. “I proposed to y/n!” He yelled louder. The whole crowed erupted. Quickly it became trending on twitter and everywhere else. Surprisingly everyone was supportive, everyone was excited to see your wedding. They were all happy to just see bangchan so happy.

——

The wedding planning started right away. You both brain stormed wanting to make sure it was both of you combining ideas. Although things had gotten stressful at points you had so many people that helped and supported you.

When the day had come it went so perfectly. Only small hiccups like almost falling over when you got into the dress. Which honestly made you and everyone else just laugh. Another hiccup that was also funny was Felix coming into your room to help with something and almost seeing you in your tits. He freaked out so much he ran into the wall. Not once. But 3 times before leaving the room. He couldn’t help but laugh, like you were hysterically laughing.

When the time came to walk down the aisle though as soon as you both saw each other neither of you could stop the tears. You both were crying, his mom was crying, a few of the boys and brides maids were crying. It was just a stream of tears. And it only got worse when you exchanged vows. Chans being so beautiful written of course.

Driving off after to head to the hall after for the party you were excited. Chan and you having a small make out session in the car. When you got there Chan had you sit down because he had something planned. You sat there as you watched all the boys come out and get into position. This mother fucker, wrote a whole song for you, got them to choreograph a small dance and had planned this out for months. The song was heartwarming and the small dance was just perfect. Just as it ended all the boys rushed you giving you a big group hug.

Chan and you both danced swaying back and forth as he kept repeating how beautiful you were. “Y/n you really look stunning, god I can’t believe we’re married. I can’t believe you said yes” he said making you laugh.

“Babe, I said yes how long ago” you teased.

“I know but I just- I’m just so fucking happy” he said kissing you lovingly.

You could hear the fake gags coming from a member or two making you laugh. “I’m really married to a man with 7 children aren’t I” you said.

He was laughing now “yeah sorry about that” he said.

The night went by watching as the boys, your family and friends all just having fun. You couldn’t help but laugh while you watched the boys twerking. Minho came up beside you chuckling as he watched them “you really married into this” he said.

“Yep I sure did” you said.

“You can still back out” he joked.

“I’ve already been stuck with you guys for how many years. What’s the rest of my life?” You said smiling fondly.

“True, I guess the boys do need a mother” he joked.

“Yeah gonna ground them all for twerking so badly” you both chuckled.

It was time to throw the bouquet, when you did Hannah, Chans sister was the one who caught it. The person who caught the garter was Hyunjin. If you know anything about weddings the person who catches the garter is supposed to put it on the leg of the person who caught the flowers. However Chan looked like he’d kill him if he did.

Hyunjin walked over placing it on Hannah arm like a bracelet. “Don’t wanna die tonight” he said loudly as he did Making everyone laugh.

As the night wounded down and everyone left Chan and you headed back to the house. You were excited for morning though, Chan had booked a honeymoon and wouldn’t tell you where it was. You were leaving in the morning bags already packed. Chan cuddled up to you all night both super tired from everything.

——

When you landed you were greeted by beautiful scenery, a vast blue ocean the looked like it never ended. The place he had booked had the perfect view, there was a huge jacuzzi tub and roses all over the bed. It was stunning it smelled like citrus and candy. As you plopped your bags down and also plopped yourself down on the bed. Stretching out after being cooped up in the plane for so long. The bed was comfortable, honestly felt like a cloud.

Chan smiled looking at you before climbing on top of you. He nuzzled his face into your neck making you giggle. Hearing you giggle he started tickling you, you busted out laughing squirming under him. You could feel him smiling against your skin. “My beautiful wife” he said as he pulled away. He looked down at you with love in his eyes, leaning down to kiss you passionately.

His hand cupped your face as he depended the kiss, tongue poking at your lips. You happily parted them as your tongues battled for dominance. His other hand roamed downwards, playing with your breast. He played with your nipples rolling them in his fingers pinching them ever so slightly. A soft moan was swallowed by him before you knew it he had your shirt off. Sucking gently at your skin leaving pretty purply red marks all over it.

He kissed down your body before swiftly pulling the rest of your clothes off. You gasped at the fast motion only to be met with his lips against your thigh. He kissed his way down them, kissing around your core before diving head first. His soft plump lips attached to your nub, nibbling it ever so perfectly. He licked a long stip up and down your folds before pushing his tongue into you. His hands gripped at your thighs holding them apart as his tongue fucked you. His pretty nose brushing against your nub every so often.

You were squirming, moaning loudly hands interlocking into his hair. You gripped it tightly making him groan into you. He loved when you pulled his hair especially while eating you out. “Is my pretty wife gonna cum?” He moaned out. Before you could even respond though he was pushing his fingers into you. Pumping them fast as he curled them. His lips started to suck harshly at you clit all the while keeping eye contact with you.

“Ch-Chan fuck- please- don’t stop!” You moaned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it” he said with a smirk.

His fingers were moving perfectly and his tongue working overtime. What drove you over the edge was a slight bite he left to your clit. Your body ached off the bed orgasm crashing over you. Chan road out your high pulling away with a long string of salvia. His lips were wet from salvia and your juice.

He fumbled to get his pants off, too pussy drunk to think straight. “Let me help you” you said breathily undoing his belt before pulling them down. His cock springing out, he was so unbelievably hard it almost looked painful. You couldn’t help but wrap your lips around it taking him slowly into your mouth. You were quite literally drooling over him. You took him back your throat the whole way as you started to bob your head. His head thrown back as you did he moved your hair from your face. Looking down at you he couldn’t help but moan the sight making him wanna cum.

“F-fuck baby- s’good” he said.

He let you go at your own pace watching you take him all in. “That’s it baby- fuck just like that. M’good girl. My pretty wifey” he mumbles out. As you swirled your tongue around the tip he almost gasped. “Shit- wait” he said pulling out from your mouth. You looked up at him a little confused “sorry love- i wanna cum in that pretty little cunt of yours” he said with a groan.

“Come here” he said pulling you up lips crashing into yours, he moved you back laying you down on the bed. He aligned himself to your core before pushing into you fully. Both of you letting out a heavenly moan at the feeling. Chan gripped your hips as he moved in and out of you. His cock filled you so perfectly his head hitting the your cervix. He pulled away from the kiss moving to look down at you. “My beautiful wife, fuck taking me so good” he groaned.

You felt his cock already twitching inside you, he wasn’t gonna last long at this rate but neither were you. “S’good- always feel so good-“ you moaned out.

Chan watched as his cock reappeared and disappeared inside of you. Your walls were clenching around him, sucking him into you. “Made for me, for me only my pretty wife. Gonna- fuck- gonna cum so deep in you you’ll get pregnant” he mumbled out. “Gonna fuck a baby into yeah? Fuck gonna be my pretty pregnant wife- shit” his movements were turning sloppy. Hands slinking up to yours. He interlocked your fingers together as he fucked into you. “Y/n I love you fuck I love you so much” he moaned.

You gripped his hands tightly feeling your high about to wash over you. Chans head rested in the crook of your neck moaning into your ear as he sucked/bit at your neck. “Chan! I love you to! My- my handsome husband!” You almost screamed your orgasm crashing over you. As he heard those words fall from your lips you calling him your husband his mind just short circuited. His body stuttered on top of you as he pushed one last time cumming deep inside of you.

He let go of your hands wrapping his arms around you holding you tightly to him as your highs washed over you both. Panting Chan pulled away to look at you “y/n I love you, I love you I love you I love you” he repeated.

“I love you to my handsome husband” you said smiling. He kissed you lovingly before slowly pulling away.

“Wanna get in the big tub together?” He asked smiling.

“Is that even a question” you teased.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp

[lulunothulu]

“So you think I’m hot?” Pt. 3

Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: After nursing you to health, Tyler finally makes a move on you…and you may or may not want to accept it

Contents: some swearing, some blood, and LOTS of fluff

Word count: idk but I think it’s long 😂

Catch up here: Part 1!! Part 2!!

“Y/N!” You hear Kate call from outside. “Are you okay in there?”

You’d fallen asleep after Tyler brought you back to your hotel room. Did Tyler ever leave? If he did, you weren’t going to be able to open the door for Kate. You’re about to panic when you realize there’s something heavy on your stomach.

Not something…someone.

Fuck.

You turn to your left to find a sleeping Tyler cuddled up against you, an arm draped on your stomach the other under your head.

“Y/N, if you can’t get up let us know,” you hear Javi say. “We got an extra key from downstairs.”

FUCK.

“I’m fine!” You yell, startling Tyler but not waking him. “I have crutches but I’m just resting! You guys go on and get data from yesterday’s tornado.”

“Are you sure?” Kate asks.

“Yes!”

“Okay, well text us if you need anything,” you hear her say before their footsteps fade away.

You sigh, turning to Tyler who’s wide awake and smiling at you.

“Good morning sleeping beauty,” you say.

“So I’m a beauty now?” He teases.

“I swear to god Tyler it’s too early for this shit.” You smile.

Tyler only smiles at you, just staring.

“What?” You ask, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Nothing,” he tells you, crossing his arms behind his head. His biceps bulge in the long-sleeved flannel, making your heart flutter.

Why did that make you wanna touch them?

Tyler notices the way you stare at him and smirks, pumping his bicep muscles in a playful manner. You clear your throat and begin to get off the bed, forgetting about your leg.

“Ow, fuck,” you seethe, your breath hitching in pain.

Tyler sits up in bed, scrambling to your side of the bed before squatting before you.

“Are you okay?” His green eyes searching yours for more signs of pain. “Do you need some pain killers?”

The way his hands hold your right leg makes you feel all tingly inside, the way he looks at you doesn’t help. He’s waiting for you to tell him what’s wrong, worry etched on his handsome face. Even the way his hair, normally styled to perfection, is now all messy seems to do things to you.

Warm and fuzzy feelings begin to form around your heart and you can feel the annoyance you once had for him, melt away.

It’s making you want to do something reckless.

“I’m fine, Tyler,” you tell him. “I forgot about my injury.”

His eyes calm, softening on you before he nods and sniffles.

“You’ve never called me by my first name,” he says softly.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

You stare at one another for a few seconds that feel like hours. The longer you stare, the more you realize how attracted to him you are.

Fuck this is gonna be a problem.

“Do you need me to help you change the bandages?” He asks, clearing the silence.

You nod, handing him the wrapping on the nightstand.

Very carefully, Tyler removes the bandage around your thigh. Concentration fills his facial expression, brows furrowed and tongue out. He stops when you suck in a breath, head jolting to face you.

“Sorry, it’s still kinda tender,” You apologetically tell him.

He smiles up at you before continuing with the dressing.

“So where are you from?” He asks.

You grit your teeth in pain before answering, “Originally, Chicago. I grew up in Tennessee though.”

“What brought you to Tennessee?” He continues.

You realize he’s trying to keep you distracted from the pain and flash him a thankful smile. “My parents wanted to reconnect with nature. They have a little ranch out there.”

“What got you into tornadoes?” He asks, now finishing up with the bandaging.

“There was a really bad tornado,” you whisper. “My family’s farm was destroyed. I think I was eight at the time.” You chuckle. “My Mom was screaming for me to get away from the windows but all I wanted to do was stare up at this beautiful tornado. It was so surreal, it looked like the one from the Wizard Of Oz.”

You smile at the memory. “Mom was so mad when I turned to her and said ‘Look mom, it’s so pretty’.”

Tyler chuckles, hands still on your thigh, lightly caressing the skin below the bandage.

“What about you?” You ask. “What got you into chasing?”

“When I was a kid, I was driving with my aunt,” he starts, smiling at his own memory. “This beautiful cyclone just crossed our path and I couldn’t help but stare. It was gorgeous.”

He laughs before looking down at your leg.

“I was so entranced by it, I didn’t realize my aunt was screaming bloody murder. She was absolutely terrified.”

“Where you?” You ask. “Terrified?”

He looks up at you, the sight of him still kneeling before you making you warm.

“I was.”

Without thinking, you lean forward, placing your hands on Tyler’s shoulders.

They’re warm, muscular.

You snake your hands up his neck, resting on either side of his face. You brush your thumbs on his cheeks and back to his ears, watching as Tyler’s eyes roll to the back of his head and his eyelids flutter.

You didn’t know what came over you to do that. You felt the urge to do it so you did it.

When his eyes open again, you smile at him. Genuinely and thankful.

“Thank you,” you start, whispering as if someone would hear you. “For helping me.”

Tyler leans forward, just inches from your lips. His head was tilted up, waiting for you to finish crossing the line you dangled right before him.

“You’re welcome, darling,” he whispers right back.

You open your legs, scooting forward to have him between you. Arms wrap around your waist as Tyler pulls you close, careful not to touch your bad leg. You hold on tightly, wrapping your arms around Tyler’s neck as he lifts you.

You’re so close now, you wanted to kiss him. This was nothing like you’d ever imagined. Never mind with him.

For the few months you’d known him, you wanted to strangle him. But maybe it was just your mind trying to make sure you don’t fall for him. After all, he was your type.

Tall, handsome, rugged, and absolutely annoyingly reckless.

“Tyler,” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I would really like to kiss you,” you tell him truthfully.

“Me too.”

“But I’m in so much pain.”

He quickly says you down, still holding you by the waist. “I’m sorry.”

You smile, cupping his cheek in your hand. “Try again in a week when I’m healed.”

He smiles down at you, leaning close and kissing your cheek.

“Deal.”

A/N: Okay yes, I’m gonna have a part 4 bc they NEED to kiss 😂

Next part!!!

[xo-codbby]

thinking about playboy!ghost x manhater!reader 🍒🖤

callsign: cherry. 18+

you loved your team but the truth remained the same, men simply sucked. too many times had you been burnt out, learning constant lessons over and over preferring to know someone properly before you introduced them to your bed. while ghost was just purely physical, just needing release. he didn't want to engage in deep conversation, he swore off of love years ago but there wasn't harm in chasing gratification for his physical needs even if he left a string of broken hearts behind him

ghost is cocky in the fact that he knows he looks good, he knows he has women at his disposable without saying a word. his bed warmed by frequent visitors, many wanting to come back but not getting the chance to. a soft scoff leaving your lips whenever you see a woman hanging onto his arm, practically lapping at his every word. the sight makes you recoil away but it only makes him want to aggravate you that much more

absolutely hating one another when you both first met.

according to him, you were too stuck up. your terrible attitude, your prudish behaviour, little miss know it all. he disliked it all and you had been the same, his arrogant cocky personality paired with his unbearable sarcasm. just another womaniser. you disliked him more than words could explain.

and yet the line between hate and love was a fine line indeed

getting teased around base relentlessly by him

"c'mere cherry, let me show you how to let off some steam-" "fuck right off"

ghost constantly offering you a quick lay whenever the team finished up a particularly stressful mission. gaz and soap chuckling at the snark you gave back, the only one to your defence was price offering a gentle hand and a stern look to ghost who rolled his eyes

but him getting so jealous when you get the attention of another man, when he sees you talking to someone else around the barracks it felt different. it felt intimate, too close for his liking. and with some forceful persuasion from price, he found out the new sergeant had taken a liking to you. and regrettably, you were starting to feel something for him too. he doesn't know why it pisses him off so much but he'll be damned if he doesn't wreak hell on the bastard

his absolute favourite way to piss you off is inviting a woman to his bed, making her scream and moan out his name as loud as he can,

"that's all y'can do f'me? louder doll, lemme hear just how good it feels"

as he's thrusting so deep into her cunt but it doesn't feel the same like it used to. he won't be able to cum until he's imagining your face, imagining the pretty sounds he'd coax from your lips.

how his cock would throb deep into your willing pussy, how he'd rub the tip of aching cock against your entrance relishing in the way you squeezed him so tightly. the very sight almost makes him groan out your name, even the thought of tasting your slick makes him shiver in anticipation.

and of course it's your room beside him, you're subjected to listening this woman's moans and how great he's making her feel. a warm feeling stirring deep between your legs but you refuse to engage in his stupidity cursing at him as you throw yet another book at the wall. the sounds only stir him on, competing with you who could make the loudest sounds.

it's only when price, again, yells out a sharp command from the depths of his room that it's silence once more

the next morning you're woken up by gaz and soap laughing and hooting at him, heading to the kitchen to see his dark brown eyes twinkle as he looks at you. he stands against the counter, a mug of tea in his hands. his balaclava pulled up over his nose while he eyes you up and down stalking your every move

"an' how'd you sleep, cherry?"

his voice is a hoarse rumble from having woken up, his cocky grin as he looks at you over. wondering if you had touched yourself to his sounds he let spill just for you, wondering whether you squeezed your legs tightly or grinded against the pillow for some relief

but your eyes roll and brows furrow, not wanting to entertain his bullshit. only offering a smartass comment as you look back at your phone. the very sight makes him want to pounce on you, to show you what you were missing

but say one day you get your heart broken and the feelings come head to head, piss drunk as you knock thrice on his door watching him open with a disgruntled look on his face

"bloody 'ell, y'gonna bash my door in-"

doesn't even get the words out before you've pulled him to your face and kissing him feverishly, the door slamming shut behind you both. but when you get to the bed, the alcohol and the heightened emotions lull you into a deep sleep as he sighs softly. looking around before setting you down and laying next to you. grumbling softly how you're lucky to be sleeping in his bed

he doesn't even have sex but he swears it's the most intimate he's ever been with someone

so playboy ghost, the man who would pay for ladies ubers so they wouldn't sleep in his personal space, the man who chose to fuck casually with no feeling, the man who swore off love altogether held you captive in his arms snuggling into you.

the very man who broke the vow he made not to ever get entangled with emotions had clung to you like you were his lifeline in a torrential sea and you had escaped his clutches like a thief in the night like he had done so many times to others. and perhaps if he wasn't so heartbroken he might've laughed at the irony of the situation, what comes around goes around

[squinch-depraved]

hiii friends i'm back here's around 7k words (i think??) for y'all this one goes out to my homie 🐏 anon i love u 🐏 anon

CW: dubcon/cnc, bdsm, facefucking, breeding kink

looking out of the hotel window made you no less uneasy. you sat there for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, staring out at the city. japan was beautiful, just like your boss had said it would be, but you were far from home, and he had whisked you away on this trip so suddenly that you didn’t have time to pack much. you were unusually tired, having only been taken on trips by schlatt in the u.s., so the massive time difference and, to be honest, this extra workload he was expecting you to shoulder, were leaving you stressed and irritable.

you snapped when someone knocked on the solid hotel door, yelling at them to “shut the fuck up!” when they continued knocking impatiently while you made your way to open it. your face flushed a deep red when you saw schlatt standing there, holding a suitcase.

“that’s a dangerous thing to be yelling at someone you don’t know in a foreign country,” he teased. “what if i was, like the cleaning lady, or something?”

“yeah, well… you’re not,” you replied, rubbing your eyes. “what d’you need?”

he holds out the suitcase. “brought you stuff. not much, just some basics. i’ll take you shopping tomorrow.”

you raised a brow at his words. “why take me shopping?”

he didn't speak until you took the suitcase from him. “’cause i feel bad for not letting you pack your shit.”

you nodded and gestured for him to come in. “can you help? i can't figure out how to close the blinds.”

he hesitated before following you in, letting the door fall shut behind him as he walked further into the lavish room he had booked for you. it was more expensive than the rooms the rest of the staff he brought with him got, but you didn't need to know that.

watching as you gestured broadly at the giant window, he chuckled and pulled a remote off the wall. he showed you which buttons to press to make a large shade come down from the ceiling and tried not to mock you when you huffed, annoyed. it was darker in the room now, the lights of the city no longer helping the dim lights on the walls to illuminate your room. you flicked on the lamps on either side of your bed and turned to face your employer once more.

“thanks,” you said, able to see his face more easily. he nodded as if he was unsure of what to say and started heading towards the door.

“i’ll be by to pick you up at 9,” he spoke. “we’ll get you some stuff and, uh… yeah, it’ll be. it’ll be fun.” he sounded like he was trying to convince himself, and you smiled softly at how sweet he sounded before catching a glimpse of the current time from the alarm clock on your nightstand. it was already almost 2 in the morning, and that gave you five, maybe six hours to sleep, and then you had to wake up and get ready. luckily you had forgotten all your stuff and had nothing to actually take forever getting ready with.

“bye, schlatt,” you called as he waved his hand and shut the heavy door behind him. once he was gone, you flopped face first onto the bed and screamed, trying your best to ignore whatever feelings were bubbling up in the pit of your stomach. after letting out your frustrations into a pillow, you stood up to unpack the mysterious suitcase.

unzipping it revealed a few t-shirts in various sizes, all old schlatt merch, a pair of luxury sweatpants that you didn’t even want to attempt to guess the price of, a few pairs of the softest socks you had ever felt, a toothbrush and toothpaste, some deodorant, shower supplies, a hairbrush and enough hair ties to last you a year, and a pair of slippers. a hoodie that you were sure was schlatt’s, due to its massive size and it smelling of him, was laid neatly on the bottom, as if whoever packed this was trying to hide it. you picked it up and brought it to your face, inhaling deeply and moaning into it softly. a small, pink, tissue wrapped package fell out of the hoodie when you unfolded it to slip it on.

puzzled, you set the hoodie down and carefully grabbed the parcel, undoing the delicate sticker keeping it sealed. when you fully unwrapped it, you were faced with several different pairs of lacy black panties, a few pairs of each different style so you could wear whatever you found comfortable. your stomach flipped at the thought of your boss carefully picking out all these pairs for you, and the notion of him picturing all of these on you while he shopped was something you would go over and over in your mind forever. but you pushed the thoughts away when you remembered he probably had people do this for him. he was a busy man, you doubted he’d care enough about this to put it all together himself. you had already forgotten that he was the one to bring you the luggage, let alone him bringing it to you in the middle of the night.

you set to work unpacking your new stuff, placing your toiletries in the bathroom and stripping yourself of your dirty clothes that you had been in for far too long. once you were naked, you took a relaxing shower with the supplies schlatt had given you, dressing yourself in just a pair of panties and his hoodie when you were clean and dry. you didn’t remember crawling into bed and falling asleep, but you swore you never slept as good as you did that night.

schlatt knocked on your door for minutes, giving you what he thought was ample time to answer. once he pressed his ear to the door and heard your alarm still going off, though, he cursed under his breath and dug into his wallet for a key.

he vowed he wouldn’t use it. he only had it in case of an emergency, he told himself. he knew he was already pushing his luck with everything he had planned for you this trip, sneaking into your room might be too much. but he couldn’t stop himself, he needed to get you up and going for the day so the whole trip wouldn’t be too off schedule.

the sight he saw when he walked in left him breathless. you were spread out in the middle of the bed, his hoodie riding up on your stomach and exposing your bare tummy, lacy black panties hugging your hips perfectly. you were knocked out, evident by the alarm blaring next to you for who knows how long.

he sighed deeply and shook your arm until you woke up in a panic, kicking violently at the presumed threat until you realized it was just him. you babbled something incoherently until you looked at the clock and your face dropped; you sprung up to get dressed, apologizing profusely.

“i’m so sorry, schlatt!” you called through the closed bathroom door. he just sat on the bed, scrolling on his phone, until you came out. dressed in his hoodie still and the expensive sweatpants, you grabbed your essentials and nodded curtly. “i’m ready. let’s go,” you stated.

“wow, and only 30 minutes behind schedule,” he teased. you glared at him and he stood up, leading you out of the room, out of the hotel, and into the shopping districts.

being out in the city with him was actually really nice; you originally thought he was going to bring more staff along, but it appeared it was just the two of you for the day. you tried not to think about how, to people watching, it might look like the two of you were together. it was hard not to ruminate on it over and over in your mind, how, if the situation were just slightly different, maybe it could’ve been a date. the thought left a bitter taste in your mouth.

he stopped once the two of you reached a wide street lined with tall buildings, each a different, massive store. looking around and inspecting their signage didn’t help, you didn’t know what any of them sold.

“pick one,” he said simply.

you looked up at him, confused. “i don’t know what the fuck any of these are,” you whispered rather loudly.

a smile played at his lips, but his face remained stern. “that’s the point, toots,” he replied. “pick one and find out.”

you squinted at him, shaking your head slightly before looking at your many options. “that one, i guess?” you gestured broadly to one a short distance away.

schlatt shook his head. “lead me to it.”

you rolled your eyes and used this as an excuse to grab his hand, turning away and hiding your burning face from him as you dragged him towards the store.

you walked in hurriedly, him trailing behind you at a much easier pace due to his long legs. once you took in your surroundings, you found you were actually quite excited. it was a massive clothing outlet, floors upon floors of all different kinds of garments. holding tightly onto his hand, you only looked around for a few seconds before you beelined it to a display of outfits and began hunting for articles of clothing you wanted.

schlatt dropped your hand and walked away, leaving you alone for a bit while you browsed before coming back with a large basket. he held onto it while you picked through your options, holding it out to you whenever you found something you wanted. into the basket went anything he even thought you liked, and you quickly realized there was no spending limit like you had presumed. you were always eyeing him warily, ready for the piece you had just picked out to be the last. but he just kept telling you to keep going, and soon you had looked through the whole section. he simply waited for you to pick another area to explore and watched as you shopped, occasionally commenting on a top or pair of pants.

“that one’s cute,” he mumbled when you held up a shirt you liked. you nodded and slipped the hanger over your neck, allowing you to pretend to try it on. he tried not to think about the idea of you actually trying the clothes on, but the image of you stripping and redressing over and over remained in his mind.

hours flew by, and you ended up leaving with several huge bags stuffed full with an entire new wardrobe. the two of you joked around a bit as you exited the store, and you were surprised to find one of your coworkers waiting for you just outside the shop.

“give ‘em your stuff,” schlatt instructed. “they’re gonna take it to your room for you so we can keep shopping.”

you blinked a few times, confused, and handed off the bags. your coworker spoke to schlatt for a few minutes and then left you alone with him again. it was quiet for a bit before your boss broke the silence.

“time to pick another store,” he said.

you huffed in disbelief at his willingness to spend even more money on you and shook your head. “i don’t wanna play another guessing game; i got lucky with that last one. can you just point me to a makeup store and we can pretend that i found it?”

he chuckled and scanned the street you were on, eyes settling on a purple building towards the end of the road. “that one might be makeup,” he said, looking back at you.

“alright then, let’s do that one.” you took his hand once more and led him to the shop, repeating the process of putting anything you wanted into a basket and waiting for him to tell you to stop. he never did, in fact, he occasionally tossed in a product or two that he thought was nice.

after a bit, you turned around to find he was a short distance away, picking out stuff at the perfume counter for you. you smiled to yourself and walked over to him, smelling the ones he was trying to decide between.

“i like this one,” you stated, pointing to a bottle on the counter.

he nodded and turned to the attendant, conversing with her for a bit before taking a fancy looking box that she handed him, presumably with the scent you picked out inside. he set it gently into the nearly full basket and looked at you.

“anything else while we’re here?” he asked, glancing down at the pile of things resting in the tote he was carrying.

with a shake of your head, you responded, “no, this is already too much, schlatt.”

you weren’t looking at him, it was hard to meet his gaze, but you heard him scoff. “i’ll tell you when it’s too much, doll, don’t you worry about that.”

your cheeks flushed, how spoiled you felt by his kindness visible on your face. “i feel really bad. this is all so expensive.”

his hand landed on your shoulder in a soft, reassuring pat. “you deserve it. c’mon, lemme go pay and then i’ll take you to one more store.”

following him to through the store was rough, he walked fast and you almost lost him a few times. but you found him easily at the checkout counter due to how tall he was; his head stood out above all the aisles. you sidled up next to him as he swiped his card, wincing at the price visible on the screen. he flicked his dark eyes over to you- the ghost of a smile was playing at his lips as he took in how uncomfortable being treated like this made you.

and then you were back on the busy street, handing the bags to the same coworker and waving bye to them as they walked off in the direction of the hotel once more. checking your phone told you it was early afternoon at this point. and he still wanted to hit another store… was he going to waste an entire day on you?

“i’ll give you some options, toots,” he said gruffly after instructing you to put your phone away. the orders from him churned something deep in your stomach. “that blue one there, this one next door to us, or that one way over there. you see the one i’m talkin’ about?” he pointed to three stores and turned to you, awaiting your response.

you thought for a moment before choosing, and it ended up being a store full of things you didn’t necessarily need, but trinkets and gadgets you loved. your cart wasn’t as full at this store, but he still bought you anything you showed interest in and you walked out with even more bags. this time, no one was waiting for you, and schlatt took your hand before leading you to a small restaurant shoved in between two large buildings. you followed him, trusting he would keep you safe, but unsure of where you were going until he sat you down in a booth and ordered food for the both of you.

you talked for a long time, savoring your meal together and sharing sentiments and memories, and you didn’t notice until he had to step out to take a call that it was almost two hours later. something about him was so comforting, intoxicating, even. he just made you feel safe. you wished the dynamic between you two could be different. why did he have to be a good boss and not one of the creepy ones? you wished he would prey on you like you so desperately wanted him to.

he came back to find you staring at the leftover bites of food on your plate, instantly worried something had happened in the short time he was away from you. “what’s wrong? are you okay?” you tried not to let how hot he sounded when he was concerned about you affect your answer.

“yeah, no, i’m fine, schlatt,” you assured him once you blinked repeatedly a few times, trying to clear your thoughts of the filthy images of him. “just, still jet lagged. i’m really tired.”

your boss nodded and went to take care of the bill quickly, sharing a quick conversation with the workers before coming back to you and offering a hand to help you up. you grabbed your bags and took his hand, forgetting to let go once you were up and walking. he didn’t seem to mind.

the gentleman that he is, schlatt took you back to your hotel room and leaned against the wall as you fished your key out of your pockets. once you found it, he stood up straight and took a deep breath.

“take a good nap. i’ll be back to pick you up for dinner.”

you eyed him suspiciously, hand frozen, outreached to swipe your keycard. “why dinner? why more? what did i do to deserve this?” you grilled him.

schlatt put up his hands innocently. “i just feel bad for not letting you pack,” he lied again. “and you’re one of my best staff, why can’t i treat you?”

“because you don’t do this for anyone else,” you groaned. “i’m just worried the rest of ‘em are gonna look at me weird.”

he shook his head, trying not to smile. “i’ll fire whoever treats you differently. promise,” he extended his pinkie towards you.

“no, schlatt, that’s the problem!” you sighed. his face remained the same, little finger still reaching out to make a deal, and you folded. “whatever, i’m gonna go sleep, just… don’t fire anyone because of me.”

pensively, he nodded. “sleep good.”

you waited for him to leave, but he just leaned against the wall next to your door again. with a loud, defeated sigh, you let yourself in and closed the door behind you. now that you saw just how many full shopping bags sat on the table, you felt even worse. he had to have spent countless thousands on you. if only you could figure out what his true motivation was for doing all this…

you couldn’t help yourself from unpacking some of your new stuff, running your fingers over your new, expensive belongings. after a bit, you remembered that you needed to be sleeping, and you put your things back before tucking yourself into the plush, comfy bed. sleep took hold of you, and you rested for hours before waking to a phone call from schlatt.

“huh?” you said when you answered, still in the clutches of unconsciousness. his laugh woke you up, though.

“jesus, i was worried i’d have to come wake you up again,” he chuckled into his cell. “i’ll be there in about an hour, start getting ready.”

“how fancy do i need to dress?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

“wear that dress you picked out,” he replied. “the black one. i gotta go, i’ll be there soon, toots.” with that, he hung up, leaving you groggy and turned on from his orders. you ignored the feelings in your core and got up, changing into the dress he wanted and doing your makeup. the music you put on while you got ready did a good job of distracting you from how nervous you were, but once you had finished everything you needed to do, you perched on the edge of the bed and went over the day’s events in your mind. you had about ten minutes left until he was here to pick you up, and you counted down the seconds eagerly, unsure of if this evening would change the dynamic between the two of you.

you sprung up off the bed when he knocked at the door, grabbing a purse he had bought you earlier that you filled with your necessities for the night. opening the door revealed schlatt standing there, leaning against the frame again, dressed in a button down, slacks, and a blazer. you blinked a few times at how good he looked- you had never seen him dressed like this before and it was strange.

“what is this?” you asked quietly, taking in how nice the two of you were dressed. “this doesn’t feel like just a dinner.” you were wary of him, unsure of what his intentions were.

he rolled his eyes and scoffed, extending a hand out to invite you to join him. “will you just trust me? spent almost twelve thousand dollars on you today and you won’t even join me for dinner…” he scolded and shook his head.

eyes bulging, your jaw fell open. “twelve thousand??? schlatt, oh my god!!” you sounded horrified, and you spun around to look at all the bags again. “i can’t believe you would do that, i feel so awful.”

“makin’ you feel awful is not the goal, doll. now can you please just take my arm so i can treat you to the best dinner you’ve ever had?” he looked earnest enough, and you swallowed the lump in your throat before nodding and accepting his hand, determined to give him a shot.

“as long as you promise to buy me drinks,” you joked, letting the door fall shut behind you as he began to lead you down the hall to the elevator.

“i wouldn’t dream of letting you stay sober tonight,” he smiled.

you were just a bit beyond tipsy, laughing raucously at every joke schlatt was making. he had taken you to the fanciest steakhouse around, just a short walk from the hotel. the food was incredible, and the alcohol just kept coming. you suspected he slipped the staff some money earlier to get the two of you a secluded booth with an amazing view, but couldn’t prove it. all you knew was there was no one around and you could see the whole city from your seat across from him.

“i still don’t understand why you’re doing all of this for me,” you giggled, sipping your drink. “not complaining, not at all, i like being spoiled. but it’s confusing.” you were hiccupping every few words.

“you’re never gonna shut up about it, are you?” he asked, downing the last of his whiskey. “at least now you’re bein’ grateful for it. glad i could get you to admit you like being spoiled, though.”

“it wasn’t you that made me admit it, schlatt, it was the alcohol.” you leaned in close to whisper the last part and his eyes widened slightly when he smelled how strong your breath was.

“okay, toots, i believe you. i think it’s time to get you back to your room, hmm?” he sounded genuinely concerned, worried that he might have gotten you a bit too intoxicated. he couldn’t go through with his plan if you were all the way drunk, then you might not remember it in the morning- and he wanted you to remember what he was going to do to you.

“can i have dessert?”

a soft smile crossed his lips. “yeah, i’ll order us some dessert.” he flagged down some wait staff and talked with them for a bit before they left, returning a few minutes later with several different plates of different desserts.

you squealed, giddy from your sweet tooth, and sampled all of them, passing the best ones across the table with an, “ohhh, you gotta try this one!” or, “this one’s soooo good.” he nodded, taking small bites of whichever ones you passed to him. as you ate your treats, he took care of the bill, and once you had finished, the two of you were ready to go. he helped you up and out of the booth, and escorted you out of the restaurant and down the short trek to the hotel. it was dark out now, and the two of you slunk by everyone quickly. the pace he set was manageable, but only just so in the heels you were wearing.

once you two arrived at the hotel, you got on the elevator, giggling and joking with each other before stumbling out onto your floor. he walked you to your door and hesitated. you didn’t notice, though; you were just trying to find your room key in your purse. he spoke before you could, though.

“can i come in?” he asked. his voice sounded nervous.

you looked up at him, still digging in your purse. “for what?”

he sighed and pulled a keycard out of his pocket, swiping it and letting you both in. “you really wanna know why i bought you all that shit?” you entered first, him trailing behind you. there was a large, plain black bag sitting on your bed that wasn’t there when you left. you were tipsy, but you swore it was new.

“yeah, schlatt, i do.” you set your purse down on a table and turned around to face him. he was standing close to you, so close you had to look up to make eye contact. “what the fuck is all this about?”

he took a deep breath, hand coming up to rest on your waist. you flicked your eyes to where he was touching you, fireworks exploding under your skin, and looked back up at him. “i thought maybe if i spoiled you rotten you’d have a lot harder time saying no,” he spoke softly.

“saying no to what?” you questioned, raising one eyebrow at him. he walked closer to you and you backed up, him walking you to the bed until you were sitting on the edge and he was looking down at you. reaching into the black bag, he pulled out a bundle of rope and a piece of silk that you could only guess would go in your mouth to gag you. “schlatt?” you asked, voice trembling.

“i won’t hurt you, i promise. not unless you want me to,” he breathed, gently grabbing your chin. “do you want me to?”

you froze as he bent down to whisper the last question in your ear, goosebumps raising at the feeling of his breath against your neck. you couldn’t stop yourself. “yeah,” you gasped. “yeah, i do.” you felt him grin against your skin as he pressed an open mouth kiss to your throat, earning a whimper from you.

his massive hands were warm as they pawed at your dress, slipping behind you to undo the zipper. you shivered at the cool air as the garment fell from your shoulders, exposing the lacy black set you were wearing. it slid all the way off you and you kicked it away, reaching down to undo your shoes and pulling those off as well. you felt extremely vulnerable in front of him, most of your skin exposed as he pushed you down to lay on your back. he began kissing your collarbones, down to your chest, all the way down your stomach, and buried his face in your clothed heat. you moaned, face burning red, and bucked your hips up into his face.

schlatt snickered and pulled his face away, causing you to whimper at the sudden loss of kisses being planted on your clit. “this’s gonna be fun,” he mumbled, standing up and adjusting his pants. you couldn’t help but notice how tight they were. you started to speak as you sat up, but he shushed you and grabbed the piece of silk, gagging you with it and securing it around your mouth. he patted you on the head when he finished, mumbling an, “attagirl,” before grabbing the rope and positioning you with your hands behind your back.

you let out some muffled noises, confused, but obeyed. he tied your arms tightly, ensuring you were securely bound by the restraints before bringing the rope around your waist to the front and doing an intricate knot pattern, enveloping you in the cord like a harness.

schlatt paused after a while of tying, gently undoing your bra and removing it before drinking the sight of your bare chest in. he only savored the sight of you for a moment before resuming the knots.

once the rope came back around to your hips, he flicked his eyes up to look at yours and knelt down between your legs. you couldn’t have said anything even if you weren’t gagged, the visual of him pressing his face into your core again stole the air from your lungs. his dark, lust-filled eyes stared up at you, as if he was trying to memorize the sight of you.

luckily, he didn’t have to.

you whined when he pulled away, and yelped when he delivered a sharp smack to your face.

“shut the fuck up, doll,” he warned. “i promise you i’m gonna make you feel good. now lemme finish tyin’ you up.”

tears stung your eyes as you nodded silently, and you feared only for a fleeting second that you had put yourself in a bad situation. but then you were too horny to care.

he tugged your panties off with one rough motion, eyeing you suspiciously when you shivered from the feeling of cool air on your cunt, but nodded almost imperceptibly when you stayed still for him. he carefully finished binding you, leaving your legs able to be moved but tightening the restraints on your arms so that you had no choice but to be obedient.

when he was done, schlatt took a step back and admired his work for a bit before reaching into the black bag again. this time, he pulled out his old camcorder and a polaroid camera. your face immediately flushed with the realization that he planned to immortalize the image of you in this pathetic position forever. you imagined him returning to watch the footage over and over, stroking his cock and panting every time. the polaroids would go in his wallet, you fantasized.

“smile, toots!” broke you out of your trance. the camera flashed, and soon it spit out a photo of you sitting there on the edge of the bed. he shook it out a bit and chuckled quietly when it developed, staring at it possessively before showing it to you. “look at you, so pretty sittin’ there for me. let me get a few more, okay? just in case,” his voice was velvet, coating you in desire and anticipation. the replay of his rich timbre in your mind was the only thing that kept you satiated while he posed you, spreading your legs apart for the last few pictures so that your wet hole was on full display.

you made the mistake of not looking directly at the camera for the second picture, embarrassed to be seen like this, and schlatt tsked when he saw the image. his big hand reached out and smacked you once more, and this time, tears started falling. that only spurred him on, though.

“awh, yeah, doll, that’s a good idea. cry f’ me.” he smiled cruelly, raising the camera to his eye to take even more photos. “but keep your fuckin’ eyes right here.”

you felt more drops fall from your eyes, unsure of if they were genuine or just to appease him. regardless, he loved it. he nearly cackled at how ruined you were beginning to look, makeup now running down your face, hair mussed. it all added to the photos, which he was collecting quite the stack of.

once he felt he had enough, he fanned them all out in his hands and swept his eyes over them. after organizing them a bit, how so you couldn’t even begin to guess, he set them on the nightstand and walked over to set the camcorder up so that it would capture everything he was about to do to you.

you admired him from behind as he knelt down in front of the camera, adjusting it and hitting record when it was ready. as soon as he did, his demeanor changed; he moved more quickly, more impatiently, as he walked back towards you, grabbed you by the throat, and spat on you.

you shied away from him slightly but continued to gaze up at him lovingly. “you’re so fucking pitiful, y’know that?” he growled. “gotta hand it to ya though, twelve thousand is quite a price. well, i guess almost fourteen after dinner. god, you really can put it away, huh? not to mention the drinks,” he smirked down at you as your eyes widened and you looked away, embarrassed to have cost him that much. “let’s find out if you’re worth that much, huh, doll?”

schlatt reached into the black bag once again, and you wondered when would be the last time. this time his hand came out clutching a vibrator he had hooked up to his phone. you froze in shock as he reached towards you with it, processing too slowly to stop what he was going to do. he wasted no time pushing it deep inside you and pulling out his phone. you whimpered quietly while he fiddled with the app, the seconds drawing on and on until you couldn’t take it anymore. and just when you were about to do something, anything, he turned it on.

spasms rocked through you; the vibrations were so intense it felt like pleasure was curling around and enveloping every nerve ending in your body. you could’ve sworn you were burning, everything felt so white-hot. stars were all you could see as you tried to adjust to the feelings ringing out from deep inside you. eventually, you stabilized, and he guided your chin to make you look into his eyes, as if he was checking to make sure you were okay. you just blinked slowly, lust clouding both of your judgements.

when he decided you were fine, he set the vibrator to an intense rhythm and began unbuckling his belt, undoing his pants eagerly before pulling out his cock and pumping it in his hand. your eyes were wide and glued to his shaft, greedily following the movement, and you didn’t notice his other hand coming up to tear the piece of silk from your face. immediately he shoved his entire length down your throat, not giving you any time to babble whatever complaints you had. his bush was flush against your face, and you cried yet again from how rough he was face fucking you. he shifted positions after a bit, his hips only faltering in pace when he turned to check that the camera had a good view of your mouth being abused. he brought one leg up to rest on the bed, allowing him to get even deeper. he was alternating between tossing his head back in pleasure and holding it up to watch you.

you, however, were sobbing, helpless to stop the ravaging of your mouth, not to even mention the constant vibrations coming from the toy inside you. you had lost count of how many orgasms you had, completely giving in to him and the endless pleasure he was bringing you. he only stopped when your thighs started shaking and you squirted all over the bed.

“jesus, toots,” he laughed, still in your mouth. “the toy still in there?”

you nodded slightly.

“attagirl,” he mumbled. he pulled out and chuckled at your desperate, heaving gasps once you could breathe properly again. “i’m gonna fuck you now, doll, okay?”

you nodded eagerly, used to having to be quiet.

“i took the gag off for a reason, toots, and it wasn’t just to fuck your throat. let me hear your words.”

“yes, schlatt, please. please, god please i need you so bad. pl—” you begged before being cut off by him pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips. you moaned in surprise and kissed him back furiously before he pulled away.

“a simple ‘yes’ would’ve done,” he smiled. the wholesome moment didn’t last long, though, soon he was taking off the rest of his clothes so he was also nude and bending you onto your hands and knees. he groaned at the sight of your pussy, ass up in the air and ready and waiting for him. you bit your lip as you sat patiently, glancing at the camera and quickly looking away while you blushed at the idea of someone watching this in the future.

he plunged a finger in, teasing you and stretching you out a bit before fishing out the vibrator and turning it off, tossing it to the side. you relaxed a bit at the momentary lack of stimulation, but yelped when he smacked your ass. you felt him lining himself up with you and tried to calm the nerves buzzing in your stomach.

when he pushed in, you let out a quiet, drawn out moan. schlatt copied you, eyes trained on where you were damn near sucking him into you, entranced by the sight of his length slipping into your dripping folds.

“god, you're so tight,” he spoke through gritted teeth. he tried to let you adjust to his size for a moment, but after a few seconds, he said, “fuck it, i can't wait any longer.” with that, he began slamming in and out of you, hard, enough to make a loud smack every time his hips met your ass.

“takin’ me so well, doll,” he praised, slowing down slightly to adjust you and keep you propped up for the camera.

you just wailed, approaching another orgasm. the clench of your walls around him signaled to him what was about to happen, and he grinned as he brought his hand around to your clit to rub circles into it.

“schlatt!!!” you screamed, tears streaming down your face.

he grunted and smacked your ass again, repeatedly, watching the recoil of it every time. “god, you sound pretty when you scream my name like that,” he growled.

you called out his name again, and again, and again, over and over until your throat was raw as he pounded you. somehow, you forgot about the camera.

he didn't, though. when he was getting close, he pulled out and spun you around roughly, glancing to make sure you were still in frame before finishing himself off and spurting his cum all over your face and chest. you sat there, staring up at him with nothing but adoration in your eyes, until he was done and he walked off to grab the polaroid. he took a few shots of you covered in his seed before putting them back and dipping his finger in it, bringing it to your lips where you greedily licked it off him.

he scoffed, trying to hide how turned on he was by that, and positioned himself between your legs, sliding in again with ease. you moaned, the sound like music to his ears— he had never heard or seen anything as beautiful as you, the sight of your cum-covered tits bouncing as he rocked his hips was sure to stay with him for the rest of his life.

schlatt didn't mean to, but his hand found its way to your throat and clutched it tightly. he only realized what he was doing when you began squirming, then thrashing in an attempt to escape his grip. he released your neck and shook out his hand, blinking his eyes a few times as he dialed back in on how good you were feeling trapped under him.

he rolled his hips skillfully, fucking into you at a brutal pace as he made sure to hit the deepest parts of you he could. at this point, your legs were hooked over his shoulders, and he was insistent on bending them even further, until he had you in a mating press underneath him. you were singing on his cock, nonstop whorish noises spilling from your lips.

“god, you’re gonna milk me dry,” he laughed breathlessly as you came around his cock for what felt like the millionth time.

“fuuuck!” you screeched, eyes rolling back into your head. “schlatt, please,” you begged him— though what you wanted, he wasn’t sure of.

“doll, you keep beggin’ me like that and all you’re gonna get is my fat fuckin’ load deep in that pussy,” he warned. you somehow understood his threat in your post-orgasm haze and lit up at the possibility of being bred by him.

“please!! please, schlatt, i’ve been so good, please give it to me,” you rambled frantically, gaze fixed on his perfect visage. his brown hair was messy, and a few strands kept falling in front of his face as his dark eyes puzzled through why you would want that. eventually, he settled on giving you what you wanted, his thrusts slowing in pace but increasing in force as he got closer and closer before burying his cock to the hilt in you and painting your walls with an enormous amount of cum. you prayed none of it would spill out the whole time schlatt was collapsed onto your chest, breathing heavily.

he watched himself pull out of you and groaned at the sight of his sperm leaking from your cunt, quickly reaching to snap some pictures and eventually bringing the camcorder to capture your ruined makeup and fucked out state. when he was done, he shut the camera off and quickly went to work untying you.

“did so good f’me, ‘m so proud,” he murmured as he worked, gently rubbing the places on your skin where the rope hurt you. he placed a kiss to every one and continued to praise you.

you couldn’t say anything, too tired from being used like that, so you just let him take care of you and stared at him in adoration.

“d’ya want me to stay the night? can i?” he asked softly once he freed you from your restraints. “i was thinking i could help run you a bath or something…”

“please stay,” you rasped, clearing your throat. “i don’t want you to go.” the last sentence was quiet, but he still heard it, evident by the smile that crossed his lips.

“alright then, toots, you won’t be gettin’ rid of me for the rest of the trip.”

[charlottesbookclub]

i'm here (ser gwayne hightower x reader) 💚💚

Summary: you have a nightmare, but gwayne is there to comfort you 💚

Warnings/Tags: spouse!reader; gn!reader; established relationship (marriage); nightmares; angst/anxiety brought on by the nightmares; absolutely catastrophic levels of tooth-rotting fluff; let me know if I've missed anything! ☺️

Words: 2870

Author’s Note: as I mentioned in this post, gwayne hightower has absolutely consumed my life and I am down sooooooo bad for him rn, so voilá, this fic has emerged as a result of that! 💕 as I also say in that linked post, I'm not super familiar with hotd, so I'm sorry if any of the terms I use aren't canon-accurate (I watched game of thrones a few years ago and I tried my best to make it feel authentic to the world of canon, but something may have slipped through 😅). and I hope this feels in-character to gwayne! I've rewatched the scenes of his that I have access to many times for...... uhh ~Research Purposes~ but I haven't seen all his scenes yet, so I apologize if it feels ooc at all – I did my best to make it feel like him! 🥰

oh and this is key: we've all seen the necklace, right?? we know about the necklace, right????? that fucking necklace makes me absolutely feral so I've given it a backstory, because it truly has me foaming at the fucking mouth 😌 (also, if you haven't seen the necklace, may I please direct you to this incredible gifset so we can descend into madness over it together?)

as always, I hope you enjoy!! 🥰🥰 (also please feel free to share any gwayne thoughts you have – I'd love to scream about the precious man with y'all! ☺️💕)

            The memory was not yours, but in this moment, it felt like it was. Gwayne had only told you the story once, with hushed words and averted eyes. You had asked, and he could never find it in himself to keep anything from you, even if it made his chest seize with shame. He told you that the whole ordeal had been a result of foolishness on his part, something he would admit only to you. He said that he recalled the memory with great embarrassment now. But you felt nothing but terror.

            You stood on a large, grassy plain ringed with trees, a few wispy clouds scuddling across the blue sky above you. This was a place you had never seen, never been – but one thing was familiar. As you struggled to gain your bearings in the strange location, you saw a group of men on horseback just a short distance ahead. You recognized your lord husband instantly: the delicate silver interlace of his steed’s armor and the auburn glow of his hair in the sunlight were as familiar to you as your own heartbeat.

            You called out to him, but he didn’t respond; he seemed to be in conversation with one of the other men. You ran toward the small group and cried his name again, but even at close range he appeared not to hear you. Panic grew in your chest by the moment as you hurried closer still, coming near enough that you could almost reach out and touch Gwayne’s mount. You stretched out your hand to do just that when your arm was stopped by some invisible force. There was nothing in front of you, just empty air that you should have been able to move through with no difficulty. But you were trapped mere feet from your beloved, unable to reach him.

            Something was terribly wrong. You screamed his name this time, desperation compressing your lungs with the force of your yell. But it was clear that he could not hear you, since neither he nor any of the gathered men so much as turned toward the sound of your cries. Real fear gripped you now, shooting ice through your veins as you cast about you for something – anything – that you could do. And that was when a new kind of fear crept over you, one so old and visceral you could feel it down to your very bones. Shudders wracked your body as you turned your eyes toward the sky, suddenly certain that you were being watched. But not just watched – no, you were being hunted.

            At a loss for what else you could do, you renewed your efforts to alert Gwayne to the danger that you could feel but not yet see. You screamed until your voice was hoarse, but you were forced to watch in horror as Gwayne continued his conversation as though nothing was wrong, even flashing that charming smile that you knew and loved so well. It was just then that the other man finally noticed that something was wrong. He cast his eyes toward the sky as you had mere moments before, saying something to the gathered men. A wave of fear seemed to run through the horses, as there was a flurry of shifting hooves and nervous snorts. You could only watch in terror as realization washed over Gwayne’s face, twisting his handsome features into a terrifying expression of horror.

            You screamed at him to run just as everything burst into motion, the horses tearing off across the plain toward the cover of the trees. You found yourself moving along with them, though you had no mount of your own. Instead, it was the same terrible invisible force, dragging you along, forcing you to watch as the scene unfolded before you.

            And then you saw it: the dragon. It swooped down from the sky as though it had erupted into existence from nothing, filling the empty air with huge grey wings that seemed to blot out the sun. You screamed again, but this time without the intention of forming any coherent words – the noise that escaped your throat was an expression of the fear that was buried deep in your bones upon the sight of the creature. Its lean body shot across the plain toward the fleeing men with a kind of focus and intention that proved what you had thought from the beginning: the dragon was hunting. And worse than that, it was hunting Gwayne.

            Voice rubbed raw from screaming, and realizing your cries to him did nothing anyway, you watched in terrible silence as his steed thundered across the ground, its legs eating up the distance as fast as it could. And yet the dragon gained. If this was some cruel trick played by the gods, you couldn’t think what you could possibly have done to deserve this kind of torment. You could do nothing but watch, utterly powerless, as Gwayne – your Gwayne – fled for his life, his beautiful face contorted into an expression of fear that cut you to the core like a knife to the stomach. You held your breath, fearing each moment would be the one when you were forced to watch your love be consumed by dragonfire, ending both his life and yours in one swift blow of unimaginable anguish and heartbreak from which you knew you would never recover. Just as you had resolved to try calling to him one last time – if nothing else, to assure him of your love – the treeline broke around you and the horses cantered to a stop beneath the cover of the forest.

            The world was still again, but the fear lingered. You could sense the dragon above you, even hear its thin, unearthly cries as it searched for its hidden quarry. Your eyes instantly found Gwayne, needing to make sure he had survived the ordeal. Indeed, he still sat upon his steed, and you watched his chest heave as he attempted to steady his breathing. The fear that still permeated the forest remained etched on his face as well, changing his features from those of the man you had courted and married to those of a young boy, trembling and horror-struck and so helpless and small.

            You longed with every fiber of your being to run up to him and pull him into your arms, to feel his warm breath on your neck as he folded into your embrace. You ached to hold his face in your hands and wipe away the single lingering tear he likely didn’t even know was still glistening on his cheek. You yearned to kiss the terror away from his brow and his nose and his lips, to tell him he was safe – to tell him that you were here. 

            But you were trapped just feet from him, all these longings locked into your body as you pressed toward him as far as the strange invisible barrier would allow. You watched as the fear slowly faded from his face, his features once again becoming warm and familiar. You couldn’t help but smile as he seemed to return to himself somewhat. Turning to one of his companions, he opened his mouth to say something when both of their eyes snapped up to the sky, reacting to some sound you must not have heard. You followed their gaze, and didn’t even have a chance to scream as a column of fire descended from above, ready to devour you all.

            You woke with a gasp. Your heart was pounding loudly enough that you could hear it in your ears, and you pushed yourself up into a sitting position as you struggled to calm your ragged breathing. The darkness in the room was soft, and your eyes adjusted slowly to your surroundings, only to find them all comforting and familiar – this was your room, your home. Instantly, you turned to your side, and let out a small sigh of relief when you saw Gwayne sleeping peacefully next to you. He was here, he was home, he was safe – you both were.

            When your breathing had calmed back to a normal rate, you eased yourself back down under the covers, burrowing into his arms as he sleepily adjusted his position to accommodate you.

            “Hmmm—is everything… alright?” he muttered, blinking his eyes open.

            “Everything’s fine,” you assured him, “I just had a nightmare.”

            He seemed to waken a little more at your words, propping himself up slightly on one arm as he reached the other hand out to stroke your cheek.

            “Are you alright? Do you want to talk about it?” his voice was still thick with sleep, but you knew the questions were genuine.

            “It was about you,” you reached up to cup his hand that still rested on your cheek, intertwining his fingers with yours. “And the dragon,” you added, your words barely above a whisper. Hearing his sharp intake of breath, you were certain he was reliving the memory himself, and instantly regretted your words.

            “But it was nothing,” you hurried to assure him, “I just—I just wish I had been there. Or that I could have helped or—” you were distinctly aware that your jumbled words made very little sense, even to you. “I just felt so helpless,” you ended with a sigh. Gwayne watched you with soft eyes, his fingers squeezing yours in reassurance.

            “You were there, though,” he responded, smiling gently, “and you did help.” You just stared at him incredulously, wondering if he was the one who was dreaming now. He read the question in your eyes with a small chuckle and disentangled his hand from yours, pushing himself up to sit. 

            Pressing a hand to his chest, his fingers found the chain of the necklace that he always wore. The charm was a delicate circle of beaten metal hanging from a simple coppery chain. You had bought it in the market one day when the two of you were still courting. The rich auburn sheen of the metal had reminded you of Gwayne’s hair, and you were determined to have it. The seller assured you that the little ring symbolized unending love and devotion – a never-ending cycle, an unbroken vow. You were doubtful that had been the original intention of the maker, but rather a ploy on the seller’s part to drive up the price after he realized you intended it as a gift for your beloved. Had it been that obvious how love-struck you were? 

            Regardless of whether it was intended or not, you liked the idea of the simple circle as a token of promise and loyalty, as well as a celebration of one of Gwayne’s most striking features. You had given it to him wrapped in a carefully-embroidered handkerchief when he had gallantly asked for your favor before a tourney. You cherished the memory of him asking you to help him put it on, and the fleeting touch of his skin and flaming hair you were able to steal as you clasped it around his neck. He won the tourney, and insisted that his victory was due at least in part to the precious charm you had given him, imbued with your affection and devotion. To your knowledge, he had never taken it off since.

            Now, in the dim light of your shared chambers, he held the little ring out for you to see. It was slightly more battered now than it had been, and though its original shine was gone, it still seemed to glow with a warm coppery light. Reaching out, you took the small circle in your fingers, feeling all the tiny knicks and ridges it had acquired over time, each one of them proof of Gwayne’s promise to always return to you – an unbroken vow.

            “See, you’re always with me, right here,” he gestured to the charm in your fingers. The feeling of the metal against your skin and the sweet memories that swirled through your mind caused tears to prick at the corners of your eyes, chasing away the lingering cobwebs of fear that the nightmare had spun. Gently, you released the ring and Gwayne’s fingers replaced yours on the circle, guiding it back to where it always sat on his chest, just above his heart. He pressed it there, emphasizing his words: “right here, right where you always have been – and always will be.”

            Ducking your head away, you tried to hide the tears that were now threatening to slide down your cheeks as his words. But before you could wipe them on the sheets, Gwayne’s hand caught your chin, gently pulling him back to you, the rough pad of his thumb banishing the tears from your face. His eyes sparkled with affection and mirth, and you found yourself unable to stop yourself from echoing his smile.

            “Hmmm… it’s more serious than I thought,” he said with mock-concern, tilting your face as though he was examining it, “you appear to be desperately and madly in love with me – a very serious condition indeed.”

            You couldn’t help the laugh that spilled out of your mouth as you nudged him playfully, causing him to break into bright chuckles of his own. Your chest, which just moments ago had been compressed with terror, was now so full of love and happiness you were certain it might burst.

            “And tell me, Ser Gwayne, what is the cure for this most dire of conditions?” you matched his tone of feigned worry as your laughter subsided.

            “Hmmm,” he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, unable to hide the dimples forming on his cheeks, proof of his barely-suppressed smile, “perhaps marriage? I have heard many esteemed lords claim that the institution of matrimony is bound to cure an ailment such as yours.”

            “Oh, but I fear I’ve tried that,” you exclaimed, “and it has only made my condition worse.”

            “Then this is indeed one of the most serious cases I’ve ever seen.” He pondered for a moment, then his eyes lit up: “There is one more cure, but it’s risky. You could try true love’s kiss. One does read about those sorts of things working miracles after all.”

            “What’s the risk?”

            “The risk is that the kiss renders your condition utterly uncurable by any other means.” Gwayne’s lips tilted up into your favorite lopsided smile as he grinned at you, dimples glowing like twin suns, sending the delicate freckles on his face colliding into each other like falling stars.

            “That’s a risk I’m more than willing to take,” you breathed as he reached out to cup your face and bring it close to his. You closed your eyes as your lips met in a burst of warm sunlight that seemed to fill your whole body with its radiance. You weren’t sure how long you remained pressed against him, feeling his heartbeat against your skin, his auburn locks twisted in your fingers, his necklace hanging between your entwined forms. 

            “Did it work?” he whispered when he finally pulled away, his forehead still resting against yours.

            “No,” you responded happily, your fingers once again finding the thin metal of the little circular charm, “I fear I’m even more madly and desperately in love with you than before.” You met his eyes, finding them bright and soft and just as madly and desperately in love as you were certain yours were.

            “Well, I like to think of myself as chivalrous, but I don’t think I can find it in myself to regret your condition,” he whispered, a teasing smile on his face as he reached a hand up to run his fingers through your hair.

            “Nor can I,” you whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

            He pulled you fully into his grasp then, maneuvering you both back under the covers without relinquishing his hold on you. You rested on his chest, head tucked under his chin as he wrapped both arms around you. Your fingers found his necklace, and you clasped it in your hand. He echoed your motion until both of your hands were intertwined around the metal circle, resting just above his heart. You could feel it beating against your skin, and you snuggled yourself even closer to him.

            “This is what I imagine,” Gwayne said softly to the darkness, “when I’m on the road without you, and all I have is this small charm to remind me of what it feels like to rest in your embrace. This is what I dream of.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and squeezed your hand where it entwined with his on the necklace. “You’re always right here.”

            “I’m always right here,” you echo, your words a promise, a vow.

            “But thank the gods I don’t have to imagine right now,” you felt his words as his lips moved against your forehead, “because I am right here.” Gwayne wrapped his arms even more tightly around you, and you gladly tucked yourself further into his warm embrace. You felt yourself drifting back into a pleasant sleep in the comfort and safety of his arms. You heard his words echo softly in the gentle quiet of the room:

            “I’m right here.”

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Hiiiii! So, I'm Arab and I was wondering is you could do a y/n x Mattheo riddle(cuz y/n is so badass) where they're fighting about the girls that go to Mattheo. y/n goes into Arabic and mattheo goes hard and then. . . you can determine what you want to do with it. BTW I LOVE UUUUU

ps can u make them in a secret relationship?

I LOVE UUUUU TOO AAAA THANK YOU! Sorry this took so long!

All Yours

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: Oral(female receiving), fingering, unprotected sec, cream pie, cussing.

18+ Minors DNI!

There he was again. Your secret boyfriend. Mattheo Riddle. Surrounded by girls at one of the Slytherin parties. There were quite a few reasons to keep your relationship secret. His father. Your parents. His friends. Even your friends. He didn’t want you to be used against him as a weakness either.

Whatever the reasons, you were still fuming about how he spoke with the girls. Granted, he never did touch them or reciprocate their flirtations. But he didn’t push them away either or reject them outright.

He spotted you across the room, locking eyes with you and giving you his wicked smile that normally made you melt. When he got met with your crossed arms and eye roll, he knew you were mad and the smile dropped.

He was able to get away from the girls, redirecting them to his friends before he slipped away. He was pulling you away from everyone, skirting around the party to avoid anyone’s attention as he pulled you up to his dorm.

He closed the door behind you two before speaking. “Alright. What’s wrong, sweet girl?”

“Don’t call me that.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest again.

He sighed. “Fine. What’s wrong?”

You weren’t sure what to say, trying to figure out how to phrase it. You weren’t exactly prepared for this confrontation.

“Is it the girls?” He asked, stepping closer.

“Of course it is!” You nearly yelled. How can he be so stupid?

“Come on, princess. You know I can’t do anything about it.” He tried speaking softly as he touched your arm.

All that did though was piss you off even more. You pulled your arm from him and started yelling. “Yes, you can! You can tell them to back off! You can tell them you’re not interested!”

“I can’t do that. It’ll be suspicious. I don’t want people catching on that I have a girlfriend.” He said, keeping his voice calm.

You knew what he meant. He meant he didn’t want people to find out so they can use you against him or harm you. But you were mad, so of course the words were falling from your mouth faster than you were even thinking. “Oh, it’s so bad to have a girlfriend now? I’m that embarrassing to you?”

“No-” He tried interjecting, but you cut him off.

You were slipping into Arabic without even realizing it. You were just yelling and he was staring at you, stunned. It was the first time he’d heard you speak Arabic, let alone yelling it.

You stopped yelling after a few moments, looking at him to respond. “What?”

“That was so hot.” He said and his mouth was on yours.

The anger that you had was turning into desire for him as you guided you two towards the bed, lips pressed together still as you took off what clothes you could without breaking the kiss. He pushed you back onto the bed once you reached it and helped you out of your clothes, wasting no time to sink between your thighs and start licking and sucking like a starved man.

“Keep going. Talk to me.” He said, pushing two fingers inside you.

It took you a moment to start talking, rambling something about how good it feels and whatever else came to mind. It’s not like he knew what you were saying anyways.

“Fucking hot.” He groaned before licking at your clit again.

You kept your rambling, only breaking with moans and whimpers. His name falling from your mouth every few sentences as he was desperately trying to make you fall apart on his tongue and fingers.

“That’s fucking it. You gonna cum, princess? I wanna see you cum on my fingers. Look so pretty screaming my name.” He said, staring up at you between your legs.

You couldn’t deny him what he was craving, nearly begging for. You were falling apart for him only moments later, tugging his hair, trembling, crying out his name.

He flipped you over after riding out your orgasm, gripping your hips to pull back towards him. He slowly eased the head of his dick in, groaning as you moaned.

“You’re fucking hot when you’re mad.” He said with a slight struggle as he kept pushing inside you.

“My yelling turns you on?” You asked, gripping at the sheets.

“More than it should, probably.” He started thrusting, no longer being gentle, he gripped your hips with bruising force and fucking you fast and deep. “You can keep going if you’d like. Or would you rather scream my name?” He asked, leaning over to grab your hair, lifting your head from the bed.

“Fuck, Mattheo! I-fuck!” You cried out, finding it difficult to think with his cock hitting so deep inside you.

“Guess that’s my answer, huh?” He teased.

“Shut up!” You tried for an irritated tone, but it was hardly even halfhearted.

“Oh, but you love when I talk to you like this. Can feel how wet you get, love.” He leaned down so his chest was pressing against your back. 

He was fucking into you so deep, he moved his hand from your hair to rub at your clit, making you whimper from how sensitive it was.

“Maybe you just needed to be reminded that I’m all yours in another way to get rid of that anger, hm?” He mused, pressing kisses along your upper back. “Fucking clenching me, princess, you gonna cum again already?”

All you could do was nod in response, your voice occupied with moaning and crying out with his thrusts.

“That’s it. Be a good girl then and cum for me.” He said softly. “Cum on my cock, pretty girl.”

And you were trembling again, crying out his name and you gripped at the sheets.

He cursed as he came from the feeling of your pussy trying to milk him, filling you with his cum.

“I’m all yours, sweet girl. You’re all mine, too.” He said reassuringly as he pressed kisses where he could reach as your body relaxed.

[ginax0916]

✿𖡼 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝, 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐟, 𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐞 𖡼✿

Sturniolos x little sister (LS)

Warnings: Blood mentioned

Synopsis: The triplets and their LS decide to try the blind deaf mute challenge, without knowing the chaos it would cause.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✩

LS POV:

“Hey everyone! Welcome or welcome back to our YouTube, so today we’re doing another part to our Blind, Deaf and Mute series. But today we have our little sister here so she will be joining as well” Nick introduces the video.

“Since there’s 4 of us, one of us will have to be both blind and mute so we’re gonna do rock paper scissors to determine who is what” Matt adds on.

“Ok ok Rock paper scissors shoot!” Chris’s says as we all play the game. The winner of each round gets to pick what they want to be, the last one is the one who will be blind and mute. And due to my luck, it was me.

“Ok so I will be mute, Chris will be deaf, Nick will be blind and y/n will blind and mute!” Matt says.

“Thank god I won’t have to hear her annoying voice” Nick mumbles quietly.

“Hey! I heard that!” I angrily say.

“Alright alright enough let’s start” Chris yells not knowing how loud his voice is because of the noice canceling headphones which are blasting music in his ears.

I put on my blind fold and put one of Chris’s bandanas over my mouth and so does Matt meanwhile Nick puts on his own blind fold.

Truth be told not being able to see is quite scary. Especially around my brothers.

“Ok let’s fucking start already get the stuff out!” Nick screams.

“Shut up Nick I can hear your loud ass voice even with the headphones on!” Chris screams back.

It hasn’t even been 5 minutes and the screaming matches have already began. I know for a fact it’s only about to get worse.

As I’m emptying the bag of cake mix into the bowl, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I jump from the sudden touch but then I realize it has to be Matt since he hasn’t said a word. He carefully hands me 3 eggs which are needed.

I proceed to crack the eggs into the bowl using my hands to guide where the bowl is. As I’m about to crack the last one, Nick pushes me as he’s trying to get to who knows where. The egg falls onto the counter and completely shatters causing it to go everywhere.

“Ughhh” I groan into the bandana.

“Nick you made a fucking mess!” Chris screams at him as he sees the mess all over the counter.

“I can’t see mother fucker it’s not my fault!” Nick screams back.

“So then stop moving around dumb fuck!” Chris replies.

All their screaming isn’t going to help clean the god damn mess up. I start growing irritated at them from screaming instead of helping me get paper towels since I can’t see either.

I feel two hands on my shoulders, I’m guessing it’s Matt, who guides me to the counter on the other side where the paper towels are. But then the hands let go.

“Matt get off!” Chris screams. Well there goes Matt into the fight.

I feel around the kitchen with my hands trying to find the counter where the paper towels should be. Finally I find it, but to my luck, once again, it’s a closed packet of paper towels. I try to feel around in hopes of finding an opened roll but nothings around.

I grab the pack and try to rip it open with my hands. It doesn’t even budge. I feel around some more and I finally touch something other than paper towels. It’s scissors. I carefully try to place the scissors at a correct angle to cut through the plastic. Without a thought I snap them shut.

“Oh my god” I say, muffled through the bandana. A stinging sensation starts to form. Only getting worse and worse. I rip the blind fold and bandana off with my free hand only to be met with the sight of blood on the counter and on the scissors. It’s not a huge amount but it’s still there. I look at my finger and it has a pretty deep cut. Not deep enough for stitches but deep enough to bring tears to my eyes. I don’t do good with blood so I start to panic. With my shaking hand I grab some of the paper towels I just opened and put them on my finger.

“Guys I need some help” I say with a trembling voice.

“Stop being fucking idiots and mix the fucking batter!” Nick screams at Chris and Matt.

“You’re being an idiot you aren’t holding the bowl strong enough so every time I mix it moves around moron!” Chris screams back. Matt only groans loudly since he can’t speak.

“Guys seriously I need help” I say a bit louder.

“NICK STOP!” Chris screams louder if that’s even possible.

I can’t do this. The screams. The blood. The stinging. I start to breathe heavily and my eyes fill with tears. I run out of the kitchen and up to my room quickly. As I shut the door I burst out into tears holding my bleeding finger close. Small blood stains get all over my shirt. What am I meant to do?

Matt pov:

“Y/n can you pass me another spatula please?” Nick asks.

“Y/n?” Chris calls out.

We all turn around only to find her nowhere in the kitchen. We all take off the stuff we had and realize that she isn’t in the kitchen at all anymore.

“Ok guys seriously where did she go?” I ask.

“I don’t know but there’s fucking blood on the counter” Chris says with panic and he points to the counter opposite from us.

“What the fuck” Nick says as we all walk to the counter with blood and paper towels.

“Ok c’mon let’s go find her she’s obviously not ok” I suggest while walking to her room, my brothers following behind.

As we get to her door, I knock three times but no answer.

“There’s blood on the counter and she wasn’t in the kitchen I’m not fucking waiting for her to answer the door. God for all I know she could be dead!” Chris says as he barges into the room.

“Don’t say shit like that!” Nick replies before following us into her room.

“Y/n?” I call out.

“What do you guys want” She responds with an angry tone while walking out of the bathroom with a first aid kit in her hand.

“What happened? We saw blood on the counter” Nick asks.

“You would know what happened if you had answered me when I asked you guys for help but you were too busy screaming at each other to even hear me” Y/n says angrily as she digs through the first aid kit for bandaids.

“Look we’re sorry. We didn’t mean to get into an argument” Chris speaks up.

“The video was meant to be fun but I ended up with my finger cut open and you idiots going at each other” Y/n says with an angry tone.

“Y/n please. We’re really sorry ok? We didn’t mean to ruin the video and we didn’t mean for you to get hurt” Chris speaks while walking closer to her.

“Here let me help” I say as I grab the bandaid from her trembling hand.

“Does it hurt?” Nick asks.

“Mhm it really stings” She nods while flinching as I try to put cream on her cut.

“Hey it’s ok” Chris says hugging her as he noticed tears prick at her eyes.

“We’re so sorry we ruined the video y/n I know you were looking forward to it” I say as I finish putting a bandaid on her finger.

“It’s ok just try to get along better sometimes please. I don’t like watching you guys scream at each other all the time. Especially when we’re trying to do something fun” She speaks.

“I know and we promise we’re gonna try ok?” Chris says, still hugging her.

“Alright then” She smiles.

“Last one to the kitchen has to clean all the mess!” Y/n screams and takes off running in a fit of laughter.

“Hey that’s not fair we weren’t ready!” Chris screams as we run after her.

Low key hate this 🤗

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 8

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

M!troll x f!reader

1.35k words

Both a light in the darkness and the last person you wanted to see now, once more you were with Zen'jan. While relieved at your rescue anger and fear still had their grip on your after seeing what he was capable of.

--------

The smell of blood filled your nose, nearly making you gag, but under the heavy smell of iron there was also incense. You could barely keep your eyes open, but you could feel that you were being carried. Looking up you saw a familiar silhouette in the darkness.

Desperately you wanted to yell at him, to scream why did he not say anything about following the god of shadows. To scream at him for tricking you into visiting his shrine. To scream at him to put you down now. But you could not.

You were tired, your head still throbbing, severely dehydrated, and still in a state of shock. You were thankful for the rescue, but it did not change that you were still angry with him, that you no longer trusted him.

The edges of your vision began to fade to black again, too exhausted to keep awake.

There was firm ground beneath you this time when you awoke. Zen’jan was clutching you against his chest while you were curled on his lap, sitting so your side was pressed against him, his tusks brushing against your face.

He was muttering something over and over again in his language, almost pleading sounding.

You stirred a bit and looked up to see his eyes squeezed shut while he continued his prayers, though not for long as your movements alerted him to the fact you were awake.

“I am so sorry” he wrapped his arms around you tightly though you quickly pulled away. “I deserved that” he sadly added.

He just looked broken, his shoulders slumped forward and head bowed, barely able to look at you.

“Are you hurt? Did they touch you?” he asked.

You did not answer, your voice was lost in your throat and now the chill of the night was setting in.

“Please, please come closer, you are shivering” he pleaded with you.

Reluctantly you leaned back against him and he wrapped his arms back around you, he was so warm.

“I am sorry I hid the truth from you” he began, “I was scared after you told me about the Light, I was scared that no matter what I did that one day you would know who I followed and hate me, or fear me.

“I saw how you looked at me on that first day, the fear in your eyes just when I reached out to you, it snapped me out of my own annoyance and panic. I did not want to ever be someone you feared, I did everything I could think of to make you feel safe, I never tried to touch you even on accident, I slept on the floor, I always tried to sit down around you so I did not tower over you. And it seemed to help. You started talking to me more, you stopped flinching when I moved.

“I thought that maybe if we were closer, maybe you would trust me and I could tell you. I knew you would be apprehensive, but maybe you would trust me enough to listen. But I ruined that”.

You felt him trembling too, but not from the cold. His voice wavered while he spoke, nearly choking on his own words.

“How did you find me?” you asked.

“Tsov’ka. You bear his blessing, as long as you are in the shadows he can find you, he first tracked you sitting in the shade of a tree, then later at the camp when night fell”.

The thought of that made your skin crawl, though it had saved you.

“When you ran from the shrines I thought it was best to give you space, let you calm down. I left a little after you and looked for you at home. When you were not there I went to Bira to ask if you were with her, but you were not there either. I started to look around the city anywhere I could think of, I asked every guard or shopkeeper I saw if they saw you until someone said they saw you leave the city.

“My heart sank, do you know how dangerous it can be out here?”

“I’ve come out here with Bira before” you pushed back.

“And Bira knows the area and would not have taken you this far. But way out here? There’s bandits! Gnolls! All sorts that would want to hurt you!”

You could hear the panic in his voice.

“I saw what you did” you told him.

He froze, his limbs stiffening up around you, “How much did you see?”

“Once it was quiet I peeked under the tent, I didn’t know it was you then, but I saw what was left”. It was brutal, not quick kills, people torn to ribbons and beyond recognizable.

“You were not supposed to see that” he sounded scared, “It was not supposed to be like that. I was just going to get you from the tent, it was supposed to be quick and easy, gone before anyone noticed I was there. But I heard them talk about you, what they planned on doing…” he trailed off.

“When I saw that humans from your kingdom found you I almost left, I thought that you would be better off if they took you home. That you could go back to your family and be away from me. That maybe one day you could find someone you loved and you could be happy” he sounded crushed, absolutely just shattered, and part of you felt bad for him.

“When I heard them talking though, I- I just- Tsov’ka offered me his gift, and I accepted. Even during the war I rarely accepted his power like that. Being a god’s avatar is not something to take lightly, to take his form, to weird his strength. I let my fear and anger guide me, and I did not stop until Tsov’ka made me.

“I know you already fear me, but I do not want to lie to you ever again, even if it means seeing me for who I am”.

You knew he had fought in the war, that he was regarded as war hero, but it often slipped your mind. He had always been so gentle and calm around you, doting on you and taking care of you, this was an intense reminder that he was not just a civilian.

“I do not expect you to stay with me, and I will not hold you against your will, ever. I will find a way to get you home to your kingdom. Bira knows a lot of traders and human outposts outside of your kingdom, she will know how to get you home”.

A few drops landed on your face and you looked up at him to see several large tears roll down his cheeks. His breath was heaving and shuddering as he held you.

You saw him for what he was then: scared. The fight you had on the first morning was because he was scared to go home and face you, so he left you alone there. He did not tell you the truth about all his gods because he was scared you would hate and fear him. He brutalized the bandit camp when he was scared for your safety and treatment. And now he was scared of losing you.

Knowing that fear drove him made his actions more understandable, though you did not know how much you could forgive, or if you could ignore what he was capable of. But at least knowing what drove him reminded you that he was a good person too, that he was kind and gentle, just very scared under it all.

You leaned your weight against him more, fully just melting into his embrace. Your kingdom and father were willing to have you killed to restart this war, returning to your kingdom was not an option, though Zen’jan did not seem to realize this. But here at least you had someone who cared about you enough to be scared of loosing you.

“Zen?” you asked, “Can you just take me to our home?”

His arms tightened around you, “Anything”.

Part 9

[am-i-interrupting]

Across the River | Extra

@night-fall-moon gave me the tiniest push so here we are! Aside, look at this young Sevika art.

Hardheads

Summary: Background into how you got your fighting style. Specifically, some important moments in time where you had a woman of incredible loyalty right beside you.

You held the dart between your fingers. Short and chubby as they were wrapped around the steel. You let out a small grunt as you threw it.

“Good job, my dear,” your uncle praised.

The dart was just a bit below the red center ring, near the middle of the single rings.

He adjusted your position on his shoulder. “You’re getting better,” he said.

You reached for the darts. You collected the four you’d thrown. All of them crammed in your small hands.

“Before you know it, they’ll be beating your streak, Sevika.”

Your breath caught in your throat as your head whipped around to the woman. She’d always been a bit of a mystery to you. You didn’t know really anything about her. Well, other than the fact that she was tall and her voice was nice to listen to and she was really pretty.

A chuckle came from the woman causing you to smile. “I think it’ll be a while but whatever you say, boss man.”

You pulled lightly on the hair that was tied up at the base of your uncle’s head. “Again!” you insisted.

He smiled and walked back to where he had been. You threw one dart. It hit the singles. Your second was in the doubles. Your third was down in the singles again. You grunted to yourself.

“Keep your elbow more leveled,” Sevika told you from her seat where she was shuffling cards.

You looked over at her. Her hands moved fast and dexterous. Practiced motions made the cards slide from hand to hand. She handed out cards with a grace and ease.

Her hand brought her drink up to her mouth. The black of her lipstick rubbed off on her mug. Her eyes ran over the cards in her hands. Then they flickered up and met yours.

She glanced at the board and then back at you.

You breathed out of your mouth, slow and steady. Your teeth pulled at your lip and your brow furrowed. You took a moment and tried to run through your throw. You did it once, twice, three, four times. You continued until you felt like you headed her words.

With your elbow more leveled, you released the dart from your fingers. Time seemed to slow as it sped through the air. Anxiety gripped your heart and held it tight. The breath seemed to be stolen from your lungs.

You screamed and your arms went up in the air. Your uncle nearly dropped you due to your sudden movement and sound so close to his ear. He caught you with your body now pointed towards Sevika.

“Did you see?! Did you see?!” you asked her.

“Yeah, good job, kid,” she said as she reached out and patted your shoulder before she put her attention on her cards again.

You squealed and spun around in your uncle’s arms so he was cradling. Your legs kicked in excitement.

“I got a bullseye, Uncle Sil!” you yelled for the whole bar to hear.

“Yes, you did. I’m proud,” he told you as he adjusted his grip on you to be something more secure.

Several people, your parents and other uncle included, crowded around to see what the four year old’s first bullseye. Barely able to be considered but just inside the red ring enough.

The Last Drop was more empty now than it ever had been. You were one of the four people inside the public area.

You kept throwing darts and missing. You should be doing better than this but your mind was going wild. It was racing and you couldn’t keep up. So many thoughts going through your head and you had no idea where to start.

“Hey, kid,” a familiar, smoked voice said, “can I join you?”

You looked over and saw Sevika. Her hair all down to her shoulders now when it used to go past them. Her face was devoid of any of her usual makeup. Several shallow cuts on her face were likely the reason why.

It’d been only two days since everything that happened. The cuts were already scabbed over how but the few bruises you could see peaking out of her clothing weren’t fairing nearly as well.

You handed a dart off to her. She threw it. It landed in the triple ring. Despite not preforming to her normal standard, she was still doing better than you. Most of yours were in the singe rings

Neither of you said anything for a while. The bar was silent. Not even a song came through on the jutebox. No hushed conversations. Just the sounds of darts being embedded into a board and the occasional clicking of something against glass.

It was an eerie silence that left you uneasy. It did nothing to help your racing thoughts.

“You can do better than that,” Sevika said when one of your darts landed in the white.

“So can you,” you fired back dryly.

She sighed in response. “Listen, kid, I—“

“I don’t want an apology,” a loud thunk, “or any sympathy,” another thunk, “or any of the meaningless words everyone’s been saying for the past two god forsaken fucking days!” a third think. “You can’t do or say anything—“ you walked towards the board and jerked out the darts— “that will make anything better so if you’re not going to say something useful just leave me alone.”

A hand was laid on your shoulder. Your head leaned forward as you slumped. Another thunk against the board.

“Come here, kid,” she said as she wrapped her arms around you.

Your head was guided into her shoulder. She was warm and steady. She smelled like smoke and alcohol. Your hands were limp at your sides but hers pressed you closer.

“Your parents were good people,” she told you. “They died fighting for the cause. You can’t surrender because they can’t fight anymore. You’ve got to stand up and fight harder. Piltover won’t know what hit them when you start fighting.”

“I don’t know how,” you admitted. “Without them I don’t know how to fight. It’s too much.”

“I’ll teach you,” she promised.

Your hands wrapped around her waist. You held onto her like a lifeline.

“Patience is one of the most important things in a fight,” Sevika said as the two of you circled each other. “If you move too fast you risk opening yourself up to vulnerabilities but if you move too slow you lose your opponent’s. Make sense?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Let’s go again.”

The two of you circled around each other, hands at the defense. Neither of you moved for a long couple of moments. You simply watched one another.

Sevika took a step forward. You mimicked her. It didn’t take long for the two of you to go from several feet away to several inches.

She swung at you. You dunked down. You took the opening to punch at her torso, just below her ribs. She went back. You moved forward. She reached again. This time her hit got you upside the head.

You winced as you stumbled. The world was blurry for several seconds.

Sevika’s hands gripped your shirt and pulled you toward her. Her head reared back and then banged against yours. Your head pounded in agony as the world went back to nonsense.

She pushed you. You fell backwards.

“We’re gonna have to work on that too,” she said. “Make you a bit more hardheaded.”

You blinked several times before you were able to make out the dark figure of your mentor. Her hand was extended to you as she leaned down. Her hair blew ever so slightly in her face.

You grabbed her hand and allowed yourself to be hauled up.

“Or maybe you should let me do brain surgery on you and get out that metal in your skull,” you said.

She laughed as she threw her arm around you. “You’re funny, kid.”

[illshakeyouallnightlong-dean]

Take Me To The Sun (Rewritten)

I know everything. The things beyond weapons drops across the border. And yet I stay quiet. Until I can't. Being a marked one, being a friend of Xaden Riorson doesn't mean I am granted unfiltered access to information of what goes on beyond Navarre's walls. But it should when lives are lost and rules change. My compassion doesn't make me weak. My dragon chose me. I am meant for more.

A/N: This fic is updated on my AO3 as well. Here. Happy Reading! Gonna try to update once or twice a week but as you know, life happens so we'll see! xoxo K

The quadrant is in chaos. 

Finding out who is alive, who we all lost - it’s a mess. The only thing I can focus on, however, is the fact that they aren’t back. 

He isn’t back. 

I wish I could comfort you, flare. Rathnait whispers to me in the library of my mind. For a brief moment, guilt consumes me. Gripping my throat with the threat of tears and a scream. A failure of a rider -  not able to even give her a reprieve from the onslaught of my emotions. That she must feel it all with me down our bad. 

A low growl as she narrows those golden eyes of her’s at me. Talons tick nervously on the flight field, vigilant over my every move and breath. All I can do is stare at my dragon vacantly. Streaks of dark copper highlighted her grace, her beauty - running down the length of her neck and down each of her legs. Rathnait was a sight to behold, and I was only grateful to be considered worthy to be hers. Her scarlet colored scales glistened in the setting sun, as if mirroring the sun itself in all its bright glory. Her swordtail flicked in the air back and forth, as if it were involuntary. We must not get ahead of ourselves, you would feel it if something happened to him. Don’t you dare assume what I can and can’t handle. Shutting me out only hurts you in the end.

My shaky hands outstretch, desperation to run them against the warmth of her scales. Her nose to my chest, needing to feel the steadiness of her breath on my clammy self. She nudges me gently, trying all she can to ground my spiraling thoughts. 

How could this be happening? How did it come to this? All that will be left is bitter words and unspoken longing for a man who didn’t choose me.

~

“Xaden is already bending the rules with bringing Violet along, I can’t ask him to risk your well being as well,” Garrick murmurs in my ear as we watch the tense showdown between Dain and Xaden. Ignoring the sting in my chest is a feat itself, having to wrinkle my nose to rid myself of  the tears that threaten to fall.

“You're not even gonna try, after everything? You just expect me to watch you go? You’ve been keeping secrets, Garrick. This seems like part of one of them.” Stepping away from his hold, the warmth long gone from the two of us. My desire to punch him, to yell at him at the very least - gods why doesn’t he ever choose me? 

Rathnait glowers at both Garrick and Chradh, his brown scorpion tail - the irritation evident in her golden gaze. Unrelenting. Every tone, every unsaid word she analyzes and catalogues. Watching me get hurt right before her very eyes, and not in a physical way is something she doesn’t stand for. Teeth as sharp as steel snap towards Chradh, the brown dragon pulls away in shock towards the obvious display of aggression. Garrick’s jaw shuts and clenches at the show the dragons are putting on, his ever composed features faltering at the anguish I knew he could see in my eyes, could hear in my voice. 

Just say the word, flare. I’ll teach him to treat you with more care. Rathnait snarls at Chradh as he tries to nudge her affectionately. I don’t want to put her in an uncomfortable position, to push away her growing care for Chradh. You let me worry about that. Chradh knows you are the one I chose, the one I will always look out for.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish we had time to talk more, but right now I would rather know you’re safe with the rest of your squad. Your anger towards me is worth it if I am guaranteed your survival,” I watch as he makes sure his flight gloves are secure, flexing them before flickering those earth toned eyes towards me. My heart cracks a little bit more - all I want to do is scream. To shove him and get him to see that this is hurting me, is crushing me. How much more can I let slide? How much more can I take?

“And what about you? What if you don’t come back?” The very thought is enough to have my knees lock and heart stutter. 

Xaden and Violet make their way towards their dragons. Squads have begun to launch to their respective posts. Dain and I are being waited upon by Second Squad. 

“I’ve survived too much to lose now. I’ll be back and we can talk - I’ll tell you everything,” Garrick promises, stepping forward to plant a soft kiss on my temple. Clutching his flight jacket, I can’t help it as tears fall down my cheeks. 

“It seems like you might lose me though.”

 Turning around to follow my squad leader, ignoring the curses from Garrick, ignoring the way in which my squad watches me with grimaces and pity. All for fucking War Games, all for nothing. Being co-section leader means nothing to me, Dain can be in charge for all I care. Steps that feel like bricks on my feet, it’s all the energy I can muster towards the group, needing the familiar, needing their constant. Ridoc opens his arms, bringing me in for a brief tight embrace. Sawyer offers a wavering smile.

“Are you gonna be ok?” Rhiannon softly asks, wiping my wet cheeks with her hands. A shaky smile graces my lips, hands busy with making sure my own flight jacket and gloves are secure. It takes everything in me to not watch Garrick and Chradh take to the sky, having to believe that he’ll be ok, it’s all that I can allow myself to think of. 

Xaden didn’t even glance my way, Imogen or Bodhi - no one. As if the rest of the marked one’s had decided together who should and shouldn’t go. Guess I made the cut. My own relic curved over my fingers and wrist - briefly burning as if answering to my very thoughts. 

“Let’s go get this over with.” Quickly scaling up Rathnait, she chuffs at me, making sure I’m secure in my seat. Let’s go flying, Ray. Take me towards the sun. Sending my devotion to her down our bond. She launches quickly, wings flaring gloriously. The rest of the squad is quick to follow. 

I’ll always make sure you’re near it, flare. The light will never die in you, not even from this pain. 

At least she always chooses me. 

~

It’s been 10 days. 10 days of agony. 

I’m the only third year left. 

Expected to carry on my co-section leader responsibilities as if the absence of Garrick is a minor inconvenience. The early sun rises with a flourish of pinks, reds and oranges and all I can do is relish in this fleeting moment of peace. 

No one seems to care or notice that they aren’t back yet. My only anchor, my only comfort is from that of my dragon. Spending many hours against the curve of her back, staring up at the sky in hopes of seeing or hearing familiar dragons, of hearings wings. When I’m not near her, our bond is wide open. The familiar fire red tether in my mind ablaze with every thought and emotion that runs through us. A warmth of what I could only describe as security floods down the bond. 

We can’t worry about things that haven’t been confirmed yet, flare. She knows my true questions, the things that I can’t bring myself to ask or think about. You must think about today, where we will go. 

Graduation day. 

Today would be the day we’ve been waiting for since entering this school, assignments to outposts were being given, and by this evening I would be gone, my journey at Basgaith over. Turning away from the river, I make my trek towards the flight field. The few third years left of this school congregate, awaiting as Colonel Aetos and Commandant Pancheck begin the assignments. 

“Congrats on graduating, Section Leader. It is a shame that Wingleader Riorson and Section Leader Tavis aren’t here to accompany you.” Colonel Aetos nearly sneers at the mention of Xaden. The obvious disdain is unsettling as he rifles through different papers. “Ah yes, your assignment. Due to your signet and the savagery of your red swordtail - you’re being assigned to the eastern wing…specifically, Samara.” The grin directed at me is maniacal, a joke I’m not privy too, a dare. Rathnait snarls in my mind, unbridled rage igniting the very blood in my veins - but all I can do is take the papers from his hand, saluting in acknowledgement and walking away.

Where are you, Ray?  Hands tremble, the crinkling of paper beneath slender hands is all I can focus on as I sprint towards my room. Can’t be out in the open, can’t let them see, can’t let anyone see what will surely be my own falling apart. My own demise. 

You will not fall apart. An outpost is just a different place, as if you haven’t endured years of people hating the very ground you stand on. As if you haven’t been bonded to me. 

I make it to the middle of an empty hall that leads towards our sleeping quarters, knowing in a matter of moments the rest of the cadets will be awake to get into formation. Pressing the heels of my hand into my eyes, I can’t help but rest my back against the cool stone behind me. My own body feeling as if it had everything sucked out of me, the very air I breath feels strained.  

Samara is the front line. Trying to get the ever rising beat of my heart under control, I must not panic. I am a rider. I am Rathnait’s rider.

Are you afraid, flare? I shudder at her question, not wanting to admit the fear, the panic. But I know that she can feel everything, hear all that I think. 

They aren’t here. He isn’t here. A whimper escapes my lips, the reality of it all just crashing down like rubble. I will be going to Samara, there is no avoiding it, there is no changing it. While I had spent years trying to survive Basgaith, I would be sent to one of the most active posts in the region. 

“Section Leader? Ar-are you ok?” Dain Aetos stands before me, hands out as if approaching a scared animal. “We need to get to formation.”

I don't hate the kid, knowing that following the straight and narrow path is the life that is meant for some people over others. However, that doesn’t mean I want him to see me having a mental breakdown. Giving him a small nod, I manage to get myself to stand before fully looking at the Squad Leader. 

Something’s wrong. My own senses are beginning to go haywire. My signet. Only Xaden and Garrick knew. Command and Basgaith are under a different impression as to what it is. None of the other marked ones knew either. The manipulation and detection of emotions however was a daily venture, there was no turning it off, there was only controlling it and living with it and right now Dain Aetos was a mess. 

“I would ask you the same thing, what’s wrong?” Dusting off my flight leathers. I don’t miss the way he flinches at my question, his hesitancy. “Do I have to give an order to know?” Glowering at him - I am still a section leader. 

Taking a deep breath, he stands tall despite the sorrow in his eyes, “Xaden and the rest of the squad he took with him are being declared dead at formation.” I startle myself at the immediate sob that escapes my lips. My body has accepted what my mind cannot. “Leadership has been looking and there is no sign of them.” Feeling the agony of his own loss, it feels as if a tidal wave has pulled me under. The roaring from Rathnait in my brain feels as if it will explode any second. Dain’s grief, his regret all barrel into me with no filter, no shield. Rathnait’s confusion and rage down the bond. My own sorrow, my own heartbreak. There is no stopping it. There just is feeling it. Unaware of the stream of tears that roll down my face, the taste of salt jolts me out of the shock, the horror. 

“Round up everyone, squad leader. I’ll be at formation in a moment.” My voice doesn’t feel like my own, the assignment papers feeling like large weights in my hand. He turns away to head towards the Quadrant, “Dain,” I call out, sounding like a garbled mess. “Thank you for telling me.” His own eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nods. 

My flare. I hear her call out, though to reach out seems like so much energy, all I can do is let her in with no barriers, allowing her to be there in the comfort of my mind. I’m coming, flare. 

Standing at the bottom of the stone dias. Everyone in formation, I don’t bother to look around. There is no one here to look for anymore. There is no Wingleader, there is no co-section leader - there is just me alone at the front. 

We don’t even have our leader. What hope is there for the revolution? Rathnait has no answer for me. 

To look at my squad is the last thing I am able to do, not being able to endure their unsaid questions. Answers? I had none. Being known for being put together, not a hair out of place, no rumpled leathers, no dirt unless necessary was once a pride and pleasure I reveled in. I’m sure the current state of me was a shock. Strands of hair fell in front of my face, eyes dry and cheeks raw from the tears. 

Captain Fitzgibbons overlooks formation, reading off the death roll. “Violet Sorrengail.” A moment of silence as all eyes look to the stoic face of General Sorrengail. “Garrick Tavis.” My heart feels as if it bleeds on the very floor I'm standing on, flinching harshly at the reading of his name. “And Xaden Riorson.” Captain Fitzgibbon’s voice rings out echoing around the quadrant. 

“Well this is awkward,” a voice calls out. Gasps are heard around the quadrant, even command seems unsettled by what’s happening. My knees seem to be locked in place, unable to turn around and see what is going on. My breaths turn into small gasps of air - no no no it can’t be, I’m dreaming. Dain said. I need to wake up. Heavy footsteps approach behind me, and two individuals take up position on either side of me. A calloused hand brushes against my own. 

~

Angry steps make their way towards the leaders seated at the dias. Xaden Riorson commands the very space, as if he were part of leadership. Violet Sorrengail makes her stand next to me, and the presence of the person on the right of me is one I can’t pay attention to - no matter how badly I want to turn and look, no matter how badly I want to cry. Colonel Aetos is furious, cheeks flushed and furrowed brows do no favors as General Sorrengail questions everything that has been happening since the start of War Games. All directed towards the fumbling Colonel and Xaden.

“I was directed to take a squad beyond the wards to Athebyne and form the headquarters for Fourth Wing’s War Games, and I did so. We stopped to rest our riot at the nearest lake past the wards, and we were attacked by gryphons.” Xaden states, fists at his side as he looks at both General Sorrengail and Colonel Aetos. “It was a surprise attack, and they caught Deigh and Fuil unaware.” He pivots slightly, telling the wing the rest of what we don’t know. “They were dead before they ever had a chance.” My Wingleader looks at my briefly for the first time in what seems like years, for a moment there is a crack in his ever perfect expression. 

I must have blinked, I must’ve staggered. My knees crash against the hard floor for a moment before arms reach themselves around my waist to hoist me up. We lost Liam? We lost Soleil? Unable to hear anything other than the rushing of my own blood through my very veins, the beat of my heart as if it were to come out of my chest. Violet flits her hands around my face, her mouth moving but for the life of me I don’t know what she’s saying. 

Liam was so good. Too good. And just like that he is gone? 

“And we almost lost Sorrengail.” 

Violet’s eyes widen as she takes in the horror in my eyes. My friends were in trouble and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there. Tears blur my vision, and all I can do is breathe through the rattling in my chest. 

I will never forgive you. Pushing the thought towards Xaden. Watching as his spine stiffens, for a brief moment the hurt is detectable in those onyx depths, but in a blink it vanishes. 

“Breathe,” a warm voice whispers against my ear, “ Or you’ll pass out.” The emotions of everyone in the quadrant are too much. However, Garrick Tavis’ were always those of beacons to me - I was nothing more than a boat lost at sea in this very moment. And yet how do I differentiate between him and me and our emotions when all this time I thought he was dead? I thought he was never to come back? How do I ever look at him the same way after leaving me behind? “Let go of me,” shrugging myself out of his hold, I get back into proper formation. Violet watches warily, unsure of what to do. “Go help our Wingleader, Cadet Sorrengail.” Anguish flickers from her emotional tether, being dismissed was something she didn’t think I would ever do to her. To treat her as a lesser. However, in this very moment, the very reality I have endured through seems pointless. There is no belonging to the marked one’s or to a cause or to the protection of Violet and Xaden. There is nothing but the chasm in my chest at every word being revealed, at every tether holding loss and grief. And the worst part of it all is that in a matter of less than 12 hours none of this will matter, Basgiath won’t matter - I will be long gone, a new post, a new death sentence. Like always, being forced to move on. 

Making myself numb is a simple yet effective aspect of my second signet. The dying of emotions is a strange and vacant liminal space in my mind. Gone are the bright hues within the library. The dimming of my own tether to Rathnait. The rest of questioning -  I don’t bother with the insistent touching from Garrick as he tries to get my attention. I don’t bother with the few glances from Xaden, and unfortunately I can’t be open to the bond between Rathnait and I - my cruel humanity unable to withstand her words at this moment despite her numerous attempts of ramming against my shields. I know it isn’t her fault, this hurt and sense of loss that I feel - but I’d rather be alone. 

With dismissal from command, Xaden and Violet get back into formation. There are words exchanged between them and Dain, but again why does any of it matter anymore? As Captain Fitzgibbons calls out the additional names to the amended death roll, there are no tears shed, there is only silence, deathly still silence. Commandant Panchek takes the stand and addresses what is left of the riders remaining. “Beyond military commendations, there are no words of praise for rider. Our reward for a job well done is living to see the next duty station, the next rank. In keep with our traditions and standards, those of you who have completed your third year will now be commissioned as lieutenants in the army of Navarre. Step forward when your name is called to receive your orders. You have until morning to depart for your new duty stations.” 

The orders I received earlier feel like lead against my breast pocket. I had received mine earlier as a taunt, a warning since command had already believed that my Wingleader and his squad were dead. My duty station was punishment for whatever it was that Xaden and Garrick had been involved in, what they are still involved in. 

“Garrick Tavis!” My heart feels like it lodges itself in my throat, as if it were to splatter all over the floor as I look at him, fully look at him for the first time in days as he strides towards the commandant. A new scar lines from his jaw to his temple, deep and red - fresh. His wide strong frame grabs the paper and lets out a breath as he reads the duty station he is assigned to before looking at me as he makes his way back to formation. For the first time, I note an emotion that is rare from him, from someone I have come to know as unwavering. 

He’s scared. Garrick Tavis is afraid. 

~

A resounding cheer goes up in the courtyard as we are dismissed from formation. Everyone has their new orders and I watch as Ridoc, Sawyer, Nadine and Violet gather each other into a hug. Liam should be here with them too, I can’t help but think. Soleil should be graduating with us. Violet tries to catch my gaze but I am not one for appeasing our lightening wielder tonight. A tall figure blocks my vision of the squad, and I know who it is without having to truly look up and see.

“Wingleader,” I nod, staring blankly across his shoulder. “What can I help you with?” 

Xaden raises his hands as if to grip my shoulder, or Malek forbid, pull me into a hug. He must second guess himself though as he falters and his hand hangs limply at his side. “We need to talk, the three of us. And I’m no longer your Wingleader, we’re equals. We made it, flare.” 

Whipping my gaze at him, lips pulled in a snarl. “Don’t. I was never your equal, I was someone who helped you all get away with whatever bullshit it is you’re doing. I was the scapegoat. I was the distraction.” With each word, rage bellows in my belly. My shields must be faltering between Rathnait and I, because I feel like decking him, hurting him. I don’t bother lowering my volume, all sense of decorum out the window as cadets make their way across the quadrant. “I’m not even your friend.” 

Xaden flinches at that. 

“That’s not fair, sweetheart,” A raspy deep voice comes from behind me, calloused hands attempt to grab my own. Ripping them out of his grasp, I can’t help but ram my elbow into his side, the sound of wheezing only slightly satisfying. Xaden attempts to help him but the glare I pin at him leaves him immobilized . 

“What is not fair, sweetheart, is being left behind. Is not being there to help. Is not being trusted after everything I’ve told you out of faith!” Whirling around to face him, Garrick struggles to fully stand upright after my jab. “And now it doesn’t even matter. Excuse me, I have to go pack.” 

Hurt. Regret. All that I can feel from the two shocked idiots. 

****

Shutting me out isn’t the answer, flare. Rathnait snarls in my mind. There is nothing my dragon hates more than to be purposely shutout from me. If I can’t reach your during moments of distress, how can I help you?

Sometimes I don’t want help, Ray. Sometimes I just have to feel it. Folding the rest of my clothes and putting away what few belongings I do have, I’m able to rest for a moment on the bed. The wooden figurine of Rathnait sits on the window, all I can do is watch it. 

Liam was so sweet. Eager to please, eager to excel - and training him was something that I actually found fun. He was the little brother I never had. Someone who could bring me back down from the emotional highs, someone who made me laugh when all Xaden and Garrick wanted to do was be serious. When he made the figurine of my dragon, Rathnait herself chuffed in amusement at how endearing she found Liam. He was just so filled with light that this hellhole had to swallow it up and take it away. It wasn’t fair. 

A knock echoes throughout the empty room. Already knowing what is to come, I steel myself for the inevitable emotional onslaught. Adjusting my new officer flight leathers, I wave my finger to open the door, staying close to the window. 

Both Garrick and Xaden are dressed in their new flight leathers as well. A pack and sleeping pad hitched over their shoulders. Remorse written all over their faces I don’t even have to use my signet for that. 

“Is it ok if we talk in here?” Xaden asks. Yelling from the graduated cadets echo throughout the halls, celebration in all forms was everywhere tonight. Glancing away from their hesitant stares, the sound barrier shimmers slightly overhead as Xaden shuts the door. With a heavy, burdened sight, he slides against the door and sits on the floor, legs outstretched. It’s the least put together I’ve seen from him. Garrick sits on the bed, glancing at the wooden figurine with a wavering smile before glancing at me. I don’t make a move to sit by him, my arms cross as I lean against the window bay. No one says a word. The friendship the three of us had, seems like it teeters on the edge of the cliff. Well it seems like I’m the one starting this.

“I thought you were all dead. That all I had left was the memory of disagreeing with Garrick before War Games and watching my Wingleader not spare me a second glance as he makes his squad when I was meant to be a section leader as well.” Bland words escape me, trying to say something other than the yelling that I want to dish out to them. “And knowing I didn’t even get to see Liam before he -“ I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’ve never asked, Xaden. I’ve never demanded Garrick tell me when I could easily hold it against him as someone he supposedly cared a lot about-“

“Care.” Garrick interrupts. Leaving no room for argument. “I care a lot about you, sweetheart. More than that. Don’t blame Xaden when I am just as much a part of this as he is. Be mad at me too.” His hazel eyes blaze with a fight I know he’s aching for. To yank the deadened words from my lips with something fiery, something that feels like more. Garrick doesn’t know what he’s asking for.

“You don’t think I’m mad at you too? Tavis, I am furious. I am heartbroken. I was resigned to a life without you, and now?” Gasping for air, I pound my chest for some sort of relief from the tightness I feel. Garrick is quick to try and help me but I raise my hand, ordering him wordlessly to stay put. 

“There are a lot of things I regret,” Xaden rasps, “You helped me, confided in me - and I didn’t do the same thing to you.” 

“I was ready to fight alongside the two of you if you had told me to. I would meet Malek with honor. I may not be like you or Imogen or Bodhi - that everything I feel is so much and bleeds with every word I say or person I interact with - “

“No, flare that’s no-“

“You act like I’m not even a marked one. That I am not a part of what you all are planning. I’m kept in the shadows so that command never suspects you all. You asked me to help train Violet. You asked me to be a constant, to be unwavering. For what? To be forgotten?” With each question, my shouts echo throughout my bedroom. Neither of them are able to meet my eyes. “I would die for Aretia.” The whisper in to the space between us hits their mark. The full realization of what I know - the understanding, make it’s way across their expressions, their emotions. Xaden rakes his fingers through his hair, clutching it almost painfully. Garrick staggers slightly, holding himself up by clutching the bed post. “And now? It’s too late. I have my duty station. Basgaith is done. My journey here is done.” 

I brush my signet along their emotional tethers, unable to break the habit of comforting them ever so slightly. Understanding that the two of them lost their brother, lost people that were a part of them. Garrick lets out a shaky laugh as he feels the familiar sensation of soothingness. 

“H-How did you know about that?” Garrick questions, eyes finally roaming over me in disbelief. 

“Did you not think I would know every time you would lie to me? That the drops you were making were all that you were doing? I don’t know anything else but the restoration of home, of our home? How could you not think I would defend that with every ounce of my life for you?” 

“It was never because I didn’t trust you.” Xaden looks at me with a resolve I don’t understand. He gets up slowly, standing tall. “If anything it was because I didn’t want to chance losing someone else we all cared about to. We lost Liam and Soleil too easily. I lost them. I’m the one who is responsible for you all.” 

Truth. Feeling his honesty. Feeling his belief. 

“Flare, if were to lose someone like you, too? You’re glue, you’re binding. You’re a bridge. The same way that Violet is.  You bring Navarre and Tyrrendor together with your compassion. With your grace and spirit. When others look at you, they don’t see a marked one. They see more.” A knuckle taps against his flight leather pants in agitation. "I took a chance and made a mistake and I’ll never be able to earn that trust back. But look into my tether and now that I’m so fucking sorry. That I fucked up.” Xaden pleads, “And selfishly I was looking out for my brother, knowing that if he lost you? There was nothing in this world that would bring him back.” His voice cracks as he looks over at Garrick, a hand on his broad shoulders. “I’d rather you be alive and hate me, whereas dead and I lose the two of you in the process.” 

A shudder makes it’s way past my lips, tears trailing down my cheeks. I felt exhausted, I felt confused and scared and so many other things and all because we we’re so fucking human it seemed like despite my signet, despite my bond with a dragon - I was still so susceptible to human experiences and emotions. 

“I’m being assigned to Samara,” I tell them, not being able to dance around that any longer. Both of them look at me with wide bloodshot eyes. 

“Say that again?” Garrick demands, making his way towards me. 

“Samara is my new duty station?” Confused as to their reactions. “I was assigned my station before the official formation. It’s a death sentence, one they thought they could give me since they thought you were dead and I was a loose end towards command.” 

Garrick and Xaden smile, both blinding and perfect. Garrick for the first time in what seems like ages, swoops me into his arms, clutching me tightly as he cradles the nape of my neck. He shakes in my hold, as if whatever energy he feels is suddenly constrained in his body. 

“We’ve been assigned there as well, we didn’t get to chose our station. I guess they forgot that they had put you there too,” Xaden laughs, watching the disbelief as I realize what this means. 

“You’re gonna be with me?” I whimper towards Garrick, burrowing my face into the crook of his neck feeling the tidal wave of emotions of all three of us. 

“Never leaving you, sweetheart.” He laughs again, rubbing his hands along my back, clutching my hair, doing anything he can to just touch me. It’s been ages since we’ve been near each other like this. I can feel Rathnait chuff in the back of my mind, her also understanding that she gets Chradh with her as well. 

“We get a second chance,” Xaden grins, although I know he means it more towards himself. 

“If by second chance you mean I get to be in, full in. Than yes,” I demand, untangling myself from Garrick, to look at both of them. Garrick clutches his hand in mine tightly. 

“You’re in, flare. However much you want to be involved in. Garrick and I will tell you everything, and from there -“ He nervously wavers, “From there you can fully decide what it is you want to do. There is no one else I’d rather station and fight alongside with than with you two. The three of us entered Basgiath together, we leave together.” 

Opening my arms, he rolls his eyes playfully - ever the grump. Garrick and I pull Xaden into our embrace, clutching each other tightly with relief. We weren't gonna go through death alone, we weren’t gonna suffer alone. Samara was meant to be our death sentence but maybe, just maybe - it wouldn’t be so bad. 

[saffusthings]

Baby I Can Feel Your Halo

oscar piastri x personal assistant! reader

summary: the one where the world gets to become familiar with a new name: Y/N L/N. word count: 8.4k warnings: awkwardness, my attempt and poetic writing, poor understanding of how film and media works, Lando as a bit of a side character, poorly edited writing a/n: i can't tell whether this is half decent or nonsensical. inspired by That Viral Interview. i have a soft spot for this part of the story, so i hope you guys are able to like it too.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

She’s going to kill him.

Clicking her phone on to check the time for the umpteenth time as if it will make this stupid elevator go any faster, she lets out a huff. The tapping of her shoe acts as a placebo, perhaps. Or maybe this elevator is actually getting slower-

When the metal gates finally part, she bolts. As gracefully as one can, she awkwardly half-run, half power walks past the hall of doors until she reaches Room 307.

She doesn’t even pretend to knock. Glancing at her phone one more time - 27 calls - she slips a plastic card from the lanyard around her neck. When it beeps, flashing green, the door opens with a click, allowing her to storm in.

To her credit, she at least waits for the door to close before she yells.

“Oscar Jack Piastri!”

Oscar wakes to a fire. Or at least that’s what he has to assume is happening, considering someone is screaming his name at full volume. Eyelids barely open, he immediately sits up in bed. “M’awake! Jesus, give me a second,” he mumbles, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes.

Tossing him his pants that had been hanging in his closet, she goes around, picking up any stray items. “Put some pants on,” she grumbles. “C’mon get up, we’re already-”

“-running late,” he says defeatedly, eyes landing on the bedside alarm clock. 

When he finally steps out of the bathroom, his brows are scrunched in confusion. She’s typing something on her phone, and definitely not trying not to look at him.

It’s been over a week since their almost-kiss in her office. She’s no rookie, she’s been more than professional since, knowing she can’t risk this. But a small part of her can’t help but think of how close his lips had been to her anytime she’s standing close enough to smell his familiar cologne. 

She’s interrupted from her thoughts by the sound of Oscar’s voice, her thumb still hovering over her phone from her long forgotten text.

Trying to get the swoop of his hair to land in some sane looking way, he gestures to the pine green sweater spread out for him on the bed, the one she insisted he wear. “You sure about this?”

He watches her as she knits her eyebrows together as she gives him the once over. “Yes. You look good in green,” she explains, still entirely absorbed in sending an e-mail to their media liaison.

It’s only once he’s finally dressed that she gets up and gives him a look over. Her lips purse before she motions for him to stand closer. “C’mere.”

She aligns the seams that are supposed to trace along his shoulder, before using her hands to smooth out any wrinkles in the soft fabric. She stands back for a moment, before coming closer again, and pulling his sleeves up just a bit in a way that exposes some of his forearm. Assessing it one more, and seeming content with how it looks, before doing the same to his other sleeve.

Entirely unaware of the chaos his cardiovascular system seems to be undergoing, she gives him one last look over, and wipes a bit of excess moisturizer that had been left on his nose.

“There we go,” she says with a small smile. 

Grabbing her things, she stands at the door before looking back for him. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, patting his pockets and searching the hastily made bed. “Just…”

“Good to go,” he announces, swiping his phone off the bedside table, and tucking into his pocket before following her into the hall. “Where are we headed?”

“They’ve set up in one of the conference rooms near the swimming pool” she says from over her shoulder as they make their way down. “It’s some Australian channel looking to do a segment on their hometown hero, so it should be a safe set. Of course, if they veer off course, let me know and I’ll take care of it. ”

“Will you be there? Or are you headed back to the office?” Oscar asks. His tone makes it difficult to differentiate whether he's nervous, wary, or doesn’t want her to be there, but he hopes she understands anyway. 

“Yep,” she replies, smiling. Oscar wonders why his chest feels warm. 

“That’s my job, remember?” 

When he gets to hair and make-up, he can’t help but feel more than a little lost. Not because of the makeup, certainly - god knows Hattie has tested more than enough ‘smokey eyes’ on him - but rather because when he sits in the chair, the woman immediately asks what kind of look he wants to go for.

Huh?

He looks over to Y/N with desperate eyes. 

Help me, please.

She’s quick to walk over and greet Lindsay, his stylist for today, with a warm smile. Once she’s sure that the stylist is okay with taking recommendations, the rest of it comes easily.

“We’ll wanna do some powder to counter the glare from the studio lights,’ she suggests, glancing at the woman for approval. Tilting Oscar’s face, the two women survey him analytically.

“It’s up to you if you want to add a little warmth, but no blush or color corrector or anything like that. And then his hair looks good like this, so we don’t need to do anything there. How does that sound?”

The elder woman nods in agreement before pointing at different parts of Oscar’s face and mumbling somethings to Y/N who nods along thoughtfully. 

Finally, he’s left at the mercy of his stylist, as Y/N walks away.

Once the mic checks are complete and the people behind the large lights give the go ahead, one of the employees counts off the seconds before the cameras start recording.

Oscar spends those seconds looking over to wherever she is. She’s stood by one of the people carrying a large white panel, watching on to make sure everything runs smoothly. They’ve done this dance probably dozens of times, but the buzzing lessens once he assures himself that she’s still in the vicinity. 

He watches her nod, giving him a reassuring smile, and then, Oscar is ready.

“And cameras are rolling 5… 4… 3… 2… 1.”

“We’re here now with Oscar Piastri,” the host says with a warm smile, “now in his second year of representing Australia in the highest level of motorsport - Formula One. Thank you so much for joining us, Oscar.”

“Of course, thank you for having me,” Oscar smiles, that polite cat smile that’s become associated with his name. “Just Oscar, is usually fine though,” he jokes, never one to feel too comfortable with high praise. The host laughs good naturedly, “Oh, the boy’s got jokes now, does he?“ Oscar seems to glow in the spotlight. Something about him, even in front of  the cameras, seems to radiate comfort, familiarity. Even on TV, even with his rising stardom, his laidback posture and the crinkle around his eyes when he smiles suggests that he could be the boy next door, that he could be your boy next door. The cameras are not the only thing focused on him. “So Oscar, not sure if you remember, but you did a sit-down with us last year as well.” “Of course. I don’t forget that easily, Mick,” the driver replies easily. “I’m not that old.” “No, no, in fact, you’re quite young aren’t you? Only 23 and already in your second year of Formula 1.” “Yeah, feels a bit strange when you say it like that,” Oscar chuckles, “but yeah. It’s been a bit of a wild ride.” Mickie smiles. “One year closer to retirement, I imagine?”

“God no,” Oscar scoffs, shifting in his seat to get a bit more comfortable. He looks more relaxed this way, more open. “I’m not leaving without a championship, so you’ll be seeing me around for a while. Sorry to disappoint.” Laughing good naturedly, the older man shakes his head. “Far from it. You’re a hometown hero. You’ve got everyone here rooting for you,” he tells him, gesturing to the crew around them.” Smiling gratefully, Oscar nods. “Yeah, I’ve been pretty lucky with all the support. That always makes a difference.” “I’m sure it does. Who would you say are your biggest supporters?” “My parents, for sure. I’m sure there’s a clip of my mom talking about my… let's call them oddities, as a child,” Oscar laughs, referring to his habit of make-believing as a car around the house, or how he wanted car magazines read to him instead of bedtime stories. “If they hadn’t put up with me through that, there’s no way I’d be here now.” It’s clear as day that beneath the thin film of humor, there’s a chasm of sincerity. He really does love his family - always making time to call them during long trips away or even just because. Working on media with Oscar is (usually) pleasant for that same reason - you don’t have to give him PR-written responses or pre-plan his anecdotes to make the audience fall in love with him. He tells the truth, and they can’t help but fall in love all on their own. “I’ve also got other supporters too. Silent supporters, I guess you could call them, since you all don’t see their faces as much. But my sisters, my team, Y/N, the fans - they are the reasons I get to live my dream everyday.” Mickie nods in acknowledgement. “Of course. Though I see we’re name dropping now,” he teases. Oscar looks up at him, mild panic hidden behind his eyes. He’s only just about to adjust his cap - a predetermined signal to Y/N that he needs her to intervene somehow - when Mickie interrupts his train of thought. “You mentioned Y/N as one of your supporters. Could you tell us a bit more about that?” When Oscar looks at the man with the salt and pepper hair, he doesn’t see the usual malice or hunger that many reporters would have if they had been in the same position. Mickie has been good to him and his team in the past - not coming off as a dog with a bone, but instead as an easy conversationalist who happens to be genuinely curious about Oscar and his life. The young driver recovers easily from his momentary scare. “Oh, yeah. Y/N’s definitely one of my greatest supports. I’d tell you all that she works for me, but I think she might poison my coffee if I did that.” The two share a laugh, easing Oscar’s nerves a little. He subtly adjusts his watch instead.

It’s alright, I got it.

From behind the cameras, Y/N takes a small breath of relief. Though she’s pleased the conversation didn’t take a turn for the rumor mill, she’ll still be a little on edge anytime her driver is in the media’s playpen.

“Alright then. Without risking your coffee, what can you tell us then? That’s not a name we’ve heard too often around the paddock.”

“Yeah, I mean. It’s a shame too - she’s supposed to be my assistant, but with how much she’s involved in everything, we might have to come up with a better title for her,” Oscar smiles easily. Mickie gives him a smile, straightening his notecards into a neat stack. “Is that so? Must be high praise, coming from a big-shot like yourself.” The air is pleasant, the conversation flowing naturally. Even as an observer, the scene could almost be mistaken for a casual chat in a living room somewhere. Oscar shakes his head. “Not enough, actually. When I say I wouldn’t be here without her, I mean it literally. If she hadn’t come to my rescue this morning, I’d probably still be in bed!” Mick leans over, laughing. “Glad to see how much you value our time here together, Oscar!” “Even if I did, I value my sleep more,” Oscar deadpans, a sly smile on his face. “I don’t envy her job, not in the slightest.” “Fair enough, fair enough.” The conversation makes its own way from there - Oscar’s goals for this year, what people can expect from the team this season, how the new car has been. 

“So what I’m hearing is that we have a promising season ahead?”

“I mean, every season looks promising at the start really, but yeah, I have a good feeling about this one. Cautiously optimistic, we’ll call it.” “Well I’m sure I’m not the only one when I say that I can’t wait to see what you have in store for us this season, Oscar.” “Wow, no pressure there. Thanks, though.”

The two share a laugh. It’s getting closer to the end of the segment, but with some time remaining. Mickie decides to take the conversation in a different direction. “Now that we’re done with all the shop talk.” he starts. “I was wondering if you could tell us what Formula 1 has been like for you personally. Last time around, during your rookie season, you mentioned that the intensity of the training and the magnitude of the races were some of the things that took some getting used to. Would you say the same is true now, or have you gotten used to it?” Oscar nods, thoughtful. “Yeah, I mean, your rookie season is always an adjustment. It took me some time to get used to that stuff, and I’d say I’m better at it now,” he answers honestly. “But that doesn't mean there aren’t still things I’m learning to get used to.” “What kind of things?” “As you can probably tell, the time zones are one thing,” he laughs, animatedly gesturing to where his eye bags would be. For a second, there’s silence as he’s given a moment to think, before he finally speaks again. “I’d say the people, too.”

“The drivers, the teams, or the fans?” Mick asks curiously. “The fans are pretty great,” he tells him. “But I think I meant like the drivers and their teams?”  Oscar tries to explain. “Like, you have to understand that there’s so many people in this complex machine that is Formula 1. And every single person that’s there, is because they’ve got this insane drive to win - that includes the drivers, of course, but the engineers, and the strategists, and the trainers too.”

“Tell me a bit more about that.”

“I mean, like, even in Formula 2, with Prema, there was a certain level of friendship and camaraderie that gets overshadowed in Formula 1, because of just how competitive everything is,” he explains, gesturing with his hands. “It’s crazy how the drivers flip a switch for lights out or the chequered flag, because that’s what comes with competing at the highest level.”

The host nods, making an effort to understand.

“Would you say it strains relationships then? This sort of… dual personality that you and the other drivers have to have?”

“Honestly. To some degree, I imagine it has to. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly with one another.”

“You’d mentioned earlier this year, in an interview with your company Quadlock, actually, where they asked you if you had any mates on the grid, and you replied with…” Oscar chuckles shyly, recalling the moment. “No friends, only enemies,” he quotes himself. “Exactly,” the older man chuckles. “Would you say the same is true for you now?” “The honest answer would be yes and no.” The man sitting across from Oscar raises an eyebrow at this, intrigued. “When you live in that bubble with people that are, at their core, just as competitive as you are..” he trails off, contemplating how to phrase it. “Let’s just say it has an interesting way of showing you who your friends and your enemies are.”

“And has it?” Mick asks genuinely. “Shown you your friends, I mean?” Oscar takes a breath before replying. “I mean, of course. There’s Lando, y’know - as my teammate, he’s always my greatest competitor but also the only one who can kind of understand where I’m coming from. Logan, also - you know we grew up through the lower Formulas together. He and I have been teammates in the past too, so it’s nice to have an old friend on the grid. Y/N too, y’know - we’re pretty close in age, and she’s really been there for the highs and the lows.”

“We’ve seen you interact with Logan and with Lando, but what would you say your friendship with Y/N is like?”

“I mean, we work together, so a lot of it comes from that,” he shrugs, not wanting to slip up and say the wrong thing. He signed up for the spotlight, but putting his assistant, his friend there without discussing it with her would be unfair.

“We work in tandem, you see - she takes care of everything outside the car, while I take care of everything in it.”

The interviewer hums thoughtfully. “That sounds like a dynamic that requires a lot of trust, I’d say.”

“Maybe, but she hasn’t let me down even once in two years.” For a moment, for a fraction of a second it feels like Oscar’s eyes glance in the direction of where she’s standing with the tech crew, but it must be a trick of her imagination. They’re standing in the shadows, and it’d be a stretch for her to think that he could even see her in the first place. “Not even once.”

“Would you say your friendship complicates this dynamic, or simplifies it?”

“Helps, definitely. Easier to get out of media duties that way,” Oscar jokes. Mickie laughs easily at that, before focusing on the subject once again.

“Really?  You two don’t face any challenges with that? I’d imagine with the other drivers that that boundary is a bit more clear, what with them being your competitors and all.” Oscar lips press together, his tongue subtly running over his lower lip to soothe the pressure. “I think maybe if it were someone else, then it would be. But not with her.“

Looking over to the armchair, he can see that the other man looks surprised. 

“You seem quite confident in saying that.”

“I am,” he says bluntly. Why wouldn’t he be?

“And what inspires that confidence?”

“Just who she is, really, “ Oscar answers with a shrug. On the other side of the room, Y/N waits for a signal that never comes. 

What the hell is he doing? 

This was most definitely not one of the agreed topics for tonight’s show.

“How do you mean?” Mickie can’t help but inquire.

“I mean the obvious thing to say here would be to say that we’re close in age,” Oscar starts, gesturing. “But it really is more than that. I’m lucky to work with an immensely talented team, especially with all the fresh talent McLaren’s brought on board this year.”

“Of course.”

“But as for her in particular…” The blonde seems to think for a minute. “I think, that in order for someone to understand how we work, they’d have to understand how she works,” he muses.

“And how’s that?”

“She’s like the light you need in order to see. With her perspective, her input,  the fundamental way in which she operates - things make sense. She makes things make sense, really - whether that’s logistically, or with the car, and especially with me.”

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can even know what he’s thinking. The tricky thing about this cozy lounge setup that he’s seated in is that, from her,  it looks nothing like the studios and press conferences and media pens that they’re used to. Here, there are no clambering reporters, no flashing cameras, no microphones shoved in his face.

It’s easier to forget that the world is watching.

“It’s a bit unfortunate that the fans watching this don’t get to see her as we do,” he says with a serious expression. “Because it’s hard to describe her personality, or even just her role if you haven’t existed in her orbit. There’s this… this spark that ignites with everything she interacts with.”

Oscar finds himself thinking of everything that happened on the road so far, every step that led them here. All he knows for certain is that his confidence is not unfounded. Sure, things were… less than ideal at the moment, but they’d go back to normal. He knew they would, he was sure of it.

Not so much because Oscar had a plan, but rather because he didn’t know what to do if they didn’t. They’d figure it out - that was their thing, after all.

He’s disturbed from his thoughts by the voice of another.

“A spark?” the older man prompts with a smile.

It’s almost frustrating when the words don’t come fast enough to keep up with his mind.

“When you’re expected to function at the highest levels, there’s a lot of moving parts underneath the shiny cover that no one really tells you about. Y/N has this intuitive sense and this unlearnable skill to take apart the most challenging complexities and put them back together into something wonderful.”

The studio falls silent. 

“She sounds lucky,” Mick offers sincerely.

Oscar laughs dryly. “The way I see it, I’m the lucky one. McLaren certainly is.”

Mickie’s expression is open, leaving the silence available for him to fill.

Oscar, on the other hand, isn’t quite sure how they ended up here. Talking about Y/N wasn’t a preplanned part of the segment, but he doesn’t seem to mind. It’s surprisingly nice to talk about something besides how hot it is in the car or the rabbit food  athletes have to eat or his opinions on the championship standings. 

And it probably doesn’t hurt that talking about her is really quite easy.

“It’s an incredible gift to meet someone who complements each of your strengths and your weaknesses completely. And if that person happens to be someone who can somehow challenge you and support you simultaneously, then there’s nothing more that I need.”

The boom mic edges closer to the stage setup, careful not to enter the cameras’ parameters of visibility. There’s a shift in tone that’s apparent, something curious and authentic that seems to wash across the studio and everyone in it.

“Will we be seeing this dynamic duo in action anytime soon then?” the interviewer asks, charismatically guiding the conversation towards its conclusion.

“I sure hope so. Maybe you guys can finally convince her to do some of those McLaren challenges with us,” Oscar smiles widely, that dorky, lopsided smile of his. “Trust me, I tried, but somehow she won’t let me drive her around for a Hot Lap. Wonder why that is,” he shrugs, before both men share a laugh.

A hand in the dark silently signals for them to wrap up, indicating that the segment must come to an end.

“Well then, Oscar I see we’re being told to wrap,” he smiles, glancing over in the direction of the crew. Both men begin to go to stand up, extending their arms for a friendly handshake.

“Thank you so much for joining us once again. As always, it was a pleasure, and I know I speak for everyone here at Down Under Daily when I say that we can’t wait to see what the future has in store for you.”

Oscar nods, smiling, giving the man a firm handshake. “Thank you.”

Once the segment wraps up and the overhead lights come back on, the studio buzzes with the hum of activity. Uniformed crew members unpack and disassemble various machines and setups, beginning to clear out the studio. Oscar glances around, but his gaze keeps drifting back to Y/N, who stands a few feet away, chatting with one of the technicians. Her laughter cuts through the noise, bright and genuine, making something warm unfurl in his chest.

“Hey,” he calls out, a casual attempt to draw her attention. When she turns, their eyes lock, and for a moment, the world around them blurs. There’s something in her expression that sends a jolt through him, a flicker of recognition and a hint of something deeper.

“Hey,” she replies, her smile easy but layered, like they’re sharing some inside joke that only they understand. He shifts slightly, suddenly a bit squirmish under her undivided attention.

Not that he gets squirmish, of course. Oscar is the picture of cool and collected.

As her eyes scan him, she notes the slight flush of his skin, the way the muscles of his face are tense ever so slightly. It’s honestly a bit refreshing to see someone who isn’t always unfazed by it all, she thinks. She does her best to offer him a reassuring smile.

“That went well,” she comments, her voice carrying a lightness that contrasts with the tension simmering beneath the surface. It’s the kind of praise that makes him feel seen, but also a bit exposed.

“Thanks. Couldn’t have done it without you,” he responds, his tone sincere. Oscar isn’t one of those fools who thinks the whole orchestra runs around him. Even  if it did, his mother didn’t raise him to be any bit unappreciative to everyone who works behind the scenes for his successes. He knows she’s more than just an assistant; she’s the one who keeps everything in motion, the anchor in the chaos.

Her gaze lingers on him, and for a moment, the air between them thickens. He’s acutely aware of the distance that’s very much there, yet it feels charged, like static before a storm. “I just do what I can,” she says softly, brushing a loose lock of hair behind her ear—an action so simple, yet watching it feels intimate.

Oscar looks away.

The moment stretches, and he senses a shift, a palpable tension that neither of them is ready to address. Memories of their almost-kiss hang between them, unacknowledged yet ever-present. He wonders if she feels it too, this strange blend of familiarity and hesitation.

The silence is uncomfortable in a familiar way, like the awkward pause that occurs when you can’t decide who should speak first. Oscar even opens his mouth to try to say something - though he’s not sure what - Y/N beats him to it.

“How’re you feeling?” she asks, her tone casual, but he detects a deeper curiosity behind her question.

“I guess just… figuring things out,” he replies, glancing down for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. There’s moments in the midst of the whirlwind of fame and fortune where it all truly feels surreal. Young Oscar always aspired to go fast, to push himself to the limit, to win, but this?

The spotlight, the admiration , the respect, the expectations? It was almost overwhelming, a heavy medal hanging around his neck that he’s still not used to wearing. Especially with the number of people that work day and night to give him a fighting chance at making his childhood dreams into reality, there’s no greater expectation than the one Oscar places on himself.

“Trying to get it right still, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, nodding, her eyes searching his. There’s an intensity in her gaze that makes his heart race, as if she’s peering into the part of him he keeps to himself. Briefly, he wonders if she can read his thoughts sometimes.

Like on one of those teleprompters they use for broadcasts and award shows.

He wants to say more, to delve into this strange thing swirling between them, but the words feel stuck, caught in a web. The awkwardness between them might as well be a loose screw in his car - keeping him at the edge of his seat as he navigates the clunkiness that replaces the flow he’s used to. “I keep waiting to get used to it, but it never seems to happen,” he says finally, hoping to keep the conversation light.

“True,” she agrees, her smile faint but genuine. “But you manage.”

“Most of the time,” he admits, letting out a soft laugh that feels half-hearted, both playful and tinged with something meaningful. Oscar may have grown into this suave, clever, mature personality that he’s recognized for, but there are times when he still feels like the lanky teen with the acne and the too-short hair that climbed into a Formula car that very first time.

As the crew clears the set, Y/N steps back, her focus shifting to the flurry of activity around them. Oscar feels the space between them widen, the moment suddenly dissipating like a whisk of smoke. He wants to reach out, to anchor her back to him, but the tide of reality keeps them away.

“Ready to head out?” she asks, her voice interrupting the stream 0f his personal thoughts. 

“Yeah,” he replies, an uncharacteristic hesitation slipping into his tone. He can feel the warmth radiating off her, and the longing rises within him, a familiar ache that refuses to fade. He elects to ignore it, in favor of using long strides to catch up with her quick ones to follow her out into the hall.

Oscar steals a glance at Y/N, her profile illuminated by the fluorescent lights, and he wonders what it would be like to bridge that gap. He recalls what it had been like the last time he'd been in such proximity to her - felt the warmth of body, the coolness of her breath, the ghost of her lips. For now, though, he settles into the silence, allowing the moment to hang between them.

Y/N leans against the small counter in her hotel room, the yellow light from the lamp seeming to warm the place. She stares at her phone, buzzing with a handful of messages, but her mind is tangled in thoughts of today’s interview. Hearing him casually mention her, smiling as he spoke, had left her feeling a mix of pride and confusion.

As she pours herself a cup of hot tea, she replays the almost-kiss in her mind - the way his breath had caught for just a moment. It felt like a line had been crossed, but they hadn’t addressed it. It hung in the air between them like an uninvited guest, and the last thing she wanted was to ruin the good thing they had.

Her phone buzzes again, the sixth time in the last half hour. This time, however, the contact name reads: Oscar. “How’s your evening?”

“Trying to figure out the chaos that is my notes,” she replies, glancing down at loose pages, and spiral books that are splattered across the coffee table.

“You always have chaos in your notes. It’s part of your charm.” His teases, knowing full well that no matter how chaotic her notes were, they were somehow still always loads better than his hurried scrawl.

The tone of the conversation feels light, teasing, friendly - but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t feel like something more—an unspoken understanding that neither of them wants to acknowledge.

“Charm, huh? I prefer to think of it as organized chaos.” She takes a sip of the warm herbal tea, now having cooled down to the temperature of her liking. It’s grounding these little rituals - which reminds her that she still needs to change out of her work clothes, maybe shower and do some skincare…

“Sure, if that makes you feel better,” he replies easily. Even just reading the words, she can practically hear the laughter in his voice. 

A moment later, he decides to add, “I was just about to put something on the TV. You in?”

In a hotel room just a ways down the hall, Oscar’s heart rate increases. What the hell are you doing? He chides himself. He feels stupid - things were already weird, and now he probably just made them even weirder.

Relax, he has to tell himself. This isn’t new - in fact, this is normal. Like before - friends, just relaxing together after a long day of work. Airplane games of monopoly, friday happy hours, movie nights - all of this was perfectly normal. Right?

Thumbs still hovering over her keyboard, she hesitates. The idea of sitting together, sharing popcorn and laughter, sounded nice, but there was the lingering possibility that things would be strange instead.

Instead she types out, “Maybe. What are you watching?”

She could use a night off, after all.

“Something mindless, one of those cable shows they have on this thing. You know, to balance all the brainpower we exert during the week.”

She had to admit, he did make it sound inviting.

“Mindless does sound good. I’ll join you.”Oscar props himself up a bit better, leaning back on his elbow. The smile on his face is lit up by the blue light of his phone screen as he reads her reply. Forcing himself out of the unexpectedly comfortable position he’d evolved into, he gets up, phone in hand, before starting to work to make his hotel room look a tad more presentable.

He was not having a repeat of this morning.

He types out a reply. “Great. I’ll set it up.”

There is a brief pause, and he wonders if he should clear the air, just in case. He really does just want to have a relaxing evening with her - it had been a long time since they last had the chance. Conjuring up some courage, he types out another message to her. “So, about the interview…”

Reading that, Y/N’s heart races. She didn’t want to overanalyze his words, but it was impossible not to. She decides to go for the safe answer. “You did well. Really.” So maybe he was just overthinking it. The praise lifts some of the weight off his chest.

“Thanks. Felt good to share some insights. And the part about you… well, it was true.”

Had he really meant all of it?

There’s a fluttering sensation in her stomach. “Just doing my job.”

“No, really. It means a lot to me. You’ve been here through so much of it.”

The sincerity of his words has her forgetting this tension for a moment, allowing it to slip into the back of her mind. They had a rhythm, a friendship built on shared experiences, but now it felt precarious.

“I just want you to succeed, Oscar,” she tells him, words honest. “That’s all.”

“And you’re doing your part brilliantly. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His words hang in the air, thick with unspoken feelings. He’s said those same words a thousand times before, but for some reason, this one makes her heart skip. She shifts her weight, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. 

“So, movie?” she suggested, wanting to steer the conversation away before she can get too caught up in her own messy thoughts..

“Right. I’ll get it ready.” 

Rustling the duvet to make it appear slightly less misshapen. One of his hands seeks the remote to see what’s on at this time, and tries to pick the most tolerable option. Happy with his choice, he stalk over to the other side of his room, the show in the background acting as welcome background noise.

He then pulls out two packets of microwaveable popcorn from the welcome basket that had greeted him when he checked into the room, popping each of them into the microwave so the snack would be warm by the time she arrived.

Y/N stands outside the door to Oscar’s hotel room, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves. Sure, she could use her emergency key card, but she decides that knocking feels less criminal. She knocks, and immediately the door creaks back to reveal his familiar face. His hair is mussed up, loose locks flopping to one side or the other. Her eyes are fogging with sleep, but  the smile he wears is warm and  sweet.

“Hey! Look who made it,” Oscar teases, stepping aside to let her in.

“Thought I’d save you from another night of mediocre cable,” she replied, a playful smile on her lips. 

She hopes it comes less nervous than she feels.

“Trust me, you’re in for a treat. It’s ‘Chef’s Disaster’ tonight. Guaranteed chaos,” he says,  leading her to the couch.

When she glances at the television that’s playing, she finds scenes of various chefs - forgetting ingredients, leaving the stove on too high,  accidentally dropping their dishes.

“Ah, the best kind of TV,” she laughs, settling in beside him. The pair of them end up on opposite sides of a generously-sized, two-seater couch. Her mind begins to whir, trying to figure out if she’s sitting too far, if it’s too late to scoot a bit closer, would that make things weirder? But when she looks over to Oscar, his relaxed figure sprawled across his side of the couch, the knot in her chest loosens a little. She allows herself to get more comfortable, curling up on her seat. Finally breathing a little bit easier, she allows herself to lean back against the cushioning.

The show flickers on, and they immediately fall into a comfortable rhythm. Y/N reaches for the bowl of popcorn he’d prepared, gathering a handful of pieces to then to slip into her mouth.

They watch as the chefs try to organize their chaos into something presentable, laughing as they watch one of the younger contestants put an unseasoned chicken into the oven.

What happened to salt? Pepper? Common sense?

In the darkness of the room, their faces are lit up only by the glow of the changing scenes flickering across the TV screen. With a subtly yawn, Oscar stretches his arms, before one coincidently drapes itself across the back of the couch, right behind Y/N’s shoulders. He can feel how her hair tickles the skin of his forearm, but it only makes him smile. He’d missed this - time together, the two of them. Life had a funny way of making people feel so close and so far all at once.

When she can’t help but giggle at someone who’d forgotten to put the lid on their blending before powering it on, Oscar can’t help but look at her.

Even at this awkward distance, even with her too far to touch - he feels lucky. He’d be happy to stay like this - to only hear her laugh instead of causing it, to watch her smile from the sidelines -  just to get to be in her orbit at all. 

He wonders if the world might stop spinning on its axis if that wasn’t the case.

His certainly would.

“Okay, chef,” Oscar said, nudging her. “What’s your go-to dish?”

Turning to glance at him, she can’t help but smile. Oscar’s smile is contagious like that, she supposes.

She hums, thinking over his question for a moment.

“Honestly? I make a pretty decent chicken alfredo. You’d be impressed,” she replied, a hint of pride in her voice.

“Pasta, huh? Fancy,” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows at her. His heart does a strange fluttery thing when she laughs. “The only thing I can make reliably is scrambled eggs,” he admits, chuckling.

“Hey, scrambled eggs are a classic! Hell, all the eggs I make end up scrambled. But you should branch out,” Y/N says with mock seriousness, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe I should give you cooking lessons sometime.”

“Deal,” he says, his tone shifting slightly. Raising his hands defensively, he adds, “But no promises on the outcome.”

As they watch the chefs struggle with absurd challenges, the initial awkwardness begins to fade. They exchange jokes about the contestants, their laughter echoing off the walls. They laugh until their stomachs hurt, adding in their own commentary until there are tears in their eyes and their cheeks hurt from laughing. “I actually hate you,” she wheezes, throwing her couch cushion at him. “My nonexistent abs hurt, you asshole. Can’t you be a little more considerate?”

He catches her projectile weapon with an exaggerated ‘oof’, defending himself. “I was just providing valuable insights, really.”

The silence that settles thereafter as they try to catch their breaths is comfortable in the way that graceful snowfall is - familiar and calming, peaceful.

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever cooked?” he asks, turning to her.

Y/N has to hold back a giggle, recalling a memory. She can’t remember how long its been since she was able to let loose like this. “I once tried to make soufflé. I think by the time I was done with it, it fell under the legal definition of what the pros call, ‘hazardous materials.’”

Oscar bursts out laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s a tragedy! You should’ve brought it here as a surprise.”

“I’m sure. Next time, I’ll bring my ‘signature’ dish,” she replied, rolling her eyes playfully.

Tilting her head back, she lets her eyes slip closed for a second just basking in whatever this is. It’s difficult to think of the right word for it, but quite frankly, she doesn’t care. She just wants to bottle it up and keep it with her forever. Just as they start to find that comfortable groove, a sharp knock interrupts them. Immediately, they both lift their head to turn to look in the direction of the offending sound.

“You expecting someone?” Y/N asks, her heart sinking slightly. She tries to push the feeling away. “Who is it?”

“Probably someone who doesn’t know the meaning of ‘do not disturb,’” Oscar grumbles, shaking his head as he gets up to walk over to the door.

He stands up and walks toward the door, leaving Y/N to focus on the flickering screen. But her mind drifted back to the lingering tension between them, their easy banter feeling suddenly fragile.

She nervously fixes her hair, tucking the loose strands behind her ears. Making sure she looks professional enough - and not like they were sitting a mere centimeter apart - she turns toward the door. Finally, he slides the pin aside, unlocking the door as he pulls it back.

“Who is it?” she asks him quietly.

There’s a pause for a moment, before Lando’s familiar voice calls through. “It’s me,” he replies, and Oscar seems visibly annoyed. Lando peers over Oscar’s shoulder, noting Y/N perched on one of the couches in the room.

Good, both of them were here. That’d make this a bit easier.

“You need to see this,” Lando tells them, careful to keep his tone even. Oscar nods, stepping aside and opening the door wider to allow Lando in.

“Yeah, of course. Come on in,” she replies at the same time, making sure she looks presentable. Hopefully whatever Lando has to say will save her from whatever awkwardness was probably about to ensue.

Lando pushes into the room and instantly notices that the vibe is… something. It’s *very* obvious that he’s interrupted something, but he doesn’t comment on it. 

Interesting. He files the information away for later.

Instead, he holds his phone out in front of him, a news article pulled up on the screen.

“What is it?” Oscar asks, his gaze flickering between Lando and the screen.

Lando points to the small picture in the article, and Oscar’s jaw clenches, the muscle on the side of his face visibly pulled tight. Lando observes his teammate’s reaction, before he looks over to meet Y/N’s eyes. 

“You might want to read this,” he says gently, his voice low. “You’re mentioned in it.”

That doesn’t sound right.

“I- What?”

Lando briefly wonders what the likelihood is that the ground will physically swallow him whole. Or that he might turn invisible. Or anything that means he doesn’t have to explain this.

“I don’t-“ He cuts off, struggling to put his words together, sighing. “I don’t know how they got their information, but some of these details…”

Seeing Lando - normally smiley Lando - looking so painfully neutral despite the anxiety that flashes in his eyes, feels deeply unsettling. Like dark clouds at a wedding or an empty chair at a birthday party, seeing Lando like this feels ominous, wrong.

He hands her the phone, watching her as she takes it and begins to scan the text. Words and letters blend into a blur, her eyes reading through the article - speculation after speculation on her current health status and how she got hurt. It reads less like news and more like pure gossip tabloid rumors. 

There’s an odd sinking in her chest, some muscle winding itself tighter and tighter.

She can’t stop reading it, standing eerily still. Hidden amongst this clear violation of the privacy she’s held sacred for so long are some very specific facts that only Oscar and a select few other people should be able to know and recognize. 

“This is-“ she starts quietly, her breath hitching in her chest.

It’s quiet. “This is bad.”

Her eyes continue to scan the article, and her mouth goes dry. Even when she knows it’s all mostly bullshit, there’s still a part of her that feels a little violated, like there’s suddenly not enough oxygen in the room. This is her life - her past and her trauma put on display. The most traumatic years of her life suddenly available for the whole world to read about. 

She reads it yet another time, uselessly hoping for something to change, for the words to transform or dissipate like the final wisps of a nightmare.

“One has to ask—can you really call it a "dream job" when it lands you in the ER? Y/N L/N is clearly in need of a reality check. Whispers from insiders paint the picture of a young woman entangled in a life of chaos, fueled by impulsive decisions and reckless relationships. Is she simply a victim of her surroundings, or is there a more troubling narrative at play? Recently, Y/N was hospitalized with troubling injuries: extensive bruising and a suspected concussion, allegedly the result of a wild night that spiraled out of control. Sources suggest her aggressive tendencies may have exacerbated the situation, raising alarms about her behavior and its implications for McLaren. As Y/N navigates her tumultuous life, her influence over rising star Oscar Piastri comes into question. McLaren must now confront the uncomfortable truth: her erratic behavior could endanger Piastri’s career and the team’s reputation. The last thing they need is a scandal, especially when they’re striving for excellence on and off the track. The team's efforts to sweep this under the rug hint at deeper issues within their camp. Insiders are growing increasingly concerned that Y/N’s instability could tarnish McLaren’s hard-earned image, especially as rumors circulate. As Y/N begins her recovery, the pressure mounts on McLaren to manage the fallout. Fans and sponsors alike are watching closely, and the stakes couldn’t be higher. Ultimately, the future for Y/N is uncertain. Will she take this opportunity to change her trajectory, or will she continue to spiral, jeopardizing not only her own future but also the stability of McLaren? The racing world waits with bated breath, knowing that every decision could have lasting consequences.”

Lando’s expression is sympathetic as he watches her pale. Something guilty settles in his gut - he knows he didn’t cause this, but he doesn’t know how to protect her from it either. Lando has always held loyalty so close to his chest - growing up famous at such a young age forces you to learn that lesson quickly.

It's easy, then, to understand why Lando is the way he is. He's known for his friendly personality - his charismatic charm and his easy laugh - but there are a select few which Lando considers his closest friends. Those are people he answers even in the middle of the night, the ones he’d fly across the world to be there for.

But Y/N is standing in front of him like the very ground  has been pulled from beneath her feet and he can’t do a fucking thing. 

“Um, it’s- it’s okay,” she stammers, voice shaky. She tucks her hair behind her ears again, but they were never loose in the first place. A fragile mask of calm slips over her face, a familiar trick she’s performed thousands of times before

“I can take care of this. I- I’ll take care of this.”

Her heart feels like it’s stuttering in her chest but she knows better than to show it. Taking a short breath, she whirls around to make a beeline for her office. She’ll need to make a few calls, send emails to various liaisons and communication personnel, maybe reach out to HR and PR too-

“Hey, hey, stop.” Oscar reaches out and gently wraps his fingers around his bicep, spinning her around gently to face him. His eyes are worried as he searches hers for something true. He’s seen her upset before, but now her face is pale in a way he’s never seen before.

“Oh, right,” she chuckles awkwardly, suddenly remembering. “Lando, your phone.”

She holds the phone with the article displayed on it for Lando to grab, but she eyes the device like it’s very presence is toxic. She chuckles, but the sound is high pitched and forced. “Sorry, almost forgot!”

Lando slowly takes his phone from her, his eyes flickering between his friends for a moment.

“No worries, s’fine,” he says carefully, his eyes not leaving her face. “Are you actually okay?” That’s a stupid question, you idiot.

“Me?” she asks, as if caught off guard. “Yeah, yeah! I’m fine,” she answers, waving him off.

Oscars expression is stern, unconvinced - and he doesn’t bother to hide it.

“You seem a little, uh, upset,” he says delicately, his gaze flitting to her shaking hands. He immediately looks away, not wanting to draw any attention to it. He doesn’t want her to feel exposed.

“No it’s-” horrible, she wants to say. Instead, what comes out is, “It’s okay. I’m just trying to figure out what I need to do, that’s all.”

He hesitates, his brows furrowing at her attempts to downplay what’s happening.

“And your first thought is to go work?” he points out, a small hint of accusation in his tone.

It’s like she doesn’t even hear him.

“I’m going to fix this,” she tells him, giving both of them her most convincing smile, even as the corners of her mouth threaten to twitch downward.

Breathe.

And with that, she sees herself out of the room, already planning each action she needs to set into motion. She’s going to fix this.

a/n: thank you for reading this far! feedback means a lot to me. your likes, comments, reblogs, asks - that's the only way i can tell if you like the story so pls pls pls! all the feedback!!!