#expect horse races and events

[internationalhorseracingnews]

HorseRacingNews-Video news and articles about horse racing

[checkeredflagggs]

Melting Hearts

pairing: charles leclerc x chocolatier!reader

summary: Ferrari hires a chocolatier to cater for their anniversary celebrations! The chocolate isn’t the only thing to melt

a/n1: Twitter is dead to me. Bluesky forever.

a/n2: all chocolate creations are from the chocolate guy, amaury guichon

a/n3: user 19 and 53 are back 😂

scuderiaferrari

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 2,112,134 others

tagged: yourusername, maison_du_chocolat

scuderiaferrari: We’re excited to announce that yourusername from the maison_du_chocolat has accepted our invitation to our anniversary celebration! We can’t wait to see what she makes for us!

view all comments

yourusername: Forza Ferrari Sempre! It was an honor to be chosen and I am excited to have the opportunity to be a part of this monumental event!

↳user1: oh man oh man oh man am I sooooo excited for this!

↳user2: Queen of chocolate!

user3: omg crossover of the century!

↳user4: i literally can’t wait to see what she makes!

↳user3: her creations are INSANE! her imagination…

charles_leclerc: can’t wait! 😊

↳arthur_leclerc: he really really can’t…

↳charles_leclerc: 😑

user5: I haven’t heard of her before but I just looked her up and damn…

↳user6: right?

↳user5: what I wouldn’t give to live in her mind?

↳user7: dude what?

↳user5: not in a creepy way but like how does she even imagine these things??

↳user8: acceptable answer

carlossainz55: Forza Ferrari Sempre! Welcome to the Ferrari family!

↳yourusername: glad to be here!

user9: I just checked her insta and damn…chocolate is not the only thing that’ll be melting

↳user10: keep it classy!

maison_du_chocolat

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, yourbff, and 1,877,455 others

tagged: scuderiaferrari

maison_du_chocolat: it has long been a dream of mine to go to Italy and visit the Ferrari factory! Now to be able to do that by invitation is an honor! Thank you scuderiaferrari

view all comments

user11: amazing!

user12: oh I can’t wait!

user13: cars? I have to care about cars now??

↳user14: I kkkknnnnoooooowww. Like mother why?

↳user13: vroom vroom I guess

charles_leclerc: it's our pleasure to have you!

↳user19: 👀👀

↳maison_du_chocolat: thank you! 😊

↳user19: 👀👀

↳user53: seriously? What now

↳user19: nothing nothing nothing

carlossainz55: again! Welcome to the family!

↳maison_du_chocolat: love to be here

yourbff: I expect all the details stat

↳yourusername: literally on my way to you right now

↳yourbff: with all the juicy details?

↳yourusername: with something certainly

user15: love that jacket!

↳maison_du_chocolat: gotta represent when I’m creating!

↳user15: it’s a chef’s jacket???

↳maison_du_chocolat: yup!

↳user15: oh my god 🥺🥺

Bluesky

maison_du_chocolat

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbff, user, and 1,828,828 others

tagged: scuderiaferrari

maison_du_chocolat: a little sneak peak of what’s coming!

view all comments

user16: the anticipation is gonna actually kill me i think

↳user17: extreme but understandable

user18: car? Horse? 3D model of the Ferrari logo?

↳user17: an actual life size f1 car that runs

↳user18: tbh it might actually be faster then what we��ve been given this year…

↳user17: removing the floor and letting Carlos and Charles run the race is faster then this tractor…

↳user18: you’re not wrong

scuderiaferrari: we’re eagerly awaiting the results!

↳maison_du_chocolat: cool cool cool cool. No doubt no doubt, no pressure no pressure

↳scuderiaferrari: you’ve got this!

↳maison_du_chocolat: admin why would you stress me out like this…

↳scuderiaferrari: from the bottom of my heart, my bad

user20: less than 1 week left!

↳user21: I know! I’ve been counting down the days

↳user22: me too!

charles_leclerc: any hints for your favorite driver?

↳maison_du_chocolat: sorry but Sebastian isn’t racing anymore…

↳charles_leclerc: 🥺😢

↳user19: 🧐🧐

↳user53: ok grandma let’s get you back to bed

↳user19: you just wait…you’ll see…

↳user53: see what you crazy bat???

scuderiaferrari

liked by maison_du_chocolat, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55, and 2,276,511 others

Transcript:

First frame: “And for our last topic,y/n from the La Maison Du Chocolat…”

Second Frame: “Carlos: hahahaha, Charles: Oh noooo……, Carlos: yes let’s talk about y/n”

Third Frame: “Oh? Are you guys excited for the exhibit?”

Last Frame: “Carlos: Charles definitely is!, Charles: She is very talented!, Carlos: Not what I meant”

tagged: yourusername, maison_du_chocolat

scuderiaferrari: we talk cars, collections, and chocolate!

view all comments

user23: awwww Charles is blushing ☺️☺️☺️

maxverstappen1: 😹

↳carlossainz55: it’s even worse than you think

↳maxverstappen1: how??

↳carlossainz55: they cut a LOT of footage

↳maxverstappen1: oh my god 😹

↳charles_leclerc: it was not THAT bad

↳carlossainz55: it was

user24: the challenge is don’t talk about your crush! Charles fails instantly

↳user25: no but for real he’s so in love??? He’s just heart eyes and blushing face the entire video

↳user25: and THEY TAGGED her too! scuderiaferrari sees the vision as well

↳user24: I’m confused on how they have EVEN MORE footage?? Like it’s already 30 minutes of him yapping about yourusername…

↳user25: I NEED them to release the uncut version! scuderiaferrari! Please we’ve never asked for anything

↳scuderiaferrari: 👀👀

↳charles_leclerc: no.

↳scuderiaferrari: 🫣 sorry 😞

user19: y’all aren’t ready for what i have to say

↳user53: I’m tired of this grandpa

↳user19: that’s too damn bad! They’re dating!

↳user53: seriously? Oh my god…

↳user19: just wait and see user53. Just wait and see

Private Messages

Bluesky

user26: oh my god

↳user27: are you thinking what I’m thinking?

↳user26: Charles Leclerc and y/n?

↳user27: yes!!

user28: that crazy bitch has done it again

↳user53: you better not be talking about user19 with that tone?

↳user28: that crazy bitch (respectfully) has done it again ??

↳user53: acceptable (barely)

user19: WHAT DID I SAY? I TOLD YOU

↳user53: this is not PROOF. It is gossip!

↳user19: I've been sayin' it. I've been sayin' it for ten damn years. Ain't I been sayin' it?

↳user53: do you ever run out of movie quotes?

↳user19: nope! CAUSE I WAS RIGHT!!

↳user53: 🙄😂☺️

Private Messages

maison_du_chocolat

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, carlossainz55, and 3,127,225 others

tagged: scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55

maison_du_chocolat: here we are! And away we go!

Thank you scuderiaferrari for this wonderful opportunity! I hope your day is as wonderful as you are!

This was a chance of a lifetime and there’s no words I can write that will fully capture how much this means to me so I’ll simply say thank you again! Forza Ferrari Sempre!

view all comments

scuderiaferrari: 😳😳😳

↳scuderiaferrari: THESE ARE WONDERFUL!

↳scuderiaferrari: The perfect way to celebrate!

↳scuderiaferrari: Forza Ferrari Sempre!

user29: the classic car and the new one side by side?? 👌👌

user30: the fomo I have…

↳user31: good god same. I wish I could have been there to see them in person…

charles_leclerc: magnifique!!

↳maison_du_chocolat: thank you! And thank you again for showing me your car — I definitely needed the close up reference

↳user19: !!!!

↳user32: on their thread??

↳user53: not the time user19

↳user19: but!

↳user53: no

carlossainz55: these are amazing! Such artistry!

↳maison_du_chocolat: stoopppp. I’m blushing!

↳carlossainz55: 😉😉

↳charles_leclerc: 🤨🤨

↳carlossainz55: 🤣

user33: the presentation of this was wonderful as well

↳user34: almost better than the actual life size chocolate cars if I’m being honest

↳user35: ok I don’t know if I’d go that far…

↳user34: there was fireworks…

↳user35: yeah ok

Bluesky

user36: starting a countdown…

↳user37: to what?

↳user36: just wait

user38: god when will it be my turn???

user39: they look so cute!

↳user40: you can’t see their faces?

↳user39: but they look so comfy together? Like even out in public, they’re leaning up against one another — that’s cute and lovely!

↳user40: …we need to get you a date

user19: !!!!

↳user36: this user37

↳user37: what?

↳user53: yes yes yes you’re probably gonna be right. Let’s not rub it in everyone’s face

↳user19: you never let me have any fun

↳user53: we still don’t know for certain that it’s y/n!

↳user19: it will be!

user41: I’ve never felt more single then these 2!! photos have made me feel

↳user42: same

↳user43: same

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, yourbff, and 1,213,455 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: happy 2 years mon amour — they’ve been the happiest I’ve ever been.

Thank you for teaching me to bake Christmas cookies (and for the special love potion — although you certainly don’t need to give me one!)

view all comments

user44: oh my god! 2 years???

user46: how on earth did they keep it a secret for so long??

yourusername: Mon soleil…I thought you wanted to keep this a secret?

↳charles_leclerc: oops ☺️☺️☺️

↳charles_leclerc: not anymore!

↳charles_leclerc: I need everyone to know you’re mine

↳yourusername: Mon soleil…

↳charles_leclerc: ehehehehe 😊😊😊

user48: Mon soleil…she calls him her sunshine…

↳yourusername: he lights up my life!

↳user48: my heart…I can’t go on…

↳yourusername: oops??

maxverstappen1: finally

↳charles_leclerc: what?

↳maxverstappen1: you can now yap to everyone else about her

↳maxverstappen1: stop bothering me

↳charles_leclerc: when have i ever?

↳carlossainz55: you think you have it bad?? And charles_leclerc the entire flight to Miami

↳maxverstappen1: and Brazil

↳oscarpiastri: and to Australia

↳logansargeant: the entire driver’s parade in Monday?

↳alex_albon: and in spa?

↳landonorris: to and from silverstone?

↳charles_leclerc: let a romantic live will you?

↳yourusername: awww soleil you talk about me?

↳carlossainz55: yes

↳maxverstappen1: more words than I’ve ever spoken

↳oscarpiastri: nonstop

↳logansargeant: never ending

↳alex_albon: yes

↳landonorris: yes

↳charles_leclerc: yes 🥰

[lunememes]

🌙 * ― 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐑 ( a collection of date locations and things to do with your date. feel free to adjust the prompts as needed! do not add to the list. )

a relaxing date

quiet night. our muses snuggle up together beneath a blanket on the couch or in bed and listens as the other muse reads a book to them. bookshop. our muses go to a bookshop and pick out books for each other to read once they get back home. console. our muses play a casual and fun game on a console together, requiring teamwork and strategy. park. our muses take a relaxing walk through the park together to talk and get to know each other better. spa. our muses go to a spa to treat themselves to a day of relaxation and pampering. movie. our muses go to the local cinema to watch a movie together, where they can snack on popcorn and be transported to another world. beach. our muses go to a warm sandy beach, where they can soak up the sun and dip their toes into the sea for a swim or a splash.

a fun date

pins. our muses go to a bowling alley together, where they can play a casual game or aim to have the highest score. wheels. our muses go roller skating together, where they can race one another or skate hand in hand for a more relaxed date. rink. our muses go ice skating together, where they can show off their moves or wobble on the ice and tumble in unison. swim. our muses go swimming together, where they can playfully splash one another, go down the slides or brave the wave pool. shopping. our muses go to the mall together, where they can shop to their hearts content and find a new thing to take home. ride. our muses go horse riding together, either separately or together, and enjoy the sights atop their horses. hole-in-one. our muses go to a crazy golf course, where they must overcome obstacles and get the ball to its end destination. laser. our muses go to a laser tag event and test out their stealth and aim as they try to hunt one another down to tag them. paintball. our muses go paintballing together and form up to be a formidable team or test their skills against each other. rodeo. our muses attempt the mechanical rodeo bull, where one muse must hang on for dear life or try to stay on together.

a delicious date

restaurant. our muses go to a nice restaurant, dressed up and treated to vintage wine and delicious food. fast food. our muses go to a fast food place, where there are no expectations and the company is all that matters. café. our muses go to a homely little café, where they can enjoy a warm drink and homemade cakes. truck. our muses go to a local food truck, where greasy but delicious food is served up right in front of them. homemade. our muses have a home-cooked meal, where one muse cooks the other a delicious and intimate meal. baking. our muses bake something together, sending flour everywhere and bringing out the playfulness of one another. picnic. our muses go on a little picnic together, a quiet patch of grass beneath the warm sun. cold treat. our muses find an ice cream truck and decide to treat themselves to a cold treat. sweet treat. our muses go to a desert place where they can get waffles, crêpes and brownies.

a nature date

zoo. our muses take a trip to the zoo where they can admire all the various walks of life and get the special privilege to feed an animal. wings. our muses visit a butterfly sanctuary, where the air is filled with colourful wings and life flutters all around them. feed. our muses visit a park with a bag of seed on hand to feed the local wildlife, getting to see them up close and personal. sea life. our muses visit and aquarium together, where they can stand beneath a tunnel of water and see sharks and fish swim overhead. sun. our muses find a clearing or a good vantage point to watch the sunrise or sunset together. stars. our muses lay beneath the stars together, where they can try to catch a glimpse of shooting star or point out the constellations. garden. our muses visit a botanical garden, where vibrant colours and fragrant flowers bloom.

an entertaining date

play. our muses attend a play at a theatre, where music fills the halls and actors perform on stage. opera. our muses attend an opera hall, where classical music takes people back to a different age. ballet. our muses attend a ballet showing, where elegance and grace captivates the audience. sport. our muses attend a sports event with the best seats in the house, where they can cheer on their favourite team and have a beer or two. concert. our muses visit a concert together, where the crowd raves to the music and joins in harmony. amusement park. our muses go to an amusement park, where they can relax on a log ride or risk it all with a daring ride. night out. our muses go to a bar where the drinks never end and the party goes well into the night. prize. our muses visit the arcades where they can try to win as many prizes as they can or jump into a stimulation game. old games. our muses have a fun and competitive go at old board games, where it could bring them together or test the strength of their relationship.

an educational date

pottery. our muses attending a pottery class where one muse helps the other to make a pot, hands on. paint. our muses attending a painting class, where they can gift one another their painting or paint one another. dance. our muses attend a dance class, where they can learn a few new moves and share an intimate moment. axe. our muses go to an axe throwing class, where a professional teaches them how to throw axes. museum. our muses go to the museum, where they can learn the earth's history, admire the artwork or venture into space. castle. our muses visit an old castle, where history lingers and people can peer into the past.

a medieval date

renfair. our muses attend a renfair event, dressed up for the occasion and enjoy the festivities. joust. our muses attend a medieval restaurant where they can dine, watch knights joust and have a medieval experience. ball. our muses attend a grand ball, where couples take to the dance floor and let the music flow through them. masquerade. our muses attend a masquerade ball, where masks shrouds faces and scandals thrive. feast. our muses attend a grand feast, where jolly laughter and mountains of food await.

an adventurous date

climb. our muses attend an indoor climbing place or brave the mountains, to put their strength and resilience to the test. camp. our muses take to the wild and set up camp in the woods, putting their survival skills to the test. sail. our muses go on a cruise together, where they can kick back and enjoy a nice cocktail on the ocean waves. lake. our muses brave the brisk waters and go skinny dipping together for some naughty fun. rapids. our muses go canoeing in the treacherous waters of a fast running river sky diving. our muses take to the skies and go sky diving, either together or side by side, and experience the world from above. slope. our muses go skiing or snowboarding together, soaring past the snow covered trees and gaining air with ramps.

an unconventional date

heist. our muses go on a more unconventional date and go on a heist together to bring home a new, shiny and expensive addition. fight. our muses attend a fighting match where adrenaline is high and cheers fill the room. rage. our muses go to a rage room and smash things together, letting out pent up rage and stress in union. graveyard. our muses visit a graveyard at night, where they can try to scare one another with a scary story or visit the dead. ghosts. our muses try to find the paranormal in an abandoned place, where spirits are said to linger. hunting. our muses go hunting together, but what exactly will they be hunting? escape. our muses go to an escape room, where they will need to work together if they ever stand a chance of getting out. sacrifice. our muses perform a ritual with the intention of summoning something, but is it for fun or is it something all the more sinister?

[pickingupmymercedes]

Ways to say "I love you" - Lewis Hamilton

I'm back with more Lew ❤️

warnings: mostly fluff, bit of angsty

wordcount: +3k

important: each drabble was writen as a snippet into different moments with Lewis. There's 10 more of those, but this was getting huge, so this is part 1.

With a hoarse voice, under the blankets

Life had been hectic, as it tended to be around the weeks before the final couple of races. You and Lewis had been on the road since mid October, not really going back to Europe since the US GP in Texas. The week off between São Paulo and Las Vegas the perfect opportunity to take a few days off in California with his friends. It was tiring, but you’d never complain of having a full passport as a down feature for your job.

The week of the Las Vegas GP was packed of events and promo for everyone, and to top it off a quick impromptu meeting with the board in the media day of the GP turned into a 5 hours long debate, that went well into the night.

You got back to your suite almost at midnight in serious need of a shower and some sleep. What you didn’t predict was Lewis already tucked into the bed, sound asleep.

You tiptoed around the room to try and find your things, not being lucky in the slightest you settled for a shirt Lewis had used in the road trip from LA to Vegas. The quick shower, only meant to decompress, had you engulfed in Lewis’ perfume, from both his shower products and shirt.

Lewis soft breathing guided you to the bed in the darkness of the room and when you got under the soft covers a pair of arms guided you to his chest, the one place sure to get you blacked out in minutes.

“They're in serious trouble for keeping you for so long” his horse voice an indication he had been in deep sleep already

“Sorry, took longer than we expected”

“Can’t wait to have you all to myself. Gonna have to lock you up at home during winter”

“No need, I’ll always find my way to you”. You mumbled into his neck, already nestling closer to him, ready to drift off.

A scream

“I love you” You screamed when you realized you’d never catch him, mid airport track, hoping the wind would somehow carry your words. His head turned abruptly, his face had confusion written all over his features, he was stuck in place, too stunned to comprehend the sudden confession you were hollering to the world but couldn’t say aloud to him just hours ago. You ran to him, security, people and restrictions be damned, that was your one chance.

“I love you, Lewis. I have loved you for longer than I care to admit, I have not stopped loving you even when I said I didn’t, even when hating you was all I wanted.” within arm’s reach you admitted breathlessly, doe eyes looking at you with such intensity you were sure he could see into your soul. His hands cautiously outstretching towards yours, waiting for you to take it, waiting for your mind to catch up to the feelings you had just admitted, waiting to see if you’d finally let your heart take over.

You didn’t take his hand though, going instead for the back of his neck, caressing the soft skin at the base of his hairline with your fingers, his overwhelming gaze waiting for your next move, for you to fully give in, looking from his eyes to his mouth until his scent and his touch were all that you felt. His hold on the lower of your back, the brush of his eyelashes on your cheeks and his taste on your lips were all you could ever want. The decision of a lifetime, one that after that day you would make every day, over and over.

On a random Tuesday afternoon, the late sunlight glowing in your hair

The thing with Lewis was he was too much of an Capricorn for his own good, the earth in him urged for stability and trust, and in the familiarity and serenity of home he urged for security, not that he wanted a predictable life, but he wished that no matter what, he had someone he could fall back on.

“Move in with me” He blurred out of nowhere causing you to lightly laugh at him, scotching closer to his chest as if there was any space left between you, both laying comfortably tangled in each other in his house in London. Pillows and blankets around you on the floor, the late afternoon sunlight hitting the glass on the dining table and reflecting up at the ceiling, a movie on the tv neither were paying attention to.

“I mean it. I don’t see myself without you, I don’t want to anyway.” he almost whispered in your ears, the low volume to his voice amplifying the seriousness in his proposal. Turning your head to look at him you held your gaze into his for minutes, almost daring him to call off the offer, but he never did. His warm smile spreading onto his features when you crocked your head and smirked, specks of the late sunlight glowing where they hit your hair.

“I’d love to” you murmured, straddling him and pushing his chest so he’d lay back down on the blankets, hovering your face over his, leaving ghostly soft kisses on his lips, coming back up to look him in the eye, time and time again. Convincing yourself that it was okay to finally let your walls down for good.

“I love you; you know?!” a statement so surely presented to your, so pure. He didn’t wait to hear it back before pulling your to his chest and his lips, he didn’t have to.

When baking chocolate chip cookies

“We’re baking chocolate chip cookies!” You exclaimed as you entered his home gym in London mid-winter break, supplies in hand already anticipating half of the ingredients wouldn’t exist in his fridge.

“Excuse me?” He questioned as he set the weights down and reached for the towel to get the sweat dry from his forehead

“C’mom, vegan chocolate chip cookies” you rushedly told him already half way back inside, leaving a confused Lewis searching for any meaning to what had just happened.

As he approached his kitchen, he could hear the soft music playing in the speakers in the background while you danced around arranging the things you’d need.

“Care to explain, love?” He leaned at the stool just under the glistening spotlight and the couple of trays spread at the kitchen island.

“Your niece and nephew are coming over tomorrow” She retorted, almost a duh expression on her features as she chopped the vegan chocolate bar.

“Y/n, they know I’m preparing for the season” He lovingly replied, getting closer to you.

“Oh, they’re not exactly for you, Lew. I mean, they’re still vegan if you want to try them.” You turned into his embrace, leaving a kiss to the corner of his lips before wiggling back to where the many food items were.

“You show up at my house midafternoon, fully stacked, to bake vegan cookies for kids that aren’t coming until tomorrow and don’t really expect to eat anything but fruits ?!” He crocked his head, smirk fully on display as his eyes gleamed.

“That’s like half the reason I came. Apples and bananas are fine, but they are kids.” You shrugged as that was the most obvious thing.

“We’re really baking cookies then, I guess?!” He reached to you and grabbed the flour off of your hand, pouring it into a bowl.

“Chocolate chip cookies” You corrected him, laughing as he stole a few of the chopped chocolates still sitting on the chopping board 

 

Not said to me

You jolted up from your sleep when you heard a loud cry, frantically looking around the room you remembered you weren’t home when your eyes found the luggage in the corner, yours and Lewis’s belongings neatly tucked in the adjoining closet, a stark contrast to the baby clothes and toys scattered around the floor and armchairs. Slowly coming to your senses, you realized the crying was in your dreams when you heard a happy babble, followed by your husband’s low voice coming from the balcony of the hotel room.

“Sshh love, we don’t want to wake mamma up now do we? She’s taking a nap so we can go for a walk down the beach later.” The little girl instantly responding with a babble at the word she knew all too well.

Getting up you didn’t have the heart to interrupt the scene that played out when you peaked from the opened French doors of the room, deciding to quietly watch from the threshold as he kept blowing raspberries onto your daughter’s tummy, the chunky toddler in nothing but her diapers, in the hot afternoon summer breeze of Italy in July, excitedly clapping her hands for her dad while sitting on his legs.

“Oh, I miss her too baby, even when she’s just in the other room… I’ll tell you a secret though, even if momma tells the world we’re twins, every time I see your eyes, I see hers, the same one I’ve been in love with for a long time. Everyone says you are my hard carbon copy, but I love that I get to look into a piece of your mommy whenever I look at you".

When we lay together by the sun

The sun in your skin felt divine, a stark contrast to the wintery end of year you’d been having back in Europe, the heat and humidity in the air bringing to your senses the familiarity of northeast Brazilian weather in the hottest months of the year. His touch on your shoulder blades providing even more warmth, big hands massaging your whole back with sunscreen.

“By all means I’m the biggest fan of your back massages, but I put on sunscreen just a couple of hours ago” you giggled looking at him over your shoulders, sunglasses on the tip of your nose.

“Just making sure you’re protected, will you do mine?” He asked after tying the strings on the upper part of your bikini and giving your bum a checky light smack.

“Yeah… come here you Briton” grabbing him by the arms you sat up on the lounger and guided him to sit in between in your legs, his back already hot from the sun exposure.

“Thank you for coming here with me, I know we made it a 4 times header not going home to rest for a bit after Mexico.” You told him while spreading the white content of the Brazilian sunscreen you’d bought, throwing away the british one, not properly suited to sun in the tropics from your past experiences.

“Any time, love.” turning to face you he pulled you by the waist, his signature smirk and relaxed eyes scanning yours. “Especially when it includes this little paradise.”

“Have I told you I love you yet?” You questioned, the toothy grin he loved so much splattered on your face, his strong arms around you, the sounds of crashing waves in the background, white sand in your toes and his skin smelling just like your favorite childhood memories did.

“Not today, I don’t think so. Eu te amo” a questioning look as he tested his Portuguese around you, crushing his lips in yours while you giggled, raising you up to his body so he could hold you in his lap, his touch also how home felt to you. 

Over and over again, till it’s nothing but a senseless babble

He felt the first little droplets of rain hit his skin as soon as she screamed “run”, laughing while holding her oversized hat to her head. He sprinted towards her, grabbing her waist, effortlessly stopping them both and turning her body to him, her eyes holding the warmth that lately he could only find there, his face adorned with adoration, her dimples fully showing as her lips plastered the sweetest of grins.

“I love you” He couldn’t help himself, those 3 little words coming out as easily as breath, the thought of how hard it’d been to get them out in the first place long forgotten. She held his gaze as if trying to eternalize those memories, the afternoon summer rain falling hard around them whilst rays of sunlight hit the concrete, their clothes drenched, drops of water running down their tangled bodies.

“I love you; I love you; I love you” senseless babbles that professed his utmost emotion, holding her up to him and kissing in the pouring rain like they were teenagers in a cheesy movie.

A whisper in the ear

Being back to Europe always took you some time to get acclimated, and it didn’t help that that particular winter had been the coldest in years, so much colder than what your body was used to, so you wrapped yourself up in blankets waiting for your boyfriend to get out of the shower and join you in bed, hopefully helping you to warm up.

His parents, siblings, niece and nephew were gathered for an impromptu 5 days getaway in the mountains, in the middle of wintery January, snow everywhere and days filled with winter sports, fireplaces and laughter from the people that had welcomed you as family. 

“Hey gorgeous, I thought you’d still be down there” he smirked his way to the open luggage on the little sofa by the bed, towel low on his hips and another in his hand for his face.

“Everyone went to bed, something about getting some sleep to beat you on the slopes tomorrow” You giggled the last part, knowing how competitive they could get. He chuckled and made his way towards you, getting under the blankets and bringing you over to his side, just his presence enough to soothe away the tight muscles from the cold.

“How come you’re always running so cold?” he whispered in your hair, wrapping his arms around your waist and hips and bringing you to his chest. His skin radiating warmth and the smell of your body wash, since he’d forgotten to pack his. Fingers absentmindedly tracing random patterns on your thighs, your eyes lazily trying to focus on the news on the tv but failing miserably, the world could wait until the next morning.

“I love you” was the last thing you heard he whisper, his hoarse voice heavy with sleep, his arms scooching your body closer to his while making sure the blankets covered you both before he let his own sleep take over.

As we huddle together, the storm raging outside

Sundays after races would always be busy for the both of you. The rain was falling hard as you entered the small RV as quietly as you could, founding Lewis ingulfed in his own thoughts and feelings when you finally cleared through your duties, way past the time you wish had.

Taking in how his arms and back looked tense while he rested his head on both his hands sitting in the small sofa, you brought yourself to stand right in front of him, softly running your finger on his neck until he looked up offering a sad side smile and tugged you to his lap. You hadn’t spoken to each other since before he got in his car, well over 4 hours prior, but you didn’t have to.

He needed time to process what happened, he always did. Lewis could always come to interviews looking like he had it all together, always with the right words, but you knew, from the crease in his forehead and the way his shoulders dropped whenever he breathed a little deeper, that his calculating-looking actions and words were just knee-jerk reactions.

“I love you” you said into his neck, a consolation of sorts, huddling together, sitting on his lap with his head resting on your chest and his arms holding your waist tightly. At least in that small room, neither of you had to think about the storm brewing outside, not yet anyway.

Over the shoulder

The championship had, yet again, came down to the last race and the doom could be felt even from outsiders. The last time it happened Lewis wasn’t even a Ferrari driver, but everyone remembered.

You had tried to block the subject from your conversations with him, warned everyone he had enough of the comparisons, made sure he had all the space to breath, concentrate and shield all the noise from the outside. Yet, in the apparent serenity of the hotel bedroom, the quietness would scream back at him.

“What if it’s not meant to be?” He snapped you out of your thoughts as you finished some reports on your computer. His eyes a mix of something you couldn’t quite pint point, his walls up even for you.

“Then you’re still a 7 times world champion, a driver who’s won for McLaren, Mercedes and Ferrari, a trailblazer in the sport, entrepreneur over a variety of assets, founder of Mission 44, British knight, Brazilian honorary citizen, Anthony and Carmen’s son, Nicolas’ brother, my mom’s favorite son-in-law… oh and Roscoe’s dad, of course.” He smiled as you got to his family, scootching over to be by your side on the balcony sofa and laying his head on your lap.

“I would hate to be an almost champion… twice”   

“Yeah, we would all hate that too. And it’s okay to feel all kinds of way about possible results, but we’re not gonna known until we know, right?!”  You felt him humm in response, your fingertips going through his braids, trying to sooth the tensions away from him.

It wasn’t until the soft humming of a phone in the bedroom that you realized you had fallen asleep in the balcony, his body moving almost automatically to get him up while his features revealed how he too had dozed off.

“Will you still love an almost champion?” He prompted suddenly, almost like he had just remembered he had to know, eyes twinkling under the lights.

“Babe, I stayed even in the timbs phase, didn’t I?” You smirked back earning a full soundless chuckle, those that had him reach for his diaphragm and shake his head left to right.

“You’re lucky I love you; you really are.” You heard as he looked over his shoulders just as he got back inside.

[antimonyandthyme]

2k, carcar, dress

“No,” Oscar said firmly. “No, no, no. This is all wrong on you.”

“I don’t.” Carlos ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. Not a little big stung. Surely it didn’t look so bad. “I don’t see what’s wrong with it.”

It was true it wasn’t his favourite shade of purple. And it was shorter than what he would’ve liked. With his heels he would be spending the entire night tugging the dress down. But it was tight around the waist, and it made him look, well. Pretty good, all things considered.

“What’s wrong with it,” Carlos said, a little plaintively. A little defensively. This had to have been his worst idea yet.

He didn’t know why he was having trouble meeting Oscar’s eyes through the mirror. It didn’t make any sense, why Oscar looked this way. Almost offended at the violet on Carlos’s skin. It didn’t make Carlos feel any better about having to put himself through this dog-and-pony show.

“It’s just not good,” Oscar said.

Carlos hid the way that grazed his underbelly by fiddling with the zip of the dress. Oscar’s fingers twitched by his sides, and for a delusional second, Carlos assumed he would come over and help.

“Fine,” Carlos said, relieved his voice didn’t wobble. “What do you suggest?”

Oscar didn’t answer, too busy rifling through the rack with an intensity Carlos had only known him to reserve for driving. He pushed away the Elie Saab which just so happened to be another unfortunate shade of lavender, then flicked through the long-sleeved Valentino as if he had just tasted a lemon. You’ve lost your mind, Carlos wanted to say. It’s a dress. For the silliest event of the year. With the silliest rules I’m just so happened to be bound by.

“No red,” Carlos said faintly. He didn’t know if he could stomach that, wearing a reminder of his dismissal on the very last event on their calendar, before he could finally be rid of horses and pretty teammates.

“No,” Oscar agreed. He sounded fervent. “Try this one.”

A midnight-blue backless Guy Laroche. It seemed—dignified. Nobody needed to stare at him head-on, they could do so from the back. That was fine with Carlos, just fine.

But then Oscar looked away, when Carlos slipped out of one noose into another, and Carlos’s gut churned with a resentment that he couldn’t bite down.

He would’ve paid the twenty-thousand dollar fine to skip this event entirely. The past three years he played the part obediently, wrapped himself in the shade everyone expected him to adorn. Stood next to Charles, who always looked as if rose were made for his skin. Carlos was tired. That was the simple truth of it.

Caco had grimaced, when Carlos half-jokingly half-hopefully said he might play hooky this year. They both knew it wasn’t possible. Ferrari was looking, even though the weight of their gaze shouldn’t matter any longer. Williams was looking. As was everyone else who carried opinions and expectations that seemed to stack against his future.

There were maybe a few people, he didn’t mind looking. Lando was always cheerful, leading him in dances that would result in Carlos giving up and tossing his heels. Gigi always got teary-eyed whenever Carlos dressed up. Then there was another—

Well. Who currently didn’t seem to want to look at Carlos at all.

--

Oscar happened to be there in the last race. Surprisingly made the effort for small talk. “Any plans for the break,” he’d said, and he’d looked as if he really wanted to know.

“I’ve got the FIA thing,” Carlos said. Then winced, because duh. They all had it. The reality of not having plans settled uncomfortably around his throat. It was kind of sad. He just had to get through the prize-giving for last place, and then, only then, would Carlos think about what came next.

“Don’t sound so excited,” Oscar said wryly. He sounded kind, like he knew. Actually. That probably wasn’t—Oscar was just being polite. Carlos was remembering it all wrong. Oscar probably sounded just like how he always sounded.

The Carlos who had just finished his final lap with a team who didn’t want him anymore was too worn down to notice. It was a kindness, and he had reached for it greedily like a starving man.

“I hate going to the gala,” he blurted out.

“Ah,” Oscar said. He was fully turned toward Carlos now. Carlos was probably also remembering this part wrong.

“I never.” He swallowed. “I never know what to wear.”

Stupid, silly things to be worried about. He was driving for Williams next year, and he was worried about what to wear. Such nonsense. The same kind of fruitlessness as gripping the wheel harder when skidding off a track with busted tyres.

Oscar’s mouth opened, then shut. If Carlos wasn’t being so morose, he would’ve scored some smugness, rendering Oscar speechless. A feat. He would have to remember this one.  

“Anyway,” Carlos started, attempting to spare Oscar the need to formulate a response to something so banal. “I’ll probably just throw something on—”

“I have sisters,” Oscar said.

“Oh-kay,” Carlos said. Oscar’s talked about them before. “I think I knew that.”

“I mean, I could. I could help.”

It was Carlos’s turn for his mouth to flop open. “Help. Eh. As in?”

“Help dress you,” Oscar said.

Oscar fiddled with the straw of his bottle, then took a long, long sip. In that span of time, Carlos’s mouth stayed open. For the first time ever, he cursed the fact that Abu Dhabi was a night race. He couldn’t see Oscar’s expression clearly enough.

“I mean,” Oscar tried again, sounding like he was scraping foam desperately off gravel, “if you want. If you. Uh, wanted a second eye. I could, maybe help you pick something?”

Carlos’s voice wasn’t working.

Oscar barrelled on determinedly. Very un-Oscar-like, except for the determinedly. “It’s, uhm. You know. Easy, for us alphas. We just wear our boring suits.”

“I’d prefer a boring suit,” Carlos said.

“I know,” Oscar had said, very soft.

It was the way he said it, that made Carlos think he wasn’t imagining it. The kindness. Oscar was looking at him, waiting. It was easy to roll over and accept.

--

There was none of that kindness now it seemed. Oscar was choosing to be extremely particular with his already particular brand of honesty.  

“No,” Oscar said again.

Carlos was no longer five, and he could no longer throw a temper and come out the other side without shame. Dimly, he was aware he was porcupining, extending his edges all sharp enough to cut.

He took a frustrated breath, ran a hand through his already mussed-up hair, from all the changing. The dress was a little long for him, but it’d do in a pinch. He could always go for the higher heels.

“Again. I don’t—Oscar. What’s wrong with this one?”

“It’s no good on you,” Oscar said, already back at the rack. “We should try the Dior.”

“No need,” Carlos said. He was sore every place a body could be sore. There were only so many times he could hear, It’s no good. After the season he’d just had. “This one will do.”

“Carlos,” Oscar said, like he was gearing up for an argument.

This adamant, over a dress. Over something Carlos didn’t want to care for, but clearly cared for enough that he’d listen to someone tell him what was right and what was not. Over and over. Story of his life.

“There are better options.”

“Enough,” Carlos said, and this time, his voice shook.

Oscar whipped his head around. He caught Carlos’s expression, and then his usually placid expression—turned not very placid at all.

“Carlos,” he said, stricken.

“Don’t,” Carlos snapped, and then instantly felt like a terrible person. Oscar was just trying to help, and Carlos just couldn’t help being difficult.

Oscar took a helpless step toward him, and Carlos stumbled away, tripping on the hem of the too-long dress. He was furious to find his eyes sting.

“I’m going to. The bathroom,” he said, and then fled like a coward, even though he could hear Oscar’s frantic calling from behind him.

Crying over something like this! He looked up, felt the water well up at the bottom of his eyelid, felt the weight exceed the threshold capacity and spill over. He took a deep, deep breath, stared at himself in the mirror. Resisted the urge to call himself names. Resisted the urge to rub at his eyes, so they wouldn’t turn so noticeably red. Carlos tilted his head up, breathed and breathed.

He touched a paper towel lightly against his eyes. The walk back to the change room was stupidly mortifying. He was going to have to apologize. And he really hated doing that.

--

Oscar was gone, nowhere to be found. In his place, a warm, orange halter-gown. Saint-Laurent. Carlos wanted to roll his eyes, but the material was very soft to the touch, and—what the heck.

He tried it on.

It was long enough, but not long enough that it needed heels. He could wear shoes.

--

“You look exceptionally lovely,” Lando said.

“Why thank you.” He laughed, as Lando attempted to twirl him in a circle. Dancing would never be one of Lando’s strong points.

“No, really,” Lando said. His eyes were keen, his scent stronger than usual. “Carlos, you look incredible.”

He didn’t think he looked anything special, just comfortable. Oddly at ease in his skin. But his lips were moving faster than his brain. “Oscar picked it out.”

“What?” Lando’s voice drew up sharp. “Oscar—what?”

“He has sisters,” Carlos said weakly.

Lando frowned. “So do you.”

Uh. Right. The thought never even occurred.

“Congrats,” Carlos quickly said. “That trophy—next year it’ll be first place, huh Landito?”

The sourness he felt was cancelled out by Lando’s grin. Carlos was happy to be led, even if it was a little bumpy. Lando chatted in his ear, about everything and nothing. Gigi came around for a much more dignified dance. Fred linked an arm with him, and they skipped in zig-zag formations. Charles swayed with him, just for one dance, and Carlos could not begrudge him a bit of fondness.

Oscar kept his distance, though Carlos knew he was there by the inoffensive smell of cardamom. It burned him to know if Oscar thought this one, at last, suited him.

Good enough? Good enough for you?

He finished a dance, then another. Everyone wanted a turn. He was getting called beautiful a lot. It was a good thing he was in sensible shoes. Carlos thanked his partners, curtsied as gracefully as he could bring himself to. Then used them as opportunities to look. Over their shoulders, finally, a glimpse of Oscar’s boring suit. Deep green, a Zegna tailored to fit like second skin.

Sure. That’s so boring, Oscar.

There was something unfamiliar on Oscar’s moving, blurry face, even with the familiar, wry smile Oscar was wearing. There was something unfamiliar in Oscar’s scent too. The mellowed wisp that always came with apology, the sharp tang that preceded desire. Yearning mixed with hesitance. Right about how Carlos supposed he would be smelling himself.

All that wine, and Carlos’s nose was still acting as if it knew everything.

Oscar was going to make him wait. He was always going to be the biggest pain Carlos knew. Ever since the time they met in sparks, then held each other lengthwise apart on a couch. Carlos was learning a good deal about patience, this year. It would do him well for the seasons after.

“Well?” he said, when an arm curled gingerly around his back. Carlos allowed himself a moment of weakness, leaned in where Oscar’s scent could stroke his nose. The arm around his back tightened, almost possessively. It felt, wondrously, like an anchor in a ballroom of quicksand. “Good enough?”

“For you,” Oscar said.

[vivwritesfics]

Chase It

It was the third date, and it was terrifying. Terrifying and exhilarating. She loved it, she loved him.

F1 x twisters lmao

Warnings: hints of smut, slight cowboy hat rule

Viv's AUgust Event

Daniel Ricciardo was crazy. But he was that good kind of crazy that got your heart racing and your blood pumping. Being around him was exhilarating.

The way he asked her on a third date, she should have known something was going on, should have known he had something planned. But she agreed. She said yes, she got dressed and she set off to his ranch.

Their first date had been in the hayloft. She hadn't planned on sleeping with him, but the way he laid her against the hay (covered in a blanket), she wrapped her legs around him kissed his neck as he rutted into her.

She pulled up to the little house in the middle of the ranch and climbed out of her car. Daniel's ranch was lovely. He had so much land and he filled it with cattle and horses. The house was big enough for four people, but Daniel was the only person that lived there.

She walked onto the wrap around porch. On their second date they'd sat on the swing seat and just talked. Well, talked until she opened that big belt buckle and freed him from his jeans. Daniel had kissed her as she moved her hand along his dick.

She knocked on his door. A few seconds later and the door opened. There Daniel stood, cowboy hat on his head and grin on his face. "Hi honey," he said and pulled her inside. He kissed her quickly as he kicked the door shut.

"Give me a couple minutes and we'll get going," he said, taking his hat from his head and placing it on her own. A promise of things to come later.

"Where are we going?" She asked as he grabbed his keys from the hook. He didn't answer as he grabbed bottles of water from his fridge.

Arm around her shoulder, he led her outside and over to his truck. His truck was fully kitted out for something, she just didn't know what. Every time she'd asked, he'd just laughed and tapped her nose.

He held her hand as she climbed into the truck. "Danny." She pushed her fingers through his dark curls. "Where are we going?"

He squeezed her knee. "You'll see."

She never expected to go storm chasing. Never expected to race towards that grey, swirling mass. The wind was whipping the truck, but they were heavy enough to be stable. The windscreen wipers moved rapidly, clearing the windscreen for Daniel to see where he was going. "We're just going to get close, right?" She shouted over the sound of the wind.

Daniel didn't answer. She was getting pretty sick of this, but he wasn't slowing the truck. She held onto the dashboard and shut her eyes as Daniel drove into the eye of the tornado.

Pressing a button, the truck anchored itself down. "Open your eyes, honey," he said as he placed his hand on her knee.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes.

It was incredible. The storm raged around them, but Daniel didn't care. "Holy shit," she whispered as she leaned forward to get a better look.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Daniel said, squeezing her knee.

In two seconds he had a hold of her. He pulled her onto his lap and gripped her hips. Her arms were wrapped around his neck as she leaned in to brush her lips against his own. "It's brilliant, Danny," she whispered and kissed him.

His hands gripped her so damn tight, holding her against him as he kissed her. He kissed across her jaw and down her neck as the tornado moved past them. Her eyes were fixed on it as it got further and further away from them.

"Let's head home," she mumbled as her fingers drummed against his big, shiny belt buckle.

Daniel took his hat from her head and placed it back on her own. They could have just climbed into the back seat of the truck and fucked like there so no tomorrow. But Daniel wanted to lay her somewhere comfortable. After the hayloft and the swing seat, she deserved it.

Releasing the anchor on the truck, Daniel drove her back to his ranch. He sang along to the music on the radio as she watched the storm in the rearview mirror. One storm and she was hooked.

He parked up in front of the farm house and climbed out of his truck. Ever the gentleman, he opened the door and held her hand as she stepped down from the truck. There was still wind and rain, and he spun her around before leading her to the house.

His lips were on hers even before he had the door open. He fumbled with the key before he pushed it into the lock and got the door open.

"Fuck, honey," he grunted as he walked her in and kicked the door shut behind her. "Tell me you'll be mine." He walked her back until she was resting against the arm of the brown leather couch.

She sat on the arm of the couch, wrapped her arms around his neck and fell backwards, pulling him on top of her. She wrapped her legs around his (slutty man) waist and stared into his pretty eyes. "I'm yours, Danny," she said and ran her fingers through his hair and knocked his Stetson to the floor. "I'm all yours."

[hyperactively-me]

regency era!ghost x reader au (part 3)

The social calendar brought you and Duke Simon Riley together once again, this time at the annual charity horse race organized by Lady Montague. The event was held on the expansive family estate, where the elite of the ton gathered to watch, place bets, and socialize in the exhilarating clamor of neighing horses and cheering spectators. 

You stood by the paddock, watching the horses being paraded before the race. The sun was warm on your face, and the air was brimming with excitement. You had always enjoyed the thrill of horse racing, and today was no exception. As you chat with friends, discussing the prospects of the various riders, you feel a presence beside you.

Turning, you find Simon standing there, his eyes fixed on the horses. He looks as stern as ever, his jaw set in a hard line. 

“Your Grace,” you say, bowing your head slightly. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“Lady Montague was quite insistent,” he replies, not bothering to look at you or greet you properly. You huff at his impoliteness, already wanting to rid of him. “I couldn’t refuse her invitation.” 

“Of course,” you say, a hint of sarcasm creeping into your voice. “It’s your duty, even at a charity event.”

He finally glances at you, his eyes narrowing. “Yes, duty. Something I believe you understand, though our interpretations seem to differ.”

You bristle at his tone but keep your composure. “Is there no place where we can avoid bickering, Mister Riley?” 

“I could ask you the same, my lady,” he shoots back, voice gruff.

Before you could retort, Lady Montague’s voice rings out, calling for everyone’s attention. The races are about to begin, and you move toward the grandstand, taking a seat with a group of your friends. To your dismay, Simon took a seat not far from you; you turn your nose up, trying your best to ignore him.

The first few races pass without incident, the crowd cheering and clapping as the horses and riders thundered past the finish line. When the final race of the day was about to start, the crowd grew quiet, everyone on the edge of their seat to see who would win their bets. 

The race began, and you found yourself caught up in the excitement, leaning forward in your seat as the horses sprinted around the track. Just as the horse in the lead was about to cross the finish line, another horse stumbled, causing a chain reaction that sent several horses and their riders crashing into the ground. Gasps and shouts filled the air, and you stood up in shock, watching the chaos unfold.

Without a second thought, you hurry down the grandstand, making your way toward the track to see if anyone was seriously hurt. As you reach the scene, you see Simon already there, helping one of the fallen riders to his feet.

You spot another rider struggling to get up, your heart pounding in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. 

You start to push through the crowd, but before you could make your way towards the rider, Simon steps in front of you, blocking your path. 

Despite your urgency to help the injured rider, Simon's abrupt intervention halts your progress, and frustration bubbles within you. You lock eyes with him, ready to demand an explanation for his interference, but before you can speak, he raises a hand in a commanding gesture.

"Wait," he says, his tone firm and authoritative. "It's too dangerous."

Your eye twitches at his presumption, your concern for the injured rider outweighing any patience you might have mustered. "I can't just stand by and do nothing," you retort, your voice edged with frustration.

"You could get hurt," he says, his voice low and stern. "There's a difference between helping and being reckless, my lady."

"And you think I don't know that? Don’t lecture me about recklessness,” you reply, your voice equally low but sharp. "I can’t just stand by and do nothing."

You attempt to move around him, and he grabs your arm gently but firmly, his grip insistent. His hand feels hot against your skin. “Please, trust me on this,” he implores, his voice resolute. “I can’t believe you are so stubborn that you would try to put yourself in harm’s way without thinking.” 

"I am thinking!" you snap. “I’m thinking about those riders, the horses, and—"

"And not about your own safety," he interrupts, his voice rising. "Which is exactly my point."

You go silent at that, swallowing your words. 

Simon presses his fingers into the flesh of your arm a little more firmly, but not uncomfortably. “I understand your desire to help, but rushing in without a plan only adds to the chaos. Let the professionals handle it.”

You hesitate, torn between your desire to help and the logic in Simon’s words. Taking a breath, you relent, biting your tongue and acknowledging the truth in his words. “Fine,” you concede, your voice tight. “But only because it’s the sensible thing to do.” 

Simon nods, a flicker of relief passing across his features as he lets go of your arm. "Thank you," he says, his voice genuine, though still laced with his usual aloofness. With that, he turns on his heel and starts directing the crowd. 

As Simon takes charge, organizing the crowd and ensuring the injured riders receive prompt medical attention, you step back slightly, watching his authoritative demeanor with an apprehensive appreciation. You can't deny the effectiveness of his approach.

And, despite his usual arrogance and abrasive demeanor, there was something undeniably compelling about the way he handled himself in this moment. 

Your gaze lingered on him, the lines of his face etched with determination as he barked orders at the crowd, his every move calculated and precise. For a brief moment, you found yourself seeing him in a different light, the harsh edges of his personality softened by the gravity of the whole situation. 

Unexpectedly, Simon's gaze flickers to your direction, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. You quickly avert your eyes, a faint heat flooding into your face at the sudden rush of self-awareness.

You’re left feeling both unsettled and strangely captivated, and you can’t help but wonder if there was more to the Duke than met the eye. 

part 2 < > part 4

[glennrheesworld]

please please please write a Rick and a female reader fic!!! the reader kisses Rick and she gets all shy but also feels like she read Rick wrong after it btw Rick isn’t with anyone and the reader is just a few years younger than him maybe he confesses if you want to

𝐀𝐧 𝐄𝐱𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞~

genre: fluff pairing: Rick Grimes x f!reader summary: Reader can't hold back anymore but show Rick what she feels for him. warning: age gap(reader is in her early 20s)

a/n: this was a bit rushed... and im still working on other requests, they're just taking some time.

The barn was quiet, just the sound of birds chirping, and flies buzzing could be heard. It was almost sunset, and you were out feeding the horses.

You held the green bucket filled with fruits and vegetables that Beth and you had cut up that evening. The horse snorts as it leans towards the bucket, consuming its dinner.

Staying at the farm with the Greene's and the rest of the group was everything you could wish for. You were sleeping under a roof, sharing a room with Beth, which was fine. There was also a lot of land and trees where you would often spend time reading.

It was perfect.

The sound of footsteps behind you startles you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

When you turn around, you find Rick standing there, a hand on his belt.

You offer a small smile, growing a little shy that Rick is here. "Hey." You greet him before turning to glance at the horse as it moves its snout from the bucket.

"Need something?" You ask, finally facing Rick, hands a bit sticky with the juice of the fruit and dirt. You stand inside the horse pen, the fence between you both, the horse snorting in the background.

A hint of a smile grows on Rick's face as he looks at you. It's rare for him to smile these days, with all the recent events in the group.

Poor Carol.

"Just wanted to check on the horses..." Rick says before trailing off for a moment.

You nod slowly, eyes on the ground. You bite the inside of your cheek as you glance back at the horses, who are now walking toward their stall.

"Horse is fine." You point with your thumb. Was he really here to check on the horse?

Rick smiles again, this time more genuine, as he watches the horse walk away before returning his gaze to you. "Yeah, I can see that now.”

It’s silent for a while. The birds could be heard chirping as they flew by. It was still surprising to see and hear the sounds of animals out in the wild. Especially since the outbreak had begun.

“So…?” You try to initiate a conversation to ease the nervousness in you.

“Needed an excuse to come see you.” Rick eventually says after a few seconds, turning his head to look away from you.

Surprise is evident on your face. "An excuse to come see me...?" You murmur under your breath, eyes searching his side profile for a few seconds before darting away a bit timid.

He looks back at you, taking a step forward and placing his hand on the fence between you. He lets out a faint sigh and scratches the back of his head.

"Yeah. An excuse. I just wanted to come see you and talk." His voice now sounded vulnerable and somewhat tense. You never imagined Rick sounding like this. He was the complete opposite.

A faint giggle leaves you, “I didn't expect you to be this straightforward." You tell him, tucking your hair behind your ear, a habit of yours when shy or nervous. You let my fingers trail down to your ear lobe, touching it as you look up at him.

Rick lets out a small chuckle at your slight joke before taking notice of your hand, noticing how you always tend to touch your ear when you get shy.

With a gentle look in his eyes, he reaches forward and grabs your hand with his own, gently squeezing it as he brings it down.

"I thought it'd be better to be straightforward." He says his voice was sweet while staring into your eyes as the sun sets behind you. You could feel the warmth of the sun’s rays hitting your back and it just made you feel alive.

Your heart begins to race when you feel the warmth of his hand, taking your hand away from your ear. Your hand and his rested above the almost chest-high wooden fence dividing you both.

Your eyes meet once more, the action causing your lips to form into a sheepish smile. Rick has always been someone you admired greatly for his leadership role in the group and for being able to resolve almost anything quickly. But not only did you admire him, you also loved him more than a leader.

"I wanted to come see you because...." he speaks, his voice trailing off for a few seconds as he glimpses down at your lips, noticing your shy smile.

He continues, his voice becoming even more nervous, but at the same time, more sincere. He stops, struggling to assemble his words and thoughts.

"I wanted to ask if... perhaps..."

Seeing him like this made you feel something. You left him speechless and… nervous? You were probably the only one to have that effect on Rick.

This weird feeling bore over you and so without thinking it through, you stand on the end of your toes to come to level with his face, leaning your other hand on the fence to maintain balance.

You press a chaste kiss on his lips, touching the softness of his on yours as you do. Just getting a sense of what it could be before pulling away. It was short and innocent. Nothing else.

Rick's brain shuts off for a moment as you tiptoe up towards him, giving him a quick peck on the lips. He can't think of anything, except that this has to be the best moment of his life.

The feeling of your hand in his, the smell of the fresh hay lying around, the soft touch of your lips, and just you standing in front of him.

It's all he could ever ask for.

A sense of calm washes over him, silence falling once more. His gaze softens as if admiring you and wanting more.

Taking note of how quiet he was made you start to regret kissing him. You blink several times, lashes fluttering with dread and shame.

Maybe you read his intentions wrong. He probably didn't come here to reveal his love or something.

What if he came here for something else?

What if he was just being nice because you’re younger and inexperienced with this whole survival thing?

At this point, you were just overthinking.

“I'm so sorry, I took it too far. I read it all wrong and, and… I'm so sorry." You open your mouth, letting out a shaky breath before beginning to rant, eyes glossy up a little from the slight panic you felt inside. Your stare falls to the fence and then to your hand still in his.

"No, no," Rick replies quickly, shaking his head and trying to reassure you. He puts his other hand up and cups the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your burning cheek.

Rick’s gentle caring voice seems to ease you. “Don’t,” he says slowly, grabbing your chin to stop you from looking away, "Don't be sorry, sweetheart... I liked it."

You feel butterflies burst in you when he confesses to enjoying the short kiss. You’ve had boyfriends in the past, but Rick is different. He may be older by a couple of years, but he makes you feel seen and important. Something your exes failed to do.

The sun sets on the horizon, the breeze now warm but still refreshing against your skin.

"You have no idea how long... how incredibly long I've wanted to tell you," He clarifies to you, his voice clear with devotion. “I want to share the rest of my life with you. I want to protect you from what the world has become. I want you.” His brows knit together, a worried expression on his face as he waits for you to say something.

You beam at his words and give his hand a slight squeeze, showing him that you saw him. “I do too, Rick.”

[pascaloverx]

BORN TO DIE

Summary: In a tense political setting, a Targaryen bastard working as a prostitute is summoned by Prince Aemond to the Red Keep. Aemond wants her to approach his dragon, Vhagar, as a test of her worth. Although he plans for her to claim another dragon in the future, her immediate challenge is to survive Prince Aemond demands while trying to stay alive.

Author’s Note: This work is set in the world created by George R.R. Martin, as depicted in his book Fire & Blood, and none of the characters belong to me. The story will follow some events from the series House of the Dragon (2022), but with changes to fit the fanfiction narrative. Therefore, it will not adhere strictly to the series' storyline. This fanfiction is a work of fiction and may contain inappropriate language, adult content, and violence. Readers be warned. I hope you enjoy the story and interact with it. I apologize if there are any errors in the High Valyrian sections; I used a translator and am unsure of its accuracy. Thank you and happy reading.

PREVIEW TWO

ONE

The journey back to the Red Keep is silent. Aemond communicates only through impatient grunts whenever your hand slips from his waist or when a trot from his horse makes you sway closer to him. The truth is, you’re unsure how to hold onto his waist without practically merging with him. And he’s impatiently racing toward the castle. Your mind is restless. How are you supposed to claim a dragon for Prince Aemond? And what if you fail and end up dead?

"When we arrive at the Red Keep, follow me without further interaction. It’s crucial that your existence remains a secret. We’ll depart as soon as possible to find some use for you. However, your clothes, as well as your smell, betray your origins as a smallfolk. If I’m to endure this journey in your company, it’s better that you’re not reeking." Aemond’s first words directed at you cause discomfort. Not that being treated this way is new, but the discomfort comes from the reality that, once you head toward Dragonstone with Aemond.

"It seems that the mighty Prince Aemond is forgetting that the only safe way to reach Dragonstone without being recognized is by looking like someone like me. Without that fancy attire or that fresh scent, as if you’ve just bathed. Even your silky hair gives away your position. I know how to be invisible, my dear Prince; the question is whether you can be too." You speak, resisting a fleeting urge to lean against Prince Aemond’s back and rest your head on his shoulders.

"I don’t recall asking for your opinion on the matter. Allow me to offer you the opportunity to remain silent before I silence you for good." Prince Aemond could easily embody the arrogant prince. You glance over your shoulder and notice him slightly turning back, likely wanting to gauge your reaction to his threat. You stare at him without saying a word, and you can tell he’s proud of having silenced you.

A few moments later, you arrive at the Red Keep. In that first moment, you question how you’re supposed to dismount from the cursed horse. Aemond has no trouble at all, though he nearly knocks you off in the process of getting down himself. He then begins speaking with some of the King’s guards. Unsure of what to say, you remain silent, still on the horse. You think that if you were to risk a deadly escape, this would be the perfect moment—though lacking any real riding skills, you probably wouldn’t get far. Just then, something makes Prince Aemond notice your hesitation.

“Do you intend to stay on that horse all day? We have tasks to complete,” Prince Aemond snaps, his tone sharp and impatient—his usual demeanor. You look at him, embarrassed. Perhaps he expected a prostitute to know how to dismount a horse with ease. After all, riding cock it's part of what you do for a living.

"I do not intend to waste any more of your time, Your Highness. But I must point out that if I have no idea how to get on a horse, how am I supposed to get off?" You look at Prince Aemond with a certain boldness, wanting to laugh at the angry expression that hovers over his face. He says nothing, simply extends his hands toward you and immediately pulls you down, as if his impatience has reached its limit. His cold hands brush against your skin, indirectly touching your thigh as he yanks you off the horse. You let out a small groan, not as quiet as you would have liked but nothing too conspicuous. The feeling of his hands on you sends shivers down your spine. He however, slightly drops you on the floor as if you were an expendable utensil. You almost stagger but manage to balance yourself as you watch Prince Aemond turn away. You fix your ragged dress as he tries to compose himself, before following Aemond who is already entering the castle.

Aemond orders a few servants to assist you in bathing and changing out of your current attire. He instructs them to provide you with discreet clothing and a cloak. Then he turns to you and whispers near your face, "When you’re done bathing, come to my chambers." You’re not entirely sure why he wants this or if he realizes you have no idea where his chambers are. But you nod gently, confirming that you will go to him.

A servant leads you to a secluded area where there’s a communal bathing space, with other servants also bathing. The sensation of being seen by strangers while you’re naked is a familiar one. Murmurs fill the air, and everyone seems curious about you, though no one speaks to you directly. Not even the servant assisting you. You imagine they’re afraid of Aemond. After all, you are like them—a servant. Moments later, you find yourself dressed in different clothes, delicate and unlike anything you’re used to wearing. The servant finally speaks when she notices your confused gaze, searching for Prince Aemond’s chambers.

"Prince Aemond's chambers are just beyond that door. Knock before entering if you wish to remain alive." The servant speaks softly with unexpected delicacy. You look at her as if relieved to finally know where his chambers are. You want to thank her but imagine that she would rather pretend that this interaction between you two never happened. So you quickly head to Prince Aemond's chambers, silently and taken by nervousness. The servant's words are still clear in your mind as you knock on the door.

Despite knocking on the door, there was no response. You find yourself compelled to enter Aemond’s chambers without an invitation. You fear his anger for not following his order to come to him after bathing. You enter quietly, taking calm steps and making no noise. The first thing you notice is how spacious the room is and how warm it feels compared to the cold water you just bathed in. You immediately think that being a legitimate child of a King must have unimaginable advantages, and you wish you could one day enjoy such comfort for yourself.

"Since you so imprudently entered my chambers, perhaps you'd like to assist me…" Prince Aemond says, appearing suddenly in front of you, which startles you. But it’s not exactly his presence that frightens you. What frightens you is the fact that he is naked. Completely naked, just with his hair loose, even without the eyepatch. Immediately you turn around.

"Your Highness, what kind of assistance do you require from me?" You speak almost as clearly as you can. You have just seen Prince Aemond's cock. And despite your familiarity with cocks, you were not prepared. For a moment, you hope he doesn't misinterpret your reaction.

"I require your assistance to bathe. Do not let your imagination deceive you; I have no intention of having you as a woman in any situation, neither now nor in the future," he says, his tone dry, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. He truly seems to disdain you, yet he prefers your assistance over that of any other servant in the castle. You nod slightly, acknowledging that you understand he does not desire you, and then turn to approach the bathtub where Aemond has just entered. You need to crouch but manage to assist Prince Aemond as you take the sponge and begin to wash his body.

"Prince Aemond, do you really intend to leave your dragon here and come with me to claim another dragon?" you ask, trying to gently wash his body with the sponge while he seems lost in his own thoughts before your question interrupts him.

"Certainly, it is a risk. But leaving a prostitute I do not trust to seek out a precious asset like a dragon, whether alone or accompanied by one of the Kingsguard, seems foolish to me," Prince Aemond says, observing you with his remaining eye as you touch his back and neck with the sponge. The scent of flowers from the bathwater fills the air, creating a palpable tension between you and Aemond.

"If you do not trust anyone around you, your nights must be quite restless. I may not understand what it means to be a Prince, but it seems lonely not being able to count on someone to do what you expect of them. At least you seem to trust Vhagar, since you’re leaving her here," you say, turning to wash the front of Prince Aemond, positioning yourself face-to-face with him. He then grabs your wrist and pulls you closer to him. His remaining eye seems to bore into your soul as you face him, the scar over his other eye drawing even more attention. You don't understand the reason for his sudden proximity, though you can guess that you must have irritated him.

"Your curiosity about my feelings is an inconvenience. Whether my nights are restful or not is of no concern to you. Whether I trust or distrust those around me is irrelevant to you. The only matter you need to focus on at this moment is that you are to claim a dragon on behalf of the rightful King Aegon II. Now, you may leave my chambers. A servant will show you where you will be staying for the night. Tomorrow, we shall depart for Dragonstone," he says with a stern demeanor. You sense that you have touched upon something deeply personal. You set the sponge aside in the bath and, without further words, proceed to find your lodgings for the night.

The following morning, you are roused by a servant who informs you that Prince Aemond is awaiting your presence. Your body aches from having slept in a corner, far from the scrutiny of any significant figures in the castle, as per the Prince’s instructions to remain as inconspicuous as possible. You are provided with a piece of bread and a bit of water to refresh yourself, and then you are prepared for departure. A cloak is draped over you to aid in disguising your appearance.

You are then escorted to the castle’s exit, where you find Prince Aemond waiting with a stern expression. He is clad in a hooded cloak, his hair presumably secured out of sight, as no strands are visible. He briefly glance at you before looking away, as though there is something he wishes to convey but is unable to express, or perhaps it is merely an illusion of your mind.

"It appears you are appropriately attired for the occasion. However, there remains one item missing," Prince Aemond states as he assesses your appearance from head to toe. While you do not fully comprehend his intent, you infer that this might be his way of offering a compliment.

"Pray, Your Highness, what am I lacking?" you inquire, your tone tinged with irritation, which is understandable given the discomfort of your previous night’s rest. Prince Aemond responds with a faint smile and proceeds to grasp your hands, binding them together with a rope. The unexpected nature of this action leaves you momentarily stunned, and he appears to take a certain satisfaction in ensuring the rope is fastened securely, rendering escape impossible.

“Now, you are tied to me,” Prince Aemond declares as he secures the other end of the rope to his own waist. You cast him an angry look, fully aware that this must be an act of retaliation for the previous night. After a deep, frustrated sigh, you accept your predicament, realizing that this journey with Prince Aemond will test your limits in every conceivable way.

[novaursa]

Dangerous Gaze (the hunt)

- Summary: You meet Brandon Stark for the first time, and the dragon falls for the wolf.

- Paring: targ!reader/Brandon Stark

- Note: These events happen before Robert's Rebellion.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (just to be safe)

- Previous part: 1

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The Kingswood is alive with the sounds of the hunt—hooves pounding the earth, the sharp barks of hounds, and the thrill of voices cutting through the trees. You feel the air buzzing with excitement, though perhaps it has less to do with the chase and more with the man riding alongside you.

Brandon Stark.

You’ve been placed ahead of the party, as is your custom, given leave to do as you please by a father who is often indulgent when it comes to his precious daughter. The courtiers and noblemen trail behind, their eyes ever watchful, but your father, King Aerys, lingers even farther back, surrounded by his guards and some of the less adventurous lords.

Brandon, however, matches your pace effortlessly. His wolfish grin never leaves his face as he steals glances at you, clearly enjoying the break from his father's stiffer company. You’re surprised at how easily you’ve fallen into conversation with him, though it feels less like conversation and more like a game.

“Does your father always hunt like this?” Brandon’s voice is casual, but there’s an edge of amusement.

You laugh, the sound ringing through the woods. “Only when he’s feeling generous. Other times, I think he enjoys watching his prey squirm more than the kill itself.”

Brandon chuckles, his grey eyes flicking over to you as you guide your horse between the thick trunks. “That sounds about right for a king.” He glances around, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “But I have to say, I didn’t expect a royal hunt to feel so...tame.”

You smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Tame? You call this tame?”

Brandon leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I thought hunting with a Targaryen would be wilder. Maybe there’s more fire to come?”

There’s something about the way he says it, something that sends a shiver down your spine, as if he’s speaking of more than the hunt. And yet, you can’t help but feel the pull of it, the danger woven into his words.

You smile back at him, your heart beating just a little faster. “You’d be surprised at how wild things can get, Lord Stark.”

He grins, sharp and unrestrained, and for a moment, the space between you feels charged with something more than the chase, more than the thrill of the hunt. There’s something else here, something untamed, that neither of you seem willing to acknowledge outright.

Suddenly, a loud cry breaks through the trees—the sound of hounds catching the scent of something large. The horses shift beneath you, eager to run, and you meet Brandon’s gaze. Without a word, you urge your horse forward, and he follows, the two of you breaking from the main group.

The forest blurs around you as you race deeper into the Kingswood, the wind whipping at your hair. Brandon rides close, his focus entirely on you, as if he’s hunting more than just the quarry ahead. The thrill of it is intoxicating, and for the first time in a long while, you feel truly alive.

Ahead, you catch sight of the stag—the great prize of the hunt—darting through the trees, its massive antlers gleaming in the dappled sunlight. It’s magnificent, regal even, and for a brief moment, you wonder if this is what your father sees in his own madness—this raw, untamed beauty.

Brandon pulls up beside you, his breath quick with exertion. “Shall we bring it down?” His eyes are alight with excitement, the wolf within him showing.

You pause, your gaze lingering on the stag as it bounds away. “Not yet,” you say softly. “Let it run a little longer.”

Brandon studies you for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as if he’s trying to understand something deeper, something beyond the hunt. But then, his face relaxes, and he nods, guiding his horse to match your pace once more.

“Do you ever think about what waits at the end of the chase?” he asks, his voice quiet now, almost contemplative. “The moment when the prey realizes it’s caught?”

You glance over at him, sensing the weight behind his question. “I suppose it depends on the hunter,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “And what kind of end they want.”

Brandon’s eyes darken, a flicker of something shadowing his features. “Some ends come whether we want them or not.”

You say nothing, but his words settle over you like a chill, a reminder of the world you both live in—where men like your father control fate with fire and blood, and where wolves from the North are never truly safe in the South. You feel it, too, the unspoken knowledge that lingers between you, that this—whatever is growing between you and Brandon—is as dangerous as the game you’re hunting.

But you’ve never been one to shy away from danger. Not when it calls to you as strongly as Brandon Stark does.

The two of you ride in silence for a time, letting the forest envelop you. The stag has long disappeared from view, but neither of you seem to care. There’s something more important than the hunt now, something unsaid, yet felt keenly between you.

At last, Brandon breaks the silence. “You’re different from what I expected,” he admits, his voice low and sincere. “I thought...I don’t know what I thought. But you surprise me.”

You smile at that, turning to face him fully. “And what did you expect? A simpering princess?”

Brandon’s laughter is rich, genuine, and it echoes through the trees. “Something like that,” he admits. “But no, you’re...much more than that.”

His words hang between you, heavy with meaning. And though you don’t speak it aloud, you feel it too—the pull, the undeniable connection that crackles like wildfire between you.

But fate, you know, is not always kind to wolves and dragons.

[wildemaven]

sweetest heidi!! congrats on 1000 my lovely 🤍

can I request a main dish blind drabble?!

Pedro character: let’s gooooo Javier Peña or Jack Whiskey Daniels! chef’s choice 😉

numbers: 3 and 283

😘😘😘😘

losin’ you | jack ‘whiskey’ daniels

pairing: bull rider!jack daniels x barrel racer f!reader word count: 1287 content warnings: 18+ blog: some angst, reader and jack have history, some forgiveness but he has to work for it, reader has a rebound fling, reader rides a horse but no other physical descriptions, this is an AU, cursing, I think that’s it. notes: Kay! I’m sorry it took so long for me to get to this!!! I hope it was worth the wait 💕 Shoutout to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for a specific line (I won’t give away which one it is)

It’s not a world you think you’ll ever be used to. Roaring crowds and blinding lights accompanied by the adrenaline rush as you race against the clock doing what you love. It goes against the quiet life you dream of having on some land, miles outside of the bustling town and an even longer dirt road entrance to deter solicitors. But it pays the bills enough to get by for now. 

Bouncing from rodeo to rodeo can be lonely, even with all the cheering from fans and their undying support. All in the name of making a living and a name for yourself with the hopes of becoming a champion barrel racer. 

Tonight is a little different. Run after run chasing the fastest time. Arena dirt kicked up straight out the gate. Weaving around the three strategically placed barrels, all sharp turns and calculated verbal cues to carry you past the line. 13.58 seconds was all it took to secure the top place at the end of the event. 

Instead of hiding out in your trailer with one of your two closest friends Bravo and Miller, who both happen to be a 15 hand Chestnut Quarter Horses, you allow yourself to revel in the celebration and enthusiasm fans are showering you with. 

The vibrancy in the air is palpable after leaving Miller to rest up in your trailer. An effervescence pounding in your chest— all your self doubt and fears dissipating into a plume of contentment. 

It’s a feat in itself meandering through rodeo dust and small crowds wanting pictures and messy signatures on your walk to pick up the grand prize shiny buckle and winner’s check, hoping to get on the road before the announcer calls the last event for the night. 

The sight of a cowboy loading your tack and saddles in their proper compartments has you stopping in your tracks. Watching as he moves about with familiarity. Feeding Miller his favorite treats, already loaded and secured in his trailer stall. Bridles and lead ropes hung on their designated hooks. Gooseneck hitched into the bed of your old pickup truck. 

Seemingly taking care of your long list of tasks effortlessly. 

“Congratulations, Sweetheart.” He says as he latches the tack room closed, his hand giving it a good shake before turning to look at you. 

“Jack—“ You’re sure he doesn’t miss the way your face almost lights up at the sight of him. Quickly controlling your expression to something a little more neutral despite wanting nothing more than to run into his arms. 

“The boyfriend ain’t around is he?” His voice tempered as he took a look around, expecting a six foot something man to walk out of the shadows swinging.

“Benny? Why? You wanna compare buckles, see whose is bigger?” You snark at him, tossing your earnings in the front seat of your truck. 

“Don’t wanna step on anyone’s boots if I’m not welcomed, is all.” Such a stark contrast from the man who would go toe to toe with anyone who so much as looked in your direction. 

You roll your eyes as you stalk past him to open the small trailer window to allow Miller to hang his head out. 

“No he ain’t around. Fell for some cute buckle bunny over in Austin. Besides— he wasn’t my boyfriend. Just a fun rebound, ya know since you broke my heart and all.” He can sense the hurt in your voice, looking to where you’re running your hand over Miller’s velvet nose

“Sweetheart, ‘M sorry.“ Jack says meekly looking to where his boot is dragging over the dirt, his tone barely audible with noise coming from the stadium cheering on the roping finals. 

You know he isn’t referring to Benny and the whirlwind of a fling that he was. Seeing other people, serious or not, was part of the agreement. Benny Miller was a good time for a short time, long enough to keep you distracted from the way your heart ached for Jack. 

“It’s fine. Besides, it got a little weird with his last being Miller, too. I was losing track of the amount of times he used the line ‘wanna take Miller out for a ride? And I don't mean your horse!’” 

“That wasn’t what I was referring to Sweetheart and you know it. I was talkin’ about that night. I’m sorry—“ Oh, so this is a real apology. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard him sound so defeated in all the years you’ve known him. 

“Surprised you were able to get that big time ego of yours through the front gate. Now that you’ve got nothin’ holdin’ you back from all those sponsors and big money.” 

You chance a look over to him, propped sheepishly against your trailer, hands tucked in his pockets, too ashamed to look at you directly as you call him out. Not sure how long you want to drag this out and tell him how much you’ve missed him. 

“I came here to see you race. Watch you win big— jus’ like we always wanted.” He turns to meet your gaze. 

“We? I think what we wanted were two very different things, Jack. I wanted to win big doing what I love with the man I love. You wanted— what was it you said that night ‘take a break a break so you could figure things out’ among the other shit that spilled from that stupid mouth of yours.” You throw his words back at him as you stomp the short distance to him, causing him to straighten up in preparation for more of your own words. 

“I thought that’s what I wanted. Guess it took me losin’ you to realize I was wrong. I want you. More than the sponsors. More than the fame. I need you more than all of that shit combined, Baby.” He confesses sincerely. 

The warmth of his touch has your knees nearly buckling when he brushes some dirt with his finger off your cheek. 

“And so you thought you’d waltz your Mr. Professional Bull Ridin’ ass in here? Lookin’ all handsome wearin’ those blue tight jeans and my favorite denim jacket of yours. Hopin’ I would just take you back just like that?” You sound harsher than you intended to. 

“Well, I didn’t even think I would make it this far. I was sure I’d already be staring at your tail lights by now.” He quips, giving you a glimpse at that lopsided smile of his you’ve missed more than you should. 

You study him for a beat. Your eyes flitting across his face, each one of his beautiful features still as heart melting as always. 

Against your better judgment you kiss him. His lips molding perfectly over your own. Like a puzzle you once had and misplaced. Now found and situated where it belongs. 

“It’s gonna take more than an evening of groveling to get you outta the dog house— but it’s a start.” You flick the brim of his black felt hat, turning on your heels in the direction of the passenger side of the truck. 

He’s amused by your candor. The tip of his tongue swipes over his bottom lip, watching the way your hips sway a little more deliberately until you’ve reached the truck door. 

“If I remember correctly, the 8 second ride time only applied to the arena?” Biting at your bottom lip at the remembrance of the way he took care of you in so many ways. 

“Yes, ma’am!” His hat tipping with a slight nod. 

“Well, this truck ain’t gonna drive itself home, Cowboy.” Giving him a wink as you hoist yourself into the cab, watching the dust kick up behind him as he sprints to the driver’s seat. 

[internationalhorseracingnews]

HorseNews-Kauto Star Novices' Chase Gr. I He is French and magnificent

[all-pacas]

one random and irrelevant skill for each fellow:

Foreman is a very good baker and cook. He used to help his mother in the kitchen — she always liked to bake something to bring to church Sundays —and he found the precision that goes into baking relaxing and deeply satisfying. Sometimes he still will bake some cookies or a coffee cake from scratch, but he also finds this skill vaguely embarrassing and so has never shared the results or his ability with any of his coworkers.

Cameron was on the track team in high school and has run several 5ks. She's thought about training for a marathon, but she likes being able to not just run but go fast: the physical strength and skill of a marathon does appeal to her, but her event was always short distance sprints, going so fast you feel like you're flying. She does still make it a point to go running. She vaguely looks down on joggers, although she knows it's irrational.

Chase is pretty good at drawing. Like, not was going to art school good, he's never tried painting or picked up a set of pencils, but he'd draw all over his papers and tests growing up, he's got a good eye for sketching, has to put in effort not to doodle on his paperwork even now. It's really just one more way he fidgets.

Taub is a big reader. He is capable of reading and enjoying Literature, he likes nonfiction, he likes novels, he isn't just someone who says he likes to read but never really does, he actually does do it. He and his wife dipped in and out of book clubs over the years. He's capable of having very smart conversations about books and themes and narration. This never ever comes up at work.

13 is really good at video games. She's not even a huge gamer. She played with her brother growing up, she likes games, but she doesn't own a (checks dates) PS3 or anything. But she is uncannily good at fighting games, racing games, anything that involves reflexes and competition. She is unbeatable at Super Smash Bros, and competitive enough that she wants to kick everyone's ass at it. She finds RPGs and story-driven games interesting in theory and boring in practice. When she plays Sim City, she turns disaster intensity all the way up.

Kutner has an uncanny memory for TV shows and movies and trivia. He's a Fandom Nerd, although without the fandom. He remembers the details of things he watched years ago, he can and will argue character motivation and who portrayed what best. This does not really apply to doctor stuff. He struggles to keep the millions of diseases and progressions he's expected to know in diagnostics straight. But ask him the synopsis of an episode to a show he loves and he's there.

Adams is lowkey a Horse Girl. She had a horse growing up. She rode competitively. She is absolutely aware that bringing this up around House or Chase, who would tell House, or Taub, who would tell House, etc., would be absolute social suicide. She is saving up to buy not just a house, but one with a stable.

Park is really, really good at poker. All card games, really. She's played a lot with her grandmother and her old lady friends, and knows how to count cards, and is basically unbeatable and can rake in money. She'd give House a run for his, although she's a little 'over' it, since basically her entire childhood was spent playing cards and board games with her grandmother, who she loves and all, but, you know. Enough is a enough. She's also aware it's a useful hidden skill to have, in case she ever needs to take her boss to the cleaner's.

[casper-spills]

| Tarot Cards: Places they represent |

✩░▒▓▆▅▃▂▁𝟑𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥!▁▂▃▅▆▓▒░✩

Hey guys! Welcome back to another post ♡

We reached 300 followers! And I'm gonna do a special for you guys because I seriously am so grateful for all of your support. My blog has been growing so fast and I literally never expected to be where I am today. Thank you! ♡

This post will be a little different to my usual stuff. I was thinking I might start a series like this where I give some tips on how to read your tarot! I'll also include the sources I use at the end in case you wanted to check those out too.

Anyway, here is a list of places that the cards represent ♡

Sincerely,

Cassy the friendly ghost ♡

✦Masterlist ✦Paid Readings ✦Support me through Kofi

𓆩♡𓆪 𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝙀𝙍 𝘿𝙄𝙎𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏 50% 𝙊𝙁𝙁 !! 𓆩♡𓆪

Ends on September 22nd

| KO-FI SHOP |

| MAJOR ARCANA |

1. Magician - Kitchen, labatory, shows, music, magic, performances

2. High Priestess - Secret place, secret society, library, somewhere quiet, reading rooms, theatre, halls

3. Empress - Old/stately homes, old school building, old hospital building, boutique, beauty parlor, restaurants

4. Emperor - Royal palace, business establishments, schools, univerisity

5. Heirophant - Church, univeristy, temple, place of worship, corporate building

6. Lovers - Sweet shop, date locations, love hotel, honeymoon places

7. Chariot - Car ralley, racing fixtures, garages, horse racing, highway

8. Strength - Zoo, petting zoos, gym, fitness studios

9. Hermit - Cave, retreat centres, hill walking

10. Wheel - Ferris wheels, london eye, casino, lottery tickets, shops selling wheels

11. Justice - Court, arbitration offices, counselling institution, police department

12. Hanged Man - Bungee jumping, sky diving, thrilling activities

13. Death - Church yard, funeral parlor, butcher, cemetary

14. Temperance - Cocktail bar, queues, waiting rooms, chemist dispensary

15. Devil - Adult shops, clubs, casinos, brothel, strip clubs

16. Tower - Chop shops, tall buildings, skyscrapers, stormy areas, fire

17. Star - Water, ocean, river, stargazing

18. Moon - Nighttime, stargazing, movie, stage, theatre

19. Sun - Birth centre, midwifery unti, hospital, holidays, tanning booths, abroad

20. Judgement - Rehabilitation centres, church, treament centres, spa

21. World - Airport, flying, dance studios

| MINOR ARCANA |

☁︎ 𝒔𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 ☁︎

Ace - Editor's room, skyscrapers, office, library, radio tower

Two - Statue of liberty, new york, seashore

Three - Hospital, rainy place, cloudy areas

Four - Bedroom, quiet places, funeral parlor

Five - Debate club, near water, themepark, competitive environments

Six - Boats, river, cruisers

Seven - Archery, secret location, casino, bomb shelter

Eight - Prison, therapy

Nine - Psychiatric hospital, confessional

Ten - Surgery room, accupuncture clinic, dentists

Page - Fraternity, rowdy places, sports arena

Knight - Windy places, windmills

Queen - Fenced off places, great walls, boundaries, spikes fences

King - Lawyers office

🕯 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 🕯

Ace - Workshop, construction site

Two - Balcony, overseas, historical travel, boat

Three - Seaside, boat travel

Four - Fastfood, cafe, outdoors, wedding, celebration

Five - Sport centre, pool game

Six - Market, downtown, show, event, someone/something noticable

Seven - Competitive/violent environment

Eight - Road trip, highway

Nine - Competitive environment, barrier, wall, bouncer, high security

Ten - Workplace, labour, sweatshop

Page - Disco, dance, party

Knight - Hot and dry place, bonfire, abroad, holiday

Queen - Social events

King - Active place, fast moving environments

꒦꒷ 𝒄𝒖𝒑𝒔 ꒷꒦

Ace - Lake, pond, birdbath, birds

Two - Luxury, home, common dating places

Three - Bar, pub, party

Four - Under a tree, graveyard

Five - A place of regret, place of bad memories, hospital, flooded areas, bridge, after party cleanup, alone in a bar

Six - Flourists, schoolyard, playground, nostalgic places

Seven - Highup places, views, drug suppliers, spots where people do drugs, drug shops

Eight - Bookstore, library, cave, quiet

Nine - Bar, party, pub, dinner, home

Ten - Family gatherings, park, outdoor, bbq party

Page - Aquariums, fish tanks, sea parks

Knight - Picnics, peaceful/romantic areas

Queen - Bathtub with cancles, home, skinny dipping, swimming

King - Beach, lake

˗ˏˋ 𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒔 ˎˊ˗

Ace - Dispensary, bank, currency exchange centre

Two - Circus, arcade, carnival

Three - Fashion show runway, art gallery, boutique, museum

Four - Uncle scrooge's home, gold reserves, saferoom, secret hideout, vault

Five - The streets, people living in powerty, homeless spots,

Six - Pawn shops, currency exchange shops, trade stores

Seven - Nursery, orchard

Eight - workshop, construction site

Nine - Gardens, green parks

Ten - Market

Page - Field, farm, family business

Knight - Workplace, chores, school

Queen - Home, nursery room

King - Bank manager's office

♥Thank you for your support!♥

Dividers by @cafekitsune, @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Source

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal Part 2

WC: 757 CW: Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Doubt, Jack and Maddie Fenton's A+ Parenting Masterpost

Worse than— no, not worse than. Nothing was worse than being constantly forgotten by everyone he cared about. Nothing was worse than knowing he was only worth knowing when he’d died. An issue was that Danny still had the same need to protect people even without the ghosts attacks. Day in and day out Danny felt an aching hurt in his chest at not doing anything to help. Working as a receptionist at a slightly rundown construction firm wasn’t the worst job, but it felt like it was slowly killing him. It felt like his core was shriveling up.

Danny knew he needed to make a change. At a loss of what to do and short on options, Danny had enrolled in the paramedic course at the local community college. He excelled at it.

It turned out all those years of patching up his own wounds gave him a pretty good head start on his classmate. So good, in fact, that his instructor recommended him for a job in Central City when he graduated with honors. It was bittersweet to know that when he wasn’t constantly harnessed by ghosts, he could actually do really well at school.

His parents missed his graduation.

His move to the city was done alone (his rented u-haul filled with what he could cram into it) and with a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. It felt like a second death leaving the only home he had ever known behind.

It felt like relief.

(He didn’t know which was worse.)

Central City was better and worse than he expected. The constant noise rattled him until he got used to ways to combat it: earphones, white noise machines, a cheesy little indoor fountain. The anonymity soothed him— no one paid attention to him in the city. Slowly he carved out his place.

He was part of the city’s emergency response team. Their primary job was working to secure the city and her people during villain attacks. Secondary to that they did follow up with victims, held community events to spread awareness about everything from emergency prep to smoke detectors, and helped with rebuilding efforts.

It was rewarding work and Danny’s core sang for it.

It was a little exhausting to have to run right into a villain attack on his day off though. Good thing he always kept a mini kit in his bag. What sort of emergency response team member would he be if he didn’t listen to their own advice? It was a really nice little kit too— ultra compact but it contained gloves, pipettes of water, disinfectant, a range bandages, a suture kit, a snap light, and even a shock blanket. Danny added a few extra gloves to it too.

As he ran towards the sounds of disaster, Danny felt a brisk wind breeze past him— and then blow back again— as the Flash (one of them, Danny hadn’t been around long enough to tell them apart) backtracked.

“Kid—” Oh, it was the older one then. “—you should be heading the other way. Lummox is up ahead—”

“I know,” Danny snapped, not stopping moving. “I’m a field medic. I’m on my way to help, and you’re not going to stop me.”

The Flash seemed at a loss for what to say for half a beat. “Okay. Sure. Want a lift?”

“What?”

“I can get you in a second— literally— but I’m leaving you on the edge of it all.”

It would be convenient. And it’s not like he couldn’t trust Flash. Danny slowed to a stop and shrugged. “Sure, onward, Seabiscuit.”

“Who?”

“Famous race horse? Cause you’re going to carry me? Never mind. Just pick me up, dude.”

Danny ignored the look he got from the Flash and clung on for dear half-life. Fuck the Speed Force felt weird. He was pretty sure it was less than a second to get there, and Danny didn’t quite stick the landing, but he got his feet under him fast enough to rush in to help.

Eventually Danny required an extra vest from the team that came in and just blended into the background of other medics. It wasn’t a bad day— no lives lost and all the injuries were relatively minor. (He even got some overtime payment, which he wasn’t going to sneeze at). Danny figured it was just part of being in the city, occasionally running into villains and heroes even off the clock.

He didn’t expect it to really happen again.

(He should have known to never have expectations.)

-----

AN: Still moving along with this odd little thing! It's been fun to write a Danny in a very different place than my other fics- mentally and physically! Just to be clear btw- Danny is in a bad place at the start of this fic which is putting a negative light on how he's seeing things. Sam and Tucker just... moved on with their lives. Those sort of high school friends you liked a lot but drift away from. Without the history of ghost stuff to bind them, it was just part of life to them. Danny just has a different memory history so it hits harder for him/feels harsher.

Stay delightful, darlings!

Due to the new post editor and shadow banning, I'm no longer tagging people! To be notified, subscribe to this post:

[darlingdekarios]

shining armor.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 17,649 content: Ser Criston Cole x f!Stark!reader, reader is a Stark, forbidden relationship, secret relationship, yearning, mentions of animal hunting/death, smut [f receiving oral, unprotected p in v]

Criston Cole is faced with the reality of a life falling for a lone wolf.

Early Winter, 112 A.C., The Crownlands

Due to the warm nature of the southern part of the kingdom of Westeros, it was not a hindrance to hunting parties when the winter months rolled around, the weather staying pleasant enough to set out on exhibitions. It was just after the turn of the new year, and a colder-than-normal winter in the Crownlands offered a unique opportunity for the crown on the youngest of King Viserys I’s youngest son’s name day. As could only be expected of the occasion, houses from across the kingdoms sent forward representatives to partake in the hunt, keen on gaining favor with the crown.

Very few of those present had any real interest in the hunt itself, the only trophies the group holding valuable thrones, crowns and castles.

A day into the festivities after the sun had set behind the trees the sounds of heavy hooves could be heard over the rain through the coverings of tents, signifying the unexpected arrival of two additional guests. Emerging from the tents the king and his company came to face a flag they had long-since seen: the banner of House Stark. Carried by two large black horses, built as such to endure the winters in their native lands, the strangers who wore sturdy armor and various furs emerged from the fog to approach the king. 

“Bennard Stark, son of Lord Benjen Stark and Lady Lysa Locke, accompanied by Ser Grandin Rane, your grace,” the knight on the left spoke, removing his helmet as he spoke. Ser Grandin was an intense man, every bit of what a northerner was expected to look like with long, dark hair and beard, pale from the longer, harsher winters. “You’ll have to excuse Lord Bennard. He has suffered an injury on our long journey to you and finds himself unable to speak, and the current state of his face…well, sadly, it would upset the sensitive among us. We apologize for our late arrival, without the injury we’d have been here on time.”

The King analyzed the image before him in full, at a loss for words at the implications an event like this meant after years of House Stark remaining passive toward the crown. The youngest son of Lord Stark held tall mounted atop the horse, small for a boy from the North, which the king passed off as a probable result of age. To the right of the Lord now stood a massive black animal with fierce reflective golden eyes, the symbol of the house itself – a direwolf. Rumors that the house currently had four of the animals in their possession had been shrugged off as simply that, but taking in the animal before him was a wonder – the king had never spent much time in the colder areas. 

A glance at Otto Hightower, his still-trusted Hand at the time, confirmed the many thoughts racing through his own head were likely shared by everyone present, and yet no one could bring themselves to voice any of them without a private conversation. The knight, noticing the apprehension on the faces before him, jumped from his horse to slide to a knee. 

“As a sign of good faith between the house and the crown,” he bowed his head, which was mirrored by the young lord who remained atop his horse in favor of staying out of the mud. King Viserys nodded and motioned for the knight to rise before gesturing at the large animal. “As much as I am sworn to protect the House Stark, that animal is as well. It will listen to the lord, you needn’t be fearful of it.”

“I am…truly overjoyed to see this day between our houses, Lord Bennard. Many thanks to you, Ser Rane, for escorting the young lord this long way. Please send my regards to the Lord Stark upon your return,” King Viserys spoke, his words careful and as calculated as something on the spot like this could be. “I am afraid we were quite unsuccessful in our hunt this first day, and while we can certainly feed the two of you after this long journey, we do not have the excess to feed such an animal.”

The knight from the north couldn’t prevent the small chuckle that fell from his lips, shaking his head in response as the young Stark made a gesture with a gloved hand, the large wolf immediately bounding off into the forest. The knight’s tone was amused, and yet still respectful to maintain the good spirit of the conversation. “The wolf can feed himself. He will hunt far enough to not affect our excursion, and he will return in the morning to protect the camp as the party sets out. He is of benefit to stay, and the lord will vouch for him. They are as much connected as your grace to dragons.”

The comparison landed and soon the newcomers were welcomed in, put aside in a spare dry area to settle in for the night before the morning, and sent to beds with plates of bread, fruits, and cheeses that remained from the earlier feast. The remainder of the camp had fallen to sleep as the two had changed into warm clothes, hold for those on watch. The night was loud with the rain yet everyone found peace enough to sleep through the night. 

The next day’s events wrought similar results to the first day – while the party had a long day in the forest searching for a worthy beast to kill in honor of the young prince, they returned to the camp as the sun began to set with nothing more than a few wild turkeys. With better weather and worse moods than the night before the party found themselves drunker on this second night, seeking anything to soothe their wounded egos. It was well into the dark night when Ser Criston Cole observed the silhouette of a rider on horseback disappearing into the trees, a large wolf following closely behind. With permission to relieve himself of his duties since the king and his family remained in good company, he gave into the curiosity and pull to follow. 

His own horse was large but lean, and moved silently through the woods after the scarce prints that littered the remaining mud from the rain the day before until he could see the figures once again, now waiting beside a riverbed. Stilling his horse far enough back to seem only as another animal in the woods moving about, the Dornish knight observed as the Stark child removed his helmet. He was met with you instead. 

It had long been a favorite game of yours, to don the clothes of your brothers and come up with an absurd plot with the aid of your sworn knight to do the activities you desired. While initially the schemes only resulted in small adventures in your home, it had since elevated into hunting trips, tours of Castle Black and the Wall, small sailing excursions in the cold waters, and even the occasional wedding. This was your largest and most irresponsible scheme yet, and the fact was thrilling. 

When you removed your helmet for the first time since the early hours of the morning to feel the fresh air against your face, Criston found himself in complete bewilderment as he watched hair come toppling down out of the helmet. The unmistakably feminine features illuminated in the pale moonlight that managed to force its way through the thick trees caused a tightness in his chest, and a confusion in his mind. The sight before him was no son of Benjen Stark. 

It was an impressive sight set before the knight as he quietly followed you through the Crownlands that night – hours spent silently watching as you slid from your horse to observe tracks around you, silently communicating with the wolf beside you who was quick to bound off into the trees at your command. Eventually, Criston watched on as you took down a large moose with an arrow from horseback, smiling a confident and beautiful smile in celebration to yourself. When the wolf returned he held a rabbit in its jaws, which he was instructed to eat. 

He decided then to return to the camp, aware that he had already pushed his luck following you for so long and abandoning his sworn duties to follow a woman through the woods. Fortunately, he still made it back long before a majority of the camp had risen, and so he’d sat by the fire enjoying the last remaining hours of darkness running through what he’d witnessed that night. 

You were a skilled hunter – not just in the sense that you managed to be lethal with a bow, a silent killer, but you were also a capable tracker. Despite communication with your canine companion, he swore he didn’t recall a single sound out of you within the hours that had passed. The more he thought on that fact, the more he wished to know the sound of your voice. The more he wished to hear you speak, the more he found his thoughts lingering on the pieces of the real you he’d gotten to see. 

You were beautiful, with wild hair that you had attempted to tame into a braided hairstyle, though throughout the night it became more and more disheveled and he found himself, often, wanting to run his fingers through it. You’d taken the gauntlets off of your hands and forearms in order to properly wield your bow, showcasing soft hands that would undoubtedly feel like bliss against his skin. His thoughts focused most on a pair lips that begged to be kissed. Suffice to say, his mind suffered more consequences from his excursion than could have been anticipated.

After some time others began to emerge from tents, already dressed for the day in armor to begin a third day of hunting. Though he knew a successful kill was on its way back to the camp, he kept the information to himself – including the information of who was truly beneath the youngest Stark child’s helmet; the middle child, a daughter.

When the sun began to rise and warm the camp for the day is when you made your grand re-entry, leading your horse on foot as he dragged the massive kill you’d made back to camp, your brother’s helmet once again on your head and his identity assumed. Your wolf, the animal you could vouch for better than most people, trailed behind you with a happy step this morning, fully satiated from his time in the woods. He stopped next to the tent that belonged to you where it was noticed that he also carried several turkeys on his back. It was here that Ser Grandin joined you once again. 

It was obvious from body language that you were being scolded by your sworn protector and Criston had to sympathize with the man, though he wondered if you held a mischievous smile at the chastising. Soon enough you had halted in front of the awaiting King Viserys, dropping to your knees slowly and gesturing behind yourself at the animal dragged by your horse. 

“Lord Bennard would like to present his prize to the one true king in a show of good faith between House Stark and the crown,” Ser Grandin spoke clearly for you, and Criston had to wonder how often he fell into these schemes with you. In a way, it was admirable that he was so committed to his vow to you that he partook in these games, clearly, to ensure there were no slip-ups and your safety was secure. Admirable of your obvious insistence to live life your way, he still had to admit a scolding was technically deserved – putting yourself in danger by going out alone, wolf or not, was irresponsible. 

“Rise, my boy,” the king spoke after momentary contemplation, walking forward to put a hand against the cheek of the helmet. “The camp is indebted to you for this. You handled this feat alone?”

“Himself and the wolf, your grace,” the knight responded, coming forward to stand beside you. “The young lord often finds himself in the woods late at night hunting, much to my behest. Nevertheless…he is a successful hunter, to be certain.”

You must have felt touched by his pride toward you as Criston noticed your head turn for you to glance at him before quickly bowing again out of respect. The king smiled – a seemingly rare thing these days – and nodded before stepping back to speak louder in addressing the camp. 

“This young hunter from the North is the reason we will eat well today, my friends,” the king announced, resting a hand on your armored shoulder to turn you to face the awaiting company. “And instead of glory for being the best among us, he wishes to gift the impressive kill to me in honor of my son.”

Everyone knew when the king wanted an applause, and sensing that now was one of these times when he wanted to give credit where it was due everyone gave a polite applause. Everyone present was careful not to carry on too loudly or too long in order for the king to be heard again when he wishes. 

Criston found himself drifting closer to you throughout the day, hanging around you close enough in the hope that he’d hear even a single word from your lips or be offered another look under the helmet. Unfortunately, Ser Grandin, the king, and the queen did not leave you alone very often for the remainder of the day, leaving the Dornish knight no opportunity at being alone together. 

Later that night when the company found their way back into their beds, you and your sworn protector left under the cover of the darkness, the long road back to Winterfell beginning.Ser Criston Cole would not see you again for many weeks thereafter, but not a single day would pass that you did not enter his mind.

Ten Months Later , Winterfell

A bellowing roar signified the visit of a creature that had long avoided the North, and as those sitting within comfortable castle rooms made their way to confirm what they already knew to be true, the gates opened to present a small company of knights, accompanied by Ser Criston Cole. Outside of the castle and a safe distance away, the princess Rhaenyra landed her dragon before walking the remaining distance through the gates. Ser Criston was alight with excitement as he waited for what he could feel in his heart to come, and his teetering patience was beautifully rewarded once he saw you make your way down a set of stairs behind your father. 

Wearing your brother’s armor had done no favors to your appearance, but this elegant, shimmering silver gown that cascaded in a sheer train behind you clung onto every part of you he now wanted to grab. Atop your shoulders wrapped a fine fur, smooth and from what looked like a silver fox. Your hair was much better tamed today than he’d last seen it – recently washed, braided intricately, but enough of it let down that immediately made him imagine running his fingers through it. 

Criston had never found himself to dwell on the beauty of a woman long, his sense of responsibility taking over his thoughts before they could stray for long. It would be a lie to state that he hadn’t thought of you, and often, throughout the last 10 months without seeing you. He often wondered about the subtle colors to your features if he had the chance to get closer, and while he was soaking in what he could from this distance, being this close to the real you only made him want to be closer. He found himself scrambling to remove his helmet, unhappy with the slightly difference it made to his vision. He needed to see as much of you as you offered, and it needed to be unobstructed. 

When you reached the bottom of the stairs behind your father you bowed your head, eyes staying toward the ground in politeness. Criston saw the princess’ eyes linger on you before landing once more on your father, a light smile crossing on her features. 

“Lord Stark, the Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone, heir to the Iron Throne and future Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and First Men,” Criston found his voice to introduce the woman who should have his full attention, though he still hadn’t pulled his eyes away from you. Your father made a show of respect by kneeling, but before you could follow Rhaenyra held up a hand with a light smile. 

“Please, don’t soil yourself in mud and snow on my behalf,” the princess spoke to you, ever one to respect a woman before a man. Your father stood at the instruction, bowing his head as yours raised to smile the most tantalizing smile in their direction. Criston was glad he had found himself capable of speaking when he was needed, because he was certain it was an impossibility now. “My family was appreciative of the gesture for my youngest brother’s name day this past Winter. Your youngest son is quite the adequate hunter. We wished to repay the gesture with a gesture of our own.”

Criston noticed the way Lord Stark’s eyebrows furrowed together and the subtle glance he threw your way, and how you avoided the gaze with unphased intent. He had to wonder if your father knew the kind of trouble you liked to get into, but if the older man was mentally wondering about the situation, his voice didn’t waver. Criston had not broken your secret to anyone in the time since he’d discovered it.

“An unnecessary gesture, Princess. It is the head of a House’s responsibility to ensure good relations with the Crown, not the other way around,” your father’s deep voice spoke, his eyes taking in the people before him and the dragon in the distance. “It is my hope we can be good hosts to you for however long you wish to stay in the cold North. My sons return in the morning from a long journey to the Iron Islands.”

“We have brought food, and money in exchange for any livestock potentially used to feed Syrax, my dragon, before she flies back to the warmer climate in my stay,” Rhaenyra was getting better and better at speaking diplomatically. “After a long journey for my escort, I am certain we would be happy with a meal prepared in your kitchen and the company of you, your Lady, and your daughter for the evening. Tomorrow we shall feast in honor of our houses.”

Rhaenyra stepped forward to approach your father and so Criston followed, his brown eyes returning to you once more due to the irresistible draw. This close he could see the blush on your cheeks and nose from the cold, and the small flecks of color that scattered in your eyes. Whatever words were spoken between the princess and your father went unheard by him as he found himself transfixed on you, completely bewitched by you. 

“My escort, Ser Criston Cole, a knight of the Kingsgurad,” he heard Rhaenyra speak, his name snapping him from his trance. He hadn’t even realized you were returning his gaze. “You’ll excuse his manners, he is from Dorne and this may be his first snow.”

The Princess’ words were teasing, Criston quickly moving his gaze back to your father with a nod. “I am afraid I’m used to quite a bit more heat.”

“In our hall there is a large fireplace, it would be my honor to escort the future Queen and the good Ser to somewhere far warmer.”

Your voice pierced through him like an ice dagger straight through his heart, his eyes finding you again as the perfect sound finally filled his ears after months of yearning to know it. It was better than anything his mind could have imagined for it, and he was glad the armor covering his body hid the goosebumps on his arms from view. 

Rhaenyra smiled and agreed, of course, offering an arm to the Stark daughter in a friendly gesture, much warmer than Criston had seen her in years in the snow of Winterfell, of all places. Your father excused himself to see to the preparation of a meal and the feeding of the dragon, and thus left you to escort the Knight and Princess yourself. 

As you made your way through the much-more-modest halls of Winterfell you made pleasant conversation with Rhaenyra, and Criston followed closely by clinging to every word. You were effortlessly endearing as you spoke, even pulling laughs from the normally-serious Princess and pulling her into a conversation sparked by your curiosity about dragons in no time. When the trio arrived to the main hall, Criston made a move to stay outside the door, immediately taking up his post to protect the Princess. At that moment a Knight they already knew emerged, his helmet held under one arm. 

“Please join us inside the hall, Ser Criston,” you spoke, turning to face the taller Knight with a smile that warmed him plenty. “My sworn sword knows these halls well and can withstand the cold. Allow him to watch over the Princess in your time here, so you may recover from the journey.”

He found himself simply nodding, the brown pools of his eyes gazing into yours once more as he agreed to whatever you propositioned to him, knowing he’d never be able to refuse you. He missed the knowing smile that crossed Rhaenyra’s features as the three of you made your way to waiting fur-covered chairs before the fire. A small table sat to the side, holding glasses and an offering of mead, plus a plate of cheese, meats and breads. The North could be hospitable with the right people seeing to it.

“Help yourselves to refreshments and the fire. I will have a word with Ser Grandin and rejoin you.”

You excused yourself to the hall again, entering into a hushed conversation with the other person on the planet that Criston knew also held your secret with certainty. Before his thoughts could be swallowed by you again, Rhaenyra broke him from the trance with a playful tone as she handed him a tankard of mead. “You must stop staring at the Stark girl, no matter how beautiful she is, Ser Criston. Perhaps stories of witches in the North have some truth to them.”

The remainder of the evening would pass by in a flash, a hearty meal settling into the company’s stomachs with thankful welcome. Despite the many differences a family of the North faced, the Starks were hospitable and pleasant company to keep, and it was only safe to assume the sons would be the same when they returned. After a large meal and a hot bath Rhaenyra retired for the night, Ser Grandin taking his position for the time being outside of her door while Criston was meant to be settling into bed as well. Instead, he had donned his armor once again and wrapped himself in furs provided by the kind Lord, making his way throughout Winterfell to familiarize himself with the map of his surroundings. 

When he made his way to an outdoor walkway he heard the unmistakable noises of a horse making its way toward the front gate slowly, attempting to be as quiet as possible. Rushing to find his own horse he climbed on swiftly, steering his horse through piles of snow to mask the sound of hooves following behind. Once you’d passed through the gate on horseback you stopped, and Criston pulled to a slow stop behind, wondering where you were going and why you insisted on doing these reckless things alone. 

“Would you care to join me, Ser Criston?” your voice rang clear in the silent night though it was quiet, the only ears around for it to fall on being the horses and the named man himself as everyone sheltered from the cold. His breath caught in his chest as he realized he’d been caught, and not only caught but confronted. 

“I am sorry, m’lady,” he breathed, urging his horse forward to join you at your side. When he came to a stop again he turned his head to face you, meeting your gaze and feeling the nerves lift from his chest at the sight of your smile. No one angry at him for following could smile at him so sweetly. “I thought since Ser Grandin protects the Princess, I might take his place. It will help me learn the area.”

Your smile widened and brightened your face, your eyes lightening as a small laugh fell from your lips. Once again he found breathing an impossible labor at the sound, and the playfulness your tone took only encouraged him. “You think me safer with you than alone, Ser Criston? Do Dornish even know how to walk in the snow?”

Your teasing pulled a quiet, short laugh from his chest as he shook his head, wondering where all of the politeness you displayed for him before your father and the Princess before had gone. “Perhaps not. But I’d like to learn.”

You smiled again and turned your horse back through the gate, heading back to the stables and motioning him to follow. “The first lesson is: your horse is far too small for the terrain we’re going, and isn’t used to the cold. You can borrow my brother’s horse, Titus. He is the gentlest of giants and will take good care of you.”

He followed behind immediately, mentally admitting he could feel his horse struggling in this new environment. Before long he was mounted on a considerably larger animal, white and easy to spot in the night, which you insisted was important going into the woods with you. As the two of you set off into the darkness again your wolf joined by your side again, the same black one that had supposedly belonged to your brother. He supposed you got away with things like this because few visited the North – but still, it was reckless. 

“Your wolves are impressive animals, m’lady,” he complimented in a soft voice from beside you as you set off on a trail you knew well. “I remember Ser Grandin describing the bond between them as similar to dragons and their riders. Is this true?”

He caught the smile you offered his curiosity and the curt nod you provided before speaking, your tone and body language more relaxed now that you were beyond the walls. The leather pants you wore clung to your legs in a way he wasn’t used to seeing a woman dress, fur covering the majority of your torso with a hooded cloak. He was glad the cold wasn’t so bitter you had to cover your face, preferring you weren’t hidden from him. 

“It is true, in many ways,” you explained, turning your gaze to him as you trusted your horse to continue down the path it had taken many times before. “While the direwolf can live a longer life than that of a normal dog, we certainly don’t share cribs with the animals and then grow old with them. But while Man Eater is alive, he will be my closest companion. He is only two-years-old and already I can’t imagine life without him.”

“You named the beast Man Eater?” he pondered aloud, an amused tone slipping through his words.

“As the middle-born daughter of the Northern Lord, I will never know any real power,” you started, feeling comfortable with his eager and genuine questions. “I have figured the next best thing is to see the fear on men’s faces when they see such a large animal named so fearfully. He enjoys scratches behind his ears and the occasional fruit.”

A genuine, loud laugh came from the Knight and you couldn’t help but join him, the sound of you two laughing tomorrow forming a beautiful chorus in the night. It was immensely validating for him to know the woman he’d spent 10 months pondering was worth every thought he’d given you, as you were turning out to be just as interesting as his mind had hoped you to be. 

The conversation remained playful between the two of you as you made your way down the trail, Criston quickly coming to the conclusion that this excursion wasn’t for you to hunt, but instead simply enjoy the night. It had been a long time for Criston to be able to speak with such honesty with someone, and he found the casual conversation resulted in his hard exterior melting away to expose the man he was inside. 

You were every bit as enamored in the man, enjoying his questions about your home and living in the North, hanging onto every word he offered about his own home when prompted. He grew to open enough to enter a comfortable banter with you, and soon the conversation was so casual and natural between the two of you, he was certain he could ride to Kings Landing and back before he grew tired of your company. 

After several miles you announced it was time for the two of you to walk (if he felt like he could handle the snow, as if he could say no) the rest of the way, and he found himself hurrying to dismount his horse so he could reach for your waist to help you down. The brief feeling of your hips in his hands made him want to pull you in closer but he resisted, maintaining the gentleman’s mask and returning the smile you offered as he let you go. The flush to your cheeks at his firm touch did not go unnoticed. 

As you tied the horses to a tree to secure them you instructed the large wolf to keep watch, throwing him the leg bone of a cow that you’d attached to your horse in offering. Before long the two of you were maneuvering on foot through thicker trees before you reached a frozen waterfall, turning to smile at him happily. “This was my favorite place to come when I wanted to get away as a child.”

The intimacy of what you were sharing with him sank in and he felt the smile that came to his face, glad he’d somewhat gotten the snow-walking down so he could keep up with you at a better pace as you made your way toward the frozen water. You reached a thin ledge next to one of the massive sheets of rock and began shimmying across it, making it only a couple of steps before he grabbed your arm, halting your movements. 

“My lady,” he breathed out in a rushed tone, grasping onto you like you would slip away from him at any moment. “Have you always insisted on putting yourself in harm’s way, or is this a new hobby?”

“I have done this hundreds of times, Ser Criston,” you taunted, reaching across with your free hand to rest your leather-gloved hand against his. “I’d think that you would know that I can handle myself after you saw me hunt the moose at the young Prince’s name day just this year.”

His hand dropped from your arm as he cleared his throat in awkwardness, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find a way to proceed, unable to form appropriate thoughts as every thought in his mind wondered how long you’d known. All he could bring himself to do was watch as you made your way across the ledge, disappearing behind the waterfall. Unwilling still to leave you alone, he hurried to follow after you, being just careful enough not to fall. Before long he had joined you in a small, icy cave where some furs and old books lay about. It was clear this was a place entirely your own.

“You said nothing about my presence for hours that night,” Criston finally pondered aloud when he joined you, only to be greeted in response with a small laugh. 

“I had no clue what could even be said. I thought you were going to turn me in to the Crown…and today when I heard the dragon, I thought it was certain that you had finally confessed what you saw. I was, for a moment, afraid of what consequences I was to face. Of the shame I’d caused my house.” You were admitting deep feelings to him with no real understanding as to why it was so easy to do so. All he could do was watch you in wonder, brown eyes fixated on yours as he listened. “But Princess Rhaenyra doesn’t know, does she? You haven’t told a soul.”

“I haven’t told a soul. It is a secret I hold to myself.”

“Why? Why do you do that?”

You stepped further into the caves to coax him in with you, away from anything in the woods that could possibly hear the two of you and be disturbed. Your questioning did not come from a place of anger, he noted, and instead you sounded almost affectionate. It was easy to tell you the truth, no matter how shameful it was. 

“I’m afraid I do not have an answer for you, m’lady,” he began, drawing in a deep breath. “I can’t begin to explain anything you’ve done to me since I saw you remove that helmet, or take down that moose with a single arrow from your bow, or walk down the stairs in that gown. I -”

His would-be passionate monologue was cut short as he attempted to step nearer, straying from your path and hitting an icy patch. His foot began to slip beneath him and as you stepped forward his hands reached out, grasping your hips and holding onto you tightly to steady himself, pulling you flush against him. Despite the thick furs and leathers you wore you could feel the cool of the metal from his armor, and it sent a chill down your spine, no matter how badly you wanted to be this close to him. 

Your hands grasped at his armored shoulders, thankful for the thick gloves against the metal, in an attempt to steady him further. You smiled at his clear attempt to get closer to you, tilting your head back to look into his face. 

“It must have been hard for you in the Dornish Marches since you’re so horrid in the snow. Isn’t it quite cold in the Red Mountains?”

This close, you found yourself unable to resist thinking about what his golden skin would feel like against yours, finding it near impossible to resist reaching forward to run your fingers through what looked like incredibly soft waves. A quiet laugh fell from his lips at your subtle accusation, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as he stood back to his full height. 

“You’ll forgive me, m’lady. I couldn’t resist an excuse for time alone with you,” he conceded, silently admitting what you already knew in your heart. Over your clothes you could feel his thumbs rubbing circles into your hips, and whether he was aware he was doing it or not, you certainly made note of it. “I thought the Targaryens were interesting when I first met them, but they’re really all the same. You…are truly one-of-a-kind, if I may say so.”

Your cheeks burned despite the increased cold in the dark, icy cave – a near-impossible invitation for him to remove his gauntlets and reach out to touch them. He wondered if you would be cool or warm to the touch…he wondered if your lips would feel the same against his, about how soft they could possibly feel. Before he could give into a temptation there was no coming back from he withdrew, releasing a deep breath from his chest as you looked at him with a flustered look. 

“It grows colder, m’lady. I should return you to the warmth of the castle before we both freeze where we stand.”

You didn’t fight with his logic, embarrassed by the moment you’d caught yourself in with the man. Withdrawing from him entirely you made your way back out of the cave, placing your hood back over your head as you awaited him to join you in the journey back to the castle. The awkwardness of the fleeting moment soon passed and the two of you found yourselves in a comfortable conversation once more as you made your way back to Winterfell. Every moment that passed with you he learned something new that made him wish he had connected his lips to yours, and yet, a small dutiful voice in  the back of his mind insisted on reminding him of his vows. 

He learned of how you’d learned to hunt and exist with the wolves, and how despite your slightly-older twin brother’s skill – you were undoubtedly the best in the family. While your brother had been wed for a couple of years now, one child already running free beneath his legs, you remained uncoupled. 

“My betrothed was killed. In the Stepstones,” you explained, no sadness truly found in your voice. “It was years before we were meant to marry, but there have been no…suitable matches offered since. He was the future Lord Bolton, and my father…you met him. He is quite the intense man.”

“It is a shame to the realm if you do not find a suitable husband, m’lady, though I am inclined to agree with your father. Perhaps no man in Westeros deserves you.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his continued playfulness, the serious moments between the two of you never lasting terribly long. As with most passage of time, the return to your home passed entirely too quickly, and all too soon it would be time for the two of you to part. It was only just before sunrise by the time you two made it back within the gates, taking advantage of the remaining darkness to place horses in their rightful places. You went your separate ways once inside, wishing one another a good night before retreating to a solitude that seemed much lonelier than it ever had before. 

The following night, after you had slept most of the day away, gone for a brief hunt with Man Eater, and enjoyed a hot dinner standing in the kitchen alone, and relaxed in a hot bath, you found yourself wandering the halls of the castle in a light dressing gown, a long, elegant robe wrapped around you. The third time you’d entered the hall closest to the room he was staying in he was waiting there for you, full armor minus the helmet as per usual. Tonight, however, he wore a new wrap across his broad shoulders – the pelt of a red wolf. The view of the color set against his skin did nothing to satiate the thoughts you were harboring toward him. 

You were not alone in your struggle. Your hair had dried as it naturally did after your hot bath, no braids hiding the locks from his full view. Your dressing gown and robe were black, making it perfect for holding in heat, and yet the sheer fabric left very little out of his sight. It was potentially disastrous of him to show you the appreciation he felt you deserved, and yet he was no longer certain of his normally unwavering self-control. 

“I thought I might join you as I take a final look around the castle,” he explained, his eyes meeting yours in a hopeful gaze that was impossible for you to deny. Your lips curled into that beautiful smile once again, a nod of your head giving into him. He joined you at your side as the voice he’d missed across mere hours filled his ears once again. 

“You may escort me back to my chambers, Ser Criston.” The smile on his face was unmistakable, a hopeful bubble rolling in his stomach at the mere thought of what you were intending by so clearly seeking him out. Still, he set a casual pace as the two of you walked, falling into your normal ease once again. “That is a fine fur you’ve been gifted with, Ser.”

“From your twin, m’lady,” he smiled, his head turning to meet your gaze momentarily. “While beautiful, I must admit a fox is a less impressive trophy than a large moose.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his flattery, his willingness to build your confidence, his acceptance of how you chose to live your life. While he expressed his unease and worry for your safety and future several times, he never seemed to push, seeming to understand your sense of adventure and that you could, certainly, control yourself. While the conversation flowed easily between the two of you like had become the norm between you, there was still a tension in the air – the tension of a kiss that didn’t happen. You took the longest route possible to return to your room, and once outside the familiar door, the conversation took a serious turn. 

“The Princess received a raven this morning and we must begin our return to Kings Landing tomorrow,” he explained, the disappointment evident behind his voice and gaze. The frown that formed on your features immediately pulled at his heart, hating the feeling of being your source of disappointment. “But…she would like to invite you to be a guest of the crown this Spring, when the snow has lifted from Winterfell. Will you join us there for a tournament? I will partake and I would enjoy your favor.”

You blushed again and found a bashful giggle passing your lips, biting at your bottom lip lightly as you nodded in agreement. You turned your gaze to meet his, finding the excitement lightening his normal seriousness behind then, and you felt another moment of bravery, a moment you’d wished you’d had the night before. Reaching behind you you opened the door to your chamber, happy to immediately feel the heat from a recently-lit fireplace radiating from the room. 

Stepping inside you beckoned him in, glad to see it didn’t require much convincing as he glanced around himself once more before following, closing the door quietly behind him. He was soon standing before you in front of the fireplace, the glow of the flames illuminating him in the most beautiful fashion.

"The Princess has requested my presence in the Spring..." you began, stepping closer to him as fixing your gaze on his once again. "But what of you, Ser Criston? Do you request my presence in the Spring?"

"I would request it sooner, m'lady," he explained quietly, giving into the feelings he was experiencing around you now that you were behind a closed door. His affectionate reply faltered your normally playful confidence and he found himself stepping forward to close the distance between the two of you. As he spoke next, you were already reaching for him before even being invited. "All the more reason for me to see you tonight."

Gently removing a gauntlet from his right hand, your eyes met his once again, dropping the heavy metal on the fur rug beneath your feet. The soft, cold skin of your hand greeted his in warmth as it soaked in the heat from his own skin, your fingers lacing between the two of you as he fought himself mentally, mind spinning with the possible consequences he could face if he gave into the desires you presented him with. Sensing his apprehension you rose on your toes to reach him, your lips covering his in an encouraging and earnest kiss. All rational thought melted at the softness of your lips against his. 

He pulled his other gauntlet off himself then, desperate to cup your rosy cheeks between his hands as he returned your kiss, holding you to him as he fulfilled a waking dream that had clouded his mind for months. A happy sigh released from your chest and onto his lips as you felt him hold you close, the warmth radiating between the two of you as your hands found their way to the back of his head. Once they’d reached their destination your fingers laced into his slightly-curled locks, giving a light tug which you were rewarded for with a quiet, barely audible groan.

It was then he felt a bit too much of his remaining self-control falter, his hands sliding from your cheeks to slide under the thin robe covering your body, landing on your hips. The sheer material did very little to cover you from him and the warmth radiated from his hands against your cool skin, his fingertips digging in deeper as his tongue slipped into your mouth. The deepening kiss was too much for either of you to handle and in perfect synchronization you sank to your knees, following his lead as he pulled you to straddle his lap.

Ser Criston was not always talkative, and now was one of those moments as he focused his attention on enjoying this moment, on savoring what he'd craved since first seeing you all those months ago. Sliding his hands to push your night gown up your legs ever-so-slowly he took in the feeling of your soft skin beneath his fingertips, pulling back for a deep breath. As you took advantage of the moment to breathe he recovered quickly, immediately beginning to trail kisses down your neck.

The small whimpers that left your mouth put his mind in a fog, covering any voice within him that may had argued at the moment. Finding himself unable to resist curiosity again he leaned his head back to yours to reclaim your lips, slowly pushing your underwear to the side and running a finger along your slick folds, finding where all of the heat in your body remained. A groan left his lips again at the confirmation of how wet you were for him before he slipped that same finger into you experimentally, enjoying how you gasped against his lips but did not break the kiss.

All-too-soon he removed the singular digit, pulling away from your kiss to slide the finger into his mouth. A deep moan, combined perhaps with a growl, broke free of his chest as his eyes fluttered closed, savoring every drop you'd offered him. You were irresistible, almost as a forbidden fruit — he knew within his logical mind he could not have you and yet, he found it was the only thing he could yearn for. His mind flooded with scolding thoughts about his behavior, and yet he couldn't help but feel the action was worth it - no matter how badly it made him want more.

"You will be the end of me, m'lady," he cooed, leaning upward to press a kiss to your forehead before helping you back to your feet with him, making an obvious attempt to steady your breathing. As he escorted you to your bed he placed gentle kisses against your lips, desperately attempting to bury the thoughts that were begging to burst through again. "I will see you in just a few months' time, m'lady. Until the next."

With his absence, you immediately got to work rebuilding the emotional walls you usually fortified around yourself, unwilling to feel the emptiness and disappointment of him leaving in the morning. You would see Ser Criston again in the Spring.

Spring, 113 A.C., King's Landing

The half-a-year that passed before the Spring tournament in Kings Landing was excruciating, each day bringing a previously unimaginable level of longing forth in two people with weeks between them.

Ser Criston Cole was dutiful, as always, and fulfilled his vow to protect the crown day in and day out, but his duty was no longer the primary occupation of his mind. There was always the thought of you – always a reminder of your radiant smile, the whisper of your voice on the wind, the occasional mention of your House. Often, he wondered if thinking of you so often was his punishment for his temptation for you, because often it was akin to torture to have every moment so full of you, and yet so empty. 

You’d never noticed how cold Winterfell truly was until Criston had left, taking with him what seemed like every bit of warmth. It went unnoticed by your family how frozen over you became, blatant and longer excursions into the forest becoming a pattern they were forced to adapt to. Time passed differently in the thick, lonesome darkness of the forest, and not knowing how long it had been since he had kissed you was often preferable. You were often desperate to forget how long you had to wait still to see him again. 

It was the sweetest relief you had ever felt when Ser Grandin had announced the pair of you would set off for the journey to King's Landing in three days' time. When the raven arrived in the capital to announce that the young Lady of House Stark had embarked and was eager to join the Princess, Criston was present to hear the news. It was the most peaceful sleep he had been graced with in months to know you would be within his reach again soon enough.

It did anger him initially when the Princess flew on Syrax to a mid-way point to check-in with you and your Knight escort, because all his mind could focus on was the jealousy that filled him. When Rhaenyra returned to the castle and reported you were in good health and had bid her to tell him “Hello,” anger was the last thing on his mind. All he could think about from that day forward was the day he could return your greeting. The day you arrived is the day he knew his life was never going to return to what it had been before the young Prince’s name day.

It was the early hours of the morning when the call came to assemble in the throne room. Knowing what day had finally come made Criston rush through putting on his armor, wishing to get to his position as quickly as possible, unwilling to risk even a moment of missing you. 

When your arrival was announced by Ser Grandin, your stomach was bubbling with excitement on the other side of the door, knowing you were about to see him again. When the door swung open for you and you stepped your way into the throne room, you were overjoyed to see that only a small assembly awaited you – with Criston within your sight immediately. It didn’t matter that he was covered by his helmet – it was him, you could run to him in seconds, and that was enough.

He could never forget how beautiful you were but seeing you again now it hit him all over again, the only image of you living in his memory. The familiar tightness in his chest returned as he took in everything about you, thankful his wandering eye was hidden from anyone who may be looking his way. You’d done the best you could in wearing your lightest gown, though your gowns had thus far been reserved exclusively for wear in the North, so even your lightest was too heavy. It trailed behind you, long and black, with your usual silver fox fur wrapped lightly around your shoulders, and your hair freshly washed and un-styled thanks to your travel with only a man. Criston preferred it this way and hoped it would remain such long enough for him to get you alone and run his fingers through it – though he knew it was doubtful.

You managed to resist averting your gaze to the one man you wanted to as you walked closer, ultimately sinking to a knee and bowing your head before the King with a light smile on your face. It made sense that your first smile would be for the King, but the jealous twist of Criston’s stomach was difficult for him to ignore – it should have been for him. When the King instructed you to rise Rhaenyra stepped forward, extending her arms to you for a light embrace. Being a Targaryen and being able to have and do exactly what you wanted was something Criston was finally growing to understand the envy of.

“Ser Criston,” came the familiar low grumble of Ser Grandin beside him, an impressively quiet arrival for such a large man. His voice remained quiet, reserved only for the member of the Kingsguard. “My Lady bids you good morning and wishes you well in the events today.”

Criston, once again glad for his helmet, smiled in content, reminded that no matter how important the people you currently held conversation with were, to you the best thing about being here was being close to him again. Absent-mindedly he took a step forward toward you before remembering himself, stepping back beside the Northern Knight. Instead, he settled on a quiet voice, taking what he could from what was presented to him.  “Did she travel well, Ser Grandin?”

A barely-there laugh sounded in the other man, his tone mockingly annoyed. “She traveled well and eager. I could hardly get her to take a day of rest. Without me, she’d have arrived a week ago.”

He wouldn’t get a moment alone with you before the day began, but he was thankful for at least a moment with Rhaenyra, who had expressed that he should request your favor for the tournament. She had insisted on the matter, in fact, stating that it would be an excellent sign of friendship between the Crown and the North. When Ser Criston rode the first round of the tournament and won (naturally), he brought his horse around to where you now sat next to the Princess. 

Helmet removed as he approached, he could now look you straight in the eye for the first time in half-a-year, and the simple action knocked the wind from him more than any lance could. A small smile played on his lips as he held your gaze, if only for a moment too long. 

“My Lady,” he greeted, bowing his head slightly. The heat had created a layer of sweat over his skin, his hair slickening under his helmet, and the sight caused a blush to creep over your face. “It would be my honor to fight in your name today.”

The blush across your face deepened, a smile spreading just as quickly as you rose to your feet, walking to stand before the railing that separated you from him. Over the crowd, your verbal response was heard only from him. “If you are to fight in my name, Ser, then I should hope you win it all. I would hate for a loss to soil my name.”

The amused smile that spread across his features reached his eyes, a mischievous glimmer playing in the pools there. A stiff nod accompanied his words. “Yes, m’lady. I would not dream of tarnishing your good name with failure.”

As you reached for the longer of the two chains that hung around your neck, the contents at the end of the chain tucked within your dress, your eyes stayed locked with his in silent communication. There were no words to explain the happiness of seeing him once again, of feeling his gaze on you. You pulled the often-hidden necklace from your neck and handed it slowly to him, Criston immediately taking in the large tooth that was attached at the end.

“From my first kill,” was the simple explanation, the four words carrying enough weight for him to understand. This was important to you, and it was a much better token of your favor than any fine piece of fabric could be. Placing it around his own neck he tucked it under his armor, an appreciative smile falling on his features again. 

“I will not disappoint, m’lady,” he promised, the glimmer in his eye growing with each second he looked at you. With a final smile he replaced his helmet, riding back to await his next round. 

Losing was not an option for Ser Criston Cole during the day’s events. One could make a compelling argument that the man regularly went overboard on his opponents, none of them standing any real chance. The final round showed Ser Criston Cole facing the current Lord Bolton and remembering your former betrothed had belonged to that family, Criston took extra care to embarrass the man. The words he’d spoken to you rang through once more, his point proven – none of them were worthy of you. 

Following the excitement was to be a celebratory feast in the castle with you as the guest of honor to the Crown and Ser Criston the winner of the day. As you made your way through the halls of the castle again beside your own escort again, you were soon in front of the door to your borrowed chambers for your time in the Capital. In front of your chambers, however, awaited the winner himself. 

“I will take place at the end of the hall, my Lady,” Ser Grandin spoke, immediately turning to walk back to the end of the hall for a moment’s privacy between you and the Knight. As you rushed to close the distance between the two of you his helmet was removed, dropped to the floor with little care of the noise it would create as he welcomed you back into his arms. 

The armor that separated him from you fully was an extreme annoyance but feeling held by him would have to be good enough, even if it was against metal. His forehead lowered to meet with yours in a tender gesture, both of you closing your eyes as a moment of peace finally passed over you. 

“I have missed you, m’lady. You have haunted my every thought and dream since the moment I left you,” he whispered only for you, his hands sliding to your lower back to pull you closer.

“Each day was a week, and each week an eternity,” came the sweetest reply from you he could have imagined, his lips pressing to yours in a kiss while a quiet hum rang in his throat. 

“The pain grew by the day,” he whispered, his lips moving against your skin as he found himself completely unwilling to pull away. 

“I did not know a moment of true peace until I saw you this morning,” you admitted, finding sharing emotions with him came as naturally as breathing. Your own lips pressed against his nose gently, the soft action sending his senses alight. He stood there like that with you for so much longer than he should have, holding you and enjoying the mere fact of having you in his grasp again. 

Eventually the light kisses to your forehead weren’t enough and he lowered his head to press his lips to yours softly in a chaste kiss, his hands sliding to hold the sides of your head gently. You returned his kiss happily, hands reaching to hold his wrists as a blissful sigh passed through your lips. He smiled into the kiss, pulling you closer momentarily before withdrawing, kissing your forehead once again as he went. 

“If the Crown asks me what I would like for my win today, I will name you as my prize, m’lady,” he spoke, masking the honesty and yearning in his words with a lining of humor. “The Treasure of the North, all for myself.”

The laugh that fell from your lips was award enough for his efforts today, the light reaching your eyes as you stood on your toes to kiss him once more. You sank to your knees slowly and quietly, eyes never leaving his as your hand reached to grab the helmet he’d discarded to the ground before standing back up, placing the helmet back in his hand. “I will see you at the feast, Ser Criston.”

With a gentle squeeze to your hand, he fully released you, turning to exit down the hall as you stood in momentary silence before entering your borrowed chambers. After another cool bath to tame your body temperature you were joined by various handmaidens who all doted on perfuming and styling your hair, manicuring your fingernails, and helping you dress in a gown that had been sent by the Princess herself. Once the dress was secured and you were left alone to look at the results, you had to wonder if Rhaenyra had a plot of her own this evening. 

The gown was so light and fine it seemed to flow about you almost as a liquid, the white fabric shimmering like snow with every movement you made. The arms and high collar were made up of a separate lace, sewn together by someone with care. Finally, a true sign of your house draped across your shoulders and upper back, the fur of a wolf shielding more of you from eyes that would pry. 

“My Lady, the Crown will not thank you if you are late,” Ser Grandin’s rough voice greeted from behind you, his masked face waiting for you as you turned around. With a smile you clasped your hands together in front of you, eyes still shining with their normal mischief. 

“Let us walk then, Ser,” you teased, your formal words pulling a laugh from your sworn protector’s chest as he held open the door for you. Once the two of you were well on your way to the gathering outdoors, he opted to voice his concerns with caution. 

“You must be careful, my Lady,” he spoke plainly, knowing you would tell him to do so if he had asked permission. You turned your head upward to glance at him before carrying forward, waiting for him to continue. “That boy isn’t a nobody squire running around the halls of Winterfell, with only your father’s wrath to face. He’s a member of the Kingsguard, and Targaryens are not known for their forgiving nature.”

Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth your eyes glanced over to him, taking a deep breath to contemplate your words. “There’s no need to worry yourself. He is just nice company to keep, Ser Grandin.”

“Oh, he seems wonderful, my Lady,” he teased, leading you around the next corner. “The echoing sounds of your kissing in the hall behind me indicate he is very nice company indeed.”

A stifled giggle sounded from your lips as you shot him a pointed look which was met with nothing but the smallest smile as he walked through massive double doors to introduce you to those who had already assembled. When you followed behind you offered a small smile to the royal family, taking a knee and bowing your head slightly. With a delighted smile Rhaenyra invited you to rise and take the seat with her, and thus the feast could properly begin. It wasn’t long before the newest member of the Kingsguard removed his helmet, eyes meeting yours from across the room with a smile.

The feasts in Winterfell were never as lavish as anything the Red Keep could offer, and it was easy to indulge in the food and drink they had to offer to the point where when the dancing started, you were hardly sure if you could join. Rhaenyra insisted, of course, and as she was the heir to the throne it would not be wise to turn her down. Throughout the night you stole several looks at Criston whenever your eyes could find him, only to be pleased to find his eyes sought yours just the same. The stolen glances did not remain unnoticed, though the eyes that saw them did not care. 

It was when he noticed the elder Lannister brother ask you for a dance that his fingers curled, hands balling into a fist as he watched you politely oblige the wealthy Lord – the wealthy Lord who could give you gowns, and castles, and children. Feeling the distaste that covered his face he placed his helmet back on, seething into the hot metal and unaware of the Princess as she joined at his side. 

“The Lannisters may be wealthy, but they are certainly not graceful,” she joked, her eyes glancing upward toward the taller man. “You have no need to worry, Ser Criston. She seems quite taken with you, as well, I am certain your affections are returned.” 

His helmeted eyes turned toward, his head facing her to communicate his seriousness. “I don’t have affections, Princess,” he responded coolly, turning his head forward again to watch your movements in secret. The Princess smiled, shaking her head slightly at his foolishness before facing forward herself. 

“You should not lie to the Princess, Ser Criston. I must be able to trust you, after all,” she continued to joke, enjoying the subtle huff that sounded through the metal. The sound pulled a small laugh from her, the mischief glowing in her eyes as she pressed on. “You could just admit it, you know. I am someone who understands that cruelties of obligation.”

He did want to admit it. In his heart and mind, he knew that you were the answer to a question he’d long been asking, the tightening in his chest every time he thought of you confirming you were the woman meant for him. He had fallen for you in just over a year since he’d met you, your simple existence haunting his dreams and tormenting every waking moment of his life with the sheer reminder of you, just out of reach. And here now he wanted to admit it more – to stand on a table and proclaim his love for you; to grasp you away from the Lannister who was stalking around you like prey; to announce to the world that you were his. The woman to his side just served as a reminder as to why he could not. 

“It is an honor to serve the Crown, Princess,” he attempted to bury it all again, only managing to pull his eyes away from you for a moment. The longer he dwelled on you, the more his mind strayed to the fact that for the first time since being chosen for his position he wanted to break the most important vow he’d ever made. 

“It is a shame, then,” she started, finishing her drink as the Lannister placed his hands on your shoulders in an affectionate gesture. “There is a large bear in the Crownlands that must be handled. I had hoped to send you to address the task…with the assistance of our guests from the North. They are used to animals of its size, and her wolf could prove a worthy hunting companion.”

He was thankful once again for his facial coverings, knowing his mouth fell open slightly as he turned to look at the Princess, who was already facing forward again with that same playful smile on her lips. There was nothing to mask the surprise in his voice. “You would send me away with her and her knight to hunt a bear?”

“Oh, Gods no, Ser Criston,” she replied, the appalled tone to her voice obviously false. “I would hope that he will stay behind and the two of you can handle the beast yourselves. He’d just slow you down.” A proper response evaded him, instead removing his helmet once more so she could see the emotions behind his expressive eyes, silently questioning and thanking simultaneously. “I will take that as a yes. You will leave tomorrow before I can change my mind.”

With that the Princess left his side, removing you from the Lannister’s grasp with the request of joining her for a walk in the gardens with your wolf before turning in for the night. The Lannister was clearly disappointed but bowed his head respectfully to both of you before departing. To Criston’s joy, he caught the way your lips moved in a simple “thank you” to the Princess, presumably for taking you away from the golden-haired man. Criston watched as Ser Grandin joined the two of you from behind and resigned to finishing the events in the hall, content with having his thoughts to himself for a moment. The moments passed quickly with you burned into his mind, and before long his feet had once again carried him to the door of your borrowed bedchamber, the older knight excusing himself at his arrival. 

A light knock startled you from where you sat brushing your hair, but assuming something was needed from you from your knight you pulled the thin robe around yourself before walking to the door. Criston’s handsome face was a much more pleasant surprise, and you felt the smile spread across your face immediately. His head bowed slightly in respect, a light smile playing on his lips as his gaze found yours as soon as it could. “M’lady, forgive me for the intrusion so late.”

“Ser Criston, have you come to claim your prize from your win today?” Your playful question was enough to draw him closer to you, his cock beginning to strain slightly under pants and armor at the mere insinuation of your words. His hand found your hip as his eyes glanced the length of the hall again before he leaned forward, placing a small kiss to your lips. 

“I have come to ask for your company on a hunt in the Crownlands,” he began, certain he needed to get the question out before the logical side of his mind could take over his decision-making process. “Princess Rhaenyra says there is a large bear that is becoming troublesome, and it is her opinion that you would be valuable to take along…as you are used to large bears in the North.”

The smile on your face softened a bit, your nose brushing against his as you stood on your toes to ensure your closeness to him. He took some of the strain off of you by wrapping an arm around your waist tightly, holding you up and against him as gently as he could. He was certain the expression in your eyes mirrored his own, and somehow the fact made everything significantly harder. “When would you be whisking me away, Ser?”

“It would be nice to leave the city before the sun rises, m’lady,” he started, his free hand sliding to cup your face and hold you closer. “It is my preference that the city is still asleep when we ride through it. I would worry myself sick about you if it were awake.”

A soft kiss from you silenced his anxiety, your gentle lips coaxing him back to calm as he returned it tenderly. You couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from him, so you spoke your answer against his lips quietly. “I will go with you, Criston. I cannot worry myself over you getting eaten by a bear in your absence.”

Only hours would pass before you would be awoken by Grandin, the disapproval clear in his voice as he told you to get dressed and quietly join him in the hall. As the two of you walked through the castle together, he felt it was his duty to try to persuade you back into reason before he accepted your mind was made up, instead choosing to focus his time on giving you additional hunting pointers. The walk was leisurely in the early morning, and as Criston waited to be reunited with you, he waited in agony. These hours passing without you served as a taste of how it would be when you were taken back to the North, away from him again, and the thought was already plaguing him. 

He’d almost convinced himself that you weren’t coming, imagining foolish scenarios where your other suitor from the evening had made his way into your chambers. It was a relief when you approached in the dark, a long and hooded cloak covering your body to conceal who was sneaking about the Red Keep at this hour. It made his stomach warm to think that you’d gone to all the trouble for him.

“Good morning, m’lady,” he greeted softly with a smile, his expression doing nothing to hide how happy he was to see you. Shrouded by the darkness and the stable walls he walked forward to claim your face in his hands, placing a much-needed kiss to your lips while his thumbs brushed over your cheeks. “You’re confident you still want to join me?”

His lips were still so close to yours they brushed yours as he spoke, and he could feel the smile that formed at his questioning. “Yes, Ser Criston. You’re not getting rid of me now.”

“I should hope not,” he relented, reaching to press his lips to your forehead. His thumbs brushed against your cheeks still, and you hoped that soon you’d be alone once more and able to feel the warmth of his skin against yours. 

“Grandin left with Man Eater hours ago. They will meet us at the tree line, and he’ll return to the castle to guard my door for a few days…I am terribly ill and should not be disturbed, after all. The Southern heat getting to my delicate Northern self,” you explained, pressing your lips to his nose gently before pulling away. Climbing onto the horse waiting for you, already saddled and loaded with gear thanks to the man before you, you adjusted your hood to cover more of your face and waited for him to join.

The two of you set off before the sun had painted the sky, intent on making your way through the city before its inhabitants began bustling for the day. You were quiet while in the city, silently passing bread, fruits and cheeses back and forth along with your stolen glances. Once free from the clutter of the city and prying eyes, you were able to lower your hood and turn your head to meet his gaze fully with a smile.

“I am relieved to be alone with you again, m’lady,” he admitted, the seriousness that normally laced his tone still present but lighter now that he was removed from his responsibilities. You pulled the horse you sat atop to a slow stop, waiting for him to mimic the action. As he stopped and turned to face you, he was greeted with you removing the thick cloak, revealing the plain white blouse that you’d surely stolen from a brother and tight riding pants that hugged your waist. While the lack of armor showed more of a risk than he was comfortable with when it came to you, he was appreciative to see you how you were the most comfortable in the golden light of the morning sun. 

Once you’d met with your trusted protector and reunited with your closest companion, Ser Grandin excused himself back toward the city as the new trio made their way into the trees, disappearing from prying eyes for however long you could get away with. The two of you rode that way for hours, side by side as you discussed your childhoods, your passions, your hatred. Criston found that these conversations only made him fall for you even more, the person hiding far beneath the surface deserving of much more than the world could offer you. 

And for you, Criston represented everything you had dreamt of for your life. He had seen so much in his time in combat, already seen far more of Westeros than you probably ever would, and now held the opportunity to live a comfortable life alongside the Crown. He was charming, and consistently attentive to you as you spoke, his eyes giving away how entranced he was by your stories and his smile confirming his growing affection. You were the new center of his world, and he was unsure if he was willing to allow it to be off-balance ever again – he needed you to ground him. 

The conversation was effortless as always and it seemed like no time at all before the sky began to redden, the sun beginning to set. As you dismounted your horse to set up camp with Criston in a small clearing you sent Man Eater out to hunt, keen on having him return to camp before it got terribly late. As Criston set in on the tent assembly you excused yourself to hunt for dinner, managing to bring three rabbits and some berries back to the camp in what seemed like no time at all. To your surprise, only one tent was raised – though you didn’t mention it. After nurturing a fire together and finishing a perfectly roasted dinner the two of you sat leaned against a large rock, a thick fur beneath you for comfort as you soaked in the warmth from the fire and one another. Eventually you leaned against him, soothed by the crackling of flames and warmth, only to be pushed away gently. 

“I’ll…remove my armor, m’lady,” he stated, his words soft and gentle as his eyes met yours. Your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you shook your head slightly, your hands slowly reaching forward to remove one of his gauntlets as it had already done so many months ago. His eyes stayed transfixed on yours as you began to work the armor free from his body, eventually leaving him clad in only a loose white shirt and black pants. 

It was a test of his will to not claim your lips in his once again as those tender moments passed. Your soft hands lingered in too many places he wanted them to stay longer, his mind alight with the possibilities of being alone with you, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to silence his mind forever in this setting. 

But it was your eyes – so soft and sincere and content to drink in every new inch of him that was exposed by the discarding of armor – that made him lean down to press a kiss to your lips. With no one else around to hear his words, he whispered against your lips the confession that had tormented him for so many months. “M’lady,” he began, the slight shake to his voice already showing itself despite his best efforts. “I must admit that you have plagued my thoughts all of these many months since we first met. It is causing me much grief; despite the happiness you bring me. I have never before questioned my vow the way I do now with you.”

Your hands found their way to either side of his face, the stubble growing there scratching against your thumbs as you ran them across the expanses of his cheeks. A sympathetic nod encouraged him to continue, his nerves faltering at your gentle demeanor. He swallowed noticeably, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he had ever spoken about his emotions like this with someone before. “I think of you every waking moment, and as if that is not enough torment itself, you also walk through my very dreams every night. Meeting you so many months ago…it has set my heart and soul on a path I fear I can never stray from.”

The smile that grew on your lips and reached your eyes was enough to comfort his busy mind, and when you leaned forward to press your forehead to his in his favorite intimate gesture, any resolve he had left melted away for whatever time the two of you would be allowed to share during the hunt. Tipping his head slightly his nose bumped against yours, eliciting a small laugh from your lips that could soothe even the wildest of dragons. Your voice was all cool and collected, a contrast to the burning fire felt in his chest at the closeness to you, at his untamed desire for you.

“I have heard it said often that one should not travel alone,” you began, choosing your words carefully as his lips gravitated toward yours ever-so-slowly. He was so close that when you spoke next, your lips lightly brushed against his – only coaxing him closer and closer to collapse. “Perhaps it is a good thing I have started down this path with you, as well, Ser Criston.”

It almost pulled a whine from his chest, the tenderness you displayed for him – the continued proving of his suspicion that he was brought into existence to love you. The curve of your lips in a smile was felt against his, your eyes gazing into his and sparkling like something forbidden. He spoke barely above a sigh, his mind more focused on other tasks for his mouth than talking. “You are a temptress, m’lady…”

His lips claimed yours then, swallowing the soft sound of approval that passed in the brief moment before you returned his heated kiss. His hands finally claimed your hips, pulling you against him firmly as goosebumps raised over his arms, the quiet whine now releasing from his lips at the feeling of you against him. Noticing your strain to reach him, he sank back to the ground, pulling you with him until you were straddled in his lap comfortably. 

This was the first kiss that had been allowed to grow to this intensity between the two of you and was perhaps the first kiss in your life to leave you as breathless as this with a pounding heart. Sensing your need for air he released your lips, opening his eyes to appreciate the red hue to your cheeks before he began to lower his head, trailing gentle kisses down the soft skin of your neck. One of his hands hesitantly slid to start at the laces of your shirt and when you didn’t stop him, he continued until they had been worked free. His slow movements were soon mirrored by you and eventually snowballed until the only clothing that remained were thin undergarments, most of your skin barred to the cool night air. 

He leaned you backward then, taking place between your thighs as he desperately sought your lips again, his tongue taking advantage of the quiet moan that left your lips to slip into your mouth. The heat pooling at your core so intensely it was making you desperate for friction, a sentiment echoed by him. Experimentally he ground his hips down into yours, his throbbing erection growing impossibly harder at just the feeling of rubbing against you. A newfound impatience overtaking him he thrust the black hose you still wore down your legs with one hand, seeking to reconnect his hand with your core immediately. He was encouraged by the soft moan the fell from your lips, your eyes opening to soak in the enamored look he gave you. 

Running a thick finger through your drenched folds he ran his tongue over his lips, eyes transfixed on your face as he dipped the same finger into your awaiting hole just slightly. A quiet whimper and the gentle bucking of your hips into his hand encouraged the finger to sink in deeper, the solitary digit welcomed by warm, tight walls that were so sensitive they clenched around him tighter and tighter. When there was nothing more for him to add he curled the finger slightly, seeking to rub against the sensitive patch within you he knew was there from prior experience with women – all while he lowered his head to press gentle kisses across the expanse of your chest. 

When he sucked the first of your nipples into his mouth the tip of his finger brushed against the spot, and his name passed through your lips in a reverent moan, a tone that would replay in his mind forever. Suckling the sensitive bud into his mouth he began to pump his finger into you, eyes flickering up to ensure your face displayed no hesitancy still, only to be met with your head thrown back in bliss. He knew, though, that he could do better – that he could bring you to the depths of pleasure that you deserved. 

Releasing the hardened nipple from his mouth and moving to place a gentle kiss to the other, his kisses found the perfect trail down your soft skin by way of your stomach before he reached your hips, pressing a light kiss to each of them as well. With one last glance to your face, he lowered his head, almost hesitantly running his flattened tongue through your folds and to your clit and waiting for you to respond. The response he earned by the simple motion was almost a scream, your hands immediately grasping at the back of his head and fingers entangling in his curls. He couldn’t hold back the smile that formed on his face briefly before he continued in his chosen task, removing his finger to carry on how he wanted.

Running his tongue back through your folds he prodded at your tight entrance, licking around the hole to savor every bit of your honey-sweet nectar that had dripped from you for him. His hand slid higher to connect his thumb to your swollen clit, rubbing a gentle circle on the sensitive nub as his tongue fucked into you desperately, no taste of you enough to satiate his hunger. Your moans were readily soaked in by his ears, his quiet groans against you in response sending vibrations to your body that had your walls clenching around his tongue faster than anticipated. 

Your thighs came in closer to his head, holding him where you needed him most as they began to shake on either side of him, your fingers clutching his hair tighter. As your breaths shortened and became laced – each one of them – with quiet moans at the end he knew his tongue was bringing you to ecstasy and his cock continued to grow harder in his underpants. His thumb rubbed more intense circles around your clit as his free hand reached to push the restraints down, moaning against you at his throbbing cock finally being free. 

Pulling back slightly and reaching to suck your clit into his lips gently he began to jerk his cock hard, uncaring about the act itself and only focused on being able to reach euphoria with you. A whimper from your lips communicated your disappointment and his resolve nearly melted before he spoke. “I…want to finish with you, my love. Please…just hold on for another moment for me.”

Despite the frustration of remaining with one foot off the cliff and wanting to complete the dive, you did your best to hold on for him, fixating your eyes on his and silently communicating all of the thoughts you wished you could speak aloud. He connected his mouth with you again when he felt himself approaching the edge, rubbing your clit once again as his tongue fucked into you, desperate to drink whatever you would offer him for his efforts. 

“Criston…I…I can’t…I have to…” you panted, your nails digging into his scalp slightly as you fought hard to remain composure so you could fulfill his desires. He nodded the slightest confirmation he could, glad once again to be alone with you as your moan echoed through the trees for him. Your thighs shaking again, your walls clenched around his tongue as he began to spill his seed into the furs, unbothered by the mess he was creating as he drank every bit of your orgasm from you. 

When both of you had finished and exchanged several bashful glances and kisses, an unspoken adoration passing between the two of you, he rose to his feet with you in his arms to carry you toward the tent. It was at that moment Man Eater emerged from the shadows to tuck himself outside of the tent for the night, the sight a comfort as Criston laid you atop the elaborate arrangement of furs he’d laid before you. As you continued to fight for a steady breath, he laid behind you, pulling you back against him and nestling your body into the curve of his. As he had always suspected, your bodies fit together like art, and soon the most peaceful sleep of your memories passed over you both as a final kiss was pressed to your shoulder. 

It came as no surprise when it only took a day to be successful in the hunt, the three of you becoming the perfect hunting team and taking down a particularly large and nasty bear with seeming ease. Both of you elected to camp again for the night, using the excuse that it was unsafe to ride through the night – though the truth was soon revealed as the activities from the night before repeated themselves, only changing to include you accepting as much of his cock into your throat as you could take. At that point he already held no doubt that he could never be without you again, but when you’d elected to swallow his seed – holding him to you with your hands on the backs of his thighs – he decided you were with whatever turmoil was going to come his way due to his actions. 

The following morning the two of you had set out once again, returning to the Red Keep under the cover of darkness with the bear’s head and pelt carried by your horses, a vibrant glow on both of you covered by armor and cloaks again. Returned to his duties he immediately began to wish he could have prolonged the hunt with you, because from the moment Princess Rhaenyra heard you returned to the castle, he could not get a moment alone with you – and such was the trend for days. The tension began to build in the air around the two of you soon, and you knew that Rhaenyra had to have taken notice of the stolen glances when she would choose to ask you once again if anything interesting had happened on the hunting trip. 

“It is treason to lie to the heir to the throne, you know,” she joked one evening over a private dinner with you, her eyes flashing with knowing mischief that matched her smile. With a quiet sigh and a giggle, you shook your head, taking another drink of the rich Southern wine in front of you as you met her gaze.

“I have often heard it said it rude to share ones’ personal…happenings with others, your Grace,” you replied coolly, your eyes meeting hers and communicating your shared playfulness. She raised an eyebrow knowingly and smiled, raising her glass slightly before leaning back in her seat. The words would remain unspoken, and whatever assumption the Princess made may have been wrong – but ultimately, any exaggeration would not remain untrue for long. 

When she excused herself to her bedchamber for the evening, she requested for your sworn protector to join her, stating she had begun to feel comfort around the man. Not one to refuse the Crown or a friend you gave in immediately, and though you were believed to set off for your own bedchamber – Rhaenyra called over her shoulder before her exit the directions to get you to your true desired location. Without so much as a second thought you found yourself rushing to Criston’s door, eager to reunite with him privately again. 

The light knock against his door pulled him from his bed with a groan, expecting to be forced to return to his duty far sooner than intended and with far less sleep than needed. Bare feet carried him to the door as he pulled a shirt over his head, fingers adjusting his hair into a more presentable state before he swung the door open. Rather than a handmaiden or knight, he was greeted with the face of the one person his chest swelled to see. 

Your hair was completely untamed, wild around you in a way that indicated you’d attempted to sleep as well, only to be met with unease. The long gown you’d been gifted to sleep in was more like something from your own home in color – silver – but it was so light and thin it was almost like there wasn’t anything there at all. Seeing your wide, wondrous eyes staring up at him with desire just outside of his door was the final spark needed for the flame that had been forming for over a year now to engulf him. 

His hands reached for you before he could give himself the chance to be talked out of it, pulling you into his chambers and against his chest as he connected his lips to yours. Wrapping an arm around your waist and holding you against him he smiled into the kiss as he reached his free hand to lock the door. Your voice was already breathless and light, quiet and unsure in a way he hadn’t heard from you before. 

“I couldn’t stay away,” you confessed on his lips, leaning your head back as he began to trail his kisses to your jaw, breathing in the combined smells of florals and furs that was so entirely you.

“I didn’t want you to, m’lady,” he confirmed, sitting on the bed when it hit the backs of his knees and lifting you to sit in his lap. Straddling his thick thighs required the gown to slide up your body, baring your thighs to him once again which were quickly claimed by his hands with a firm squeeze. His hands trailed up, sliding until they cupped your breasts eagerly. “What can I do for you, my treasure? What brings you here at this hour?”

As his thumbs lightly feathered over your hardening nipples you gasped, your eyes wide and dark with lust as they met his gaze again. He brought his lips to yours in a soft kiss, encouraging a response from you, needing to hear the confirmation of your desires. Your voice was already little more than a whimper, the intensity of his gaze alone enough to melt you. “Your tongue is better suited to occupations other than speaking, Ser Criston.”

Your gentle teasing pulled a laugh from him, the words you’d chosen enough. Desperate to be reunited with the taste of you he grasped your hips, lifting you once again to push you down onto the bed on your back, pulling you so your lower half was barely on the soft fabric. He stood for a moment still, pulling his shirt back over his head and tossing it to the side with little regard as to where it landed. Your gown would have to be removed eventually, but for now he was content to roll it up to your waist as he sank to his knees on the hard ground. 

Suddenly shy again you kept your legs together, a quiet gasp falling from your lips as he leaned forward to run his warm lips up your right leg, his left hand following suit on the other. When he reached your knee, he gave a light nudge to push them open as he pressed a kiss just above your knee, silently begging for access. When your legs fell open at his bequest he inhaled, running his lips up your thigh as he sought out your already-dripping cunt. Keeping his right hand on its hold at your hip, his left found your core first, his index finger sliding against your folds tenderly to gather up the slick that had begun to pool between your legs.

“All this for me?” he pondered, trailing his kisses higher and higher as his finger barely dipped into you. A quiet moan slipped from your lips at the slight entry, a broken plea spoken into the night. You felt his lips curve into a smile as he placed another kiss tenderly against your thigh before turning his head to flick his tongue across your swollen clit as he buried the remainder of his finger in you. 

His name fell from your lips again, louder this time, and was thanked with a groan of his own as he connected his lips around your clit, sucking gently on the sensitive nub as his finger curled within you. His new driving force found in hearing you come undone for him, he set out on his task with insatiable enthusiasm. Adding a second finger to you slowly elicited another gasp from you, his thick fingers beginning to work you open as his lips sucked against your clit gently, his tongue flicking in perfect sync with the movement of his fingers. You’d missed his mouth on you and it took no time with the combination of his fingers to make your thighs begin to shake, your breaths coming breathy as you approached an orgasm.

“C-Criston, please…” you whined, your eyes rolling into your head as he removed his fingers, making your upset at the loss of him known. He moved his hands quickly to flip you over, adjusting your position so you stayed up on your hands and knees while he pushed a pillow under your face. 

“Bite, my love,” he instructed, brushing the hair out of your face and ensuring you’d still be able to breathe. “We can’t wake the castle while I drink everything I can from you.” 

Any negativity you’d felt at the loss of his fingers was soon buried as he dipped his head again, licking a thick stripe against your folds before fucking his hot tongue into your leaking cunt. His fingers that were still slickened with your arousal reached around to rub your clit as he groaned into you, savoring how sweet you were for him and falling impossibly harder for you knowing that seeing you like this was a privilege all to himself. With his objective in sight, he wasted no time tipping you over the edge, grasping at your thigh as you gave him exactly what he wanted yet again.

His tongue eagerly swept up every bit of your nectar that he could find before he sucked against your clit once more, his eyes seeking to connect with yours as he flipped you over again. Instead of being met by your gaze he was gifted with the look on your face as you glowed with pleasure for him, your eyes closed in euphoria as your chest fought to catch breath. A gently placed trail of kisses to your lips gave you the time you needed, and by the time he reached your lips he was desperate. Your hand reached to find the laces of his pants and instead found his hands already there, untying and working to free himself of the restraints.

As you began to remove yourself from under him, intent on crawling down his body to wrap your lips around him once again, one of his hands reached to still your movements, pushing against your chest lightly to keep you lying back against the bed. His voice was barely above a growl as he gave into the desires he had vowed not to. “It’s not enough.”

Biting at your bottom lip as he stood from the bed to remove his pants your eyes found his again, the gentle affection blossoming in them enough to reaffirm the decision he’d made. Crawling onto the bed and back between your legs he pressed several gentle kisses to your lips as one of his hands cradled the side of your face. 

“I would have never taken my vow had I known you were in the world,” he breathed, his forehead leaning against yours in the intimate gesture that was becoming a repeated motion for the two of you. As both of your eyes fluttered closed, he reached to rub the head of his cock against your folds, gathering up enough slick to well lubricate himself.

“Whether you take me or not,” you began, your voice laced with a quiet whine as he continued to rub his cock around your entrance, his breaths becoming heavier as his mind became fogged by you. “I am yours, Criston.”

The vow that fell from your lips shattered any promise he’d made before you, slipping into you without another thought with a quiet groan as his lips connected with yours. You returned his kiss the best you could as you gasped, feeling him stretch your walls as he exercised just a bit more patience to claim each inch of you slowly. Stretching your walls inch by inch he soothed you with soft kisses, quietly muttering praises as he worked his way into your impossibly tight cunt. 

“All mine,” he finally confirmed as he bottomed out within you, moving to press his lips to your forehead as he stopped his movements to give you any time you needed to adjust. As one of his hands found your hip the other slid up your body until it rested at the side of your neck, holding you close as he finally fulfilled what he most desired. 

It took a moment, but finally your body gave into him and relaxed, one of your legs moving to wrap around your waist to encourage him in just slightly deeper. The simple action brought forth a groan from his chest as he ground his waist against yours, desperate for movement between the two of you. His lips lowered to yours again as he slowly dragged his cock out of you to the head before tenderly sliding back into your wet heat. As his tongue dove into your mouth, he swallowed the moan that came from your chest, his hand on your hip grasping tighter and he repeated the motion again. 

After several slow, rhythmic thrusts the head of his cock found the extra sensitive, spongy patch deep within you that elicited his name from your lips. Finding the spot several more times caused your walls to tighten around him slightly, his control faltering as he pulled away from the kiss to catch his breath as he stilled for a moment. His voice was low and breathless as he slowly circled his hips again, grinding down into you rhythmically. 

“No one will keep you from me,” he promised, his new vow spoken into the night and followed by a groan as he increased his pace into your dripping cunt again. Sliding the hand that rested on your neck up further and into your hair he pulled you into another kiss, a breathy groan covering your lips as your walls tightened around him again. “Fucking…exquisite,” he breathed out, his other hand sliding to raise one of your legs over his shoulder. The deeper angle pulled a deeper, more primal groan from his chest as he seemed to push in impossibly deeper. “Oh, gods, I could bury myself in you every day…”

You found yourself unable to respond to his praise with adequate words, instead thanking his kindness and showing your appreciation of the new angle by moaning his name and nodding in agreement. Tightening his hold on your ankle and burying his face in your neck he began to thrust into you again, releasing a wanton groan into your neck as his lips curved into a small against your skin. A shaking hand belonging to you raised to push his chin up, claiming his lips in a kiss again before your fingers slid back into his hair. The heat of your kiss melted his smile and was returned with immediate passion, as would every kiss you offered him from there forward. 

As your thighs began to shake around him again and your walls squeezed him slightly tighter, your breaths becoming more desperate, he knew the end was approaching for you just as it was for him. As he removed his lips from your kiss to lean his forehead against yours once again, he was greeted with the ethereal sight of you glowing for him, your mouth falling open in bliss as he slid a hand to connect a thumb to your clit and rub leisurely circles.

“Criston…I…”

“Yes, my love,” he moaned, picking his pace up again as he nodded, breathing out heavy onto your lips. His thumb began to work faster circles on your swollen clit as he positioned his cock to slide against the sweet patch within you, pressing gentle kisses to your lips as he coaxed another orgasm from you. He knew it was wrong, completely so, and yet he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering toward a future of possibilities, of the possible consequences of his broken vow; of watching you swell with his child. As your walls clenched him impossibly tighter your orgasm washed over you, your combined moans were swallowed by his kiss as he spilled himself within you, unable to hold himself back. 

When he’d finished painting your quivering walls he leaned his forehead down against your shoulder, holding himself up so he didn’t crush you but clearly unwilling to pull away from you. His mind wandered to the possibility of soon seeing you swell with what would be his bastard child, and he immediately felt guilty knowing that you deserved far better than the life of a woman with a bastard child. Even still, he couldn’t deny the truth that was that he wanted to see you birth his child – a thought that had him leaning to press repeated kisses against your lips in adoration. 

Though he still fought for completely normal breath, his new vow was spoken with purpose and taken as gospel by the one person he could truly ever devote himself to.

“I will find a way for us to truly be together, my love. I swear it.”

masterlist.