#god it's going to feel empty without them
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
not-neverland06 · 1 day ago
Text
𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙻𝚊𝚗𝚍’𝚜 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Arthur Morgan x fem!reader
A/N: Oh. My. God. I am so sorry this got delayed so many times. This is such an important chapter to me, it plays such a pivotal role in "Y/N's" development that I kept scrapping it and starting over. I didn't want to give this to you guys until it was perfect, and I think I've gotten about as close as I can. I'm predicting one more story chapter and then possibly one short epilogue.
Next Part - Hell Hath No Fury Series
Summary: Arthur's gone and you're own once more. The familiar ache of grief lingers as it always does. But the clouds must always part for light. Through death and grief, you still manage to find yourself.
Tumblr media
It always seems to be cold at night, now that Arthur’s no longer there to keep you warm. You curl into yourself, knees tucked to your chest as you smother your face in the thin pillow on your cot. You press the fabric tightly to your mouth, trying to keep the sounds of your crying out of the other’s dreams. 
There should be no surprise that you’re on your own again. Beating a dead horse doesn’t make it move, but somehow, you keep finding yourself tangled in the reins, dragged along by the memory of men who’ve long since let go. You wonder, sometimes, if your life is one bet of many between god and the devil, seeing which one of them can get you to break first.  What you could have done to draw their ire, you don’t know, but you’re not sure how much more pain and loss you can handle. Your lifetime is filled with the empty graves of those you’ll never see again. Now, Arthur’s is just another headstone to add to your endless cemetery.
You worry that you’re too loud on the harder nights. But no one’s ever complained that they hear you crying and you figure they’re all probably too busy mourning in their own way to notice the way you do. 
Abigail is practically an empty shell of herself without John. As much as they fought she doesn’t seem to know what to do with herself. Especially knowing he’s in jail, destined for the noose, and there is nothing she can do about it. 
Karen’s not doing much better. With Sean in jail alongside John, she’s fallen to the drink. She’s adopted a fatalist view that, without Dutch, you are all doomed to die at the hands of the Pinkertons. Sometimes, looking at the depressing faces of those around you, you think she might be right.
Stuck out in the middle of nowhere, with only two rotting cabins between what was left of the gang, you are a far cry from the fearsome outlaws you once were. This is no longer the Van der Linde gang. Now, you’re barely any better than a group of desperate wanderers. 
You know sleep won’t come to you tonight, you’ve been tossing and turning for hours. Any longer and you’ll wake everyone else up. Wiping roughly at your eyes, you slip a blanket around your shoulders and head toward the creaking door of the cabin. You try to keep in mind that one wrong step and the groaning wood below you will alert everyone. 
Barefoot, you walk along the muddied planks of the porch and head towards what’s left of tonight’s fire. It’s not ever-burning as it once was. The gang takes care to ensure if anyone were to come looking for you all, you wouldn’t be such easy targets. 
You sink onto the log before the dying fire, with embers glowing faintly in the darkness. Sparks flicker and leap from the blackened wood, a futile effort to reignite the flame. Their struggle is in vain, though, there is no life left to kindle, no warmth to revive. The fire is gone. 
Light footsteps make their way towards you, but you keep your gaze steady on the flickering struggle before you. “I’m gettin’ real tired of this,” Sadie’s disappointed sigh is a familiar one as she comes to stand behind you. 
“Were you in town again?” You ask, ignoring the glare you feel boring into your back. She stares at you for a while longer before letting out a rough sigh and throwing herself down beside you. The log shifts slightly under her weight and you dip towards her. 
“I was,” she grumbles, something white balled up tightly in her fist. You turn towards her finally, eyes narrowed on the paper in her grasp. Her face is drawn tight, jaw set angrily as something vengeful burns within her gaze. 
“What is that?” You ask, tone inquisitive but not truly interested. Her eyes dart towards you before she shakes her head and tosses the paper to the dying fire. What’s left of it, licks eagerly at the paper, trying its damndest to burn brighter.
“Nothin’, don’t worry about it. Why can’t you sleep?” Her switch in conversation is quick and far from subtle. Your head tilts slightly in curiosity, gaze switching between her and the paper that’s slowly curling up at the edges. She’s hiding something, it’s easy enough to tell from the way she refuses to meet your eyes. Besides, she’s snuck into town plenty of times, you’ve never seen her come back this riled up before. 
You jump to your feet and she startles at the quick move. “Don’t,” she snaps, snatching at your wrist as you rush by her and swipe the paper from the fire pit. Sadie gets to her feet, hand held out with an expectant look as she waits for you to give her back to paper. When you don’t comply immediately, she says your name, voice low and tense, a warning. 
Lips curling up slightly in challenge, you leap back as she lunges for you, holding the paper away from her. “What is it?” You tease, curiosity curling over the lingering ache from earlier. 
She snaps your name again and you flinch back in surprise, “I mean it, don’t look at the goddamn paper.” You’d only been joking with her, trying to focus on anything other than Arthur. Now, there’s a familiar churning feeling of dread as you look at your friend. She’s not angry at you, she’s angry at the thin sheet you’re holding. There’s something on here she doesn’t want you to see, not for her own sake, but for yours. 
Your breath quickens, heart dancing dangerously fast against your ribs as you finally look at what’s in your hand. She hisses your name but you stubbornly ignore her, frowning when you realize it’s a torn-out piece of a newspaper. It’s a smaller article from the local St. Denis paper stand, talking about a ferry being lost at sea. 
“Oh, god,” you whisper, hand coming up to cover your mouth as bile rushes up your throat. You bite down on your tongue until the taste of iron fills your mouth, holding back the nausea. “This is him, isn’t it?”
Sadie lets out a rough sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. “I didn’t want you to know.”
“You were just gonna hide this from me?” You nearly shout, taking one angry step towards her. Her brows turn down in guilt, mouth settling into a thin line as she shakes her head. “No? You weren’t?” You demand, tone rough with grief. “You were just going to wait until I put the pieces together myself?”
“Dammit, woman, you’re barely holding it together,” she barks out, snatching the paper from you once more. She turns her back on you, shredding it into pieces so small you’ll never be able to finish reading it. “I was going to wait until I didn’t think you were on the brink of completely fallin’ apart. Besides, it doesn’t say anything about the people on the ship, we don’t know what happened.”
“We never will!” The words tear out of you, a sharp, bitter exhale. A panicked smile twists your lips as you struggle to keep yourself upright. “Sadie, your husband is dead, you know that. You have your answer. I never will. I will never know what happened to him. And it doesn’t even matter because he left me!” Your voice cracks, a sob slipping free despite your best efforts to swallow it down. “I shouldn’t care about that goddamn bastard, but I do.” You turn away from her, shoulders caving in as you wipe roughly at the tears streaming down your cheeks. 
There’s a beat of silence behind you. You miss the way her face falls, her hardened exterior falling away just for a moment. She looks at you with something like understanding, pity more likely. She steps forward, her arms winding around your shoulders, trying to hold you steady through the pain. You struggle against her hold for a moment but she keeps her grip firm, forcing you to succumb to the small comfort. 
You sink into her embrace, breath hitching as the grief claws its way up your chest, relentless and unyielding. You can’t keep doing this. You aren’t made to endlessly love and lose, to watch pieces of yourself crumble with every goodbye. It feels as though there should be nothing left of you- no bleeding heart, no raw edges. And yet, every time you think you’ve reached your limit, life finds a way to push you further. 
But life, pain, and the ugly company of grief never stops or goes away, despite how much you wish they would. 
Tumblr media
A few weeks later
Physical pains and ailments heal. There may be scars left behind, but for the most part, you can be wholly healed. Anguish of the mind and heart is a different beast to conquer altogether. That sort of pain ebbs and flows. It doesn’t slip away neatly. It comes and goes, sneaking upon you when you least wish for it. 
Distractions can dull the edge. The looming danger of death and the law from any of your multitude of enemies helps. But more often than not, the weight remains a leaden burden on your shoulders and a gnawing ache deep in your chest.
For now, the pain has numbed into something dull that makes you clench your teeth and hiss. But if you force yourself, you can find steady ground to stand on. You can keep yourself calm and sated, if you focus yourself on the anger rather than the grief. 
Anger comes easier than healing. It lashes out at the world and balms over the constant pain, if only for a little while. You find yourself getting into more and more fights around camp. The forgiveness of shared grief has its limits and you’ve been testing them for a while. You’re curious how far you can push before you’re forced out by the rest of them. 
Tumblr media
Sadie’s efforts of finding a new place for you all to hide don’t go unappreciated. But this cabin feels like a cage, no matter how far you’ve come from the mud and chaos of the old abandoned camp.  The tight space presses against you, the silence weighs heavy against your chest and constricts around you tightly. You hear the faint rustle of the trees in the wind, but it’s a vacuous cavern inside. 
The memories of Shady Belle plague you like a ghost. The brief moments when you could almost forget everything pressing down, but now, that place, too, is just another reminder of what’s been lost. Memories of nights spent with Arthur or sitting outside and listening to Javier play his guitar are tainted with loss and rage. 
Sadie and Charles provide you brief comfort, but it will never be enough to make this place feel like home. You try to shake thoughts of Arthur, what the gang once was, and everything that came before. You’ve been running for so long, from your past and who you once were, but it feels like you’re being dragged right back. 
Unable to handle the suffocating silence any longer, you take Arthur’s bow out from the chest under your cot. You grab a handful of arrows and jump to your feet. Throwing the door of the cabin open, you stride past everyone lingering outside. A few people give you odd looks, but they don’t stop you from leaving. You’ve become a dark cloud around camp, your presence heavy and actions unpredictable. It’s almost a relief for them when you’re gone. 
Lady’s just as restless as you are, except the dumb beast doesn’t understand that neither of them are coming back. Charles doesn’t know what happened to Diablo or the other horses when he fled St. Denis and you’re not interested in looking for them. She’ll just have to live with the pain, same as you. 
“Let’s go,” you mutter, swinging onto her saddle and leading her out of camp. It’s as if a weight slips from your shoulder the further you get from camp. The tight grip constricting around your chest loosens and for the first time in days, you can draw a full breath as the world opens before you. 
The thick groves of trees thin and give way to sprawling plains of grass and wildflowers that stretch endlessly. Steering Lady off the trail, you ride her hard and fast, determined to put as much distance between yourself and those suffocating cabins. Dirt kicks up under her hooves, flying up behind you as she pushes herself to the limit. 
The world around you blurs into streaks of green and gold as memories and grief slip away from you. You lean forward over Lady’s neck, urging her to go faster even as she huffs beneath you. You’re racing the wind, chasing after a dream that’s been lost to you. The air lashes at your face, the sting sharp and cold. Your eyes burn and you tell yourself it’s the wind, even as wet streaks drip down your cheeks.
Bright beams of sunlight streak across the ground, illuminating the path forward. Morning dew glistening under the light, transforms the earth into a field of stars beneath your boots. You draw in a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill your lungs, and tighten your legs around Lady’s sides, signaling her to slow. Her chest heaves beneath you, each breath a puff of steam in the cold air. You can feel her desire to keep running, that shared, desperate need to escape clawing at both of you. 
But she’s exhausted, and no matter how much you’d like to keep going, you can’t push her until she collapses. You’re tethered, whether you like it or not, you’re always going to be pulled back to camp. It’s a cage and a haven. Though you hate the confinement, deep down you know survival outside of it might be beyond you. You don’t trust yourself not to wither in the wilderness alone. 
The sound of water rushing draws your attention and you turn towards a green hill rousing in the distance. Guiding Lady toward it, you crest the incline and slip off her saddle, letting her graze.
Below, a river carves through the land. Its rushing currents are strong enough to carry something away with no hope of return. You step closer to the edge, peering down as the sunlight dances on the water’s surface. It runs like liquid gold, unnaturally beautiful, almost hypnotic, like the siren call of a sailor’s doom. 
A herd of deer drift alongside the river, their presence serene and almost make the idea of simply drifting away, peaceful. Your foot inches closer to the edge, slipping on the wet grass, and for a split second, the earth feels like it’s tilting forward.  
“You don’t usually ride out this far.” 
The voice snaps you back, and you gasp, spinning around. Charles stands behind you, one hand on Taima’s saddle, watching you with a calm but expectant expression. 
“I can’t stand being there,” you say, moving toward Lady. Your hands fumble with her saddlebag, needing something to occupy them. His eyes flick briefly to the river, then back to you, his gaze sharp and knowing. 
“You’re not the only one.” He strolls to the edge and whistles softly.  “Far drop.” 
You keep your hands busy, pretending to rummage through your belongings. “I’m a good swimmer,” you tell him, voice flat. 
“Not that good.” His tone is clipped, a warning wove into his words.  
You let out a sharp breath and finally turn to face him. “What do you want, Charles?”
He shrugs, resting one hand on his belt as his dark eyes assess you. “Thought you might want some company.” He pauses, his voice lowering. “Or, at least someone to keep you from doing something stupid.”
You wince, knowing how it must have looked. You’re hurt and desperate, but you’re no fool. The river might be pretty, but you’re not looking to drown yourself in it. “It wasn’t anything like that,” you insist, and Charles gives you a sharp, assessing look. “Charles,” you snap, exhaling in frustration.  “Honestly. I just,” you take in a slow breath, shaking your head, eyes downcast. “I need a break.”
“Alright,” he says simply. “We’ll take one together.” He walks back to the cliff’s edge, dropping down to sit with his legs dangling over the side. He glances over his shoulder and motions you to join him. 
Your fists clench at your sides as you take slow, reluctant steps toward him. The dew on the grass seeps into your pants as you sit beside him, hands folded in your lap. Out of the corner of his eyes, you catch his profile, calm, steady, and scarred. 
The aftermath of St. Denis lingers on his face. A fresh scar cuts along his jawline, a reminder of how close he came to joining the others who didn’t make it. Yet, with some of them gone, he seems more at ease. Charles never agreed with Dutch’s grandiose visions, and though he and Arthur had a bond, it’s clear the gang’s collapse has freed him from some invisible yoke. He wears his hair in a braid lately, speaking with nearby tribes and helping them when he’s not in camp. 
If it wasn’t for some odd honor-bound obligation he’s got to you and a few others in camp, you don’t doubt that he’d be riding free by now. Still, he stays with you, and selfishly, you’re glad for it. 
A gunshot cracks through the quiet, echoing among the hills. Birds take flight from the treetops as a hunting group crashes through the grove below. They circle around the herd of deer and let their bullets fly wild. Their hounds snap at the flanks of the animals, jaws clamping around the soft throats of the doe. 
Charles scoffs, shaking his head in disgust. “You don’t kill the does,” he mutters angrily. “Just the bucks. These men... they have no respect for the laws of nature.”
You let out a sardonic huff of laughter, gesturing toward the chaos below.  “Welcome to the future of our country,” Your gaze drifts toward the horizon, where smoke from St. Denis factories smudges the sky. Even this far out, civilization stretches its claws, unstoppable. “The west is dying, Charles. The time of outlaws, of freedom, is being shackled and destroyed.”
You turn to face him, meeting the same burning anger in his eyes that’s been smoldering in your own for weeks. It’s the first time you’ve seen that fire in him so clearly- the shared, silent rage, you’ve both been trying to suppress. “Our time is over,” you tell him, voice low with finality. 
His eyes narrow, jaw tight with defiance. For a moment, he says nothing, but then he rises to his feet, his movements purposeful. “Maybe,” he says, his voice steady, “but not today.”
Without another word, he strides toward Taima, tightening the saddle and checking the reins with precision. “What’re you doin?” You call after him, brows knitting together in confusion. 
He gestures toward the hunters below, his tone sharp. “You want to do something stupid. Fine. But take it out on someone who deserves it, not yourself.” 
His words hit like a slap, and before you know it, he’s leading Taima down the hill. 
You linger in the sharp sting of what he said only for a moment. Jumping to your feet, you rush to Lady, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you mount her. With a kick of your heels, you follow Charles down the path toward the hunters, your rage finally finding a target. 
For the first time in a long while, the weight around your chest lightens. You might not be able to fix the world, but you can make sure someone pays for tearing it apart. And as you ride beside Charles, you remember why he’s still here. He’s not just keeping you alive, he’s giving you something to live for.
Tumblr media
Sitting inside the cabin, the smell of venison drifts toward you. After the incident with the hunting party, you and Charles salvaged what you could of the herd. Neither of you liked the idea of anything going to waste. Some materials were given to the local tribe, and the rest have been feeding the camp for days now. 
Last night, you’d scoured the woods for herbs and other ingredients and discreetly left them on Pearson’s cooking table. You were growing desperate for a flavor other than plain meat. Judging by the faint smell of mint wafting through the air, it seems he finally took the hint. 
Propped against your flimsy pillow, you run your fingers along the worn leather of the journal in your lap. For weeks, you’ve toyed with the idea of opening it, of seeing the world through Arthur’s eyes. 
Here, in the rare serenity of a quiet camp, you finally give in. The journal is as you would expect, sketches, details of some of the more pivotal moments for the gang. Every once in a while you’ll find a sketch of someone and a brutally honest recollection of how Arthur thought of them. Some of them are less flattering than you would have thought, you’re almost worried for how he might have seen you. 
You make it through his entries about Blackwater, the sun setting lower in the horizon as the light from the window gets dimmer. Outside, voices grow louder as people gather around the fire for dinner. You force your eyes to stay on the page, blocking out their drifting voices. 
His entries after the mountains are almost amusing. He’s clearly frustrated about something, though, he skirts around directly addressing what it is. Only a few times are you directly mentioned, for the most part, he avoids writing about you. But you catch glimpses of yourself hiding in the pages. A half-finished sketch of your hand holding his, the beginnings of your face abandoned before he can finish. 
There’s an entry a few weeks after you acquired Lady. A sketch of her and Diablo grazing together, their noses nearly touching as they crane their necks towards the grass. Surrounding the drawings are small notes about herbs and foliage he’d collected on his hunting trips. Among those sketches, there’s a small blurb about the horses.  
Diablo seems to be taking a liking to Lady, odd pair, I think. 
An odd pair, you suppose there’s not a better way to put it. Something that never should have worked, a devil and a lady, yet it still clawed and fought to find its way. In the end, though, one of them was always going to be left behind. You can’t help but wish it hadn’t been you.
A rough sigh escapes you, and you flip past the next few pages. Then, you stop. A familiar pair of eyes stare back at you. 
You’ve changed so much since this journey began. Your skin is weathered, your once-pristine hair is now more often than not dirtied and knotted from the wind. Your body has grown leaner, stronger, shaped by the relentless movement and harsh diet. The woman in the red dress from St Denis was already a stranger, someone you couldn’t recognize. 
Even from Arthur’s view, you still don’t know her. The general shape of your face remains. You have the same slope to your nose, your jaw still tilts the same way. But your eyes are so different. He drew them with fire, with life, with a fight you had once thought yourself incapable of. 
You feel invulnerable as you stare down at her, as though her fire can be passed so easily to you. The feeling flickers and fades, replaced with the same familiar ache you’ve grown used to. 
You can’t make sense of it, how he could have seen you so kindly, and yet still walked away. 
“Got that look in your eye again,” Sadie’s voice cuts through the stillness, startling you. She leans against the doorway, one hand lingering on the revolver strapped to her hip. 
“What look?” You mutter, glaring down at the journal. It feels too raw, too personal to keep reading. Torturing yourself with thoughts of him isn’t getting you anywhere. He’s gone. You’ve faced death all your life- mourn, move on. That’s how it’s meant to go.  
“Angry,” Sadie tells you, voice soft and knowing. “Like how I looked after I lost Jake. You ain’t look like that when you lost your husband.”
You shrug, fingers tracing the lines of your face through Arthur’s eyes. “Arthur was nothing like my husband. He leaves something to be mourned,” you tell her simply. She watches you a moment longer, but when you get to your feet, her expression sharpens. 
“Going somewhere?”
“Out,” you reply curly, the cabin walls closing in around you. You’re growing tired of the suffocating way Charles and Sadie hover as if they’re both waiting for you to break again. That moment on the cliff, your grief by the fire, it was all a lapse of judgment, nothing more. You’ve fought too damn hard for your freedom just to throw it away because the men you love always leave you behind. 
“Need some compan-”
“No,” you snap, cutting her off. Your tone leaves no room for argument. 
You step outside, the balmy evening air clinging to your skin as you head toward Lady. You don’t know where you’re going, but that’s fine. You just know you need to figure out how to live for yourself. And you can start by riding. 
Tumblr media
The moon hangs heavy in the sky, its light threading through the plains like silver threads. Clouds roll overhead, slowly swallowing the stars. You smell rain in the air, a promise of a storm tomorrow. You’re sure you’ll be holed up in the cabins tomorrow while it pours. 
For now, you have the trail and the night for yourself. You let Lady take the lead, her slow gait a soothing rhythm as you settle into the ride. Normally, you don’t risk staying away from camp overnight. There are too many lawmen and bounty hunters looking to make a name for themselves. Tonight, though, you make an exception. 
A loud whoop cuts through the stillness, yanking you from your thoughts. You pull Lady to a halt, eyes roaming the dark horizon. A lone rider crests the hill, silhouetted against the moonlight, his path set toward something hidden around the bend.
“Must be my lucky day!” He hollers, voice manic. There’s a flash, the sharp crack of a gunshot splitting the quiet, and a scream follows. 
You curse under your breath, driving your heels into Lady’s sides. The two of you round the bend in time to see the rider poking his head into a finely adorned carriage. The driver slumps lifelessly over the reins, blood pooling beneath him.
Grimacing, you draw back into the shadows of the hill. “Alright, ladies first,” the bandit taunts. He reaches into the carriage, his groping hand causing a shrill shriek before he’s grabbing a woman and tossing her into the dirt. You grit your teeth, tucking yourself further out of sight, hoping to go unnoticed.
The glint of his revolver catches the moonlight as he climbs into the carriage. From inside, the muffled sounds of arguing give way to fists striking flesh. The woman lies with her face obscured by her hands. She flinches and sobs with each punch landed and the noises make Lady shift uneasily. Her hooves snap against the dried brambles of a dying bush. 
“Damn horse,” you mutter, eyes clenched shut as the noises momentarily pause. 
“Who’s there?” He calls out. It’s barely a moment before his patience snaps and he fires a warning shot into the air. “You don’t want me to come find you,” he warns, voice low and tight. 
Knocking the brim of your hat down, you let out a resigned sigh and turn the corner, forcing yourself into the open. “Howdy,” you call out, trying to mimic the casual confidence Arthur used to have in moments like these. Bandits, outlaws- they all recognize each other through the ease with which they face situations like this. You only hope you’re a good enough liar. “Just passin’ through, friend, no need for problems.” 
For a moment, his gun dips to his side. Then, his face is twisting into a wide, erratic grin. “Nice trail isn’t it? Perfect for catching big fish,” he says, swinging the revolver toward the woman’s husband. She whimpers loudly and grasps at the slumped-over man. You can hear his shallow, wet breaths from where you sit. 
“There ain’t no need to shoot ‘em,” you tell him, voice steady despite the tension coiling around you. “There’s a fence not far from here, you’ll get more money selling that carriage than you will killin’ them.”
He crackles and it makes your skin crawl. “Where’s the fun in that?” He sneers, cocking the hammer back as he points the gun at the woman. 
This man laughs, taking far more pleasure in tormenting others than in the act of robbery itself. He’s malicious, sadistic—the very picture of a perfect outlaw. For a fleeting moment, he sees something in you, thinks you might be cut from the same ruthless cloth. But he’s wrong, and there’s something exhilarating about stepping beyond the mold your family and husband once shaped for you, discovering who you can be on your own terms.
Your hand drifts to the revolver on your side, slowly easing it out of your holster. His head snaps toward the sound of you pulling the hammer back, but it’s too late. From your spot atop Lady, all you see is blood splatter as his body drops to the floor. The woman screaming lets you know you hit your mark near perfect. 
Opposed to the man now bleeding out in the dirt beneath you, there’s no thrill in the kill, no satisfaction. Just the cold thrum of your nerves, the slight tremor in your hands as you slide off Lady and stride toward the couple. 
With the bandit dead, the woman’s husband seems to make a miraculous recovery. He springs up, blood still streaming along his chin. “Thank God for you, sir-”
He stops short when you tip your hat back. Perhaps his ears were still ringing from one too many blows, dulling his senses, or maybe he was simply too pigheaded to grasp the fact that he’d just been rescued by a woman. You level him with an unimpressed glare. “Not a problem,” you say flatly
“Oh, good heavens,” the woman gasps, whispering your name with a startling familiarity. You freeze, eyes wide, as your blood runs cold. 
Elsbeth Morton. 
You’d know the voice anywhere. Of all the people you could have run into, she’s the last you’d ever want to see. Your tormenter through finishing school. She used to cut your hair in your sleep, stain your dress, and make your life a misery for sport. 
Her sneer hasn’t changed, though the lines around her mouth suggest her spite has only deepened. “Well,” she drawls, voice laced with faux pity, “I see nothing much has changed for you. Still scrounging out an existence in the dirt, are we?”
Your jaw tightens. “Elsbeth,” you grit out. “You’re welcome.”
She laughs, short and derisive in a way that makes you bristle. “For what? Subjecting me to this humiliating spectacle? Honestly, I think I preferred the company of the bandit. At least he had the decency to get on with it instead of pretending to play the hero.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to stay calm, but she doesn’t stop. “It’s almost tragic,” she continues, brushing the dirt from her skirts as if trying to erase the sight of you. “You’re still so desperate for approval, aren’t you? Trying to prove you’re something you’re not. What’s next? A big speech about how strong and independent you are?” She snickers, tugging her husband to his feet. “We both know better.”
Your voice comes out low and steady. “You’ve always been good at pretending you’re better than everyone else, Elsbeth.” God hates you, you’re sure of it. If he doesn't, why is she here? Dragging you back to everything you loathed about your former self—the vapid, dependent, hollow shell of a woman who had once believed her worth was defined by the man standing beside her.
“Pretending?” she snaps, narrowing her eyes. “Darling, I don’t need to pretend. You can wear all the trousers you want, but we both know you’re still the same timid little girl, hiding behind a man and hoping no one notices she doesn’t belong.”
Her words cut, but they don’t sting the way they once would have. Instead, they ignite something, a fire born not of anger, but clarity. 
You’re not the man bleeding out in the dirt, killing for the joy of it. But you aren’t the polished girl she remembers, desperate for a man’s approval. You’re something else entirely. Unbound by society, free to choose your own path, you’re a beast of your own creation. And if there is one thing you’ve learned about yourself- you love putting your past in the grave. 
You let out a slow breath, your hand drifting toward your revolver. “Elsbeth,” you call, voice sharp enough to cut through her self-satisfied grin.
She stops, turning back with an arched brow. “What now?” she huffs. “Come to beg for my acceptance? Or just another pathetic attempt to-”
“That husband of mine,” you interrupt, voice cool as steel, “was good for one thing.” You draw your revolver, the barrel leveling with her chest. “Teaching me to shoot.”
Her eyes widen, her sneer faltering as her hand instinctively flies to her necklace.
Your lips curl into a wicked smile. “Now, how about you hand over those pretty jewels?”
She scoffs, but you see the way her grin falters, the slight fear in her eyes. You shoot her a wink and take a step closer, reveling in how she stumbles back. 
“And while we’re at it,” you continue, voice tightening into a sharp, mocking edge, “why don’t you hand over those earrings too?” You laugh, waving your gun recklessly as you shrug with a faux playfulness. “Actually, what the hell, I think I’ll take that dress—seeing as you’ve gone and gotten it all muddy anyway.” You take a step forward, your gaze narrowing on her trembling hands. “Hell, even that hair ribbon. You always did like rubbing your finery in everyone’s face, Elsbeth. Let’s see how you like losing it.”
She stares at you, disbelief flickering in her wide eyes, her hands frozen in hesitation. “You can’t be serious,” she whispers.
“Oh, I’m dead,” you pull back the hammer of your gun with a slow, menacing click. The sound hangs in the air like a threat. Your eyes narrow, and a dangerous smile tugs at your lips. “Serious.”
She moves hesitantly, every motion weighted with reluctance, disbelief etched across her face. You, the woman she used to torment and cow with a simple look, now dismantling her composure piece by piece. The power shift is palpable, and for the first time in your life, you watch Elsbeth Morton falter.
“Go’n now,” you say, your voice cutting through her trembling silence. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
Her husband flinches as she begins to remove her jewelry, her fingers trembling as she unfastens each piece. You hold out your hand, and she hesitates, her face flushed with humiliation as she steps forward to place them carefully in your palm, one by one, like a chastened child.
He glances at you, then at her, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and disgust as if the sight of her submitting is too much for him to stomach.
Your eyes narrow on him, your hand tightening slightly around the revolver. The smug smile creeping onto your lips says it all—you’ll deal with him next.
You understand, finally, that you’re no longer the woman shaped by the men in your life. The husband who failed you, the outlaw who abandoned you, the society that tried to break you. People will learn that you aren’t afraid to take what’s yours anymore, because for the first time, you’re carving your own path, and God help anyone who tries to stand in your way.
Tumblr media
end. — I do not own the characters or the game Red Dead Redemption 1/2, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2025. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
Hell Hath No Fury Taglist: @buckysblondie @littlebirdgot @heloixe @summerdazed @committingcrimes-2047
@m1stea @pokiona @fleouris @soupvender00 @warmsideofthepillow03
@whimsiwitchy
106 notes · View notes
verdantude · 2 days ago
Note
aurie, I’ve been here for a year, and I think I’ve overconsumed. Now, I’m panicking, waiting for something to happen—a realization that I AM THAT. How do I simplify everything when I feel so confused, tired, and exhausted?
Okay I will simplify it for you.
Well there is only Now, so you are claiming right now you’re a person who overconsumed for a year.
Every moment is a new moment, every moment is a fresh start, because there is no time in the Divine. Time is an illusion.
So the “still waiting”, puts that to sleep because there is no time.
Who is waiting then? An apparent person, the identity you think you are, but you’re not a person.
Said person is basically just baseless thoughts, forget beliefs, forget conditioning, forget feelings, forget emotions. Don’t you notice how thoughts constantly come up and you associate them with yourself, or something happens and you react… all just thought.
Every thought is temporary and you assign them meaning anytime they pass. You’re basically being in your head too much.
No grand realisation, no awakening.
So basically it’s just God, in form, right now. You choose who you are each moment, right now you are nothing / no one / god / universal consciousness / awareness / infinite intelligence whatever you want to call it. It’s a simple as that.
I’m not going to say “now you just need to realise it” because you may perceive it again as reaching some realisation. But no, it’s as simple as that like I said just God, right now, aware each moment of whatever you think your experiencing.
Do NOT GO SEEKING FOR A SPECIFIC PLACE. That’s what everyone on here seems to do. You are it, your experience right now is a proof / manifestation of your power. You’re so powerful you tricked yourself into thinking there is separation and that you’re a limited human.
You just assign meaning to an apparent physical reality which has no fundamental reality.
Scientists realised it’s all atoms -> energy. Religion, scriptures points to it in one way and all point to the same core message. Signs everywhere.
There is just YOU / awareness in this moment right now, without labels, thoughts, conditionings, senses, a story.
Without giving your attention to something, just putting that attention just on noticing and being here now it is clear you are simply… power. Because without your power the thoughts vanish, the limits vanish because you’ve taken away your attention.
You are the only power. You are all that is. God is all these apparent things and people and world in form. APPARENT, UNREAL because it’s all temporary and malleable based on what you’re deciding / knowing to be in your experience.
Stop consuming, if you keep being aware each moment of choosing / seeking you’ll never stop, the search will never end because you’ll keep putting your attention on more stuff to seek. Put it on you and that’s it. You are your salvation (no one to achieve salvation coz there’s no one there, but in the sense you are THAT already now), you are what you seek.
After reading this if you still feel like you’re waiting, no you’re not. Look what you’re doing, giving power to another empty thought no meaning no power unless you decide so since again you’re the only power.
You’re not confused, tired or exhausted. You’re God Now, everything just IS, you are the power, what do you choose right now in this moment.
This longer than it should’ve been, so actually simplified:
Only God, only Now.
52 notes · View notes
tricksh0t · 1 day ago
Text
Tumblr media
helping hand (Hamburger Helper)
Tumblr media
jaime lannister x m reader
𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ dw about the hamburger helper its a joke
𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 2.14k
cw: handjob, frotting, spit, sub Jaime, dubcon, swearing
Tumblr media
Jaime is stressed. Actually, Jaime Lannister is stressed, because all his troubles seem to stem from his house duties.
Jaime knew that his father, Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King, seasoned army commander, war winner, and expert at giving disappointed looks was likely to strip him of his titles and send him back to Casterly Rock to continue the family line if he so much as made a single mistake, even going as far as taking back his words of disowning him, now that his little brother, Tyrion, was a very persecuted criminal. A breeding mare, he would be, because as much as Jaime hates to think about it, he is a one-handed knight who lost his sword hand.
If there's something he has, it's his cock, and it works; but he can't say it stands proud anymore, because his secret sister-wife Cersei denies him so much as a hand and he is nothing but blisteringly loyal to her.
So here he is, sexually, emotionally and physically frustrated, without his usual duties to fulfill like flaunting his sword.
The only thing that's not Lannister about his troubles is actually Tyrell, or rather, the cocky knight his new to-be-in-laws have brought with them from Hightower to become part of the King's Guard, you.
Already, you think yourself a God not to be fucked with, the second coming of Ser Meryn Trant, not for the asshole's skill but for his arrogance and blatant discourtesy.
What you have over Ser Meryn is actual skill as a swordsman, something you are right to be proud of, if you weren't so arrogant about it. Then there's your looks.
The Tyrells and Hightower love to be pretty. Margaery is a good match for his son already, despite what Cersei says, she is pretty on the outside as well as the inside. Loras, the Knight of the Flowers, is a popular bachelor, even though he has apparent, different tastes, he knows how to use his looks to fool a girl for his house duty. Olenna, though old, still decorates herself with the finest dresses and jewelry, almost as if it is second nature to her.
Naturally, you must be pretty too. You're not a Hightower kind of pretty, though, you're handsome, more rugged, scarred. You wear the Tyrell colors, their embroidery, their style, and yet you remain in Jaime's eye different.
It's too bad you're an asshole. He might've been good friends with you.
Jaime doesn't know why he's thinking about you while he's doing this. Initially, he'd just screwed his eyes shut to try to empty his mind and think of better things.
He tries to drift his attention towards what he usually likes, another's soft hands he's proud to have kept soft; long, flowing, and wavy blonde hair, emerald green eyes; but then he finds himself thinking of you again.
Rough hands that might just feel good on him, short hair, narrowed, mocking eyes, and another mocking smile to accompany them. Then muscles beneath armor, then muscles beneath nothing, then sweat and that sword hand wrapped around your sword and then imaginatively, wrapped around his cock.
And it's getting him off.
Imagining the hand he's got around him is yours is a filthy, guilty pleasure he'll never admit to, but it only helps that it's his left hand, because it feels foreign.
"Need a hand?"
Jaime jumps. His eyes snap open and he flings his hand away, only to sloppily pull up the sheets of his bed to cover himself decently.
"Just what are you doing here?" He asks, because he knows you've heard of knocking.
Evidently, you spy on the fact he hasn't gone soft. You continue taking steps forward. "I asked you a question first."
Jaime steels his dignity to speak next, "Jerking off is a one-handed thing, I'm afraid."
"Not going to take my so very kind offer?" You only stop nearing when you get to the edge of his bed.
You look down on him like you're in some position of power over him, even though he has all levels of seniority on you, because that is how you are. Cocky and arrogant and self-entitled.
Jaime sits up, but you push him back down, placing a hand on the unlaced front of his sleeping tunic, on his chest. His weak flesh hand comes up to fight yours, clutching at your wrist. His gold-plated, heavy hand is useless, and thus though he may not surrender, he cannot push you away.
You suddenly place your other hand beside his head, making him jump pathetically, but he is unable to go elsewhere as you lean down to whisper, "Let's not pretend that you do not fancy me, Kingslayer."
Your hand plays the part of a seductress, pushing his tunic loose around the top to caress at his hairless, toned chest. A warm touch, and he was right: a rough one too, the pads of your fingers are calloused.
"You swore an oath when you joined the King's Guard."
"You did too."
Jaime clicks his tongue at your audacity, looking up at you with narrowed eyes. You only return a smirk, that damned smirk, audacious and playful.
And then the seductress trails a path down the line between his pecs, down his sternum and abdomen, slipping below the covers to do so.
Jaime doesn't fight this time, in fact he lets go of your hand, and you can tell it's because he wants it.
His narrowed eyes change expressions, from an angry glare into a look that tells you he's watching you.
They only narrow further when you lift his tunic to trail your fingers not around his cock like you know he wants it, but down his happy trail. You take your sweet time swirling the short, thick hairs around your fingers in circles, thumbing at the end of the trail and the beginning of the tactile, trimmed bush. You switch from your whole hand to two fingers, tracing down the messy, crooked trail until you're almost at the base of his length.
Jaime is about to complain about how you edge right around it, but then you're suddenly grasping the base in one full hand.
He gasps.
Rough, is his first thought. Rough because of how tough the palm of your hand is, calloused and worked, and rough because you spare him no mercy in how tight you grip him.
"Softer, ass–" Your eyes silence him, that smirk again, you're in control of his pleasure. Jaime sighs, "please."
The pleasure lighting up in your gaze brings him no pleasure, not until you move your hand and, "Shit."
He tries to keep stoic, biting his lip to keep his mouth closed. It's a fight in it of itself, one he can fight. Though he has lost his swordsmanship, he has not lost the discipline and endurance that come with it.
However, the simple motion of your hand makes him want to roll his eyes back, even though you're barely doing him any good.
Already an electric shock fires through his body. His left hand feels foreign, yes, but it is slow and the fog of pleasure forming in his mind would make it sloppy. Your hand is perfect; actually foreign, big and motivated.
Jaime hasn't been the best swordsman in Westeros in a long time, and so he finds that he is losing his patience. The sexual frustration and this very moment are evidence of it, because he finds pleasure in all of it.
When your face leaves his view, it makes his eyes refocus. He looks down at you as you lean over his cock and not take it in your mouth, but let your spit drool over it.
"Fuck."
It's a sight, the new asshole of the Red Keep pleasuring him willingly, eagerly at that.
You spread the drool over his length evenly, but then only pay attention to his tip, thumb pressing against the slit and swirling.
His hand finds the back of your neck, an outward, sudden thing through the fog of pleasure and unmediated strength. "Don't make this impersonal, at least."
"If you can sit a while, darling."
Jaime rolls his eyes, but sits back and waits.
He's seen your body before, your boundless muscles and scarce scars, but of course he hasn't seen your cock.
You don't make a show for it, but his anticipation only makes things feel slower as he watches you undress. Just the faulds and scale groin guard, and then your pants and underwear, and the wait is much too long.
He reaches out to help, but you push his hand back against the headboard roughly. Jaime scoffs, and you only laugh in turn.
"Asshole."
You take your time, and Jaime takes his to watch. He bites his lip at the sight of your V line, but he focuses more on your hairy happy trail, lets his eyes follow it down the more you expose.
Your cock slaps your abdomen when you finally free it, and Jaime has to bite back an exclamation when he sees it.
He hadn't noticed, but precum had been dripping down his length as he watched. You press the tip of your cock against it, against his, collecting and spreading the pre around the both of you.
Jaime groans.
"Is it personal now?"
"Uh-huh." Jaime huffs breathlessly, eyes glued to what you're doing to him.
You straddle his legs and slowly press your cocks together lengthwise. He has no time to dwell on the size difference, before you're wrapping your hand around the both of you at the same time.
Jaime's breaths grow to match the pace of your hand, slow for now. His eyes close.
"Jaime."
"Hm?" Lazily, they open once more, only to widen when you part his lips and keep them open with your thumb at the corner of his lip.
Drool gathers at the bottom of his mouth forcibly, and he can't do much about it, not until you tell him to spit into your hand.
With his mind truly lost now, he obeys, and you soon spit into the same hand and use the mix to continue jerking the two of you off.
It's disgusting, a mix of your spit and his that will soon be accompanied by both of your seeds.
There's a wet squelch each time your hand reaches the top again, and that's disgusting too.
It's disgusting, but a part of him feels like he's missed this. A foreign hand, a sexual partner, pleasure like he's never had before, and he could only ever want more.
It's disgusting, but it's so fucking good.
Jaime's hips buck into your hand, wanting more and only more.
You're not selfish, either. The attention you pay to his cock makes it swell all the harder. It's almost as if you're servicing him, and only him.
When you add more spit into the mess, right on the tip of his cock, he yelps. His hand reaches for your wrist, and yet it does nothing to stop you.
He can't stop the moans from spilling from his mouth anymore, a steady "uh uh uh".
The coil in the pit of his stomach turns and turns, coiling and making him clench his stomach. He's close, so very close.
More pre weeps from the tip of his cock, and you swirl your finger around the tip, spreading it around.
Jaime's eyes focus once more on the movement. He winces, "Please."
But you're an asshole and he's forgotten that.
You wrap your hand around the both of you weakly, languidly dragging it up and down your cocks. It's not enough for him, not after how mind-blowing you were, not while he knows how mind-blowing you could be.
In a spurt of determination, Jaime's hand wraps right around yours.
No longer weak, his left hand guides the movement again, rough and fast that has his reactive hips bucking in tandem too.
You're very clearly amused but he does nothing about it.
No, he's in control now, doesn't need you.
Jaime chases after his pleasure, as he deems he rightfully deserves. He uses your hand like a vessel, a puppet, just to get off.
Hips bucking, pre and spit squelching, tip swollen red; it's instinctual, animalistic, the way he chases to snap the coil in his stomach with no regard for his energy.
When Jaime finishes, it's his first in a long time, and it has his entire body going limp.
His cum washes over the both of your lengths, but he's already got his eyes closed when it does. He doesn't know when you finish, only that it's later.
"Do I get a thank you?"
Jaime opens his eyes and looks at your now clothed body, then at his cock. His spit, your spit, his cum, yours. His nose turns up.
"No."
25 notes · View notes
lillaydee · 3 days ago
Text
Head Over Heels Part 3
Jackson!Joel / Reader
Special Guest Appearance by a Certain FBI Agent who may or may not look a lot like Joel.
You left the loneliness of your home and headed to Jackson with Joel and the teenage girl he was with, hoping your new life would be less lonely. You should've stayed alone.
WARNING:
Non-canon Compliant, Pining, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Lives (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Loneliness, Trauma.
MEGA WARNING: Descriptions of Attempted Sexual Assault.
@copperhalfcent @joelalorian @vickie5446 @peelieblue @nandan11
SERIES MASTER LIST
Part 2
---
Three weeks. You waited for him to come back for three weeks. For three whole weeks, you counted the days and the nights, scratching the wall of the basement with a rock to get your bearings on the days right. For three whole weeks, you kept to the few houses that surrounded you for fear that he came back to an empty basement. For three whole weeks, you ate whatever squirrels, birds, rats and rabbits you could find, not daring to go further to look for anything else. All in the vain hope he would come back to get you once he got Ellie.
You understood, you really did. You would have gone after Ellie too. She was the whole reason you were there. Both you and Joel cared about her. But you would have come back for him, despite everything. Yet, days, and later weeks went by and they hadn't returned.
It was hard to see the brighter side when you were alone in a basement, feeling left behind.
Of course he wouldn’t come back for you. Why would he? The man hated you. You laughed at yourself for ever thinking he might’ve warmed up to your presence, that maybe, just maybe, he was thankful you had nursed him back to health. To think you once hoped that he would reciprocate your stupid crush on him.
You were irrationally angry. For the days when he was sick, you didn’t dare move from the place, not wanting to leave him defenceless. And yet, here you were, three weeks later, waiting for him to come back for you. He left you alone in the basement, injured and unconscious. Frankly you were shocked he didn’t just take everything you had with him as well. Might as well have, if he was going to leave you to die, why not just leave you defenceless altogether? He’d be doing you a favour.
Thank God he didn’t, though. Those three weeks did not pass without incident. You managed to kill a few infected, hid from some men who came by to collect the body of the man Joel had killed, and fought off a couple who was passing by, scavenging your meagre supplies in the basement. To be fair, fighting them off wasn’t exactly hard, they seemed to be more scared of you than you were of them, the woman managing to get away with the scarf Maria had given you to wear on the road and your blanket. Oh, well, winter was coming to an end anyway. You wouldn’t need that scarf soon. But it still left you shaking and crying, so thankful you managed to get out of that unscathed.
By the time two weeks passed, winter was leaving, and spring was coming. The white fluffy grounds were quickly turning to slush, more and more of the ground showing than the white snow, and soon, the infected were going to be a lot more active. So would people. You should leave.
But where to?
Joel was the one with the map. He was the one who was more reliable with directions. You merely followed along, making sure Ellie was covered and safe. At this point, you weren’t even sure you wanted to go back to Jackson. If Joel and Ellie survived, it was pretty clear that they didn’t want you with them, or they would’ve come back for you. Wherever they went, it had to do with those men. You doubted that they lived anywhere that would take longer than a few days to go to and come back from, seeing as they only took a few days to track Ellie from where she met them, and according to her, it only took a few hours for the guy to go back to their camp to get the penicillin. So, your travel mates ditched you. They didn’t want your company. Why go back to Jackson and face them?
And if they didn’t ditch you but lost their fights instead…
No. You were not going to that headspace. They’re alright. They’re fine.
So, where to?
You decided you were going to make your way to the interstate first. Get a general direction. Find a signboard at least. Walk the roadsides where you couldn’t be seen. See where the road took you.
So, at the end of the third week, you started walking. You walked, and walked, and walked, and then you walked some more. You even walked at night, those first couple of days, the prospect of camping out in the open alone too daunting to think of, so you decided to keep walking until you could find somewhere safer.
By the time you got to the interstate and figured which way you should walk towards to go back to Jackson, a thought invaded your brain and wouldn’t leave. If they had survived and didn’t come back to you, it’s clear that they had left you. But you promised Ellie you wouldn’t leave her. And if there was a chance she was alive, you wanted to keep that promise. You lived in a world where you could die at any time, and you didn’t want to die as someone who broke her promise to a teenage girl. You were already here, why not just go to the hospital? It would be farther to get back to Jackson anyway, so why not?
You followed the signboard to the hospital and made it there within a few days. You slept in abandoned cars when you got tired and walked on as soon as you got up. You kept walking, realizing that although you were alone, you didn’t feel lonely. Your mind went back to the books you used to read, movies you used to watch, smiling to yourself, even laughing at times when you remembered things that used to make you laugh.
And then, by day five, you heard something in the wind. You walked along, gun out, slowly, stealthily, not wanting to alert anyone or anything that shouldn’t be alerted. You turned a corner and the sound got a bit clearer, and that’s when you saw them. From afar.
They were feeding giraffes. Ellie was laughing, Joel was smiling.
You watched them, from a distance, as they walked on, talking to each other, Joel talking more than you’d ever seen him talk. Ellie’s body language seemed a bit… subdued, despite her looking as if she was trying to be her bubbly self, if your eyes were not deceiving you. But otherwise, they might as well be father and daughter on an evening stroll together. An unlikely couple, but there they were, at ease in each other’s presence. The gruff, grumpy man and the teenager.
And just like that, you felt lonely again. You scolded yourself for your own silliness. You chose to come here, so why were you wallowing in self-pity? So the man didn’t reciprocate your feelings for him, openly called the idea of the two of you together stupid. So he left you to die alone. He made no effort in hiding the fact that Ellie was ‘cargo’ to him, a job. Maybe you were ‘cargo’ too, except there was no payment to be had on your head. So he dumped the ‘cargo’ that was you and left to get the more precious one. So what? You’re a grown woman. Get over it. Go keep your promise, and then you can leave without the burden of not keeping your promise to Ellie weighing down on your conscience.
Yeah. That’s the mature thing to do.
You waited until they were nearer to you before showing yourself, standing in their path about a hundred yards ahead of them. When they saw you, they stopped in their tracks, Joel looking as if he had just seen a ghost. Ellie stood there, stock still for a moment before running towards you, throwing herself in your arms, telling you she was so happy to see you.
She hugged you for a while, sobbing into your chest, not saying anything after that initial greeting. Joel walked over, his eyes still on you, his face unreadable. When Ellie finally let go of you, face wet with tears, she asked you how was it that you were there?
“I made a promise to you, that I wouldn’t leave you, so here I am.”
You looked at Joel, who still had the most indecipherable look on his face. Was he disappointed you were here and didn’t die in that basement? Was he annoyed? What? Ever heard of a facial expression, Joel?
But everything you knew about him and his feelings for you made you feel certain that none of what he was feeling inside was anywhere near being happy to see you.
“Don’t worry. I know you don’t want me here. I won’t hold you leaving me to die against you, Joel. I know you had a reason to do what you did. I’ll just accompany you to the hospital and then I’ll be on my way. I just wanted to keep a promise. I won’t bother you for long,” you said before you could stop yourself, not wanting to cry or show him you were hurt.
Joel still had that look on his face, that something in his eyes you saw a lot but could never read. He didn’t say anything. Ellie looked a bit confused and started saying your name, wanting to say something to you, but Joel told her to keep walking. We shouldn’t delay, he said. It’s not far now. She looked at him, looking frustrated but sad, “Joel,” she began, but he physically turned her around by the shoulders and prodded her to walk ahead, immediately following her. You waited until they had walked quite a bit before following, maintaining quite a distance between them and yourself, not wanting to intrude or get on Joel’s nerves again.
You maintained this distance all the way to the hospital. You stayed away when Joel told Ellie about that incident that almost took place the day after the outbreak, the one Tess told you about, the story she only found out from Tommy, his low voice carrying in the wind. The two seemed to have a private moment together, so you wandered off alone, seeing if there was anything you could scavenge in what was left of the buildings surrounding the hospital. You only came back out once they had started walking again, leaving some space between you and the two of them just in case.
Something had shifted since that private moment. Ellie seemed more herself, and Joel seemed… chirpier? He said something to her and she excitedly took out the stupid pun book she carried around from her pack. They were bantering. Laughing with each other, which somehow made you feel even lonelier than before. You stopped walking, putting even more distance between you and them, wondering what the hell you were doing, interrupting the dynamic duo. They obviously were more comfortable being alone. Shake it out, Elena. Just, make sure she got to where she was supposed to go safely and then you could leave.
An explosion startled you. You hid behind one of the walls of the buildings there and watched as several men carried Ellie and Joel into the building. No one was looking around for you. They obviously didn’t notice you were there.
You waited until they were gone before following them inside, watching out for guards. There didn’t seem to be that many of them, the few they had sparsely spread out all over the big building. You stayed hidden until you found Joel, or more specifically, where he was placed. He was unconscious, but his door was heavily guarded, well – as heavily as it could be, their number being so small.
You heard the woman said what she said to Joel. Your heart went cold. You needed to find her. Let her know. You snuck away as soon as you could, following the signage to the surgical floor, avoiding the guards. You didn’t want to alert anyone.
You found her just as they were starting to prep her for the surgery. She was still awake. There were no guards on the floor, just the doctor and two nurses.
You snuck up to where she was, lying on a gurney, her eyes surveying her surroundings. When the doctor spotted you, you pointed your gun at him.
“Elena, what are you doing?”
“Ellie, get up. They’re gonna kill you. They are going to cut your brain out, Ellie. You’re not going to survive this surgery. They lied.”
Ellie looked at the surgeon. Even with his surgical mask on, he couldn’t hide his guilt.
“Is that true?” she asked him point blank.
“We need to test your brain, Ellie. It’s the only way. We need this chance.”
Ellie was quiet for what felt like hours.
“Ellie,” the doctor said, going to her. Your gun followed him. “No cure was found without collateral damage. Your death could mean the end of the outbreak. A cure. Your sacrifice would mean something.”
“Ellie, don’t listen to him,” you told her, “Look, you wanted to know what the world was like before? It was amazing. The technology was groundbreaking. New drugs were created every day. New medications, new cures, new vaccines, but you know what they never found? A vaccine for fungus. Even with all the advancement back then, they couldn’t do it. Heck, they couldn't even vaccinate anyone from freakin' yeast infections! They could not do it then, they cannot do it now. Please Ellie.”
“Well, that was then, but it’s twenty years later,” the doctor said.
“Twenty years where the world has gone to shit. We don’t even have electricity or running water anymore, so shut that down, doctor. We have gone back a hundred years technology-wise and you know it. You do not have the expertise, nor the equipment to find this cure!” you snarled.
“Elena, if there was a chance,” Ellie started, but you were having none of it.
“What chance? You will die for nothing, Ellie! All of this, everything would have been for nothing!”
The sounds of gunshots echoed through the corridor. The doctor and the nurses began to move towards the door. You immediately backed towards it, your guns pointing at them in turn. Take one step, and you will shoot, you warned.
“Elena,” Ellie said, “Even if I die, my death will mean something. We have to let them try.”
“Try what? Have you seen this place? You really think they could come up with a cure in a place where the lights come from a generator? Honey, they don’t even have clean water to wash their hands with, let alone produce a cure for thousands of people!”
“Elena, please.”
“No Ellie, your life means something. To me, to Joel. I’m willing to bet you anything that is him we hear, trying to get to you, to rescue you. You mean the world to him, to me. Ellie, don’t you get that? Please, Ellie, hear me. Please!”
The shooting got closer and closer. Now accompanied by men screaming. You looked behind you for a second, and you heard Ellie call your name. You turned to see one of the nurses injecting something in the cannula in her arm, Ellie immediately weakened, her eyes struggling to stay open, still looking at you pleadingly.
The doctor rushed to her side, taking a scalpel from the tray and made to cut her. You raised your gun and shot him in the knee, turning the gun to the nurses, daring them to move. Both immediately retreated, arms up in surrender. The doctor, now crumpled up on the floor, was begging you to spare them. You waited until Joel came in, a gun in his hand, immediately checking Ellie.
The doctor held out the scalpel at him, telling him he wasn’t going to let him take her, and Joel raised his gun to his head. You pulled him away, telling him enough people had died. He whisper shouted at you that they could come after her, but you turned around and shot the doctor in his other knee and proceeded to do the same to the two nurses, telling them as they were sobbing on the floor that you would finish the job if they ever, ever come looking for her.
Joel picked an unconscious Ellie up and carried her out, and you followed, giving the three immobilized people a final warning glare before you did.
You managed to get to the car park when the woman from before reappeared, a gun pointed at Joel, asking him to leave Ellie there. You took her from Joel, the woman warning you not to do it, but you walked off with her anyway, hearing a gunshot behind you. You beelined for the minivan that was charging, and placed Ellie in the back seat. You went to disconnect the battery from charging and started the car.
That’s when you heard the second gunshot.
You drove out as soon as Joel was in the passenger seat, heading for Jackson. Neither of you spoke, Joel glancing at you every now and again. You stopped twice for gas before he took over, still not talking to you. You checked on Ellie during those stops, making sure her breathing was regular, that she didn’t have a fever. Just after the third refuel, Joel broke the silence.
“Listen, about me leaving you…”
A big part of you wanted to hear it. But what could he say, really? He did what he did. He left you. Didn't come back for you. What could he possibly say that could ever make you feel less rejected?
“It’s okay, Joel. I told you, I’m not going to hold it against you.”
“It’s just that…”
“Really, Joel, you don’t have to explain. I get it. Right now I’m more worried about Ellie waking up, okay? Let’s get through that first?”
Ellie stirred then, rendering your conversation shut. She slowly got up, looking around, blearily reminding herself where she was. Joel told her she was okay, she was with the two of you. She glared at you in the mirror, asking you if you killed the doctor and nurses.
“No, she didn’t,” Joel told her. “Ellie, they were going to kill you.”
She glared at him instead, lying back down and turning the other way. You found her some clothes somewhere along the way, which she took and put on while scowling at you. She spent the rest of the journey shouting profanities and you and Joel for taking what she was destined to do away from her, yelling how everything she had gone through these past few months now meant nothing. Nothing came out of Riley’s death, Tess’s death, Joel being stabbed, that thing with David, what she did to get away from David, all of it, there was no point to all of it now, because the two of you decided to be selfish and take the reason she was alive away from her.
Despite not knowing anything about this David, or who Riley was and what happened to her, you tried to reason with her, and she kept screaming at you. Nothing you said, nothing Joel said could calm her.
At that point, you knew going to Jackson with them would be a bad idea. You could live with Joel ignoring you, but Ellie? You had grown to care about her. She might as well be your kid. But the way she was screaming at you, accusing you of putting your own needs before her, it got to you.
So when the car finally died, you took your pack and started walking away from them.
“Where are you going?” Joel asked, eyes away from yours. Ellie was staring at you from where she was standing, a small distance from the car, a panicked look on her face.
“I’m gonna head back to Boston,” you told him. “I promised I would get Ellie to the hospital, and I did that, so now, as I promised you back there, I’m leaving.”
“You promised me you’d never leave me,” Ellie said.
You didn’t know what to say to that.
“You don’t have to leave,” Joel said, his voice gentler than you’ve ever heard him speak. “At least, come with us to Jackson, rest, get some supplies before you go.”
You kept your eyes on Ellie. She was looking at you with pleading eyes, Joel still looking at your feet rather than your eyes.
He had a point, though. You were almost out of ammo, you didn’t have any food, your entire body hurt. Going back to Jackson to resupply didn’t sound like such a bad idea.
So you walked towards them, walking ahead of Ellie, who had taken to ignoring you again now that you were no longer leaving immediately. To be fair, she was ignoring Joel too. The three of you walked for hours without incident all the way to Jackson, Tommy greeting you at the gate, taking you to the dining hall for a meal before sending you back to the house you had stayed at.
Ellie walked next to you, telling you how disappointed she was in you – you took away her purpose for living, and now you wanted to leave her. Why insist on saving her if you were just going to leave her? Talk to her, Joel, she said. Joel didn’t say anything. Tommy cleared his throat, finally deciding to say something after all the uncomfortable and loaded silence he had witnessed and suffered through since the moment you walked through the gate.
“Look, there is no reason for you to leave, Elena. We could use you here. Stay. Maria likes you. Ellie needs you. Joel…”
Whatever he was going to say was shut down by a glare from the man.
“There’s nothing for you in Boston, Elena. Stay. Whatever the problem is, we can figure it out. I’m sure we can,” Tommy continued after gathering his thoughts away from his big brother’s stare.
He left the three of you in what was supposed to be your new home. But with the way Ellie went stomping away to her new room and Joel going into his without so much as a word to you, you fell asleep not knowing what to do.
**********
The next week was spent getting the place liveable. You and Ellie cleaned, and Joel fixed everything that needed fixing. Ellie still didn’t speak to you, save for when she needed answers or instructions on what to do to clean something. Joel had continued treating you as if you were a mere presence that he could feel and hear, but couldn’t exactly see, eyes away from you even if speaking directly to you.
You all had your meals at the hall, sitting together despite not talking to each other. Joel spent the time talking to Tommy, learning more about the place and finding out how he could contribute. You talked to Maria, spending your evenings going around with her to see how you could contribute if you were to stay.
The more time you spent in Jackson, the more you wanted to stay. But staying in this arrangement where none of you were speaking to each other was starting to get to you. It was fine on the road, but to live with this permanently?
Maria tried to reason with you, telling you that once the three of you settled down, things would get better. Ellie was just an angry teenager. She would calm down soon. And Joel was just a grumpy ass man, he would settle down soon, and he would be a lot less grumpy, she said, relating to you what she had learnt about her brother-in-law from Tommy. She told you she could use your help in the greenhouse, seeing as you grew your own vegetables when you were with Bill and Frank.
You had to admit, you felt a very strong urge to stay. The only hurdle for you was living in a house with two people who seemed to hate you. But you decided to give it a try. Maybe Maria was right. Time would tell.
One month. You would give it one month. If things improve, you will stay.
---
Part 4
52 notes · View notes
k1ngarlo · 3 days ago
Text
Long Awaited Mikey Dark Impulses Smut
TW: Mentions of abuse, unstable mental health, BPD, do NOT read if these topics make you uncomfortable.A/N: I had this idea in my head for so long. I'm so sorry.
Tumblr media
================================================
There he was. Standing in front of your bed. With a cold expression. His eyes seemed so distant it felt like he disconnected from reality after being kicked like a puppy from his own insecurities. Thus, distancing himself from everyone and everything.
With abandonment in his heart, he was at his own mercy and gave up on himself and his friends. You stared at his clothes and neck from the bed, avoiding his abyssal eyes. As Friedrich Nietzsche once said, "And ifyou gazelong enoughintoanabyss, theabysswillgaze back into you." You finally looked up at him, his tired eyes looking at you, you were so full of love and would definitely live a better life without him.
You were the next. He hated hurting you, he also hated you for loving him like that. The urge to burn his bridges with everyone he's ever cared about him consumed him. That was his personal goal for himself only. Manjiro finally walked over to you and crawled onto the bed, not bothering to take off his shoes. He needed you, but also needed to hurt you. He felt rage, and emptiness which could both be satisfied by spreading your legs.
Manjiro started off giving your neck a few light kisses before meeting your lips with his. You kiss back gently and hesitant, knowing he's a different person now. Manjiro kissed you again, and again for more passion. It was like flicking a lighter a few times before it worked properly. Manjiro was using you to temporarily fill the boring void.
"Manjiro?" You pulled away annoyingly in concern for his mental well-being right when he started to enjoy this.
"Shut up…" He lightly whispered against your lips before kissing you again a few more times. You didn't like where this was going so you pull away again.
"Manjiro."
"Shut up..!" He punched the thickly wooden headboard right next to you, making a crack and dent in it. God you were being so annoying by stopping. Stopping meant getting in his way. His eyes practically paralyzed you from how scared you were right now. You couldn't tell if you were somehow hallucinating from the look in his eyes but you could see the negativity and black tentacles swirling around him. They snaked around your body, wrapping around your limbs so you wouldn't move.
You broke out of this vision when he continued to kiss you again like normal, and with passion. That's when you notice his hands wrapped around your arms which explained why you literally couldn't move them. One more strike and he could get aggressive - dangerous.
Manjiro didn't care that you weren't even pretending to enjoy this and moved quick, ripping your clothes off before removing his pants and underwear. He spread your legs and looked at your slimy, wet cunt. Manjiro darkly chuckled before inserting 2 fingers in a normal pace, bullying your hole. You could feel his rough knuckles and knew they were either bruised or bleeding from punching the headboard.
"Ahn..~" You moaned out, your walls gave him more room, as if they were welcome at home. His fingers left your hole, he knew you were ready to take him. You began to see his darkness swirl around him again, one of the tentacles slithered it's way roughly into your mouth. You snapped out of it again when he he pressed his hand on your inner thighs and noticed Manjiro's fingers leave your mouth.
You didn't want to look at him, those scary eyes, or the vision of his darkness so you close them seeing black. This darkness is who he is, and he made sure you'd feel it too. Misery loves company.
Manjiro pushed himself, and your walls hugged him greedily for not being prepared. He began to thrust in your hole before bringing your legs over his shoulders, burying himself deeper. You opened your eyes a few times, seeing either a serial-killer like grin or anger. Manjiro lets out huffs and grunts from massaging your tight hole.
"G-… hhh… [Name]~."
You never had sex like this before, your boyfriend had never pleased your hole like this before. You could feel him reaching your tummy from drilling into you like this. You knew was wrong on many levels but it felt too good. Your moral justice was WEAK compared to his cock.
Manjiro was not vocal and began to move quicker in that spot he was trained to hit. It didn't take long for your hips to buck up, and your legs to tremble. Manjiro let out a loud grunt and filled you up with his "darkness." He stayed inside your hole for a few moments, feeling your body pulsing from that orgasm.
You finally opened your eyes, pressing your knuckles on your closed eyes to remove all the tears before looking back up at him. For a moment it almost seemed like the dark tentacles were wrapped around him instead, controlling all his moves like a puppets. You blinked and your vision was more clear, they were gone. Manjiro kissed your left ankle, sending you a warm tingley feeling and he set gently removed your legs from his shoulders and set them down on the bed. You can feel his essence drooping out of your hole instantly. He got himself dressed and left you to go his new Toman meeting, leaving you in your mess and him in his.
34 notes · View notes
broidobe · 4 hours ago
Text
𝔦𝔷𝔷𝔶 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔡𝔩𝔦𝔫 𝔫𝔰𝔣𝔴 𝔞𝔩𝔭𝔥𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔱
requested!
⁎⁺˳✧༚guns and roses masterlist
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
just so loving honestly
he likes you put an arm around you and light a cigarette for you to share
there’s not a lot of talking but the silence is very comfortable
he’ll often put on a soft rock record for you two
to calm you down
b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
he’s a sucker for your hips and your sides
during literally any position he’s caressing them
when your on top, he guides them in the most loving way possible
he’s just so smooth with them
he treats them like they are human
he doesn’t really have a favourite body part on himself
it would probably be his dick
because it makes you feel good
and that’s like his purpose of being on earth in his mind
c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
he likes cumming in you
he doesn’t like to make much of a mess
but if you ask him to cum anywhere?
he totally will
he doesn’t mind facials but it’s something that happens more in quickies
but we’ll get into that later
d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
izzy secretly loves the way your clothes smell after you’ve worn them—especially your lingerie. 
sometimes, when you're not around, he’ll take a moment to hold onto them just to feel closer to you.
e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
he’s actually a natural
he had barely ANY experience before you
just the odd groupie and still, that was like NEVER
he just kind of learned from all those stupid ass pornos
y’know…
he totally went to those theatres
and he would totally fuck you at one
once again, we’ll get into that ;)
f = favorite position (this goes without saying)
i really went into detail on this in his nsfw headcannons so go there more more detail (linked on the gnr masterlist)
but it depends on mood honestly
when he’s feeling really affectionate:
missionary
lazy?
spooning
submissive? (ooohhhh boy he’s totally a switch guys)
cowgirl. this is his favorite position. 1000%. but once again, READ THE HEADCANNONS FOR MORE DETAIL
when he feels freaky somewhere totally unconventional?
anything sitting or standing works for him
normally sitting with you on his lap
g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
he’s really serious
like he might do a quiet hah if you accidentally knock something over
but he takes sex pretty serious
nice and laid back
h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
i feel like he’s borderline bald down there
he shaves it
and there are like short prickles down there
he’s very neat down there
i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
he’s just so passionate
he pays attention to everything you do
he praises the shit out of your body in bed
not very vocal or loud but when he is he does NOT degrade you in any way
he just tells you how beautiful you look and such
god, you look so perfect right now
that’s my girl
you’re so good for me. So damn good
i love hearing you like that
you take me so well, baby
j = jack off (masturbation headcannon)
never really did it
he kinda saved it for “special occasions”
or at least what he thought as special
aka watching a porno at the theatre
but with you he doesn’t do any of that
he just doesn’t ever masturbate
he feels empty doing it without you
he’d definitely call you when on tour and jack off to your voice
k = kink (one or more of their kinks)
praise and possession
he thrives on the idea of you being his
izzy lives for building you up with dirty praise.
telling you how good you feel, how perfect you look, and how no one else could ever compare.
he’s got a thing for making you feel claimed—whether it’s biting, marking your neck, or leaving faint scratches down your skin as a reminder.
he is lingerie OBSESSED
especially delicate, sheer pieces that leave just enough to the imagination.
if you surprise him in something lacy? he’ll absolutely lose it.
he’d keep the pieces he loves most and ask you to wear them just for him on special nights.
voyeurism but not really??
it’s something he hasn’t really told you
he’s into the idea of watching you at your most vulnerable state
he’d only let someone he REALLY trusts have you though
axl, being someone he’s close to, is probably his pick
he doesn’t know why, i mean axl would probably try to steal you, at least that’s what he thinks. the truth is, axl wouldn’t do that to izzy, especially cause he is literally OBSESSED with you.
izzy is absolutely obsessed with what you look like when you are cumming
so that’s another contributor to voyeurism
he’s not big on exhibitionism
but oh my god he knows how to build tension in public
running his hand up your thigh under the table, whispering something dirty at a party, or pulling you aside for a quick kiss that’s way too heated
very gentle hair-pulling
he doesn’t want to hurt you
but he loves having a fist of your hair in his hand
has a book of freaky ass polaroids of you
he keeps them hidden away like a personal treasure trove.
he loves flipping through them when you’re not around
mutual masturbation is something he can’t get enough of
remember how he said in the nsfw headcannons 
you know how to make yourself feel the best, not me
yeah
l = location (favorite places to do the do)
your room
it’s comfortable, it’s spacious, it’s perfect
he can act however he wants without embarrassment
but don’t think i forgot the movie theatres
he loves taking you to them
not in a travis bickle way though (someone will get this reference, i swear)
because you wanna go too you horny bitch
but it’s just the thrill of not only being in public but also watching porn at the same time??
holy god
and if the theatre is empty??
he’s gonna make you guys try every position they do in the film
m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
he’s not the horniest guy ever
but if you sway your hips in a certain way
it gets him going
and really anything about you
if you are wearing anything revealing??
expect to be late to wherever you’re going
n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
any sort of painful actions
he doesn’t want to hurt you at all
and degrading
he doesn’t want to make you feel small or insecure
because he thinks you are the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen
o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
he lovesss giving
and he’s damn good at it
he’s like the tongue wizard
but he also loves getting head
the first time you guys ever had “sex”, you just gave him a blow job
and he swears that he saw god that day
he literally got so overstimulated you guys COULDN’T go on or he would’ve died
so he definitely prefers receiving but he loves giving just as much!
p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
usually, he’s really slow and lovely, making sure to hit every spot
but sometimes a spark will come
and he will get so rough and hard
this is normally right after shows when he ego has been boosted to the extreme
q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
he doesn’t love them
but he doesn’t hate them either
quickes only happen before shows
and they normally are you sucking him off and him giving you a facial
but if he has more time, he’ll bend you right over the vanity and take you right there
r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
mehhhhhh he doesn’t really take risks
he more for building up tension in public then actually going at it
he’s up to try anything in bed as long as you are
you pretty much always are the one to step and an say you wanna try something
because he gets worried you won’t wanna
s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
i’d say three rounds, twenty minutes each
he knows how to preserve his energy so he could probably go for more
but then he’d just get tired
t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
he’s not the biggest fan of them
he’s okay with you having them but he kinda gets jealous if you use it without him
it’s like “jeez you like it more than me”
but he adores using it on you
he doesn’t like the really techy ones though
just a simple bullet or something because he wants to be the one to drive you over the edge 
u = unfair (how much they like to tease)
he really doesn't tease
maybe he’d tease your entrance before thrusting into you but that’s basically it
he doesn’t like upsetting you lol
v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
as discussed in his headcannons, he’s pretty quiet
but when he says something, it’s unforgettable
he does slightly moan when he cums or thrusts into you
but it’s not a grunt
it’s very light and it’s honestly adorable
w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
has a thing for your collarbones
he’s always kissing, nipping, or running his fingers along them.
it’s his favorite place to linger
x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
7 inches take it or leave it
he doesn’t have a lot of girth to it
but damn he knows how to use it
he knows he’s above average
and he is totally cocky about it
y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
i would say average
he’s not constantly horny like most people around him
he’s just very chill
it also depends on how you act around him
he mirrors your sex drive
if you are desperate, so is he
if your not really into having sex that day, he’s fine with it
z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
10 minutes
he eventually just passes out
and a lot of times he does it with a lit cigarette in hand
so thank god you stay awake longer lol
21 notes · View notes
jigsaw-copycat · 2 years ago
Text
Seeing The Red Door tonight with my boyfriend - so fucking excited.
He's never seen an Insidious movie in his life so I have to do my best to explain everything
56 notes · View notes
six-eyed-samurai · 3 months ago
Text
why am I so pathetic
that I am left out of the friend group in my own damn house
that I'm always the last person they think to invite (they didn't even invite me this time)
that I'm just around to help them cheat on their worksheets
that I asked them over for my birthday and they sit in my house gaming amongst each other only
that they think they can do whatever they want and just shout over my voice
that even an outsider noticed that they don't bother including me anymore
that even though no one will say it all I am is a destination to hang out
that they just come visit me to talk with each other on my own birthday
that I keep answering all their messages and agreeing to hangouts and desperately following after them hoping something will change no matter how much it just gets worse
why am I so pathetic
6 notes · View notes
froggyrights2 · 6 months ago
Text
🐎
3 notes · View notes
iridescentoracle · 2 years ago
Text
i totally get why LfW isn’t covering the novels (aside from that early bit of Study in Scarlet) but it does kill me a little that we didn’t do Hound at some point because like. man.
'Well, I am glad from my heart that you are here, for indeed the responsibility and the mystery were both becoming too much for my nerves. But how in the name of wonder did you come here, and what have you been doing? I thought that you were in Baker Street working out that case of blackmailing.'
'That was what I wished you to think.'
'Then you use me, and yet do not trust me!' I cried, with some bitterness. 'I think that I have deserved better at your hands, Holmes.'
'My dear fellow, you have been invaluable to me in this as in many other cases, and I beg that you will forgive me if I have seemed to play a trick upon you. In truth, it was partly for your own sake that I did it, and it was my appreciation of the danger which you ran which led me to come down and examine the matter for myself. […] As it is, I have been able to get about as I could not possibly have done had I been living at the Hall, and I remain an unknown factor in the business, ready to throw in all my weight at a critical moment.'
'But why keep me in the dark?'
'For you to know could not have helped us, and might possibly have led to my discovery. You would have wished to tell me something, or in your kindness you would have brought me out some comfort or other, and so an unnecessary risk would be run. […]
I was still rather raw over the deception which had been practised upon me, but the warmth of Holmes's praise drove my anger from my mind. I felt also in my heart that he was right in what he said, and that it was really best for our purpose that I should not have known that he was upon the moor.
'That's better,' said he, seeing the shadow rise from my face.
like. man. passages to have been published within a year or two of “Empty House,” huh
17 notes · View notes
magolorex · 1 year ago
Text
besties homies and oomfies in the crowd i will not lie i am severely mentally unwell (negative) right now so i might not respond to antthing so sorry about that 💔 i just need to like take a bit to myself i think. i love you all. my final message change da worl
2 notes · View notes
screampied · 7 months ago
Text
MATCH MY FREAK ?! ★
Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝜗℘ feat. toji, gojo, nanami, geto, choso. ranking the jik men’s freaks ‘n how nasty they are.
warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, overstim, choking, dumbification, dirty talk, first time squırt, size kink, spıt kink, mommy kink, lactation fantasizes, finger sucking, fıngering, brēeding, praise, humping, manhandling, nıpple play
wc. 4.3k
Tumblr media Tumblr media
TOJI FUSHIGURO ★
the nastiest — doesn’t have any shame whatsoever. with toji, all he ever has to do is have you bouncing on his lap over and over.
that annoying everlasting slash of a scar runs down the right side of his lip as his attention’s focused on some old western movie. “mhm, there we go. milk me or whatever,” and you pout. he’s not paying you any attention on purpose. one hand of his grabs onto your waist, another gripping his empty beer can. glancing down at your sloppy cunt, he snarls. “you sure do love makin’ a mess, huh. look at this,” and you moan, feeling him bring both hips of yours to an abrupt stop. as his heavy cock’s still plummeting into the velvet of your cunt, he lifts you up a few inches. “all this cum goin’ ‘ta waste. so sad,” and you shudder, watching as he swipes a thumb against your dribbling entrance. his own seed oozes out of you and he smears it, dragging a bit onto the print of his thumb. “my, my. nice ‘n fresh,” and with doe widened eyes, you watch as toji licks his finger clean. you felt yourself throbbing immensely, and then he gingerly wraps a hand around your neck. “don’t just stare, girl. y’er gonna get a taste too. open nice ‘n wide, goood.”
as you’re harshly jerking back and forth, hearing the raucous groaning creaks of the sofa rock continuously, your mouth sags opens. toji dangerously leans in, one hand knuckles deep into your slobbering cunt before he pulls it right back out.
“fuck, baby look at how sloppy you get,” and he swivels his fingers inside before removing them, gathering a nice amount of his dribbling cum. toji looks at you with a with a haughty expression, so obedient. mouth all open, needy breaths falling out, you couldn’t have been any more perfect. “yeaaah, curl that tongue up ‘n tell me how i taste.”
once he places two thickset digits inside of your mouth, you suck them clean whilst still moving against him.
your moans were now muffled due to his digits being shoved into your mouth — coating his thick fingers with your glistening, slick saliva. “mphh,” you whine, feeling his free hand creep down between your pried open thighs. toji’s staring at you with murky, hooded eyes as you’re still creating feverish friction. your tongue curls around his fingers and you savor the honeyed taste of his own cum swashing inside your mouth. you couldn’t describe the taste, bittersweet.
it was an entire mixture of bitterly sweet, almost no taste at all as the seconds past. toji’s big hand grips your cunt before he gives it a nice squeeze, watching your eyes roll back.
“god, y’r so fuckin’ nasty today, can’t even watch my movie without giving my girls some attention, huh,” and with his entire wrist, he spanks your cunt raw. “especially her, yeah you,” and his eyes flicker down at your sobbing pussy, not even staring at you anymore. “look at her tryin’ to talk back. too soaked though, shame.”
“t- tojiiii,” you pathetically purr out, the swatting smack against your folds giving you whiplash. as you attempt to speak, his fingers get pulled out of your lips, a long slimy-like trail of spit following and he glares at you. “gonna c-cum again.”
“you’re gonna be a messy girl when i tell you to be, baby,” he reminds you, and you could practically feel the milky ring forming around his base. from between your thighs, it’s so filthy.
sticky, each jolt you do on his lap by making haste with your hips has you feeling the stretchy strings of your own juices to his sloshing back and forth together. it’s filthy, you even have the audacity to try and sneak a hand between your thighs, hoping to touch yourself but he smacks it away. “girl, please. let’s not even go there.”
“but—”
“but nothin’. bend over,” and with a blink of an eye, you’re tossed on your back. you gasp, his quick movements barely giving you time to comprehend anything. first you were on his lap and now you were on all fours with your ass up in the air. you whimper, feeling him spank your left cheek before spreading it open.
with two broad hands, he dips his long tongue into your hole before cleaning out his cum with a single slurping lick. he wasn’t even fazed. you moan, shuddering from the stimulation and you’re oh so sensitive and he only makes it worse the moment he starts sucking you, cleaning you out from the back.
“aw, shaky are we? stay still, gotta clean you up silly girl. this cum doesn’t come for free.”
SATORU GOJO ★
satoru’s always been kinky — especially with you. one of his favorite things to do is to convince not only you but himself that he’s not a bottom. in the end, your hips always prove him wrong though.
reclined way back, he watches as your body grinds up and down against him, bouncy.
he groans gruffly, countless slender fingers grabbing ahold of your waist. your body’s movements were always so unpredictable, giving him a run for his money. “ah, ‘s fuckin’ good, baby. ride me jus’ like that, yeah. mhmm.” and you could hear the bratty strain in his voice. he huffs, snowy white strands sticking to his forehead like glue. your sopping wet cunt had a few loose strings of residue cum clinging near the crevices of your thighs and sticking to his. he just couldn’t get over how wet you were. satoru was heavily flustered, driving such thick inches into you. as he’s trying to keep up with his maddened pace — despite you doing all the work, you whimper from the outstretched girth. he reaches that spot and it messes you up every time.
fuck, it’s as if each thrust makes you feel him mold out your walls ten times more. he’s so big, the lazy curve on his cock had you feening for more. and if it was anything about satoru, it’s that he just wouldn’t stop talking. a blabber mouth, whining for you to go faster while at the same time, whining for you to go slower. “make up your mind, ‘toru,” you tease him, a slight tremor in your own voice. his heat entangles with yours and it’s so good.
the fervor, its steadily arising, mixing both individual pleasures as you grab onto his hand. a myriad of fingers intertwine amongst each other as you lewdly rock your body into his. god, it’s only been a few minutes, just a few minutes of yet another round and his eyes were already going back. so far back that you noticed the sexy flicker of white in his eyes paint his sockets a eerie new color.
“y- your hips, oh fuuuuck,” and he’s just slumped against the velvety sheets, feeling his heart beats pulse right through his ears. it’s loud, almost like a deafening beat to some sort of song. satoru’s jaw tightens as you’re preparing to milk him again for the third time. he’s panting like a dog before he suddenly spanks your ass. “mhm, baby,” he stammers out, meeting your gaze right away. you stroke his cheek, spotting the tiny pout pressing against his lips. panting laboriously, his lungs never felt more full. with a heaving sigh, he grabs your neck. “do that thing again, pleaseplease.”
you tilt your head, playing dumb. “do what?”
he groans, feeling his cock twitch inside from the sweltering warmth of your heated heat. taking a second to swallow, he huffs. “the thing, y’know,” and his white brows contort into a sheepish furrow. it’s adorable, it’s almost like he’s too embarrassed to say it. “s- spit in my mouth again, baby. wanna .. taste you.”
“fine,” you tease, wrapping a hand around his throat. he’s got the smuggest grin and your hips were gonna wipe it right off. satoru groans, watching you inch yourself closer, skin against skin, body against body, it’s so hot. with the way your cunt mercilessly drags itself against him, he felt like he about to melt. you gently scrape a thumb over his bottom lip, still rocking into him rigorously. “open your mouth, pretty boy.”
“heh, yes m- ma’am,” he swallows, getting turned on by your sudden authority. his dick pulses inside of you, curving all through your gummy walls with such intensity. he’s feral. satoru opens his mouth and you lean in, gathering a fair wad before watching it trickle down. he whines at the sweet taste of your nectar, feeling your fingers wrap around his throat and he’s just voluntarily wearing it like a necklace. “harder, choke me h- harder.”
scoffing, you tighten the grip around his neck and he moans. it’s a slutty moan, the kind of moan where it’s almost pornographic. “you’re such a brat,” you roll your eyes, almost forgetting he’s buried fat inches deep into your swollen cunt. your hips slow down its pace after a while as you’re still being your hips back and forth and he whines at your languid tempo. you give him a teasing smile, panting yourself before nibbling on his chin. “not satisfied, ‘toru?”
“mhm, no. even i could do better than that, baby,” he cheeses a grin and you lean in to kiss him. he grunts in your mouth, wet tongues sloppily sliding in sync and harmony. your hands start to wander near his bare chest, pinching his nipple and he groans. “h- hey! you kinky bitch.. heh do it again.”
SUGURU GETO ★
suguru geto’s the nastiest eater. it goes without saying. if he wants a taste, he’s gonna eat. doesn’t care what time of day it is, the meal between your thighs was always his favorite, hands down.
“s- suguuuu,” you’d breathe out, feeling each of your lungs ready to collapse. your breathing continued to become unsteady within each lewd second that passes. he’s nose deep, eating you out like a starved animal - saliva everywhere. it drips down the cracks of his lips and past his chin. your felt your voice go dry like the sahara as he’s stuffed right between your thighs. but with geto, more than anything, he loves eating you out whilst you’re still wearing panties. “fuck, ‘s sensitive still, suguru.”
“good, baby,” he rasps, flicking his tongue against the fabric, tasting against your pulsating clit. and oh, his flicks, as brief and thorough as they are, they turn sloppy. geto slurps you clean, treating your pussy like actual food. he’s so pretty too, lengthy long hair flowing down his broad tense shoulders. with your legs spread all out and open, you grab onto his hair, shoving his face closer against your heated core. “yeah, fuck my face. grind this nasty fuckin’ cunt against—mmphhh.”
he’s rudely cut off with how your pussy gets right into his mouth and his plump lips latch onto your arousal. there���s a cunning smile stretching against his lips and he finally peels away your pretty panties with his teeth, to the side.
you taste so sweet, his nose eagerly prods its way against your sopping wet slit, swiping the tip of his nose up and down like a credit card. you loudly whine, a familiar shakiness returning to your voice before your throat grows parched once more. “right there, p- please. don’t stop sugu, fuckfuckfuckkk.”
and your little cries only made him so much harder. not only did they make him hard but they fell on closed off ears. geto huskily grunts into your cunt — the timbre vibrations making you twitch into his mouth. he tastes it on his tongue, feeling you shiver right onto his tastebuds. as you’re drenching his chin with your wetness, he laughs right on your pussy. “c’monnn, baby. if you’re gonna pull on my hair at least do it right,” and he’s being cocky now. the grit in his voice turns you on and he reaches down to give his hardened cock a few pumps. spitting on the entrance of your cunt, shooting you a sly grin. “oh. what’s with the pout? i gotta pull my own hair?”
“s- shut up suguru,” you whine, feeling his hot breath fan against your clit. you’re so sensitive and you feel your back starting to arise, arching itself.
“make me, baby.”
and he chuckles before eating his words, eating your pussy, nearly gulping at the taste as his tongue swiftly maneuvers crazed circles against your stretched opening. you’re so wet that he could literally drown between your thighs. you’re dragging his face against your cunt and his smirk falters a bit the moment he feels himself close himself.
“s- shit,” he dryly laughs, giving your clit another chaste kiss. a cobwebby string of your translucent juices stick against his mouth as if its adhesive, sopping wet and sugary sweet. he’s nasty with his tongue, devouring you whole only to spit it right back onto your weeping pussy. “yeah, fuck my face, girl. don’t be shy, i like when ya get rough.”
not before long, you let out a shrilling orgasm, your vocal chords ripping raw as you gush all on his face. geto pats your pussy as if he’s telling it, telling it, telling her, ‘good job.’ he hums, giving it a final indecent suck before getting up. he’s lingering right over your twitching, defeated body, gawking at your dumbed down state before leaning in to kiss you.
his body, ripped and rough - tatted and burly, grinds against you before he slips two fingers inside of your pussy. “taste it,” he whispers, and you part your lips, throwing arms over his shoulders before relishing in your own juices. you were so dumb from him eating you out that it took you a while to realize he wanted you to kiss him, taste it that way. it was all on his tongue, once bitter now sweet and you take both of his fingers so easily. geto kisses you sloppily, exasperated breaths pouring into each mouth before he bites your lip. “turn around. wanna try a new position.”
“w- what position?” you heave, staring at him as you’re still breathless.
geto rolls his eyes, flipping you over himself. “the one where i put those useless legs of yours over your head. chop chop, girl. wanna test out that flexibility.”
CHOSO KAMO ★
“just .. lie back like that, mhm,” he’d coo, and you moan the moment he’s pressing his weight up against you. choso was warm, but his touch was even warmer. preposterously, his head’s spinning along with the mirroring subtle beats of his heart as he’s watching you flop down on your back. “m- may i?” he almost whines, so impatient—leaning in to nibble his teeth at your laced bra. you give him a nod and he almost moans. choso starts to feel a lake of saliva pool its way into his mouth as he’s now face first between your tits. his favorite girls, besides you. “so thirsty, ‘m gonna drink for a little.”
choso loved your breasts.
he also loved pretending milk would come out of them every time he latched his lips around your perky nipples.
“they always look s- so pretty for me.” he swallows the invisible lump in his throat, eyes peeping up at you. you give him a sheepish smile, holding his head upright and that’s when he shifts. choso grabs a nearby pillow, propping it right underneath his growing boner. softly, he unstraps your bra, letting it fall loose—not even bothering to fully take it off. it just hangs. as he gets a pillow, your brow raises before he starts to suck.
“f- fuck, ‘cho,” you whine out, feeling hot cloudy puffs of breath collide against your skin. you’re so sensitive, feeling a bit of teeth clash against each nipple. you could hear him breathing through his nose, irregular shattered breaths, slurping against each neglected tit. “that’s it baby, mhm, good boy,” and you feel a bit of movement. glimpsing down with blown irises, choso’s resolutely humping the pillow he brought between his legs. he’s whining, trying to bring attention to his heat but oh, the friction only makes it worse. he whimpers and whines with your tit in his mouth, lolling out his long tongue to savor your heavenly taste.
“ngh, m… mommy,” he babbles out, and he’s never called you that before. that was new, you felt your pussy throb behind your panties before he starts to ramble again and again. whenever he’s drunk off of you - he’s so talkative. “s- so good, ‘s sweet,” he grunts, his thrusts against the pillow turning more sloppy. it’s so hot that your skin practically sticks against the satiny sheets. and with choso, he’s just so fucking loud.
he can’t help it. he’s a whiner, straining his own voice at the expense of your syrupy taste. pretty sable lashes flutter against your skin as he’s still slurping each tit. he lowly groans, both hands wrapping around them both - gingerly fondling with each one. choso made sure to give each one all his attention, strands of sheeny crisscrossed drool trickling down past his lips, past his chin. “you’re bein’ messy, baby,” you hum softly, feeling him lean into your touch as you lift his chin up. a toothy love-drunk smile tugs against his lips as he stares up at you, reaching down to touch himself.
“s- sorry,” he hiccups, the speed of his hips accelerating. choso could barely even last because as he’s still got a mouth full of one of your luscious mounds, he gasps. it’s sharp, his breath gets stolen the moment he feels a certain dampness. it starts to coat the middle part of his darkened boxers, clenching his teeth in awe. “oh, ohmygod, ‘m cummin’, fuck.” and it’s so quick, he’s practically thrusting his hips into the pillow as if he’s actually fucking you. as he’s humping the pillow, he’s also humping your leg a bit, rutting back and forth until he whimpers. “s- shit, mommy ‘m makin’ a mess, fuuuuck me.”
as he’s still making out with your breasts, he glances at each nipple. all swollen and wet from his saliva. choso’s eyes almost roll back as he’s making a mess of himself, flustered entirely at the thought of cumming just from sucking on your tits. “mommy, huh?” you tease, running a thumb down his undercut as he buries his face into your chest. oh, he’s embarrassed.
“i.. i didn’t mean to call you that, ‘m sorry,” he grumbles, his voice almost inaudible with the way he’s just stuffed between your breasts. he’s still greedy though, licking and lapping his own shimmery spit that glissades down the crack of your chest. “soso sorry.”
“it’s okay,” you gently pull up his head, making him stare at you. he’s got a little pout, pretty pink lips curling into a downward scowl. “aw, you wanna suck them again, huh, choso?”
with a defeated nod, he sighs. “yeah, but- i just came ‘n i made a mess,” and your eyes peer down at his boxers with the faint grey stain exposing itself. so cute, choso lets out a tiny vexing puff of air before rubbing his neck in shame. “y- you made me cum jus’ from suckin’ on you.”
“don’t worry, ‘cho,” you purr, bringing him back toward your chest. your touch — so warm, he’d love to just stay like this forever. in your arms, sucking on your tits with the dumbest grin on his face, eyes closed. your words tenderly eased its way into his heart before you lie back, exhaling a drowsy sigh. he’s staring at you and he looks hungry, even still. choso’s panting, hovering over you so close that you feel the outline of his flaccid cock rub up against your thigh. “oh, you want more, don’t you?”
“n- no i want you,” he whimpers with a slight head shake, sprawling your legs apart. your eyes briefly widen at his gentle touch, feeling a few slender fingers ghost against your slavering cunt. choso kisses your right tit one more time, inching back up toward your face. “p- please.”
NANAMI KENTO ★
with nanami, he’s a freak in private.
after coming home from a long day at work, he just wants his pretty ‘lil wife. even a bonus, your sweet cunt that never fails to milk him dry every single time. “woah, love. don’t run from me, hey,” and his voice couldn’t have been any more smoother. you moan, feeling each stroke pivot its way so righteously into your soaked core. nanami watches with a coarse glint in his eye as you’re clinging onto the red-velvet sheets. your hands, they bawl within the fabric and you’re creating fists, not once releasing its tightening grip. his hips, they were simply hypnotic.
you’re feeling the stretching curve of his cock jackhammer into your drenched folds with such cinching effortlessness. mewl after mewl dies out of your throat as he’s making your drooling pussy beg for mercy. “don’t run, ‘m not done givin’ you a good fillin’ sweetheart,” and you could feel his hot cum pour its way out of your clenched hole. he’s already came inside before—but now, it was so much that it’s starting to spill out. dripping down your thighs and his favorite part is to just fuck it right back in. it’s so messy, you’re moaning out his name again and again as if it’s some catchy mantra. “atta girl, take it. taaake it.”
and you whine, your face practically being shoved into your pillow. softly though, the cottony fluff gets caught in your mouth and you let off a choking sob for more. “ken, mhhh, kento,” you croak, feeling him grab your wrist, pinning it behind your back. oh, he always knew how to fuck you just right. you’re a mess and he’s always liked whenever his women was a bit sloppy. you were never a match for his hips, albeit they struck you deep. his fat cock ruthlessly delves into your cunt even deeper though—churning up your insides, having you clench around him tight. your spit-slicked lips kink up into a ghostly ‘o’ and you feel yourself about to break yet again. “not gonna last again, ‘m gonna cum, ‘kento, fuuuck.”
“c’mon, wifey. wanna f- feel you,” he huffs, piercing the pearly edges of his teeth into your the left blade of your shoulder. blond strands of hair run down his face. it’s shiiiiny, tears of sweat pouring down the edges of his forehead. you whine before feeling nanami take a brisk moment to wrap his tie around your wrist, having you in a secure firm grasp. “mhm, good girl. so good, fuck back against me, milk me sweetheart. uh huuuh.”
everything’s so sloppy, not just his hips but your pussy too. you gasp, feeling a sudden coil within you snap.
nanami’s got you arched over, tongue lolled out and eyes rolled back. just what he needed after a eight hour shift. your cunt always brings him the relaxation he needs, he could just live in it. you could barely even speak a proper sentence without a babbling cry wrenching out of your piteous vocal chords. “kento, i- i feel like ‘m gonna,” and you pause, another sharp gasp exiting out of your lungs. your lungs shake, teeth shattering and ears ringing before you feel a sudden gush. its impact has you delirious — you shake violently on his cock like a crazed animal before your jaw dangles open.
nanami groans, his own cock twitching inside before he realizes what happened. he hums, slowing his jagged hips down before caressesing your ass. he takes a moment, letting off a phew before relishing the sight of you bent over and on all fours for him. “oh, my oh my,” he murmurs in a soft gruff tone. its gruffness underneath makes you throb at least a million times. you’re an entire mess, spasming underneath him with his own heat sticking against yours. inches fucking deep, he brings a plump padded thumb towards your swollen cunt before leisurely pulling out. with a pop, he’s finally out of your sticky, greedy pussy. you’re drenched—clenching around nothing now and you can’t help but pout. as you’re still coming undone, he stares in awe at how you’re just coating the sheets entirety with your new sweet. you’re spraying out still as the seconds by and he can’t help but hum, a tender feeling waning its way into his heart — and an even more tender feeling warming its way between his legs. “my love, i didn’t know you were the squirtin’ type.”
your chest slumps back into the mattress from the literal nirvana you felt and you moan in ecstasy. with your orgasm still making its appearance, you feel a compacted tightening sensation within you snap.
it feels so good, soso good that your vision’s currently mainly made up of splotches of achromatic, bland colors. everything’s hot. dementedly, you shake underneath him before you feel his hand ghost down your spine. “k- kento, i—”
“shhh, let’s not speak right now, my sweet,” he shushes you, and you moan at the feeling of his fingers leisurely smearing your own candied juices back into you. your body couldn’t stay still and you’re just left there with your mouth hung open - brows curling together at the straight euphoria you just endured. “let’s hear what my other girl’s got to say,” he hums, and before you knew it, you’re flipped over, legs sprawled out with your tits bouncing from the unforeseen movement.
with fawn, gentle eyes staring straight at your soddened wet cunt, nanami licks his fingers clean before going up close to it. “she’s as wet as ever,” he whispers against your slit, giving it a kiss.
immediately, his lips were now glazed with your natural gloss. you’re breathing heavily each second at a time before yanking on his mousy, silk strands. “mhm, that’s it, get a nice pull,” and you moan once he lightly spanks your cunt, your legs growing limp and about to close. “gonna see how much wetter she can get for me,” and he whistles against your pussy, still staring at her and not you, you shudder from his breathy blow.
“isn’t that right, pretty?”
Tumblr media
9K notes · View notes
barbieaemond · 8 months ago
Text
Religion
Tumblr media
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader
Warnings: mild angst, misogyny, banter, pregnancy, childbirth, oral sex, p in v, fingering, orgasm denial, dry humping, overstimulation, brief lactation kink, breeding kink, manipulation (to get some), some good ol' tying up, slandering of the Gods lol
Author's note: this is the third and final part following And I dream of a grave and A curse for a curse but can be read as a standalone. Just keep in mind that Aemond did not cheat on his wife while in Harrenhal. He used Alys only for her visions.
Word count: 13k. Ye have to suffer for your smut darlin'
MASTERLIST | English is not my first language.
taglist: @multyfangirl @ladystarksneedle @arcielee @darylandbethfanforever9 @zaldritzosrose @alphard-hydraes-blog
Tumblr media
Her mother had come to King’s Landing three days after she gave birth. Peering through the door, the Princess didn’t know if the woman was more surprised to finally see a baby safely tucked between her daughter’s arms or to witness that she was still breathing. She had chosen to believe both.
Since she was a little girl, she had been instructed in what was coming, for her and all the girls like her: how to serve men, how to serve the Realm. She knew pregnancy could be a time of great distress, physical and otherwise, and for her, it turned out to be nothing more than that.
She spent the first moons plagued by sickness, glaring at the Maesters who told her that morning sickness was perfectly normal. It would've been, if only it had lasted the hours the sun was at its highest. Instead, she couldn’t keep down her breakfast, just like her lunch, or dinner. She had lost weight, she couldn’t stand any kind of smell with the risk of rushing to her pot and empty her stomach.
Then, on one fine morning, while she was walking the gardens with two of her maids, she had suddenly bent over, hissing with pain while clutching her maid’s arm, dreading the trickle running down her thighs.
The Maesters said occasional bleedings might happen, that she only needed to rest and take some tonic to strenghten her body. But that day signaled the end of her peace and the beginning of her confinement.
Because clearly, at the first sign of something going wrong, slipping out of his control, Aemond would panic, albeit showing none of it, standing as tall and stoic as ever and somehow more than he’d ever done now that the Conqueror’s Crown weighted on his head. But she knew better. She knew how to look through all his walls. She knew he was scared—for her, for the baby, for his sister, for his whole family. It was simply too much for a single person to carry all of that on their shoulders. And it was precisely for that reason that she didn’t object to any of his orders. After all, she couldn’t. He was the King now, even if he didn’t choose to style himself as such.
Thus, her chambers became her prison.
Cobwebs didn’t have time to grow because she was quick enough to point them out to the servants. She was aware of the slight drop in the stone tiles just behind the terrace, as of the strategic point where to linger to gain some cool breeze from the sea. She knew the baby liked to sleep upside down in the early afternoon, occasionally kicking hard as he, or she, settled comfortably in her womb.
Aemond had picked some books for her, mostly about history, having her yawning at the third page. She had tried needle work, putting all her good will into it for the sake of doing something, and she had deliberately chosen to believe she was undeniably good at it. But that was a very generous lie. 
“What is that supposed to be exactly?” Aemond asked one day, peeking over her shoulder as he reached her on the terrace.
She didn’t look up, keeping her eyes fixed on her embroidery tambour, working the needle in and out. “Isn’t it obvious?”
He leaned down until she felt the long silver strands tickling her head and even without turning, she could feel him grimacing. “A bird?”
At that, she had raised her head, reading all the disbelief on his face. “It is a dragon. For the cradle.”
Aemond had simply furrowed his brow, unable for the life of him to consider what he saw as something even remotely resembling a dragon. But he thought better than to anger his pregnant wife, given her late sour spirit, but especially in light of how fiercely she had started to stick the needle in, likely picturing to stick it into him instead. He had built the most fake pleasant smile he could master and said “Very well. Excellent work, my love.”
“Thank you, husband.”
The trouble was that, as time went by, she only became sourer. She grew more and more uncomfortable, too tight in her own skin. Her back hurt, her breasts hurt, and she was starting to believe she was carrying a real dragon, with fangs and all; she had no other explanation for how hot she constantly felt, forced to lie in a thin white chemise all the time, despite the winds carrying the winter.
But maybe there was another reason why her spirits were so low and sour. She had come to learn that pregnancy affected every aspect of her life, including the most pleasant one.
She would grow wet for a kiss. She would close her legs and rub them together upon seeing him rise from the bathtub. She would moan into his mouth if he so much as grazed her nipples with his knuckles. But as she grew bigger and bigger, along with the discomfort, kisses and some intimate brushing were all she would get from him. Aemond had grown distant, not only with his presence, due to all the duties he had to fulfill wearing the Crown, but even when he was there, in their chambers, sleeping next to her, she felt him leagues and leagues away.
“Pregnancy is a very hard time for a woman.” The Dowager Queen had said to her “It is overwhelming to think that you are never alone and yet...somehow you are.”
She’d never understood what her good mother meant until she was confined to her chambers, alone with her thoughts and her fears. She didn’t expect Aemond to do something, this was women’s business. And she knew his reluctance to lie with her rested solely on concern and love for her.
No matter how much he craved to take her, he had decided to put his husband’s rights away for the delicate final moons until the baby was born. He still felt guilty, for Harrenhal, for the witch, for forsaking her only to get drunk on visions and prophecies. Yet, those visions turned out to be true. He had shut that voice in his head and tried to make amends. But they didn’t have the time to mend themselves together, to knit all the distrust and suspicions into something good; the baby was coming, and it seemed he or she did nothing but grow them more apart. 
He saw how tired she was, how some days she couldn’t even get out of bed. And how useless he felt when he would catch her crying, like that night when he found her all alone on the terrace at the hour of the owl.
She was sitting on her chaise filled with cushions when Aemond walked around her. Given the state of his white shirt and hair, he had likely just awakened and hadn’t found her beside him.
“What are you doing out here? You will catch a cold.”
“I cannot sleep.” she had kept her eyes far, on the Black Water Bay, far from him. But he saw them anyway, her reddened eyes.
“You cannot stay here in your condition.” He said almost tiredly, but when she didn’t even blink at his words, he called her name, with the tone he used in the Throne Room.
“Aemond, please.” She whispered, turning her head. “I—” she bit her tongue, unwilling to put this on him, but she knew he wouldn’t let go until she was safely back in bed. So, she said “I don’t want to hear her.”
It took him less than a moment to understand what she meant. Helaena. Helaena who lost a child, who saw her flesh and blood horribly murdered before her eyes. Helaena who couldn’t stop wailing in the dead of night.
She had looked at him, seeing that torn thing, broken and raw like a split wound; shame and guilt and rage all at once. Then, he lowered himself onto his knees until he took her cold hands and squeezed them tight. His mouth opened, but she was faster. “Don’t say it.”
You cannot keep such a promise, you cannot keep us safe. No matter how many times you say it. But she wouldn’t take that solace away from him, not that plainly. The more he said it, the more he seemed to believe it. So be it.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked, and there was a beautiful, heartbreaking desperation in his hushed voice. “Tell me what to do.”
She had built a convincing smile, running her hand through his loose hair and pushing some strands back. “Go back to sleep. I’m fine.”
Her spirits during the day would slightly improve. And between the Council and some hearings in the Throne Room, he always saved some time to go visit her in their chambers. She didn’t seem to enjoy being watched like a toddler, but deep down she cherished his concern. She cherished the way his hands would gently hold her own, or caress her hair, her belly. She found it hard to believe those hands could bestow such reverence and violence at the same time. And even in his absence, he managed to ensure she always had anything she needed. Even blackberries in early autumn.
“Myra, where have you been?” She asked in a late afternoon, when one of her most loyal maids entered her chambers after disappearing for the whole day.
The young girl had an awful look. She seemed exhausted, as if she had walked the entirety of Flea Bottom, twice. “Apologies, my Princess. It took me quite a while to find blackberries.”
“Seven Hells, it is only a craving. You did not have to go all the way through King’s Landing to find me blackberries.”
"No, I-I ought to.”
The Princess paused, frowning at the young girl. “Did someone else tell you that you ought to?”
“Well…yes…” the maid said, sinking her gaze to the floor “The King—uhm Prince Regent.”
She sighed deeply, and with heavy steps, she walked towards the terrace; her maid was immediately at her side to help her. “What did he tell you?” the Princess asked as they reached the chair outside.
The girl waited for her to sit, slowly and awkwardly given her big belly; then, a little timidly, she said “He…ordered me to go look for blackberries and not to…bother coming back if I didn’t find them.”
The Princess rolled her eyes in quite an unlady-like manner, “How in the name of Seven did he know about it?” She asked, grimacing as she desperately tried to find a comfortable position. “I have barely seen him this morning.”
The young maid helped her, fixing some cushions behind her back and whispered “The White Cloak at the door…I suspect he reports everything to his Grace.”
The notion didn’t seem to strike her that much, or maybe she was too tired, too uncomfortable and too hot to comment on the matter, or even scoff at it.
She grabbed a fan from her maid’s hands and unceremoniously shook her shoes off, placing her swollen feet on the cool tiles. Closing her eyes, she basked in that small relief; the floor was cold, the sun was about to set, and the baby was sleeping.
According to the Maesters, her time was close. She was eager to meet this little person but in truth, she just wanted it to end. She hated having no control over her body, her spirits, her marriage. She missed being a wife and being treated as such, not just as the mother of his child. She had come to think that, deep down, any woman felt that way, but they were forced to hide everything behind a joyful smile while sinking to their knees to thank the Mother. Wasn’t that the sole purpose of any girl in the world? To bleed on a birthing bed? Wasn’t that the way men measured women’s value?
She swallowed hard as the question spun in her head. Am I finally worthy of you, Aemond?
She wouldn’t dare ask him. 
“What is it? Are you unwell?”
She was too lost in her thoughts to even hear his footsteps on the terrace. As her gaze flew up, she read the deep concern on his face, all lumped in the steep furrow between his eyebrows. He must’ve seen her grimacing, thinking she was in some pain. She was, but she was too much of a coward to tell him.
She resumed her fanning, averting her gaze and stretching her legs out further on the floor. “I feel like I’m boiling.”
“Yes, I can see that.” He deadpanned, raking his eye over her disheveled state; sprawled on that chair with her legs slightly open, her white chemise all crumpled and unbuttoned, and a bead of sweat on the forehead, in the crevice of her swollen breasts. He thought the times when a mere look at this woman would make him hard were gone once the novelty of having a wife, someone rightly and thoroughly his, had dissipated. He was wrong.
“I’m well aware of my lack of decency.” She replied, seeing how he was staring, the little inquiring curve in his eyebrow. “I’m afraid I care very little about decency at this moment. Blame it on your son.”
His lips curled up, watching her gather her loose hair with one hand while she kept fanning herself quickly with the other.
“Are you still inclined to believe for certain that it’s a boy?”
“I know it’s a boy. Only men can be this insufferable.”
That little smile on his lips lingered, deepened, and then he moved, going to stand behind her. “Let me.” He said, and took her hair between his hands. She couldn’t see what he was doing but got the gist as she felt his deft fingers moving and her neck free to get some air. When he walked around the chaise to sit beside her, she saw that his hair was loose. He had tied her hair with the black lace he always wore to prevent the silver strands from ending up in front of his eye.
She loved to see him like this: hair loose, eyepatch lost somewhere in a drawer, sitting next to her, even without saying a word. The sapphire seemed to match his eye, glowing a soft violet under the setting sun. She felt that familiar lump in her throat, as she stared at him, a restless thing flowing through her whole body, demanding to be released only to be trapped under her teeth, biting down her lower lip, starved and yearning.
“A little bird told me you put a hound on my trail.” she said at one point, shutting her little fan.
Aemond didn’t look surprised to acknowledge that she knew. He had actually ventured with himself about how long it would have taken her to realise he was spying on her every move.
“You are well aware of my duties now.” He said, turning his head to look at her. But not quite. His eye seemed to linger everywhere at once, fleeting, snatching a look here and there, her legs, her sweated neck, her belly…his own testament, as if she wasn’t one already.
You left your mark on her just as she did on you. Those were Alys’ words, at which he had ugly sneered. And she had laughed at the sight, eerily, as someone who owned the truth. I’m your spoil of war and yet, you speak to me ten paces away. What are you afraid of, Kinslayer? That your skin would burn like brimstone if you touched another woman?
“Besides,” he resumes “any lady would be flattered by her husband’s genuine concern.”
“You could flatter me in different ways.” was her prompt answer and she moved incredibly fast, given her impediment, getting close to him until she filled his nostrils. She smelled different since she was pregnant. A thick smell, musky. She tasted differently. Sweeter and somehow sourer. He swallowed at the mere memory. “We have talked about this.”
“And I’ve talked to the Maesters.”
His head spun around, forcing her to stifle a smile at his ever strictly reserved nature.
“They said there’s nothing wrong, or remotely dangerous, if we…engage in our conjugal duties.”
He tried to ignore her hand, her fingers traveling up his arm like a spider’s legs. “Did you need the Maesters to learn that?”
“No, but you do. You hang on their lips…I wish you hung on mine.”
Aemond heard her voice dropping a tone, and dropped his chin down, looking at her hand roving on his chest, shamelessly slipping beneath his dark green doublet, skin to skin. She glided on his planes slowly, making sure to trap one of his nipples in the little hollow between her index and middle.
“I don’t need them to know about my private matters.” He said mindlessly, trying to hold a grip on his thoughts.
“Seven Hells. It baffles me to witness how prudish you desperately want to appear while I perfectly know how debauched you really are, to the bone.”
“My debauchery is confined to these four walls.”
“Oh, is it? What about that time on our way to the Grand Sept?” She tilted her head, so she was talking almost in his ear. “Do you remember?”
Her hand on his chest was burning, or was it his own skin? His own flesh simmering wherever she touched him.
“Don’t do that.” She whispered when she saw his long legs cross. “Let me see. You have condemned me to do nothing else.”
His eye chased her hand as she grabbed his knee and pushed to uncross his legs, so that she could see, the outline of his cock through the breeches, see how he ached for her. “Do you remember what you did in the wheelhouse?” She asked again, looking at him; the sapphire was the only thing flashing violet now. His eye was pitch black.
“You put your hand beneath my gowns…” she said and her hand slid up against his thigh “you grabbed me, harshly.” And she did the same, forcing his mouth open and a shallow breath out of his throat. “And you grinned…because my garments were soaked.” he closed his eye for a moment, perhaps recalling, or maybe because her hand was moving, palming all his length through the breeches.
“And then you slipped your fingers underneath…” and again, she did just so, unbuckling his belt and sinking her hand in. He opened his eye, and basked in what he saw: that sort of silent, desperate plea in the little wrinkle between her eyebrows, in her heaving chest, in the way she was rubbing her legs together.
Thus, just when she was about to grab him, he grabbed her wrist instead and crashed his mouth against hers with a low growling sound. She could do nothing but moan, giving him open room to slip his tongue in and taste every corner, driving his body closer and closer, but not too much as to crush her.
She, on the other hand, felt free, finally, to roam, to rummage. Her hands grabbed and pulled everywhere, at his doublet, the collar, the buttons, the thin white shirt underneath it all, until everything was loose, and she was free to touch him, all the while making the sweetest wanton sounds, close to desperate whines. “Please, Aemond…” she begged freely, holding his face “just this once…please…”
He shushed her with another harsh kiss and with a free hand, he clutched her white nightgown into his fist, pulling up, enough to stick his arm between her legs. She spread them for him, panting with anticipation, and stopped breathing altogether when he cupped her core with the large palm of his hand. Aemond trapped her lower lip with his teeth, biting softly upon feeling how wet she was, dripping on his fingers, so much that he wished to fall on his knees and wipe it clean with his tongue.
“Please…” she breathed, barely rocking her hips to urge him to touch her.
“Hush.” he said, and curled his fingers, brushing his fingertips against her centre, gaining a delicious wince from her. “Tell me of the wheelhouse.”
She smiled breathlessly, her eyes hungry and heavy, full of lust. “It was the first time I wore green.” she started to tell. “We were still betrothed. I wanted to impress you.”
“Hmm. You certainly did.” He remarked, watching her closely while rubbing his index pad against her entrance, teasingly, making her squirm. “Go on.”
She felt like burning, her face hot for the sun, the baby, the ache in her lower belly, stirring and coiling. “You told the White Cloak to take another round…” she said, breathing with her mouth open. “You grabbed my waist and forced me on your lap.”
“And you pushed me away. Twice.” he’d laughed, flashing a grin that made her willing to shove him away, to pull him closer. “What a farse you put on.” he continued, leaving a chaste kiss on her neck that resulted in her writhing some more, pushing her pelvis against his hand. “I had to cover your mouth for your mewling. You were so fucking loud.”
It was then that he finally granted her some mercy, slipping one finger inside her drenched lips, spilling a long gasp from her.
“No. Not quite.” He observed cruelly and slid another finger, this time gaining a proper loud moan. “That’s more like it.”
His two fingers started to pump slowly, and yet she was making the lewdest sounds he’d ever spilled from her, arching her back as far as she could, scrunching her face almost in pain and pulling at his collar, twisting, as if he were torturing her instead of giving her pleasure. She made his cock stir painfully, his teeth grind for the ache, for the fact that she was coating his whole hand. “Easy now…” he warned her, his tone all husky. “You don’t want to come already, do you? ‘Tis the only thing you’ll get from me, sweetling…you better make it last.” 
She whined in annoyance, forcing another grin on his ruthless lips, and with that same ruthlessness, he slowed his ministrations, only to cup one of her breasts with his free hand, squeezing softly until the thin, silky fabric slipped down, revealing her pink, swollen nipple. “I must say…I’m relieved you will summon a wet nurse…so these will be all mine.”
She had to stifle a breathless laugh at that. “Being jealous of your child is a bit too much, even for you…”
“Oh, my love” he crooned, freeing the other breast “I am jealous of the clothes on your skin.”
Wasting no time, he wrapped his lips around her nipple, causing her to arch against him once more, one hand flying down his shoulder, fisting his doublet, twisting it as he swirled his tongue and hummed with delight dripping from his tone, as if he were tasting honey, and the sweetest ever made.
His fingers resumed their frantic rhythm, sinking deep inside and stretching, hitting that special spot that made her sight go black, reduced to a mess of sweat coating every inch of her skin and a string of moans growing hoarse and high-pitched.
“Are you close? Hmm?” he rasped “How about another? Can you take another for me?”
He slipped a third finger in, causing her to wince and cling to his shoulders with her mouth open in a silent scream. “Good girl.” He praised at the sight. He wished he could savor it for a little longer, he wished to keep doing that again and again, until the sun went down and rose again, until there was nothing but ruin around them.
But she was so close now, he could feel it in her tensed arms around his shoulders, in her clenching walls around his hand, and quite frankly, the ache in his breeches was unbearable, twitching at every moan and squelching sound of his fingers inside her flesh. 
She came loudly, curling her ankles on the ground and writhing in his hold as if in a delirium. He kept her still, his hand buried inside her, feeling the quick pulsing that rivaled the one in her heart. And he watched her, gasping for air and throwing her head back, utterly spent, hair all sticked to her forehead. In his eye she had never looked this beautiful.
He pulled his fingers out, making her wince slightly, and brought them to her mouth, smearing her spent desire on her own lips, like the final touch to a painting. And then he kissed her, humming at her bittersweet taste. He held her face gently, grabbing her jaw and angling her head to taste her better, eliciting a blissful sigh from the back of her throat that made his hardness throb. As if she had felt that, her hand had slipped between them with purpose, sinking past all his layers and taking hold of him.
She rejoiced in the little whimper he gave her, and started to work her hand up and down, making it impossible for him to kiss her any further, if not for a sloppy and panting mess of spit and teeth. 
Given the unbearable pressure building past his navel, he knew he wouldn’t last long. And she knew that too. But she didn’t want to have him this way. Awkwardly, she stood up and spread his legs to make herself some room, but as soon as Aemond, despite the lack of blood in his mind, caught her intentions, he stopped her, grabbing her arms firmly.
“No…” he croaked. “Not on your knees.”
She couldn’t help the little surprise on her face. Aemond had never been this considerate, especially in bed. He could be gentle in his own way, subtly. Little hidden things in the way he would run his fingers through her hair once she had reached her peak, the way he would regain air once he’d spilled inside her, breathing into her neck and running his lips lazily against her skin. But most of the times, he was very diligent, all focused in giving her and himself the pleasure they both craved; he was somehow harsh, ruthless, a mirror of who he was outside the bedroom, possessed by some kind of urgency that would break her in the most beautiful and cruel way and put her back together at once.
But then again, she imagined the promise of his heir living inside her was affecting even one of the most ruthless of men.
She sat down again and watched him stand up, his breath labored and open-mouthed as he looked down at her, working the few laces of his breeches still tied. She didn’t need an invitation, an order, a mere tilt of his chin to sit upright and put her hands alongside his snatched waist.
She looked up, and he found himself swallowing hard, cursing silently at the sight of her looking straight into his eye with his cock a breath away from her, all hard and glistening on the tip. Shamefully, he thought that would have done it for him.
A coarse grunt left his lips as soon as she wrapped her mouth around it, teasingly swirling her tongue on the slit without ever averting her gaze from him. He hissed painfully when her lips started to travel along his length, trying with all his might to hold back and not spill into her mouth so soon.
She, on the other hand, seemed eager to watch him come undone, just as he had done to her a few moments earlier. She started to suck him eagerly, like a starved creature, because on all those nights and days when he had taken her apart, learning every inch of her and how to bend it to his will, she had done just the same.
She knew how to make him wince and moan openly, while on her knees on their bedroom floor or on a fucking terrace during a late afternoon, with likely anyone to walk on them at any moment. With the Gods watching.
She didn't care. The Gods didn't care for them anyway. Let them see to whom she fell to her knees.
He couldn’t stop looking, how pretty she was like this, swallowing him whole, up to the hilt, hitting her throat with a gagging sound. So lecherous, so holy.
He was so close he had to bite his lip to restrain himself, letting out a string of curses until he felt the pressure growing stronger, and then, he thought, he might as well have it his way.
“Stop…” he croaked, grabbing her cheek but delicately, slipping out of her mouth and running his thumb over her sore jaw. She closed her slicked mouth, a drop of spit running down her chin and she looked at him, with such devotion he thought he had nothing to envy the Gods.
“Let me…” he pleaded, wiping her chin clean with his finger. “Let me fuck your mouth, sweetling. Would you?”
A question that needed no answer. Indeed, he wasted no time and grabbed the back of her head, tilting it slightly up for a better angle. He sheathed himself all the way in, gasping deeply at feeling the hot walls of her mouth, her cheeks hollowing.
His fingers curled into her hair, but never in a hurtful way, enough to keep her still as he started to move his hips against her face back and forth, his open mouth quivering as the pleasure began to build where it left off.
“Fuck—” he cursed once, and then twice, fucking her mouth faster to chase his peak, pulling ever so slightly at her scalp until he went still altogether, pushed his waist hard against her, and grunted loudly, in a pretty uncharacteristic way, as his cock twitched and spilled down her throat until the last drop.
Panting harshly, he pulled himself out and watched her close her mouth, eyes fixed on him, working her cheeks and making no mystery of the white essence on her tongue before swallowing it, thoroughly.
Aemond let himself fall on that chaise and she watched, she drank that sight: his hair all disheveled and damp with sweat, a shade of pink on his cutting cheekbones as he slowly pulled himself together, breathing through his open mouth while buckling his belt and breeches.
“I think I’m going to take a bath.” She said at one point, clumsily standing up. He had mumbled something in return, still caught in the throes of what they had done, but before she got back inside, she turned and said “Oh, just so you know…all of this was a ploy.”
She smiled cunningly at his frowning. “I never had any cravings. And I knew about the White Cloak at the door since the first day you put him there. You are not as subtle as you think you are, my love.”
A man of few words, but loud actions.
Tumblr media
Her pains came during a peaceful afternoon.
In haste, nursemaids began their frantic rounds in and out of the Princess’ rooms like soldiers, carrying hot water and boiled rags. The Dowager Queen abandoned her perch beside Queen Helaena, or what was left of her, and went to assist the Princess. Having borne four children, she had quite a bit of advice to dispense, things she had learned on her own skin, things that any Master would never have told her because oblivious and convinced they knew what happened to a woman's body at such a delicate time based on how deep they had buried their nose in an old dusty tome.
Alicent helped the Princess rise from the bed, clutched her arm firmly and helped her walk. She said it was vital to walk, that it would ease her pain and help the baby come sooner. She told her to squat when the pain hit. She rubbed her back and wiped the sweat off her face as if she were her own daughter. It felt like that. Even though the Princess seemed to face it all with a stiff lip, Alicent could see that she was scared and in terrible pain, that she probably wished for her mother to be there. She had wished the same, no matter how many times she had faced it.
“Your Grace?” The Princess asked after another wave of pain had come and gone.
“Yes, child?”
“Do you think your son would forgive me If I said this one is both the first and the last?”
The Queen had smiled at that. “If the Gods bless you with more children, it will be easier, I can assure you. The first time is always rough. But it shouldn’t be long now.”
Well, her good mother turned out to be wrong. Because the pain plagued her for a full night, giving her no peace. At the hour of the nightingale, the nursemaids forced her to bed, and she gladly went. She was exhausted, she could no longer walk without hissing at every step, and by that time she was so used to the pain she no longer whined or anything, only scrunched her face and ground her teeth.
The servants stripped her bare and replaced her sweat-soaked nightgown with a fresh one. They dabbed her face with a wet cloth, but she could barely register anything, floating into unconsciousness only to be brought back to the present as another pain choked her breath.
“Perhaps some Milk of the Poppy?” One of the nurses said at one point.
“No.” the Maester said. “She may need to start pushing any moment now. We need her vigil.”
Her heavy-lidded eyes opened, wandering helplessly around the room. Useless research, for she knew he wouldn’t be there. She didn’t expect him to be. The birthing bed was no place for men, save for the Maesters, although she was starting to doubt their real usefulness when all they could do was pull her nightgown up, take a close look and shake their heads. They might as well let Aemond be there.
She imagined he must’ve been waiting outside, or in the Council, and yet she ached to see him. She closed her eyes and searched for him in her mind, clutching the sheets in her fist as if she could clutch his hand instead. And then she felt someone’s hand closing around her own, loosening her grip. Alicent, smiling down at her, and holding her hand tight.
It was holding her good mother’s hand that, at the first light of dawn, she gave birth to her child. A boy, healthy and all screeching as soon as he was out of her womb, clad in blood and grease.
Aemond had decided to name the child Aenar, if it was a boy, after the first Targaryen Lord, and she couldn’t quite believe her eyes or force her tears back when he was finally admitted to their chambers and took their son in his arms for the first time. 
Alicent was beaming at the sight, squeezing his arm. “Congratulations, my son.”
But Aemond didn’t seem to even register her mother’s words, or presence, utterly enraptured by his little creature. He cast a look at his wife, a secret little look that told her how proud he was of her, how relieving it was for both to have come this far after all that happened, to have this little thing, this little ounce of peace amidst all the chaos of war.
What she didn’t know at that time was that Aenar was not exactly a peaceful child.
She had believed there had finally come the time when she could be herself again. But from the earliest days, Aenar proved not to be an easy child to deal with. The newborn cried and cried for hours, plagued by belly aches, and seemingly able to calm down only when in his mother’s arms. They had obviously called on a wet nurse; highborn ladies did not feed their children themselves, let alone a Princess. But Aenar had categorically refused to latch onto his wet nurse’s breasts. Alicent had proposed to summon another one, but as they dawdled and wavered, the Princess felt her heart break into pieces each time she held her little baby in her arms, all red in the face, hungry and in pain, turning his head towards her cleavage, desperate for her milk. Thus, she had put aside ceremonial court and all of that and chose to feed him herself.
But it was a strenuous task. The Maesters had warned her it would be tiring, sleep depriving, but she really had no choice. She had to do it every three hours, sometimes less, because being latched onto her breast seemed the only thing that would prevent the baby from screaming at the top of his lungs all day long. The nursemaid had recommended fennel and chamomile for belly aches. And, instantly, Aemond had ordered an astounding amount of both to be delivered to the Red Keep’s kitchens.
Queen Alicent taught her to hold the baby on his stomach, to rock him, but not too fast. They told her to take several breaks during breastfeeding, to make the baby belch often and prevent air from his belly. In the first week after Aenar was born, her mind was all but a vessel of do this, do that. No, not this way. Don’t ever wake the baby when he’s sleeping. Try to sleep when he does. Don’t eat spicy dishes.
In the midst of all of this, Aemond turned more and more suffocating in all his well-hidden, self-consuming concern. A handful of white cloaks, the most trusted by Ser Criston, were constantly guarding the door, day and night. He had a secret passageway that led to his rooms walled up, and she could swear he slept with his dagger beneath the pillow. Evidently not at peace with such extreme measures, he had the cradle moved to his side of the bed, within his reach, so that every time she had to wake up because the baby was wailing, she had to walk around the bed and pray that she would not tumble to the floor in the dark.
However, she was at least grateful to have Aemond’s support, for the little he could do. If he wasn’t occupied with warfare or hearings, he spent all the time he had with her and their child. And in those moments, no matter how exhausted she was, she would always find the strength to smile at the view when he held their baby, tracing his long fingers over the velvety grizzled skin of Aenar’s small hands; even when he’d speak to him in Valyrian, at which she had frowned at first.
“You do realise he’s one week old?”
“”Tis never too soon.”
“Mh. What’s next? Bring him to the skies on dragonback?”
“I’ll have you know Vhagar is perfectly safe to—“
“Over my dead body.” 
He had smiled and stood up, going to place the baby in her arms. Aenar immediately began to fuss, whining and turning his head against her chest. She had started to unbutton her chemise but then stopped, looking up, where Aemond stood still like a sentry, and watching.
She raised an eyebrow. “Am I putting up a show?”
“Usually, you do.” He drawled. “Am I not allowed to watch? It seems my son and I already share a few interests.”
She looked away, smiling, and then she freed her left breast, watching as the baby immediately latched onto it. A moment later, Aemond took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. He stared at her, and she saw that familiar glint his eye.
He trailed his thumb over her lip, barely breaching inside. “Soon?” was all he asked.
“Soon.” Was all she answered.
The soreness and the bleeding were reducing, and she was back in her tight flesh.
But the Gods must have cursed them some more, because that “soon” never seemed to become “now”.
The sickness didn’t seem willing to leave the poor child alone, along with his parents and the entirety of the Red Keep who had to suffer through his heartbreaking cries day and night.
The Princess had started to feel hopeless and guilty, no matter how many times the nursemaids, and even Queen Alicent, told her it was not her fault, that it was natural. No matter how many times she tried to convince herself they were right. Her heart broke any time the baby cried, wriggling desperately in her arms, in Aemond’s, in the cradle. She would end up crying too as she tried to soothe him, caressing his back with her cheek resting on his timidly silver-haired head.
She was working herself up to exhaustion, often falling asleep with the baby still latched onto her breast. It was Aemond who would take the baby to the cradle, it was Aemond who would button her chemise and pull up the blankets.
She hit rock bottom two weeks after Aenar’s birth, when she realised she hadn’t bathed in four days. Even Aemond, she could swear, was starting to look a little ragged around the edges. You don’t want to be King and take decisions in the middle of a war only to come back to a screaming infant at night.
But then, like a curse lifting, the sickness stopped. Amidst all those days she had stopped counting or even being aware of which was which, Aenar stopped crying. She was ashamed to admit that the first night he slept peacefully in his cradle, she had gone to check on him five times, to see if he was still breathing. 
She began to gradually return to her former self, able to enjoy motherhood with a more rested mind, at least. Physically, she still felt worn out, given how much time she spent breastfeeding or rocking the baby to sleep. But now she was strong enough to take the baby out, walking the gardens with her maids and smiling proudly as the court ladies stopped to congratulate themselves and say how beautiful her baby was.
By doing this, though, she also became aware that she had lived in a bubble for so long that she had almost forgotten there was a war raging, there were battles being fought across the realm.
Reality hits her one day when Alicent goes to visit her and her grandson, bringing the news of a very important victory near the Honeywine, a large river flowing in the Reach, thanks to Prince Daeron Targaryen who had arrived all victorious on that very morning, riding his blue scaled dragon, Tessarion.
The news stuns her for a moment. She had no idea of it, partly because she had been too caught up with Aenar, but also because Aemond had not told her. Yet her family came from the Reach, they lived there, not very far from the Honeywine; her older brother fought for the Green Army. Still, not a word from Aemond.
Taking advantage of Aenar sleeping and the fact that Alicent offered to watch him, she leaves her chambers and heads for the Council. There’s a bustle of lords coming out of the door when she gets there, barely paying her any attention as they hastily babble about armies and supplies and men; always more men to be sent to slaughter.
She stops at the door, widening her eyes at the silver head crossing the threshold, one she hadn’t seen in a long time. “Prince Daeron.”
The youngest son of Queen Alicent and late King Viserys was nothing but a boy. But war had taken its toll on him too. He stood like a man, a Prince, and more than anything, a skilled dragon rider.
“Princess.” He says, tilting his chin down.
She curtsies and sees an immediate gentle smile softening his Valyrian features. “I believe some congratulations are in order.”
“Well, in all fairness, you shall be the most celebrated, my Prince. I’ve just heard of your recent victory.”
His gentle smile lingers, but loses its sparkle. “I must say I much prefer to celebrate life…rather than…the death of innocent men and women.”
There can’t be objections to such a statement; she just nods and casts a distracted glance inside the Council.
“Please…” the Prince says then, making room to let her pass “I won’t keep you away from my brother.”
She turns her head and smiles, tightly. “I’m afraid it is your brother who keeps himself away from me.”
“Heavy is the head that wears the Crown.”
“Indeed.”
The Prince bows to her and leaves.
Closing the door behind her, she glances at Aemond sitting at the head of the table, in the King’s chair, with such effortlessness that he seems to have been born exclusively for that purpose.
“I thought I heard you.” he says absent-mindedly, scribbling down a small piece of parchment. She slowly walks to the windows, casting a single furtive glance down, but she can’t possibly make out what he’s writing, or to whom.
“How’s—"
“Aenar is fine.” She cuts him off. “He’s with your mother, sleeping.”
He stops scribbling, glancing up for a moment. Her voice is tight, cutting. He knows that tone. It’s the same one she used in Harrenhal, as if he should have fallen to his knees and be grateful for the mere fact that she was speaking to him. But he doesn’t have time today to circle around her like a coiling snake, so he goes straight to the point. “Is something the matter?”
“You didn’t tell me of the Honeywine.” She says after a moment, gazing at the Bay.
Aemond sighes, a sign that he was expecting such a question. “You were looking after our son.”
“And?” she’s quick to rebut, quick to reach him at the table and stare down at him. “You didn’t deem it appropriate to inform me of a battle raging in my family lands?”
“I am your family.” He says, stoically, as if common law, and she has to stifle a bitter laugh. The nerve of him. “That is a very lovely concept. Strange how it got lost on you in Harrenhal.”
“Enough!” he barks, and the sudden harshness makes the quill pierce through parchment. “I thought I’d made myself clear.” He warns. “I don’t want to hear another word about the witch. Ever.”
She obediently looks down, regretting having said that, but not entirely. Perhaps she has spent so much time beside him that she, too, can’t let go of her grudges.
“I did not tell you, for I did not want to upset you.” He says, resuming his collected tone. “You were worn out by the baby, I didn’t want to put more weight on your shoulders.”
She knows he’s sincere. Still, her nod is stiff as she looks away, biting her cheek. She is just so sick of it all. Of being regarded as a cunt to be bred at first and now a weakling nailed to a cradle with an infant sucking the life out of her. She knows she’s not the first, and she won’t be the last.
Aemond leaves the quill and stands up, circling until he’s close to her. “Your family is fine.” He tells her, lingering behind her. “Daeron spoke to your brother this morning.”
She keeps nodding, keeping her gaze down on the table, all scattered with maps and little dragon-shaped tokens, some black, some green. She frowns, letting warfare soothe her petty spirits. “What is this?”
“Our next move. A defense plan…which happens to be an attack plan too.”
“A pincher?”
She turns just in time to see the little surprise on his face. “My brother talked of nothing else when we were children. He slept with warfare books as pillows.”
“Hmm.” He muses, and takes a step closer, slipping his arm around her waist and resting his chin on her collarbone. “Show me.”
She shudders at his sudden proximity, at his breath blowing on her neck. She shudders at anything these days. A hand on her back, his legs fumbling beneath the covers and casually brushing against hers. She’s tight as a fiddle string.
“A pincher is nothing else but a decoy.” She explains. “You let your enemy believe they have you trapped…” and in saying this, she grabs his hand and moves it across the map. “And then…at the right moment…” she makes him hold a green token between his fingers and brings it near a little division of black ones “you strike on both flanks.” And with a swift flick of her wrist, his hand scatters all the black tokens across the table. To do so, she must lean over the table, accidentally brushing her lower back against his bulge. He’s not hard, yet, but it thrills her to feel the lightning quick effect she has on him.
“Hmm. Good. Very good.” He praises next to her ear as she withdraws her hand; his voice is so low it makes her spine shiver. But she keeps herself grounded and asks “When will this happen?”
“Soon.” he whispers, placing his hand flat on her stomach. “There’s another Small Council shortly but Aegon wanted to be present. They went to fetch him.”
“Well, then I shall retire to my chambers. I feel a bit lightheaded from all the thinking.”
He ignores her jab and keeps her still by the arm when she tries to move. There’s a little sly smirk pulling at his lips. “I have some time to spare.”
“And how do you propose we spend it?”
“Enough with your pantomimes. I can feel your legs squirming.”
Curse him.
He slips the other hand straight into her corset, cupping her breast and humming with delight at how full she is, how it fills his large hand entirely. “Are you wet for me, my love?”
His teeth sink down her lobe, and at the same time, he pinches her nipple between his thumb and index, forcing an indecorous whine out of her. “My, my…” he laughs darkly, torturing her sensitive skin until he feels something wet on his fingertips, probably milk. “I could make you come just by doing this.”
Powerless, she yields, leaning completely against him, rubbing her lower back for some friction. “What if someone enters?”
“We’ll make it quick.”
“But I don’t want it to be quick.” She pants, grabbing his hand on her breast and squeezing; the other crawls behind her back to try to feel him through his breeches. 
Hissing, when she starts to palm him, he says “Then we let them watch. They get to see how pretty you look when you come on my fingers, or my cock. Which should it be?”
“Both. Anything.” She answers hastily, pulling at his collar to bring him close enough to kiss him. He hums contentedly when she does, twirling his tongue around hers. It soon gets messy, each of them fighting for dominance, winning and losing in turn, until he spins her around, so he can look at her and with both his hands, he seizes her gowns and pulls up, furiously rummaging through them.
“How many fucking layers have you on?”
“I’m not pregnant anymore.” she points out, unbuckling his belt.
“Pity. Perhaps I should fuck another one into you to keep you in your skimpy robes.”
“Don’t you dare, Aemond—” 
“Gods be good, brother! That eager to make another one?”
They both startle like little children caught doing something naughty, turning their heads towards the door, where two servants are carrying King Aegon on a chair. Aemond sighs annoyingly, letting go of her gowns as she does with his belt, trying to compose herself.
“My King.” She says, greeting her good brother with a tight little smile.
Aegon’s appearance has improved since Rook’s Rest, just as the burnings, but he carries with him the smell of Milk of the Poppy and rotting skin everywhere he goes. 
“Good-sister. What are you doing here? Apart from being ravished by my brother... should you not be breastfeeding?”
Aemond gives him a level stare and then looks at her, hoping she will not take the bait. Aegon and his wife never got along well, to say the least. Things had only escalated with time, to the point that whenever they found themselves in the same room, one of them would wisely leave, his wife most of the times, lest they start to hiss at each other like two cats fighting for territory.
“What if I intend to stay and attend the council?”
Aegon giggles, as the servants put down the chair, and after a quick glance below her neck he says “I’m afraid you would be a little distracting. And my brother is not one for sharing.”
Before she can ask what in the Seven he is blabbing about, Aemond takes her arm and makes her turn, shielding her from his brother and the Lords coming through the door.
“You should retire.” He curtly says.
“Are you taking his side again?” she asks, wriggling her arm to free herself from his hold.
“You’re leaking.” He informs her, flatly. 
At that, she frowns and dips her chin down, watching the front of her dress practically soaked in milk. “Oh.”
“I shall join you when I’m done here.” He tells her, and lets her out through the side doors.
Tumblr media
Aemond did not join her.
The council lasted until the evening, a recurring thing when Aegon attended. Aemond was stern and concise in his decisions. Aegon liked to laze around, enjoying the wine in his cup, rattling his younger brother’s nerves. Deep down, she was convinced that Aegon did not really want to attend the Council because really interested in what to do, but only to remind his brother that he was still breathing and that the Conqueror's Crown on Aemond's head was a temporary measure.
But it didn’t matter. She would join him for the banquet in honor of Prince Daeron.
She was thrilled to go. It was not a proper feast. Since Helaena had fallen into grief, the atmosphere within the walls of the Keep had become rather austere. But a banquet still meant an occasion for conviviality, and after weeks and weeks spent locked up within four walls, the Princess was eager to spend some time outside her chambers. She had felt like a terrible mother at the mere thought. She loved Aenar, how could she not? But she also loved herself, her family, her marriage, Aemond. Especially Aemond.
Once she had put the baby to sleep, she had ordered her maid to prepare one of her favorite dresses, a green one, and to tie her hair in an elegant braided bun. When she had looked in the mirror, she had almost grunted. The scarce and troubled hours of sleep were all evident in the dark circles under her eyes, but it was nothing a little egg-white couldn't temper.
When she arrived at the banquet, Aemond was already there, standing in his usual soldierly stance, intent on talking to his mother. She approached them from the side, Aemond's blind side precisely, so that when she announced herself, he had to turn his shoulder to look at her. He cast a glance at her hair, ran his eye over her entire figure. She wasn’t expecting any kind of sappy words, and certainly not in front of his mother, nor did she desire them. She could feast on that look alone.
Queen Alicent excused herself to give order about the banquet, and they were left alone, while some musicians gathered in a corner of the hall.
“You said you would join me. I thought they abducted you.”
“More or less.”
“Ah. Yes, I'm sure it must have been so hard for you to listen to the lords snapping like little soldiers at your command.”
“It pains me to acknowledge how little you know me, when you think I'd rather talk war with those wimps who can't even hold a sword than fuck my wife till dawn.”
“That was your plan?”
“We have some unfinished business, don’t we? And don’t play dumb. You’re wearing green. You’re not as subtle as you think you are either.”
“Good. I’m sick of subtleties. So, are you going to ask me to dance?”
Aemond rolled his eye and gave her a stare that told her he’d preferred to walk barefoot on lava.
“Still not fond of dancing, eh?”
Prince Daeron suddenly appeared between them, with his cheerful manner and his head of silver curls, dressed in dark green just like his older brother. “Strange. You were the only one listening to the lessons when we were children.”
“Yes, because you and Aegon acted as court jesters the whole time.”
“I’ll have you know, brother, I have refined my dancing skills in Oldtown. So…may I dance with my good sister?”
Aemond gave him a simple nod, and Daeron bowed to her gallantly, raising his palm up.
She kindly accepted the invitation and placed her hand on his. “Don’t sulk too much.” She whispered to her husband before following his brother.
Aemond watched closely as they started to dance, stealing all the attention, and despite that little primitive tug at the sight of his woman dancing with another man, even though that was his brother and there was absolutely nothing malicious in his or her intentions, he was glad to see her like this, spinning and twisting around instead of lying still in the cold with dread eating her alive.
When the dance ended, Daeron escorted the Princess back to Aemond and took his leave. “Remind me again,” she asked as she watched the young Prince leave “How is it that your brother is still unmarried?”
Aemond sighed deeply and took her arm to escort her to the table. “I’d give you one week before you’d get bored of him.”
While they waited for dinner, the lords and ladies of the court were obviously very eager to hear Prince Daeron. Alicent in the first place, after so much despair, and after being separated from her youngest son for years, seemed to smile with her eyes every time she heard him speak.
“Hear, hear!” one of the lords cheered after listening to Prince Daeron’s retelling of the Battle of the Honeywine. “A brave soldier and a brave dragon rider! I propose a toast.”
At once, everybody stood up, raising their glasses. “To Prince Daeron, to House Targaryen!”
“And to House Hightower.” The Prince proudly stated, raising his glass towards his mother.
As they sat back, the Queen ordered the servants to serve the dinner. The table was gradually filled with a great variety of dishes, many of them Prince Daeron's favourites, specifically ordered by his mother to make him feel at home. It had been weeks and weeks since such a banquet had been seen at King's Landing. Prince Daeron seemed very pleased and grateful, as did all those present who watched the rich dishes crowd the table, and lastly, the huge tray of fresh fruit that a servant laid in the middle.
“I can’t quite believe my eyes. Blackberries? This far in the season?” said Lady Bracken.
“I’m afraid that is entirely my fault.” The Princess chirped, catching Aemond’s attention from across the table.
“I had a sudden craving, while I was carrying Aenar.”
“I had one too with my first.” Lady Redwyne joined in. “Plums, specifically.”
“Did you find them agreeable, Princess?”
“Oh, very much indeed.” She stated, casting an innocent glance around, but lingering for just a moment longer on her husband. “I devoured so many…I still feel the taste on my tongue.”
Devious woman, he thought, fighting back his cursed smirk. He had half a mind to excuse themselves and retire to their chambers, if he managed to endure it all the way and not take her in the middle of a hallway.
She seemed able to read his mind, judging by the way she was looking at him, unfurling a napkin on her lap. He knew her well enough to foresee when she was in a teasing spirit, and he was all in for it.
But then, just when they were about to start eating, her trusted maid came in, going straight to the Princess. “Apologies your Grace.” she said to her ear “but the Princeling is awake.”
Aemond saw the concern instantly widening her eyes and then a shadow passing over her face. “Yes…” she said, and stood up talking to all the present. “My apologies. I must retire.”
“See?” said Lady Bracken as Aemond watched his wife leave the hall. “This is why I refused to breastfeed. No matter how my second would scream…”
Tumblr media
By the time she had done breastfeeding, her chest hurt so much that the maid had to place some rags soaked in cold water directly on her nipples; the instant relief had made the Princess close her eyes and almost moan. She had planned to go back to the banquet as soon as Aenar had had his fill but as she gained relief by pressing those wet rags to her breasts, she realised her son wouldn’t let her get away that easily.
As soon as the maid had taken him, trying to put him to sleep, he had begun to fuss and wriggle, whining in what she knew would soon turn into a high-pitched, deaf inducing crying.
Perhaps he’s cursed too. She had thought exhaustingly, promptly kissing his silver little head.
She gave up on her plan to go back to the banquet and rocked the baby herself, pacing before the windows while whispering sweet soothing words.
As soon as he had dozed off, she put him in his crib and absent-mindedly grabbed a book from Aemond's desk, lazily leafing through it while rocking the cradle with the other hand.
Aemond finds her like this when he opens the door on his way back from the banquet. She looks up from the page and sees him striding purposefully towards her, snatching the little book in her hands and throwing it on the bed.
She’s shocked, to say the least. One might say he treats books far better than his subjects.
“What—“ she tries to say but he takes her hand and pulls, forcing her to stand up and follow his steady gait.
“Aemond?” she asks down the corridor, a girlish grin climbing on her lips. “Where are you taking me?”
He doesn’t bother to answer but she doesn’t have to wait long to find out. They stop before a door down the corridor opposite to their chambers, Aemond pushes her inside without so much grace and shuts the door behind them. 
She looks around briefly; the room is warm, the fire in the hearth is lit, as the candles scattered all around. This is all familiar. “These are my old chambers…” she says with a little frown, turning to him.
“Quite the observer, wife.” He drawls, and takes a few steps. His stride is different now. Slow, contemplating, as his gaze raking over her, as if he in the first place doesn’t know why he brought her here and he’s assessing what to do. A war map, and he knows where all the faults lie.
“I thought we could spend some time together” he starts, walking past her to go sit near the fire “Alone.” he adds once he leisurely sits down, crossing his long legs and resting his hands on the armrests. “What better place than a vacant room? No one will come looking for us here.”
She tries as hard as she can to stop the little smirk at the corner of her lips; she walks closer, stopping right in front of him, staring down. “They might hear.” 
“Hmm. And that is much of a trouble for you, isn’t it?” he asks with the most fake genuine tone, taking a cup from the nearby table, and then “You sucked my cock on a terrace and begged me to fuck you in the Small Council…I thought I told you to quit your act.”
She smiles openly now, watching the wine pouring in the cup, his eye fixed on the liquid as his eyebrow shots up. “Besides, I know exactly what to do to muffle your noises.”
“You should be proud of my noises.”
“I am.” He says, taking a sip of wine, his eye piercing through her above the cup’s brim. “But for once, Aegon is right. I’m not one for sharing.”
His arm moves to put the wine aside but she takes it, only to feel his hand pulling the cup away from her. “You cannot drink.”
“Fine.” She concedes, leaning on him. “I’ll have it my way.”
She holds his face and with her left hand she glides her fingers on the left side of his face, delicately but with purpose, pushing the eyepatch off. And then she kisses him, eagerly, licking his lips and then breaching inside to taste the wine on his tongue, on the roof of his mouth.
She sighs deeply when he locks his tongue with hers, and feels his lips curling.
“Did you hear it?” He says breaking the kiss, breathing into her mouth. “That one is my favorite.”
“Your favorite what?” She asks mindlessly, chasing his lips but to no use, because he tilts his head back, his cursed smirk ghosting.
“Noise. It’s a little thing…” he tells her, locking one hand around her neck “in the back of your throat, close to a sigh but not quite…” his fingers trails against her throat, chasing her swallowing “It tells me you’re dying to.”
“To do what?”
“Fall on your knees for me. Be a supplicant.”
She grabs the back of his neck, driving his head close and looks down at his arched mouth “You cannot live without God, can you?” She looks up, her mouth open to breathe “Seven of them seem to have cursed me. I had to find my own.”
His eye widens at that. He looks straight into her eyes, so devoted, so raw. She’s right. The Gods would curse her some more if they saw she looks at him the way she should look at the Gods.
“Then do it.”
“What?”
“Flatteries don’t work on me, sweetling. You should know that.” With his hand on her neck, he slightly pushes her away, making some distance between them. “You will have to show me.”
“What would you have me do?”
His hands let go of her completely, resting on the armchair. The gemstone glints blue, and yet it’s nowhere near the bright cursed thing in his eye. “Get on your knees for me. Now.”
She should be ashamed of the pull in her bones, the muscles willing to move on their own accord and fall to the ground. But why, why does it have to be sin? Why can it not be religion?
When her knees hit the ground, she sees his chest rise, his long fingers spreading flat on the armchair. But her eyes fly back to his face as soon as he speaks, as soon as he commands. “Take off your dress.”
His eye sinks down, watching her hands work the corset, steadily. It’s the only sound in the room, this tugging, at the dress. But she tugs at his cock too. She tugs between her own legs.
When the dress is nothing but a pool of green on the ground, she goes to pull down her white chemise, but she suddenly stops. Aemond uncrosses his legs and the air hitches in her throat as his hands go straight to his belt, unbuckling it.
He revels in the little lump in her throat. Perhaps later he will let her have what she’s craving, but not so soon. “Give me your wrists.”
“My—”
“Don’t make me say it again.”
Swallowing, she keeps her eyes on him and raises her hands, like an offering. Aemond takes off his belt and leans forward, enough to take her hands and cross her wrists. She shudders at the sharp tug when he wraps the leather around, tying them tight.
“On your feet.”
And up she goes, testing her hands briefly but finding soon that she cannot move them, at all.
“Come.”
It takes one swift movement of his leg, bending the knee while the other rests loosely on the ground, for her to get the gist and walk closer, sitting on his knee, sideways.
“No. Like this.” Quite harshly, he grabs her hips and turns her so that she’s straddling his thigh. He can hear her little gasp when he pushes his thigh firmly against her core. He can feel her warmth through the fabric, stirring his cock. But he pays it no mind, for now.
“What now?” She asks, poised precariously on his thigh. 
Aemond tilts his head, and he just looks at her. In the spur of a moment, a boyish one that doesn’t sit well with how he’s built, he thinks he might be quite contented by merely looking at her. Because she’s beautiful and mine, mine, mine.
But his hands are burning, they might fray and wither if he doesn’t touch her. He unties her hair, running his fingers through them as they fall around her shoulders. The Maiden. The Mother. And yet something better, something worse. Because her eyes are hungry, her mouth is starving for air, for his flesh.
“You must toil to find God.” He says, and then he grins. A savage thing, full of promise. “Bring yourself to come.”
A flash of thrill lights up her face, darkens her eyes and Aemond tilts his head again, biding all the time in the world, for he knows she will.
Tentatively, she pushes her body down, against his thigh, feeling a timid shot of pleasure traveling up from her core, ending in a short, labored breath.
That noise, that might be his second favorite.
Soon, her hips start to move back and forth, each time trying to push herself down as hard as she can, making little breathless cries each time she fails to give herself the friction she needs. She has little balance due to her tied wrists, so she rests her palms on his chest to gain some leverage. And that seems to do the trick.
She tilts her head back, moving faster, doing little jumps on his thigh, panting harshly as sweat lumps on her forehead and pleasure coils in her belly.
Aemond hikes up her chemise, watches her cunt brushing back and forth against his leg, leaving a trail of wetness on the fabric of his breeches. He has to choke down a growl. “Gods, you’re soaking me…”
She looks down at him, her cheeks pink, her lips open in a little o. He can’t help himself. He sticks two fingers inside and how relishing it is that she waits for no invitation or order. She laps, twirls her tongue around his fingertips, sucks them.
“Look at you…” he croons, taking his fingers out, leaving a trail of saliva down her chin. “But you can’t, can you? Perhaps I should fuck you before a mirror, so you see. You see how pretty you are when you’re desperate for me.”
His hand travels down her neck, tossing her hair back and then grasping the strap of her chemise, pulling it down, revealing her swollen, turgid breast. He leans forward immediately, cupping it in his hand, and takes the nipple into his mouth, crooning contentedly and then some more when he feels her wince and cry out loud.
Her tied wrists writhe in their merciless hold and he stops her, gripping both her hands with one of his own, keeping her still, lapping and sucking at her nipple until he feels something wet and saccharine on his tongue, humming all the better. He grazes his teeth over the sensitive bud, and she cries out again, bucking violently against him, turning sloppy and frenzy as she feels the fall close.
He feels it too, feels her thighs trembling around him, and that’s when he takes her hips in a tight hold and forces her to stop altogether.
“Did you think I would make it so easy?” he asks spitefully, seeing her dazed expression. Wasting no time, he holds her firmly close to him and stands up. It takes him only two of his long steps to reach the bed and place her above. In a moment of illusive freedom, her tied wrists fly to his breeches, to his evident hardness, but he’s quick to stop her, bringing her arms above her head, keeping them there with a firm hold. “Stay still.”
“Aemond—“ she pleads.
“Hush. Spread your legs.”
She obliges, eager for him to do something, anything to stop the aching. Aemond wets his fingers on his tongue and brings them down, breaching inside her with two of them, watching her gasp, arch her back and twist her wrists in his hold, uselessly. “Easy…” he cruelly laughs “I have just started.”
But she hasn’t. She’s a few steps away from the precipice of her previous denied peak, it would take him so little to push her over the edge. Instead, his torture is so slow that the whole coiling in her belly falls apart and she must climb her peak again.
His two fingers slip in and out ever so easily, their wet sounds echoing through the room, mixed with her panted breaths and his own. He aches for her to touch him, he aches so much that his cock is pulsing, painfully, but this is just too thrilling. Now he knows exactly how she felt in Harrenhal, when she had him chained up to a chaise.
Her hips rock frantically against his hand, trying to speed him, to get there faster. Mumbling nonsense, her legs tense like iron, her cunt clenches and sucks his fingers in like a vice. “Yes…yes, please…Aemond…please don’t stop—‘m so close…”
And just like that, he slips his fingers out; a dark pleasure dances on his candle-lit features as she writhes and whines for the loss of his fingers, swinging her lower back and forth, desperate for the barest friction that would end her misery.
“Aemond, please…” she says, and even with only one eye, he can’t mistake the tears of frustration at the corners of her eyes.
“What, my love?”
“Plea—” she’s cut off by his hand, pushing his sticky fingers inside to make her clean up her mess.
“We said enough with subtleties, did we not? Speak. Tell me…what you need me to do?”
“Let me come please…please…”
At that, he finally lets her wrists go, and she almost winces in pain, for the time she had them tensed above her head. He stalls for a moment, unsure, running his eye over her whole body, sweating and feverish, and so beautifully plump because of motherhood. He unbuttons his doublet, and then his shirt, his breeches. He bares himself completely, catching her eyes following his deft hands everywhere, breathing heavily.
He kneels between her legs, spreading them. And it’s embarrassing, really, the way she tumbles as soon as he puts his tongue flat against her drenched folds. If only she cared.
It takes only a couple of twirls of his tongue around her lips, and she comes undone, shaking all over, canting her slit against his face. He helps her ride out her climax, by not stopping at all. Instead, he doubles his efforts like a man possessed, pushing his mouth open against her cunt as if he wished to devour it, sucking harshly until she whimpers hard, choking on a loud sob. “Aemond—wait—I can’t—”
She cannot take more so soon. But he’s utterly deaf to her complaints.
He feasts on her, lapping and dipping his tongue in, parting her folds to go as deep as he can, humming while drinking all of her; his voice reverberates through her flesh, it makes her bones rattle.
His long nose rubs against her bud and he looks up: she trashes about the sheets, cutting herself as the belt leather scratches her skin. She tries to push him away with her tied wrists, to no use. She clamps her legs around his head, in a desperate attempt to chase him away, sobbing for the unbearable stimulation. And yet…and yet her hips move on their own whim, bucking with sharp jolts until the wave starts to rise, higher and higher, and she drowns in it, letting go a high-pitched cry, clutching his scalp with both her tied hands, scraping, pushing him against her as she rides her peak against his face.  
He swallows everything, licking her clean, moaning softly at feeling her pulsing on his tongue.
“Enough…I—Aemond you have to stop…” she rasps breathlessly.  
“Why?” he asks, finally rising from where he had perched himself; he climbs on her, until he speaks to her face. “I am only making up to you. Wasn’t that what you wanted?”
She can smell herself on him, she can see herself, glistening on his mouth, chin, even his cheekbones.
“Answer me.” His hand grips her jaw “You said you wanted everything.”
She chokes down a whimper when he leans completely on her, feeling his cock against her cooling flesh, while he’s hot and hard and heavy.
“I will give you more.” He says, brushing a strand of her sweat-soaked hair from her temple. “I will give you another child. Keep you all aching and wet for me while you swell with my child. Do you think I don’t know? How you ached for me? D’you think I didn’t?” he presses himself down, so she can feel it thoroughly, furrowing her brow as her body already answers to his call.
 “I can feel you in our bed…” he keeps rasping “rubbing your legs together. And you know how much that bothers me. Your pleasure is mine to take…and to give.”
Her lips part, gasping roughly. She was so hung on his lips that she hadn’t even registered that he had taken hold of himself, bending her knee on his left hip, and guided himself in.
She arches against him while he slowly sheathes himself all the way in, moaning with long-awaited relief. He stays still for a moment, adjusting, but also because he takes her wrists and sets her hands free.
Thrilling as it was, he wants her hands on him, he craves her touch.
He wants her to cling to his shoulders as she always does, digging her nails down.
He wants her to clamp her fingers on the back of his neck, scraping and pulling his hair to keep him close enough to moan into his mouth.
He wants her hands on his back, sliding down, to push him even deeper while rutting inside her.
And she does all of that. She finds God.
Tumblr media
4K notes · View notes
snoopyracing · 8 months ago
Text
just us // ln4
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: lando norris X reader
word count: 15k (again i don't know how to write short fics)
warnings: cursing, alcohol use, smut (18+) (p in v, no protection, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, slight degradation, and exhibitionsim if you squint)
includes: friends to lovers, hidden relationship, jealous!lando, reader and lando being yappers, and reader X max f X lando friendship
summary: the three times your secret relationship with lando almost gets exposed and the one time it finally does.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
The sun had just made her grand entrance to the world, golden rays illuminating the quiet Monaco apartment owned by a certain McLaren F1 driver. White bed sheets askew as the two lovers still slept soundly, soft snores echoing through the bedroom. Clothes from the previous nights activities scattered across the floor, almost making a path from the front door to their shared bed. The idea of waking up on neither of their minds, but the sun ray peeking through the open blind caused one of them to stir.
The light shining directly on your face proved opening your eyes to be a little difficult. Squinting, you blindly reached towards the nightstand to grab your phone, but the empty pats on the wood told you your phone wasn't there. A small groan left your lips, even without your phone to see what time it was, you knew it was early. You knew just from the certain birds that were chirping outside, their melodies always filling your ears when you had to get up early.
As you sat up in bed you noticed your lack of pajamas, and as you spotted the trail of clothes leading out of the bedroom you knew your phone had to be somewhere between here and the front door. Memories of the passionate night the two of you shared came flooding back as you leaned against the headboard, the bed sheet tucked under your arms being the only thing to keep your modesty.
The snores coming from beside you told you that Lando was still sound asleep. He was laying on his stomach with his face turned towards you and his arms tucked under his pillow. His muscular arms on full display as he slept like a baby. The shared sheet only covering his bottom half, allowing for his toned back to be exposed.
It was a rare occurrence for the two of you to get mornings like this, or really any chance for you to just admire him in his natural beauty. Lando was always the first to wake, not that he wanted to be, but his lifestyle required him to. Either waking up to travel for race weeks, work out, or work on Quadrant stuff. The boy was going nonstop, so moments like this you never took for granted. It almost brought a sense of normalcy to your lives.
As he laid next to you right now he wasn't some famous Formula 1 driver, he was just Lando. The sweet boy who always texted you good morning and goodnight when the two of you were apart, the boy who always ate the tomatoes off your sandwiches, who always let you pick the music in the car, who always brings you back a stupid tourist souvenir from races you didn't attend. He was yours, every last bit of him.
Your eyes now fully adjusted to the sunlight, grazed over every detail of him. From his little moles, to his eyelashes that made his eyes even more beautiful, to his perfect nose, his jawline sculpted by the gods, and lastly his heart shaped lips. As your eyes moved down to his back you could resist in reaching out your hand to trace mindless patterns as you counted every little mole and freckle that adorned his back.
Feeling him stir under your touch you quickly snatched your hand back, the last thing you had wanted to do was wake him up. And you had thought you were in the clear until a deep, still filled with sleep, voice filled your ears.
"Why'd you stop for?" His eyes were still closed as he untucked his hand from under his pillow, grabbing your now idle hand and moving it back to its prior location on his back.
"So needy." You teased as you resumed the mindless patterns you drew moments ago.
"Hmm. Only for you." He hummed as he felt your touch on him once again. The sensation almost lulling him back to sleep, until the sun that had awoken you moved towards Lando, the beam of light now adorning his face. He looked almost ethereal to you in this light, a moment you wished you had your phone for to capture. His blue eyes even brighter as the light poured into them. "Jesus." He mumbled as he quickly moved away from the light.
"Yeah I don't think the sun wants us to sleep in today, woke me up too." You glanced back at the open blind, then back to the Brit who now was on his side, hand propping up his head as he looked at you. "Maybe if someone closed the blind last night we'd both still be asleep."
A smirk formed on his face at the memories of last night's events. "Maybe if someone would have kept their hands off of me, I would have remembered to close the blind."
"As if!" You scoffed.
His eyebrows raised, cheesy grin on his face as he recalled your words to him. "Really? Because all I can seem to remember is 'lan please touch me' 'i need you' 'don't sto-"
A pillow came barreling towards his face, his words mumbled as he continued to tease you. "Ok! Enough!" You hollered out, a blush creeping onto your cheeks at his words.
"Awe, is my girl embarrassed?" Laughter laced in his words as he moved closer to you. "Honestly I love the fact that you can't keep your hands off me and the day that I don't is the day I need to be taken out back and shot."
"You're so fucking dramatic I cannot." You laughed, eyes rolling playfully at him. "It's a good thing I love you Norris."
His smile still not leaving his face as he switched to join you in sitting up in bed. His hands reaching out to cup your face as he leaned in closer. "You better." He teased before connecting his lips with yours. The feeling something you prayed you'd never grow tired of. His kisses always had somewhat of a drug feeling to you, always making you want more, point proven as he went to pull away you were grabbing at him, pulling him back in. And when you had finally got your full fix he was the one that looked like a dopey fool, lips swollen and eyes hooded. "God I love you." He stated as his fingers traced from your neck down to your arm.
A smirk was tugging at your lips as you repeated Lando's words back to him. "You better."
The two of you spent the remainder of the morning wrapped in each other. Your head on his chest as he ran his hands through your hair, your fingers tracing patterns on his torso. It was peaceful, until the obvious topic that lingered in both your minds had finally festered enough. "We need to talk about yesterday Lan."
Ah, yes, yesterday. How could he forget? How could he forget that he exposed their hidden relationship to the whole world on accident.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
The said hidden relationship had been going on for around seven months, but Lando and you had known each other for years. The two of you met through mutual friends and instantly clicked. A bond formed and in what seemed like no time. Lando was someone you considered a best friend or a platonic other half, he just somehow always got you, knew what you were thinking, knew what to do when you were feeling upset or stressed. For Lando you were the one person who could calm him down after a bad race, who could make him laugh without even trying, and was the first person he thought of when he woke up in the morning. You knew each other's favorite foods, childhood dreams, and embarrassing secrets.
You attending the occasional races that were closer to home soon turned into Lando practically begging you to come to any race you could. Off weeks and breaks always spent in each others company. To any outsider looking in, the two of you were practically already together, at least it seemed like it. But if anyone asked either of you if there were feelings there (which many friends had) the both of you would say no. The both of you had never looked at each other in that way. Yes you loved him and you knew he loved you. And yes you weren't blind he was very attractive, but romantic feelings had never crossed your mind. You always pointed out to the people that prodded you with questions about Lando and you, that the both of you've had relationships in the time you've known each other. None of them ever lasting very long though. The both of them not knowing at the time that they were the main causes of their failed relationships.
Though, everything changed one cold January night in London. He had been handsy with you all night at the club, which Lando's hands on you wasn't a new concept, but tonight was excessive and different. His large hands always somehow planted on your hips, his chin resting on your shoulder. You blamed it on the alcohol, that he was just feeling affectionate, but you couldn't deny the feelings that were starting to fester inside of you. The feeling of him pressed up behind you. The feeling of his breath tickling your neck when he would whisper something in your ear. It was awakening something foreign in you towards Lando.
You could feel people's eyes on the two of you, videos undoubtedly being uploaded to social media. It wasn't the first time you had gotten filmed in public, in fact you were used to it, but under tonights circumstances you felt annoyed. You weren't sure if it was the music pouding in your chest or your heart, but combine that with the random eyes staring at you while Lando's hands are on you and this club was the last place you wanted to be. It felt suffocating almost, and you could barely manage to tell Lando you were heading home before you wriggled out of his grasp and made a b-line for the exit.
The cold air that hit your lungs as you exited the club was a soothing relief. The deep breaths you took as you pulled up Uber on your phone had managed to steady your heart rate, but that lasted for a mere second as a familiar hand landed on your shoulder.
"Y/N. Are you okay?"
Goosebumps formed on your skin and you weren't sure if it was from the cold or his touch. You didn't dare look back at him, just focused your attention on getting a ride. "I'm not feeling great. Think I may have drank too much." Lie. Both you and Lando knew you had barely had two drinks tonight and your very much coherent words did nothing to back up your statement. "I've got an Uber on the way. You stay. I'll be fine." Your eyes never leaving your phone as you spoke.
Lando had shuffled to the side of you and you could feel his eyes burning into you. "No, if you're leaving then so am I. Think I could crash at your place?"
Any other night this wouldn't have been such a big deal, Lando had stayed the night at your place many of times and you vise versa, but tonight was not like any other night. The mere idea of sharing a bed with him (because that's what friends do right?) made your head spin. All you had wanted to do was go home, take a cold shower, and try to rationalize these feelings you've had tonight. But your mouth was thinking faster than your brain and a 'sure' came tumbling out past your lips.
"Ok good." Lando stated, a smile tugging at his lips as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. The simple action causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach and that's when you knew the goosebumps from earlier were caused by the later option.
The 15 minute drive back to your place felt like an eternity.
The simple gesture of Lando putting his hand on your thigh as you got settled in the back seat made your breath catch in your throat. His head quirked towards you, eyebrows furrowed and his long fingers squeezed your thigh as he asked. "You good?"
You were in fact far from good. Your best friend was getting you hot and bothered in the back of an Uber, so no you weren't good.
"Just choked on my own spit, you know me."
The entire ride his hand felt like a thousand pounds on your thigh, the gesture that you never once batted an eyelash at now had you practically wanting to jump out of the moving vehicle.
The smell of his cologne was making your head spin as you tried to focus on anything other than how fast your heart was beating. If it hadn't been freezing outside you would have rolled down the window and stuck your head outside like a dog.
As the driver turned down your street you already had a grip on the door handle and he hadn't even come to a complete stop before you were opening the door and getting out.
Lando was fast on your heels, and by the time you entered your apartment you had decided that you were sleeping on the couch tonight.
A puzzled Lando stood motionless as he watched you carry a pillow and blanket from your room to the couch in the living room. "What are you doing?"
"I'm gonna sleep out here tonight. You can have my bed." You stated as you made your way towards your bedroom to grab some pajamas. The faster you could get ready for bed and away from whatever spell Lando had on you the better.
He had sat down on your bed as you rummaged through your dresser and you hadn't even heard him follow you to the bathroom until he spoke.
"Are you still not feeling good? Is that the reason you're sleeping on the couch? Or are you pissed at me? I'm already sorry for whatever I did."
As you glanced over at him he was leaning against the door frame and the sight of his shirt slightly raised up should not have made your heart beat quicken like it did, but yet here you were. You ignored his question, instead you were digging through the bathroom drawers, on a mission for your makeup wipes, but you couldn't seem to locate them.
"Top left." Lando shuffled into the bathroom towards the said drawer and as he pulled it open there sat your makeup wipes. A small smirk played at his lips as he handed them over to you.
You mumbled out a 'thanks' as you took them from him. As you took off your makeup he grabbed his toothbrush from the medicine cabinet. And as the two of you stood side by side getting ready for bed you realized just how much the scene playing out was nothing shy of domestication. What male friend knows what drawer your makeup wipes are in? And has his own toothbrush in your bathroom, not the guest bathroom? Has his own drawer in your dresser? Has his designated side of the bed? What other male friend touches you the way Lando does? Holds you? What other person in your life knew you as well as Lando? Who else did you have matching necklaces with? Your brain wouldn't stop with the questions, your body autopiloting the rest of your nighttime routine.
You felt Lando's arms sneak around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as the two of you made eye contact in the mirror. "Don't make me sleep alone tonight." He mumbled, before retreating to your bedroom. His words felt like ice in your veins and as you stood there staring back at yourself in the mirror you realized one thing.
You were fucked.
Thinking back to everytime one of your friends asking if Lando and you were together and you saying no, that there were no romantic feelings there now suddenly seemed like a big lie. Jesus christ, you guys were literally together, minus the kissing and sex, the two of you acted like you were in a relationship.
Did you have romantic feelings for Lando though?
The simple thought of 'i'm in love with my best friend' honestly had never crossed your mind. And thinking back to his past relationships there was never any jealousy coming from your side. So was all this that you were feeling tonight just a fluke? Maybe a side effect from the dry spell you've been having when it came to sex? But as you still stood there staring mindlessly at your reflection all the little pieces started to fit together.
You had said there were no feelings because your brain had blurred the lines between friendship and romantic feelings so much you couldn't tell the difference. Maybe it was your brain's way of protecting you, not letting you fully realize how you felt.
You had never gotten jealous or upset when Lando had gotten into relationships and it was because he still treated you like his number one even while seeing someone else. Looking back you had done the same in your past relationships. You remembered that the two of you had expressed vocally to each other that there must have been something wrong with them as to why they couldn't keep a partner for more than a couple months. And now you could see that you two were each others issue. Who wants to be in a relationship where the other person's heart already belongs to someone else?
How could you have been so blind? Because now the thought of 'i'm in love with my best friend' truly did cross your mind.
As you finally came back down to earth you realized you were going to have to face him as you exited the bathroom to get to the living room. The door had been open the whole time and you could hear a random sitcom playing softly on the TV. You didn't even want to look at him, afraid that one look would make you crawl in next to him. But as your feet moved from the cold tile to plush carpet your heart swelled at the sight in front of you.
Lando was already fast asleep on his side of the bed. Light snores emitting from him, his arm outstretched to your side, like he was waiting for you to climb into his arms (like you usually did). Your legs felt like cement pillars as you forced yourself out of your room. The urge to be wrapped up in his arms almost overpowering the sane part of you. You needed to be alone tonight, it was the smart thing to do. You had realized some big things about yourself and your relationship with Lando tonight and the level headed thing to do was to distance yourself until you had your head on completely straight.
That though, was easier said than done.
You were tired when you laid down on the couch, but yet almost two hours later you were still tossing and turning. Your mind being the main contributor as to why you were still up, Lando being the only thing on your mind. The uncomfortable couch didn't help either and you felt sorry for any your friends who had previously crashed on it. You tried to distract yourself, but scrolling on TikTok ended 30 minutes ago and you could only play so much Monopoly Go before you ran out of dice. A loud sigh escaped past your lips as the time on your phone read 3:00. If you would have just slept in your own bed you would have been in a deep sleep right now. But you were determined to not give in to your desires.
Ten minutes later your willpower gave out and you were walking down the hall towards your room. You slowly turned the door handle, not wanting to wake Lando. As you quietly closed the door, you couldn't help but shake your head at the fact that you were sneaking into your own room right now. It felt funny, like you were suddenly a teenager again.
Whatever had been playing on the TV had shut off and the glow of the screen saver was the only thing illuminating the room. Lando was still sound asleep, he was on his side now, and you were thankful that his back would be to you when you climbed into bed. Tip toeing to your side you carefully slid under the covers, the feeling of being in your own bed immediately relaxing you.
In a matter of seconds of you laying down Lando had flipped over, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him. For the first time in you think ever, you tensed at the feeling of being in his arms. It wasn't that you didn't want to be in his arms, it was that you did. It was that everything was different now. You weren't just wrapped in the embrace of your best friend. You were wrapped in the embrace of you best friend that you have unknowingly had romantic feelings towards for who knows how long.
The feeling of his thumb rubbing small circles where your shirt had slid up let you know he was awake, but you didn't instigate any conversation.
"Been waiting for ya." His sleep filled whisper tickled your neck, a shiver running down your spine.
Your hand traveled to his arm that had made its home around your waist, your hand covering his in a comforting way. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."
Lando had pulled you closer to him, if that was even possible, your back flush against his front.
This was definitely something friends didn't do.
"It's okay. I couldn't sleep that well without you, kept waking up."
His words made your heart race, how have you just now realized that this relationship was not normal? Before you never batted an eyelash when he talked to you like that, but now he had you a blushing mess in his arms.
"What do you do when I'm not with you?" Your words were barely above a whisper.
"Take Nyquil." He deadpanned.
You craned your neck to look back at him, laughter lacing your words. "You're joking?!"
The light from the TV illuminated his face enough for you to see the sleepy smile on his face. "I'm not joking. I honestly think I might have built up a tolerance for it because it didn't work last week."
"Good lord Lan." You stated as you rested your head back on the pillow. "Maybe you should try Melatonin instead. Pretty sure it would be safer."
A simple hum was all you got in response and after a few moments of silence you thought he had fallen back asleep. His hand that had been tracing small circles on your skin had stilled and you took that as a sign for you to go to sleep too. Your eyes hadn't been closed for maybe ten seconds when he whispered something that made your eyes fly open.
"Wouldn't have to take anything to go to sleep if I just had you with me all the time."
Your body slowly turned towards him, your faces inches apart. It was time to face the music and talk about what you two were. Even though you had wished to work through it a little more on your own before talking to Lando. He was clearly testing the waters with you and what a better time to talk about how you were in love with your best friend than when you're in bed with them?
Words scrambled around in your brain, a thousand ways to go about this existed, but you couldn't get your brain and mouth to communicate. The two of you laid there, drowning in eachothers eyes, until you could finally put together a sentence.
"What's going on with us?" Lando only cocked an eyebrow at you, his eyes scanning your face to figure out where you were going with this. "Lan." You were wanting a response from him, not a confused look.
"What are you talking about?"
A sigh came tumbling past your lips, he was going to make you be the one to say it. "Lando. Do you think the way we act towards each other is normal? Like what other friends act the way we do with each other? The way you've been with me tonight is especially not how friends should act. Imagine how weird it would be if it was Fewtrell next to me right now instead of you." You paused, knowing what you were going to say next was going to change everything, and once you said it there was no going back. "We are more than friends Lando."
His mouth opened to say something and then immediately shut. He never thought this day would come. He had realized that things were more than platonic between you two months ago, and they had been the most agonizing couple months. Him knowing that he was in love with you, but too scared to say anything incase you didn't feel the same was driving him crazy. So, he pressed the envelope with his actions and words, hoping you would open your eyes.
His silence was slowly eating away at you. Had you just dreamt up all this stuff about you guys being more than friends? Had you misinterpreted his actions towards you and now made yourself look like a fool? "Please don't tell me this is one sided. God did I just fuc-"
Lando's lips on yours took you by surprise and it took a minute for your brain to catch up to be able to kiss him back. His lips were soft and it was a much different (better) feeling than whenever he had kissed your forehead or any other place that wasn't your lips (which again, how was that platonic?). His hand had traveled up towards your neck, his thumb resting on your cheek as he deepened the kiss. You felt light headed, never in a million years did you think you'd be kissing your best friend like this, but god did you love it. It was slightly embarrassing how you were already craving more as he pulled away, both of you with stupid smiles on your face.
"Yeah I don't think friends do that." He stated as he tried to catch his breath.
"No friends don't do that." The smile on your face still prominent as you stared at Lando.
His hand reached out for yours, your fingers interlocking causing the already prominent butterflies in your stomach to flutter even more. The two of you found your selves staring at each other once more, your eyes getting lost in the sea that was his eyes.
"Is this where we say we love each other?" Lando's words bringing you back to reality.
It wasn't uncommon for you guys to tell each other that you loved one another. In fact the last time those words were spoken was just a couple days ago. But now those three little words meant so much more, it was different now. Everything between the two of you was different now. Even if it didn't seem like that big of a deal it was, at least to you. Your teeth found the inside of your bottom lip as you plucked up the courage to say it.
"Everything is gonna be different now." Lando furrowed his eyebrows, head cocked in a questioning manner. His silence told you to continue speaking. "What I'm trying to say is yes I love you, but now those words mean so much more. We've crossed a line and there is no going back. It's gonna be different in public now, especially with your fans, and oh god we are never gonna hear the end of it from our friends. Do you think-"
Once again Lando had interrupted your rambling by smashing his lips onto yours. The action still taking you by surprise, but your reaction time had sped up significantly since the first time. This kiss was different from the first, it was more loving, slower even. It was like he was trying to calm you, reassure you about whatever you were worried about.
As he pulled away he laid flat on his back, his arms inviting you into them. With no obligation you scooted over to him, your head resting on his chest as his arms wrapped around you. The feeling of him pressing chaste kisses to the top of your head made your eyes flutter shut, you wanted to savor this moment.
"I love you, like a lot, probably too much for my own good. And if I had to guess I would say when we've said it to each other before, deep down we knew how we really felt when we said it. So, I don't think it's any different now because how I feel about you right now is how I've felt about you the whole time. Granted it took me a little while to figure it out, but fuck Y/N. It's always been you. Always has and always will be."
You had never had someone talk about you like that and in the moment you were thankful that you weren't facing Lando or else he would see the tears welling up in your eyes.
"And everyone already thinks we are together, and my fans like you, but if you're worried about going public we don't have to, not until you're ready. I mean hell we can continue to act the way we usually do, but I'll just have to keep my lips off of you, which may be more difficult than I thought." A grin was plastered on his face as he peppered kisses all over your shoulder, giggles erupting from you at his actions.
"I know your fans like me, but to them I'm still just your best friend, I'm not with you. There is a big difference Lando. Also, it wouldn't hurt to keep it from our friends for awhile, maybe just a month or two. Do you really want to hear Max go on and on about how he was right? It will never end. We've deprived ourselves of each other for years. I just want to enjoy us, without everyone else putting their nose where it shouldn't belong.
"Alright then it's decdided."
You lifted your head from his chest. Leaning up towards him you pressed your lips against his. "I love you."
Lando returned the favor, your lips together once again. "I love you too."
Your head rested back on Lando's chest, his arms wrapped around you once more. A moment you could get used to having, the feeling of his lips though something you don't think you'll ever get used to.
"And you're right. I know Fewtrell has bets placed on us, we'd never hear the end of it." Lando's chest vibrated with laughter, and when he laughed so did you. And in that moment there was no better feeling than being in the arms of the man you loved, laughing.
So, from that moment on the two of you kept your relationship hidden. You still acted like before (two best friends who were basically together because they were secretly in love with one another). But kept your intimate moments behind closed doors.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Over the course of your relationship there were a couple times where you guys almost exposed the two of you. The first time was two months in, when a jealous Lando almost spilled the beans.
It was a race week, the Australian GP to be exact. It was the first race of the season that you were attending since the two of you had decided to keep your relationship a secret. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for you to be there during race weekends. Infact last season you had probably been to at least 75% of the races, so you were a well known face around the paddock and garage. But even with you being around people you knew and a familiar atmosphere, you were still slightly nervous as you walked through the paddock. This was going to be the first real test of seeing if you guys could keep your relationship under wraps. There were cameras literally every few feet, which meant no room for slip ups.
As you approached McLaren hospitality you spotted Lando outside the entrance talking to Carlos.
"Hello boys." You greeted as you approached them. Smiles beaming from both of them back at you. "Are you lost Carlos?" You joked with the Ferrari driver.
A smirk splayed across his face. "Ah just came over to see you hermosa." The Spaniard always was a flirt, especially with you. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Lando tense at Carlos shamelessly flirting with you. "When are you gonna lose the papaya and come wear red?"
Rolling your eyes you couldn't help but let out a laugh at his antics, he truly had no shame in his game. "Behave Carlos."
Y/N may have found it funny, but Lando found nothing about this situation funny. And all he could do was stand here and let his ex teammate flirt with his girlfriend.
Before he got to be tortured anymore he was being whisked away to do an interview, but unfortunately for him he still had a clear view of the two of them as he sat down to do his interview.
He could barely focus on what the guy was asking him, his gaze flickering over the guys shoulder to watch you and Carlos every chance he got. He knew whatever Carlos was telling you was not that funny, there was no reason for you to be doubled over laughing.
The interviewer clearing his throat brought Lando's attention back to him. "Sorry could you repeat the question."
"Yes. I was asking after FP3 earlier how confident are you going into qualis in a few short hours?"
Lando gave some bullshit answer, his mind and gaze already wondering back to you and Carlos. His jealousy really starting to peak when Carlos put his hand on your arm as you laughed again at something he said. Lando knew you were just being friendly with Carlos and if anything his jealousy was just from the fact that he couldn't go out there and tell Carlos to fuck off and leave you alone. But when he saw Carlos' hands linger longer than they should have after a hug, the hints of red in his vision weren't from the Ferrari drivers fireproofs. God, how was he going to survive not letting every person in this place that you were his? The interview was thankfully a short one, which may have been due to his inability to focus.
He was handing off the microphone and out of the chair before they had probably stopped recording the interview. He could still see Carlos leaning against the railing outside, but you were long gone.
"Where'd Y/N go?" Lando inquired.
"Said she forgot her sunglasses in the garage earlier."
A simple nod came from Lando as he now joined Carlos in leaning against the railing. Silence had lulled between the two drivers and Lando was thankful that Carlos hadn't brought up Y/N, but seconds later he knew he had spoke too soon.
"You think she's into me?"
Lando nearly choked on his spit at the Spaniard's question. The bluntness of it took him by surprise, but the fact that Carlos really thought he had a chance with Y/N had Lando somewhat amused.
"I don't think so." Lando tried to use a normal voice, if he even knew what that was.
Carlos pushed himself off the railing. His whole body turning to face Lando, who maintained his gaze ahead, not wanting to look over at Sainz. "How do you know she's not?" What was Lando supposed to say? She's not into you because she's in love with me? He had froze up, allowing for Carlos to speak freely. "What are you in love with her or something? Not wanting to let me worm my way in?"
Lando's heartbeat quickened at the mention of him being in love with you. He racked his brain with how he could steer this conversation away from the two of you being together.
"No. She's got a boyfriend." Simple and effective he thought.
Lando still hadn't made eye contact with Carlos, but out of the corner of his eye he could see a smirk on Carlos' face. "Oh yeah who is it?"
So perhaps that wasn't the direction to steer the conversation. "I don't know."
"You're telling me your're her best friend and you don't know who she's dating?" What the hell did Lando get himself into? He had a way of always digging himself into a deeper hole when he talked, and in a situation like this he was really trying to chose his words carefully. But unfortunately for Lando, Carlos took his silence as an answer. "Well I'm taking that as you couldn't think of anyone to say. So when I ask her to dinner tonight, what would she like better? Italian? Chinese? Oh we are in Australia so what about some seafood? Sushi maybe?"
The two drivers now stood face to face as Lando's jealousy turned into irritation. "You're getting your hopes up Carlos. I told you she has a boyfriend."
"Until I have a name I don't believe you."
Lando knew he could just blurt out a random mechanics name from the team and that would pacify Carlos, but his smugness about the whole thing was just rubbing Lando the wrong way. Lando wanted to throw it in Carlos' face that you were his. Not some random guy or any other driver or mechanic's, you were his girlfriend. He knew you would be pissed about him blabbing to Carlos, exposing your relationship. In fact he would be breaking the promise that he made to you, but his judgment was clouded. And like always Lando's mouth worked faster than his brain.
"She's dating-"
"Sorry who's dating who?" Your eyes wide and heart racing as you approached the two drivers once more. You prayed Lando wasn't about ready to say what you thought he was as you stared him down.
Lando's cheeks turned scarlet as he stumbled over his words. He was thankful you showed up when you did to save him from making the mistake, but he also knew you weren't going to be happy.
"We were just talking about who you were dating." Carlos finally spoke up after watching Lando choke on every attempt at talking.
Your eyebrows raised in a fake suprisment at Lando, sarcasm dripping on every word you spoke. "Oh really?! I didn't know my love life was such a public topic? Who am I dating?"
Lando's eyes flashed back and forth between you and Carlos and as you stood there staring back at him he was already trying to telepathically apologize to you.
"He wouldn't say." Carlos stated as he glanced between Lando and you. The atmosphere was tense and he suddenly felt like he was in the middle of something he shouldn't be. He could find you later to talk, but right now he was trying to figure out how to excuse himself. "I think I'm late to an interview. I'll see you guys later."
As soon as Carlos was out of earshot you spoke, your tone hushed. "You better have a good explanation."
Lando glanced around, there were way too many people around for you two to be having this conversation here. Hell he probably shouldn't have even been talking to Carlos about you here earlier. If he would have told Carlos about the two of you, ten other people probably would have heard too. Grabbing your hand he led you through hospitality doors, down a small hallway, and then suddenly you were in what looked to be a storage room. McLaren merch was strewn about and various snacks and drinks lined the counters.
As you heard the lock on the door click you turned to see Lando leaning against it. No words were exchanged, you only raised your eyebrows at him, indicating for him to explain himself.
Lando pushed himself off the door, his hands reaching out for you to hold. When you only gave him a blank expression, he wiggled his fingers, emphasizing his want.
"Baby." The slight smile on his face didn't match the whiny questioning tone of his voice. Rolling your eyes at his dramatics you placed your hands in his, fingers intertwining as he pulled you closer to him. "I'm sorry. I let my jealousy get the better of me. I couldn't stand looking at Carlos shamelessly flirt with you. Then once you left he was talking to me about asking you out and he just wouldn't let up. It was driving me crazy, I just wanted to tell him to fuck off, that you were mine. And clearly I almost did until you walked up."
His eyes scanned your face for any indication that you weren't completely pissed off at him, but to his surprise your lips were on his. It was a quick kiss, his brain barely comprehending it was happening before you were pulling away, only making him desperate for more.
"I'm not mad, it just took me by surprise when I walked up and that was coming out of your mouth. I also knew he was flirting with me, why do you think I finally left? I could only play nice for so long, so I made up the excuse of me leaving my sunglasses in the garage." You paused, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. A small smile washed across Lando's face as he leaned into your touch. "Just please from now try and keep your jealousy in check? I've liked these past couple months with just us two, not us two and millions of other people. Plus, you have nothing to be jealous about. I love you. Not Carlos or Charles or-"
Lando's eyes widened. "Wait how many other drivers have been flirting with you?"
"It's not important. All I was trying to say is that I love you and only you!"
Lando scoffed, his hands grabbing at your waist, pulling you flush against him. "I love you too baby, but I'm gonna have to hide you or something. I don't think my heart can take seeing all these guys fawn over you."
Your hand reached up to his hair, your fingers running through his mop of curls. While his hands were placed firmly on your hips, his fingers toying with the fabric of your shirt. "You'll survive pretty boy."
"Oh so you think I'm pretty?" Lando teased as he leaned in to satisfy his desire to taste your lips after the tease of a kiss moments ago.
"Yes, but you're my pretty boy."
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
The second time your relationship was almost exposed was entirely your fault. Getting wasted + missing your boyfriend = blabbing to your friends.
To say perhaps you had been neglecting your friends since being with Lando was an understatement. Always denying their invites out because you were either working, going to a race, or saying you were working when really you were with Lando.
You had been trying to make plans for over a month with your friends, but it never seemed like anyone's schedule lined up, until this weekend. It was an off week for Lando and he had suggested that your friends and you have a girls weekend in Monaco, even saying you guys could stay at his apartment. Though, to you, a hotel sounded safer. You had way too much of your stuff at his place for it to seem like anything platonic.
So, here you guys were, getting ready in a hotel not even ten minutes away from Lando's apartment. Music playing in the background as you rummaged through your suitcase for the perfect outfit for tonight. Laughter erupting from everyone as you recalled funny memories from past nights out. It felt good to be with them again, you had missed this, missed them.
Work had been absolutely draining you these past couple weeks, deadlines and unread emails haunted your dreams. You had even been so busy that you had to miss Lando's race last week. It had been almost two weeks since you had even seen him. Facetime being your main form of communication as of recently. But tonight wasn't about Lando, it was about going out and having a good time with your friends. Although, someone should have told drunk you that.
You're all piling into an Uber before you know it, skirts and dresses slightly too short, but no one cared because that's the fun of it all. The conversation consists of who's going to get the most drunk and from the pregaming that took place back at the hotel it could be anyone. It then shifts to who might go home with someone tonight and of course because you've been 'single' the longest everyone says you need to be the one to. And of course you play along saying "Honestly I need to. It's been awhile since I've gotten any action."
Which wasn't a lie, you hadn't seen Lando in two weeks. Your work being primarily based in London and him being in another country for almost a week. Then this weekend being a girls weekend had provided less than enough time for you guys to even talk on the phone, let alone fool around.
"Well we are in Monaco. Let's pray our girl bags a hot millionaire." Your friend stated.
Already accomplished that.
The bass from the music rattles in your chest as you walk through the club with your friends in tow. The bar is of course the first stop, you open a tab and tell the girls to get what they want. You decide on a rum and coke, you weren't planning on going absolutely crazy tonight, but a couple of these plus the pregaming at the hotel would have you feeling happy tonight.
"Let's dance!" One of your friends shouts as she's already heading into the swarm of bodies.
You swayed your body to the beat, it felt good to finally let loose and have some fun. Your eyes closed as you got lost in the music, warmness radiating through you from the alcohol in your veins, but also the other dancing bodies around you.
As the night progressed so had your alcohol consumption. You honestly weren't planning on going this hard, but everything was just going down so smoothly and you were having such a good time. But you knew as your friend brought over everyone a double round of tequila shots you were done for. You were a big girl and you could have said no, but you were already so inebriated at that point the idea of saying no never crossed your mind. Only I'm gonna regret this in the morning as you said bottoms up.
Before you knew it you were wasted and as your friends tried to rally you so you all could leave you were proving to be a little more than difficult. It didn't help that your friends, although not as gone as you, were also clearly drunk. They had somehow managed to get you outside amidst your protests that the 'night was still young', at two in the morning.
You were trying to stand upright as you waited for your friend to get an Uber, but apparently to you the pavement looked more comfortable and down you went. Your knees and arms were scraped up, but you didn't feel anything, at all. You were practically floating at this point, one more shot and you would have been at black out level.
"Ok. Just sit on the curb. It's gonna be a minute for the Uber." Your least drunk friend said as she clamped a hand on your shoulder, preventing you from getting back up.
"Ugh. Just call my boyfriend he can come get us." In your drunken state you hadn't realized what you had said.
"Your boyfriend!? Who's your boyfriend?" You had the attention of all your friends now.
Pulling your phone out of your clutch you thanked the Apple Gods for face id because there was no way you could have put in your passcode. Getting to your recent calls was easier said than done and at one point you had accidently called your Mom. "Oops. Sorry Mom." You giggled. Your fingers and brain weren't working in sync so you resorted to Siri, which was not a good idea either.
"Siri call Lando."
Your friends necks nearly broke from how fast they turned them towards your phone.
"Sorry I didn't get that." Siri chimed off
"Siri call Lando Norris."
Failed.
"Siri call Laaanndoooo."
Failed again.
"Siri-"
"Ok enough. I'll just call him. Uber cancelled on me anyways." Your friend stated as she held her phone up to her ear. "Hey Lando. It's Y/F/N. Yeah sorry for calling so late. No everything's ok it's just that our Uber cancelled and Y/N mentioned something about you being able to come get us? If not it's fine- Oh ok great thanks. We are at the club with the big neon sign on the front. Yeah ok see you in a couple minutes."
"Who was that?" You asked as your friend hung up the phone.
She sat down next you on the curb, her arm wrapping around your shoulders, your head leaning to rest on her shoulder. "Lando. He's coming to get us."
Your eyes widened as your head perked up at the mention of his name. "Oh good. I've missed him!"
Your friends all exchanged questioning glances. Not sure if Lando was the boyfriend you had mentioned, if you were so drunk that you thought Lando was your boyfriend, or if they were so drunk that they had misinterpreted what you were saying. They all had always said that you two had to be together, that you had to have feelings for him, but in this drunken instance they weren't sure what to believe. The saying drunk words are sober thoughts worked in this situation, but they too were drunk, so who was the wiser?
As Lando pulled up to the club he could see you sitting on the curb with your friend, your other friends hovering behind you. Putting the car in park he got out and made his way across the street to you. He wasn't sure what state you were in, but from the scrapes on your knees, glossy eyes, and overly enthusiastic yelling when he approached he knew you weren't just tipsy.
"Lan!" You yelled when you saw him crossing the street. You tried to get up, but your legs gave out. Luckily for you Lando's arms were wrapped around you before you hit the pavement again. "Careful. Think you might've went a little too hard tonight huh?" His cologne invaded your senses, combine that with the hoodie and sweats he had on and all you wanted to do was be in his arms tonight. "Hi guys." He greeted your friends, who were all taking in the scene in front of them. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for Lando and you to be close like this, but after what came tumbling out of your mouth earlier they were second guessing everything. "Come on let's get you guys back to the hotel."
Lando had to help you into the car and then buckle you in while your friends piled in the back seat. "I don't wanna go to the hotel I wanna go to yours." A pout planted firmly on your face.
Ignoring your plea Lando closed the passenger side door and walked back to the drivers side. The car wasn't even a couple minutes from the club and you had passed out, small snores coming from you.
"Are you guys together?" Your friend's question made Lando's heart skip a beat. His eyes flickered up to the rearview mirror, your friends eyes staring back at him made his heart race even more.
"No. Why?" He prayed his tone was normal and not one of a man keeping said relationship a secret.
"She pretty much said you were her boyfriend."
Fuck. He knew she was drunk, but not that drunk to blab about their relationship. He racked his brain on how to spin this around.
"Unfortunately I'm not." Maybe admitting to her friends that he wanted to be with her, but wasn't, might work?
"What do you mean unfortunately you're not? Is this you finally admitting to what we have all known already?" Another friend asked.
Lando glanced over to you in the passenger seat. Your head leaning against the window, hair frizzy, the smell of tequila radiating off of you. Even in your drunken mess he thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world. "Maybe. I'm just afraid I can't give her what she needs." His eyes flickered back to the rearview mirror, questioning looks stared back at him, encouraging him to continue. "I can't always be there 24/7 like a normal boyfriend. Yeah she can travel with me, but she has a life and a job too. I wouldn't want her to lose that aspect of herself just to be with me. I wouldn't want her to think that she came second in my life, because even now right now she doesn't."
What Lando had said was true, it was a insecurity, hell even a fear that he's had for quite some time. The idea of him not being enough for you scared him. The fact that maybe one day you would grow tired of the inconsistency and leave him made him sick. He tried to be the best boyfriend he could, but some days he was so busy that he was lucky to send you a couple texts. It was hard having a career that he loved be so much of his life, something that at this point was a literal part of him. But on the other hand, you were also a part of him. He never wanted you to feel like you came second in his life, because at the end of the day racing doesn't last forever, and he wanted you to be the one that was still there after he took his last lap.
"If that's all that is holding you back from telling her how you feel then you're stupid. How long have you guys been in each other's lives? She's used to your crazy schedule and half the time she makes it work and is with you. She may deny it every time we bring it up, but she's in love with you Lando. Don't let the one person who would literally go to hell and back for you slip away because you're afraid of what might happen."
As the car stopped in front of the hotel Lando turned back to look at your friend. "Clearly you didn't drink as much as Y/N."
"I'm being serious Lando. Tell her." A serious look plastered on her face as your two other friends had started to exit the vehicle. Lando had unbuckled your seatbelt, but you were too knocked out to notice. "Just take her back to your place, it's where she wanted to go anyways. But I swear when we meet up tomorrow and you two aren't together I'm gonna strangle you Norris!"
She had joined your other friends on the sidewalk as Lando rolled down your window to talk to her. "She's completely wasted. I'm not telling her tonight."
"Well then in the morning! Either way you better do it!" Your friend hollered before they all gave him a wave goodbye and made their way into the hotel.
With a sigh Lando rolled your window back up and reached over to buckle you back in. Stirring slightly, you turned in the seat as Lando's hands brushed over you. "We're going home baby girl."
Music played softly on the radio as he drove the winding streets back to his apartment. It seemed like the act had worked on your friends. That you two were still the stubborn lovesick fools to them and not two people hiding their relationship.
By the time Lando had parked the car back at his apartment you had woke up. Something he was grateful for because (though he would never say this outloud) you were an absolute pain to wake up sober, let alone drunk.
"Come on baby, we're home." Lando stood in front of the passenger side, hands out to help you out of the car. A groan came from you as you dramatically swung your legs out, grabbing ahold of Lando's hands he helped you out the rest of the way. With his arm securely around your waist the two of you made your way to the elevator. "My knees hurt." You whined as you walked (stumbled).
"Yeah it seems that you took a nasty tumble." Lando shuffled you into the elevator, pressing the button for his floor with his free hand. You glanced down at your knees, even with your blurry vision you could see the dried blood. "Your arms too. Gonna have to wrap you in bubble wrap next time you go out."
You slowly lifted your arms as you tried to focus your vision to get a good look at them. But it was the same as your knees all you could see was blurry dried blood. "Well shit." You sighed, head falling onto Lando's shoulder.
As soon as you got into the apartment Lando was already bent down in front of you. Your hands on his shoulders as he helped you out of your heels.
"Come on we've got to get you cleaned up." His arm was back around your waist as he led you towards the bathroom. As you sat on the toilet seat lid you waited patiently for Lando to grab the first aid kit. Sleep was creeping its way back in as you sat there, your eyelids feeling heavy. You hadn't even realized you had dozed off until the feeling of a warm washcloth on your knees woke you up. As Lando gently cleaned your knees and arms you watched him. Even in your drunken state you heart couldn't help but swell at him taking care of you. Once he had cleaned and bandaged your injuries he grabbed your makeup wipes from one of the drawers. Your eyes fluttering shut as he did his best to remove your makeup, giggling as he cursed your waterproof mascara.
"Ok time to wash your face."
You had tried to get up to go to the sink, but his large hands pushed you back down. "I don't need you falling again, just stay put."
So you sat there as he applied your face wash, making sure to get the remaining remnants of your makeup off. And as he was applying your moisturizer you couldn't help but stare at him with adorning eyes. You were so utterly in love with him it made you sick. This wasn't the first time he had taken care of you like this, but this was the first time since you'd realized you loved him. And in this moment his actions just simply meant so much more to you than they ever did back then.
"I love you." You said as he rubbed in the last little bit of moisturizer.
His eyes met yours as he looked down at you, his hands cupping your cheeks as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Love you too baby."
He helps you brush your teeth and then seconds later you're crawling into bed. "Nope. I love you, but you are not cuddling up to me tonight in that scratchy dress." He throws some of your pajamas at you as a groan came from you. "Come on dress off."
"Jeez at least take me out to dinner first Norris." You joked as you slowly got off the bed. A smirk toyed at his lips as he rolled his eyes at you. "Are you gonna unzip it for me or?" Lando wasted no time, his fingers pulling the tiny zipper down. As the fabric fell to the ground he placed a chaste kiss on your shoulder, a sign of affection rather than sexual desire.
Thankfully you were able to dress yourself as you were slowly sobering up. Climbing back into bed you were greeted with Lando who had already took his hoodie off and was waiting for you to crawl into his arms, an offer you gladly took.
"I've missed you. I've missed this." You stated as you got settled into his embrace.
A kiss was placed on your temple. "Me too."
You were asleep within minutes, Lando not long after. But when you awoke the next morning with a hangover from hell some things that had slipped your mind came to light as the sun rose. Like the fact that you were out with your friends last night, but had somehow ended up at Lando's.
When Lando woke up he explained everything to you, about how you blabbed and how he hopefully convinced them that you weren't together. That he was just a lovesick fool who wanted to be with you. "They are gonna be expecting us to be together or at least expect me to have confessed my love when we go to lunch later." He was leaned against the headboard, your head in his lap as he ran his fingers through your hair.
"Do you think they even remember?" You asked.
"They weren't as drunk as you, so most definitely."
You lifted your head up to look at him. "Well, just because they are expecting it doesn't mean it has to happen."
So when you guys went to lunch your friends heads perked up when they saw the two of you, hopeful glances shared between them.
"So any news to share from last night or recently?" One of your friends asks as you're browsing the menu. Thankfully the menu covered your face at the moment, because you were trying so hard not to laugh at her question.
You played along though, acting like it was a regular conversation starter. "If you consider me deciding to never go out again after last night news then sure. I've got a hangover from hell."
You weren't even looking, but you could sense your friends eyes darting towards Lando, and a slight jostle from under the table was undoubtedly one of your friends kicking Lando.
"Although, it's still considered brunch hours, maybe I'll get a mimosa. Always heard nothing like getting over a hangover by drinking more." Acting like the tension between Lando and your friends was nonexistent you continued talking. "What are you guys thinking? The turkey club sounds good."
Lando on the other hand was fighting for his life. Between the stares and his now sore shin, he was wishing he would have never came. His phone vibrated on the table and as he picked it up it was a text from one of your friends and it only said one word.
y/f/n: chicken!!!!
At least his cover up worked last night, now hopefully they could just make it through this lunch.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
The third time, technically you both were to blame, but you both blamed each other.
The unrelenting sun beat down on Lando as he climbed out of the car after probably the worst FP3 of his career. Granted it was only a practice run, but if this was how the car was going to perform in the actual race then he was done for. Not to mention this was his home race, which any driver wants to perform well in. There was a heatwave at Silverstone this weekend, one of the contributing factors in his shit practice run. The others; absolutely no grip on the tires, sweltering temperatures in the cockpit, and the fact that he couldn't stop thinking about you. Specifically how you looked in the garage before he went out for FP3.
From the get-go this morning when you put on that papaya (let's be real it was orange) tank top that cupped your breasts just right he knew today was going to be a long day. Then when he saw you in the garage the only thing he could think about was taking you back to his drivers room and fucking you till you couldn't walk. The slight sheen of sweat on your skin from the boiling sun gave you a glowing look, that goddamn tank top, and your hair tied up in a ponytail had basically given him a semi. But it was something he could mark off his "insane things to happen while in a race car" list.
1. have a hard on while driving.
As he walked into the garage he was thankful his race suit was slightly baggy in the groin area. When his race engineer started to go over data and possible strategy everything went in one ear and out the other, his mind preoccupied with only down right nasty thoughts about you. His grip on the table that he leaned on getting tighter with each passing moment. He didn't dare glance in your direction, afraid that his slight issue would turn into a full blown one.
You on the other hand were oblivious to how Lando was feeling at the moment. You thought the strained look on his face was from the heat and the not so great practice, not from him wanting to bend you over the first chance he could get. You hadn't even realized Lando was done talking to Will, too engrossed in your phone, until you felt Lando's grip on your arm.
His eyes were like saucers as you looked up at him. His tone was demanding yet he spoke softly to you as he didn't want anyone else to hear. "Come on."
Not one to oblige, you quickly following behind him to where you soon realized was to his drivers room. You figured he wanted to rant or just relax for a little bit before qualifying, but oh boy were you proven wrong as soon as Lando closed the door.
"You've been driving me fucking crazy all day." The almost animalistic tone of his voice went straight through you. His eyes dark as he made his way over to you, hands harshly gripping your waist. Your words were caught in your throat as you stood there, wide eyes staring back at Lando. "Oh don't act like you didn't wear that tank top on purpose. You knew the way it makes your tits look would drive me crazy."
His fingertips traced along the low neckline of your tank top, his touch causing a shiver to run up your spine. A smirk developed on his face as his fingertips traveled up the straps, your neck, and finally landing on your ponytail. His long slender fingers wrapped around it, and you knew what he was about to do, but that still didn't stop the moan that came barreling out of you when he tugged on your ponytail.
"You little slut you liked that didn't you?" Now it was your turn to smirk at him, a small laugh even escaped past your lips, which you knew would go straight through him. "You think this is funny huh? Think I should teach you a lesson."
In an instant his lips are on yours. It's messy and rushed, teeth clashing as he's guiding you towards his physio table. When the back of your legs hit the table he wastes no time in lifting you up onto it. His hands are already tugging at your tank top as he stands between your legs. You break apart just long enough to let him basically rip your shirt off and then his lips are back on yours. His hands had migrated from your hips to your breasts, rolling and pinching your nipples with his fingertips. The stimulation going straight to your core as he swallowed your moans.
Grabbing at his fireproofs you tried to pull him as close as possible to you. You could already feel how wet you were getting, your desire for him growing more by the minute. As he's attacking your neck you reach down and undo the button of your shorts and somehow shimmy them off while still sitting.
"That desperate for me huh? Undressing yourself?" He whispered in your ear, his teeth nipping at your earlobe.
"Only for you." You words breathy as he soothes the spot on your collarbone that will need to be covered in the morning.
Almost like a natural reflex your hips start rolling towards Lando, impatience setting in. All you want is for him to touch you and clearly he got the signal. His hand moved down to your clothed core, fingertips ghosting along it.
Whines emitting from you as you rocked your hips towards his hand. "Lan please."
"You gotta tell me what you want baby girl." His pupils blown as he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him.
"I want you to fuck me with your fingers." He felt his already painfully hard cock twitch at your words. No matter how many times you guys fucked, he was always surprised at how filthy your mouth was.
And as the natural born pleaser that he was, he pushed your panties to the side and immediately ran his fingers through your drenched folds. "Fuck baby your soaked."
You leaned back on the table to give him better access and as he slipped the first two fingers in your head fell back. Your moans echoing through the room as his fingers slide in an out of you.
"You gotta be quiet." He says as he adds a third finger.
His thumb works your clit and as his fingers curl up and find that spot that makes you see stars your biting down on his shoulder to try and keep quiet. You can feel yourself getting close, that pit in your stomach growing as those long fingers of his somehow repeatedly hit your g-spot. Lando can tell your close just from the way your breathing.
"Come on baby. Gonna be a good girl and come all over my fingers?"
His words of praise only adding to the the pleasure you were feeling right now. And Lando couldn't help but let out a chuckle at your walls clenching around his fingers as he praised you. Seconds later your coming undone, moans muffled by Lando's shoulder as your orgasm washes over you. His fingers continue to work even through your orgasm, something he always did. Always teetering on the line of overstimulation with you.
But this time he doesn't eventually let up, he's got you pushed all the way back on the table with your legs wide open. His free hand has you basically pinned to the table as he's relentlessly pumping his fingers into you, thumb still circling that small bundle of nerves. Your squirming under him, legs shaking as he teases you with his hushed words.
"Awe can my baby not take it? You want me to stop?"
You can barely think straight, every nerve in your body feels like it's on fire. The sound of his fingers in your wet cunt is borderline sinful. He's got a devilish grin on his face as he starts to slow his fingers, and you remember you didn't answer his question. The pitiful 'don't stop' that you're able get out is sufficient enough for Lando and he goes back to that same toe curling pace.
Lando knows your coming before you do, he knows your body like the back of his hand. The way your walls clench around his fingers and how your breathing gets rigid tells him you're on the edge. With one final curl of his fingers your back is arching as your hands grip the sides of the table. You were sure that you were speaking in tongues, the pleasure so intense you don't even realize how loud your being until Lando's got his hand clamped over your mouth. Eyes wide as he's shushing you, but he's removed his fingers from your cunt and decided to solely focus on your clit, and you think you might die if he tries to give you three orgasms back to back like that.
Lando can feel his cock throbbing in his race suit as he looks at how wrecked he's got you with just his fingers. He knows he can give you another orgasm without even using his cock, he knows you can take it, but his desire to be buried so deep into your pussy that you can feel him in your stomach overrides his pleaser mentality.
He lets you squirm for a few more moments before taking his hand away. His fingers immediately entering his mouth as he licks them clean. You watch him through hooded eyes, chest heaving as you’re trying to come down from your back to back orgasms. The desire for his mouth to be attached to your throbbing clit growing as you watch him. You knew you were being greedy, but you also knew he’d do it if you asked him. The man loved nothing more than being between your thighs. Always thinking that if he died while eating your pussy at least he’d die doing something he loved. And you thought you’d be getting your wish until he’s tugging his race suit down the rest of the way, fireproofs following after.
His cock slaps against his stomach as soon as it's free and you truly don't think you'll ever get used to just how thick it is. Your pussy already fluttering at the thought of him stretching you out. His hands are grabbing at your ankles, pulling you towards the edge of the table. And you don't realize just how much of a mess you had made on it until your ass is basically gliding over the table. Your lips collide for a brief moment as you resume your previous position of sitting on the edge of the table. His tongue exploring your mouth as your hand reaches down to his cock. The simple action of your thumb running over his tip had him moaning into your mouth, his hips bucking towards your hand.
In one swift motion he's got you bent over the table and you're practically dripping with anticipation. Lando's got one hand gripping your waist and his painfully hard cock in the other. The small moan that you let out just by him rubbing his tip between your folds is like music to his ears. Usually he would tease you, but he'd been thinking about this exact moment all damn day, he wasn't going to waste any time teasing. You're both trying to be quiet, but the feeling of just him pushing the tip in has both of you gasping. The feeling of him stretching you out is one of your favorite things in the world. How you can feel every inch of him, feel the vein on the underneath side of his cock, the slight curve in it that always hits your g-spot, it was like a drug that you couldn't get enough of.
By the time he's bottomed out and gotten you nice and accustomed to him he's ready to be absolutely feral. He leans down to your ear, his hands roaming your body as he speaks. "You gonna be a good girl for me? Gonna take my cock like the good little slut you are?" All you can do is whimper in response, but that's all he needs to hear. His large hands are on your waist in an instant and he slowly starts to build up his pace.
He can't help but be mesmerized by how your pussy engulfs his cock as he fucks you. He gets lost in it, his brain (and cock) pussy drunk, and soon enough he's ramming into you so hard that the table is hitting the wall. You're trying so hard to stifle your moans, but he's fucking you like he hates you and you can't get enough of it. You're sure someone has heard you, and if not with your moans then they've got to hear the physio table banging against the wall. And you know this is the moment that is gonna expose your relationship, but you don't even care because he's fucking you so good right now.
When Lando reaches up and grabs your now very messy ponytail and yanks on it at the same time as him hitting your g-spot you couldn't even try to hold in your moan. That in turn got a reaction out of Lando. "You've gotta be quiet pretty girl. You don't want someone to walk in now do you?" He's still got ahold of your ponytail and he lifts your head slightly as he speaks to you. "But I bet you'd probably like that huh? You'd like for everyone to hear how good I'm making you feel. How you're taking my cock so well. Bet you'd even like if someone walked in on us wouldn't you my little slut?" His words made your walls clench around him, which earned a 'fuck' from him.
That familiar feeling in your stomach had started to appear and after the two orgasms earlier you knew you couldn't hold it off for very long. If it wasn't for the table beneath you, your legs would have given out a long time ago.
"Lan I'm close." You were barely able to get that out. You were so fucked out you could barely keep your eyes open, let alone speak.
Lando was close himself, his pace slightly faltering. "I know baby. I'm almost there."
Your toes are curling as your trying to hold it together, but you're beyond overstimulated at this point, it doesn't help that he's reached down and started to rub circles on your clit. Your brain is practically scrambled, the pleasure becoming almost painful, tears start to form in your eyes.
"Lan-" Is all you can squeak out before your third orgasm for the night comes washing over you. Your body damn near convulses on the table as your vision goes white. Lando has to put an arm under you to keep you up right, your body so overstimulated it had given out.
"Oh my god!" You couldn't keep it together, because yet again he was fucking you through your orgasm.
You don't even hear the knock on the door or the person on the other side speak until you hear Lando shout. "I'm fine mate!"
"You sick fuck I know what you're doing!"
A familiar Australian accent filled your ears.
"Go away Oscar." Lando yells as he's still pounding into you, tears steadily streaming down your cheeks.
"I'm looking for Y/N. Have you seen her? She has my sunglasses."
Fuck. You had forgotten about him asking you to hold onto them. And if you remembered correctly you had them on your shirt, the same shirt that Lando practically ripped off of you. You both glanced down at the floor to see Oscar's sunglasses next to your shirt. Oops.
"She's probably in hospitality. Now leave."
You don't know if Oscar responded or if he had even left because the feeling of Lando finally coming undone had spurred on your fourth and final orgasm. Silent screams came from you, your throat raw, your body exhausted. You had never experienced this much pleasure in your life. If you had to describe it in one word you would have to say euphoric.
Lando's hips had finally came to a stop, sweat dripping off him as he tried to catch his breath. If he said this was the best sex of his life he would not be lying. You were both so fucked out, you much more than him, the idea of the fast approaching qualifying on neither of your minds. He stayed inside you for quite some time as his hands caressed your body, especially the spots that he know would be bruised in the morning. Sweet nothings were whispered in your ear, he knew this was a lot for you, but he was so proud of you for taking it so well and he wanted you to know that.
When he finally pulled out the sight of his cum dripping out of you was damn near pornographic. A image that would definitely be apart of his future wet dreams, but when he heard a whimper come from you he was brought back to reality. "I know baby. I'm right here." He's got you in his arms in an instant and a gentle kiss pressed to your lips.
He's got you both cleaned up as best as he can and got you wrapped back up in his arms as quickly as he can. He thinks maybe he shouldn't have gone this hard here, should have done this at home where he could have ran you a bath or something more loving, but his worries dissipate when you speak up.
"There is no way Oscar didn't know I was in here. So I guess if this is how we let everyone know about us. At least it was enjoyable."
Lando laughs a little at her optimism. "We've always somehow made it through our mishaps unscathed. So I'm sure we will this time."
And somehow by what you two would consider a miracle you do. Oscar never mentions anything to the two of you about that day and neither does anyone else. In all reality you knew Oscar probably knew and everyone else in a mile radius, but they just kept it to themselves. Probably figuring it was too awkward to bring up, but whatever the reason you were thankful and somehow incredibly lucky.
But from that day forward you couldn't step foot in Lando's driver room without thinking of the events that took place on that hot July day at Silverstone.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
By the time summer break had arrived the both of you were very much surprised that your relationship was still private. Looking back at all your mishaps and slips of the tongue, it was a miracle the whole world didn't know by now. The two of you had recently discussed the idea of launching your relationship, but you were honestly content with how things had been.
So, you decided to let it happen organically. You guys would continue to have a private relationship, but if there was a slip of the tongue you two wouldn't try to back peddle and save your asses. The both of you agreeing that it was going to happen sooner or later, so it was better to just accept what the universe had wanted to happen so many times before. Although, you just didn't think that it was going to happen the way it did.
How would an F1 driver spend a Friday night while on his summer break? Going out? On vacation? Going out while on vacation? All wrong if you are Lando Norris.
On a beautiful Friday night in August you were sat between Lando and Max on a stream, reading through the chat as they talked about something undoubtedly dumb.
One comment caught your eye, you laughed as you read it aloud. "When I show up to a yapping contest but Lando and Max are my opponents."
Their conversation halted, both of them faking offence. "Don't let Y/N fool you guys. She's the biggest yapper out of us three." Lando stated.
"I am not!"
All three of you now in a yapping contest, each person trying to defend themselves. A moment that will surely be clipped and used as a reaction video on Twitter before the stream is over.
Though the conversation quickly moved on as you guys tried to decide what to do. Max had promised it wouldn't just be a sit and chat stream, yet that is all you guys had done for the past thirty minutes. "Ok chat, let us know what you want us to do. We are at your mercy on this Friday night." You stated, eyes scanning the screen as people's ideas started to pour in.
user1: play f124!
user2: cinnamon challenge lmao
That one caught your eye, laughter lacing your words. "Cinnamon challenge? What is this 2012?"
user3: take funny quizzes
user4: mukbang!!!!
user5: yes mukbang!! we need a repeat of the famous 2022 mukbang stream.
You chuckled at the mention of the previous mukbang the three of you did. It was one of Max's most viewed streams, which you never understood why. All you guys did was stuff your face and attempt some very bad ASMR. But people still used clips from it to this day on Twitter. Nonetheless, you were always down for a good feast, your mind already running through what you should get.
Raising your eyebrows you glanced back and forth between Max and Lando. "Mukbang?"
Lando and Max's eyes lit up at your propsition. "Let's do it."
"Ok chat. Mukbang 2024 will commence shortly." You stated as Max pulled out his phone to see what sounded good. You leaned over to look as he scrolled through the options. When your favorite Sushi place popped up he immediately stopped scrolling, your eyes meeting in a knowing glance. No words were spoken as you both shook your heads yes. You both knew Lando would be pissed, but you didn't care. You hadn't had it in so long, your mouth was practically watering at the thought of it.
"Ok. We are getting sushi." You didn't even look in Lando's direction as you spoke, you could just imagine the disgusted look on his face.
"Ugh. No!" His complaint fell on deaf ears as Max and you were already placing your order. "Guys please why don't we do pizza or something?"
"Two against one mate. You want your usual spring rolls?" Max glanced up from his phone, eyebrow raised in question towards Lando.
And like a child Lando leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed and a pout on his face. "I guess." No matter how hard he tried to like fish, he just couldn't stomach it. In fact, he had tried it multiple times since you had been in his life, thinking if the women he loved liked fish then maybe he could learn to like it. But each time he was running for the toilet seconds later.
"Should be a good stream guys, it'll just be Lando freaking out the whole time." You teased, gently nudging his side with your elbow. An eye roll was all you got from him. "Oh come on you know I love you."
You could see the downturned corners of his mouth start to slowly turn upward as he tried to fight the smile that was wanting to break free. A slight blush had formed on his cheeks as the smile you loved so dearly spread across his face. You two, even before getting together, always told one another you loved them. So it was truly no big deal, you had done it in public, it wasn't a foreign concept. But for some reason the chat was going ballistic over it tonight.
user1: "friends" my ass
user2: try not to smile like an idiot when your "best friend" tells you they love you challenge. level impossible for lando
user3: i too would be a smiling blushing mess if Y/N told me she loved me
user4: max is third wheeling tonight i see.
You just laughed and shook your head. At least people were being nice and it seemed like they liked the idea of the two of you being together.
While you waited for the food to arrive you three answered some questions and chatted about random things, even recalling some funny memories between the three of you. Just as you were in the middle of a funny story that involved Lando and two birds there was a knock on the door.
Seconds later there was an array of takeout containers in front of you, mouth watering as you wasted no time in digging in. Lando on the other hand sat there with his spring rolls, trying to ignore the pieces of raw fish that were inches away from him.
"You wanna try? I got a California roll for you just incase you were feeling adventurous." You asked Lando, a piece tucked between your chopsticks as you held it up towards him. Furiously shaking his head no, he stuffed his mouth with a bite of spring roll. "It's like a starter roll for sushi newbies, can't even tell that there is crab in it. I promise."
"I can tell believe me. Remember when you had me try crab rangoons?" Yes, you did remember it because he was gagging after the first bite.
"Fine. More for me and Max." You popped the piece of sushi into your mouth, accepting that he was never going to like seafood or anything seafood adjacent.
As Lando watched you eat a piece that had a huge thing of raw fish on top his face twisted in disgust. At the same time you glanced over at him, wanting to ask him how his spring rolls were. But the words that came out of his mouth first erased any thought about spring rolls.
"Just so you know I am not kissing you for at least 24 hours."
Lando hadn't even realized he had said that out loud until Max started choking on his piece of sushi. The realization of what he had just said and what he had just done came washing over him. His cheeks turning crimson as he made eye contact with your wide eyes, the same crimson color painted across your cheeks.
"I'm sorry. Why would you be kissing Y/N?" Max's cheeks were red too, but his was from choking, not exposing his relationship on stream.
Lando and you having not broken eye contact simply shrugged at one another, remembering your conversation about no back peddling, no trying to save your asses anymore. So if the universe wanted your relationship to be public over Lando being grossed out over sushi, then so be it.
The both of you looked over at Max, sheepish grins plastered across your faces. "Surprise!" You said meekly.
Max's eyes flickered back and forth between his two friends, trying to figure out if this was some prank or if what he had suspected for years had finally come true. Lando's hand reaching out for yours under the table caught his gaze and in that moment Max knew it was true. "I knew it! I fucking knew it! Finally, I mean I was about ready to set you two down and force you to be together." Max had jumped up from his seat, excitement overtaking him. "How long?"
"Around seven months." Lando mumbled.
Max's eyes widened a shocked look on his face. "You've kept it from everyone for seven months?"
Lando muted the stream as you and him explained everything to Max, still wanting to keep some things private. Knowing surely Max's reactions to what you guys were telling him would be haunting him for years to come.
Meanwhile the chat was going insane.
user1: holy shit!!
user2: i mean are we surprised. they've been married in my head for years.
user3: 2022 mukbang found dead. 2024 mukbang you will always be famous
user4: the fact they even kept it a secret from their friends... guess that works when you've acted like you were together for years..
user5: need me a love like lando and y/n
user6: the way this is such a y/n and lando way for them to expose their relationship lmfao.
user7: wait... so this means y/n is off the market? lando norris can you fight?
You would have never thought this is how you would announce that you guys were together. But somehow it made sense for the two of you in your own weird way. One thing you did know was that the chat was right. 2024 mukbang stream will always be famous.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
"We need to talk about yesterday Lan."
"Yeah I guess we do."
You removed your head from his chest, choosing to sit up and face him. "It's just that last night was a little crazy and then," your eyes glanced over to the trail of clothes on the floor "it got even crazier when we got home. We never actually discussed how we feel about us being public now."
Lando's hands reached out for yours, fingers interlacing. "Well let me just say I'm sorry for having a brain and mouth that don't communicate sometimes. But I don't regret saying it. Like we have discussed, clearly it was meant to happen in that moment, even as unserious as it was. Yes, some things are gonna be different, people are gonna pry and feel entitled to our business, but that doesn't change how I feel about you. I love you and honestly I'm glad I can hold your hand in public now." He pulled your smiling face closer to his, a matching grin plastered on his. "And if I feel like it, I'll kiss you in public too!"
He smashed his lips onto yours as you laughed into the kiss. His hands started to roam your body and before it could go any further you pulled away. "As long as I've got you by my side I think everything will be alright." Your hand caressed his face, his stubble tickling your hand. "I love you so much, never forget that Norris."
"I won't."
Later that day the two of you decided to both make a post on Instagram to officially announce your relationship, with the most unserious captions.
y/insta: finally got my kiss ♡ (after i brushed my teeth)
landonorris: i love you ♡ (but not your love for sushi)
5K notes · View notes
luvly-writer · 1 month ago
Text
You should be (afraid)
Batfamily x Neglected! Reader
Author's note: This IS the last chapter, damn....Thank God, the next one shot is one I am excited for but babes that gonna have to wat till tomorrow. Imagine Y/n's clothes like this and this but instead of red, it is green. ( yes im an ATLA fan and yes it its inspired by Azula)
Warnings: Language?
Part 1 // Part 2
---
You double-checked your hair as you looked in the mirror. The day had come when you would only be known as Y/n Al Ghul, heir to the Demon Head and future Leader of the League of Assassins. It was difficult to grasp if you were quite honest. Per your request, the League had changed headquarters. Nanda Parbat was no longer safe so you had advised of getting one of the old abandoned cities of the League and turning the temple into headquarters with the rest of the city becoming a safe place for all of the servants and assassins. It was surrounded by water and walls with constant surveillance, meaning that no one could get in or out without people knowing. You were never going to forget the day that you came back, the surprise on your grandfather's face as you got to your knees and pledged allegiance to the League. He wasn't convinced at first but came around as you solidified your loyalty. You were no longer a Wayne like Damian. You were an Al Ghul
// "Leave us." Ras's voice carried out across the room. Your mother looked at you and gave you a reassuring nod before she left. As the room emptied, you were starting to feel nervous. Was this the right decision or were you too impulsive? "Explain to me, once again, child. Why are you here?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. You summon all of the courage you had in your body and stand up. "I came to reclaim my birthright as the rightful heir to the Demon Head," I said, trying my best to keep my voice steady. "Is that so? Why the change of heart?" I hesitated to answer and he saw right through me. His knowing smirk gave it away. "Tired of being part of the birds and the Bats it seems. It is very curious how only one came back. You and your brother were inseparable. Should I expect a visit from him as well? To rescue his sis-" "No." I interrupted him and he seemed taken back "No?" "I was never part of their…team. My brother formed great loyalty and attachment to them, but I did not. They…" "Go on" "They rejected me the day I arrived, yet accepted my brother. I have been forgotten, ignored, and cast aside from the moment that I became present in that household. I only hold care for one of them and even he wasn't enough to make me stay." Ras stayed quiet for a moment. "So what my daughter has been telling me is correct after all. It wasn't just that she missed you. Well, then. Let me make you a proposition. You have three months to make me believe you are capable of being my heir. If you succeed, you will begin training solely for the purpose of being my successor. Were you to not prove yourself, you would leave at once. Have I made myself clear, child?" Ras never was one for empty threats and promises, so all she could do was nod. "You are dismissed. Tell your mother to meet me here. We have a few things to discuss" he dismissed you, "Oh and child?" You looked towards him hopefully. "It is good one of you came back to your senses. Don't disappoint me" And thus began the most excruciating three months of your life. //
You were surprised at how well you had adjusted to the League after coming back. Sure, those three months were harsh, but they weren't bad. You were thankful that you picked up a demanding sport such as ice skating. You weren't sure how you'd survive otherwise. Your mother would spar with you any time she visited so your skills weren't too rusty. After sharpening what had been there once again, which had taken you a month and a half, you were able to take assassins from the highest of ranks. Once your grandfather was satisfied, thus began your preparation for a leader. You were a natural. Your role was to follow your grandfather, grant him counsel, and even take part in some of the decision-making processes. Once, your grandfather had even gotten close to saying he was proud. Even went to say (in between the lines of course) that you had been able to surpass your brother in preparation. Since then, you understood that you no longer lived in Damian's shadow. A year had passed soon and your grandfather had announced that we would have a special coronation where you would be proclaimed as Heir.
That brought us here, to your coronation day. Your armor was specifically made to tailor you and your comfort for battle. Your hair, which had gotten quite long, was pulled into an intricate braid so that your face would be visible. You felt strong and that brought a smile to your face.
"You look radiant, my dear" you hear your mother say from behind you. "Thank you, Mother" You responded as she stood in front of you and caressed your face tenderly.
"Ma'am, you have some visitors" A voice was heard from outside the door. One of your assistants went to open the door and lo and behold…your family was there.
They entered slowly, one by one. Each suited up. "Beloved, those are not ceremonial robes" your mother reprimanded Damian, but he wasn't focused on her. He was focused on you.
"So, it is true then, sister," Damian asked feeling the air leave his chest. You were there, but it wasn't you. It couldn't be you. You were soft, kind, gentle, and tame, and you never raised your voice, you were you and this wasn't you. You looked stronger that's for sure. He wouldn't be surprised if their grandfather was injecting something into you. You looked like a member, no, scratch that, you looked like the heir. From the way you stood, with a sight upward til in your head, to the way you dressed. There was a sharpness in your eyes that told him that Ras had not been soft in your teachings.
"What is, Robin," you asked steadily. Gone was the girl who cried over her lost brother. Damian wouldn't admit it but he was hurt. Hearing you call him by his alias so coldly stung in ways he couldn't imagine.
"You truly are becoming the next Head of the Demon, Y/n?" This time the question came from Dick. The last months have been hell for all of them after the shock of your departure. It was as if someone had splashed all of them with a bucket of cold water and brought them back to reality. They had all visited your room at least once, would continually watch your ice skating videos, and would look at footage of you in the manor from the last years. They had desperately searched for a semblance of you in the entirety of the manor.
"Yes. What's it to you, Nightwing?" She responded once again coldly.
"Alfred misses you," It was Jason who spoke up this time. It was jarring to see the girl he once treated as his precious princess following the footsteps of someone so wretched.
"At least someone does. I couldn't visit because of my training. Once the ceremony is finalized, I will have more time and I will visit him" "So you will visit us at the manor-" "I will visit Alfred only. I have no other reason to do so," She interrupted Tim, with a heated gaze.
"What about your dreams of becoming a professional, (nickname)? It was all you ever wanted, you worked so hard for that. We all know, we all saw. This is not wh-"
"What do you know of me, Damian? What do any of you know about me?! We both arrived at the same. Time. And it appeared as if only you were there! Everyone favored you over me and why? Because you were fucking Robin and I wasn't? I tried to reach out. I invited you everywhere, I searched for you all everywhere, I asked and asked and the only thing that I ever received in return was disdain and silence. I only wanted to be loved, LOVED DAMIAN! What you got and I didn't! And if I tried to speak out, I was hushed because I had to be understanding of your processes. I WAS A CHILD HONED AS A WEAPON TOO. I went through everything you did too! And did any of you ever recognize that? NO! You stopped knowing me the moment you forgot you had a twin. You stopped knowing me when I came back and all of you were celebrating OUR birthday as if it was only you. You lost me the moment that you preferred seeing Jon over watching me compete at Nationals. You lost me when you left to see the Titans and I had to find out weeks later. You lost me when you decided that the love they gave you was yours alone and that I didn't deserve a fraction of it." She ranted and with her every word, Damian took a step back.
"You were always out training or with your friends-"
"Don't try to pin this on me, Damian Wayne. You all pushed me away." Y/n scoffed. "I invited you here because you are my mother's son. Not because I wanted you here. They were invited cordially because they are your family. Don't mistake my act of respect as an act of love."
"There are other ways, Y/n" Batman tried to intervene. Even if it didn't show, Bruce was hurting. He was deeply ashamed and disappointed at how things had turned out.
A bell sounded, signaling the beginning of the ceremony. Y/n straightened her back and turned towards her mother, a small smile present in her face. That smile, as much as it softened everyone's hearts, hardened the moment she turned to them,
"Batman, Red Hood, Nightwing, Red Robin, I will only say this once. I lack the care and mercy my grandfather and mother seem to have for you, with the small exception of Alfred and my brother. I will take this mantle. I will become the Heir to the Demon Head and I will be the next Leader of the League of Assassins. Those are facts that you will have to deal with. If you are here to cause a commotion, then I suggest you leave. I will not tell my assassins to hold back on their ways. If you'd like to stay, so be it. Enjoy the festivity. Have it very clear. I want all of you out. Of. My. Way. once I am the head. This is my birthright and I want it to have nothing with all of you." She started looking at Batman dead in the eye. "Nothing."
"My lady, everyone is expecting you" Came a voice from outside.
"Well, then. Let's go dear. You wouldn't want to have your grandfather waiting would you? Destiny awaits" said Talia as she ushered Y/n out of the room. She never spared a glance at the five men standing in front of her.
That day, they all watched from the sidelines as their sister was proclaimed Heir. Damian had failed and he was going to make sure he NEVER failed again. He was going to do everything in his power to fix the bridges that had been burnt with his sister. As much as Bruce wanted to reassure Damian that everything would be okay, he couldn't. It became clear to him that from now on when interacting with the League, they had to be extremely careful because his daughter could easily become as much an ally as she could be a formidable opponent. He never thought he'd say it but he was afraid of what his little girl could become.
---
Author's note: YES!!! I FINISHED IN ONE NIGHT!!! YESSSSS LAWRD!!!! HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED!! PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK!! I WOULD LOVE LOVE LOVE TO HEAR WHAT YOU ALL SAY!! LIKE AND REPOST! BESITOSSS!!
1K notes · View notes
luviestarz · 1 month ago
Text
lee haechan fic recs! part 2 ❤︎
Tumblr media
note! : used all the old fics i could find that i enjoyed
❤︎ Love at First Bite…literally!? - @huangberryyy (Wherein Haechan finally gets the chick flick moment he dreamt of. Or wherein Haechan finally understands the appeal of being bitten by bitches.)
❤︎ the bet - @tyonfs (you and lee donghyuck created a bet that stated you two would have sex if he made the winning shot. now, you’re pinned up against the lockers, about to do the one thing best friends don’t do, and you definitely shouldn’t be wanting more.)
❤︎ Babe Watch [M]  - @milfgyuu (You and Haechan both have big plans this summer. You’re going to earn yourself a spot on the infamous Baywatch team and Haechan’s deadset on getting the girl. It just so happens that both your plans intersect quite nicely.)
❤︎ [8:02pm] - @nctsworld (in which a spontaneous dance in the kitchen with donghyuck sparks a revelation about how you feel about him.)
❤︎ beware the panty perv ♡ ldh x reader - @guanana (there’s a mystery at hand! it seems like your panties have been vanishing into thin air whenever you need them most? angry that your favorite pairs of panties are going missing, you decide to put on your detective hat in hopes of finding the mysterious lingerie bandit. but between all of the guys that you sleep with— you can’t seem to pinpoint who the culprit could be. it couldn’t possibly be your absolute geek of a tutor for calculus, right? nah.)
❤︎ september 19. - @hyucks-archive
❤︎ SURE THING (L.DH) - @domjaehyun
❤︎ young gods (l.dh) - @606fm (in the midst of committing felonies in the dark, lee donghyuck—your literal partner in crime and ride or die for life—manages to snag your heart in the process without you even realizing it. i mean, what the hell did you expect from seoul city’s most notorious robber?)
❤︎ [7:43am] - @aesthyuckic
❤︎ haechan is obsessed with you. - @haechurch
❤︎ the right one. (m) - @starryhyuck (donghyuck doesn’t like you going on dates with anyone else, especially lee jeno. you’re supposed to be his. and only his.)
❤︎ meow haechan using a lot of tongue meow meow  - @ofjunemoment (or: you’re thinking of getting a tongue piercing, but you’re not sure how haechan feels)
❤︎ attention - @pinkynana (gamer boys are the easiest target for you. they barely interact with any other woman so the moment you find out haechan was a gamer boy, you promised to sit on his lap any time he wanted to.)
❤︎ free falling - @sunpopz (your friend haechan has been acting kinda weird lately.. does it have anything to do with you? maybe it does, considering he keeps looking at you like you're gonna kill him any second. well, that and he randomly liked a three month old picture of you.)
❤︎ haechan — just for you (m) - @hyuckmov (because haechan thought you were irresistible when you were clever, if only because he knew he was the only one who could make your brain go empty.)
❤︎ Started With A Kiss - @sundaysundaes (Rookie actor, Lee Haechan, desperately wants to get the lead role in the highly anticipated upcoming TV drama. He’s sure he has what it takes to fill the part. Acting as a hero? No problem. Pretending to overcome his traumatic experience? Consider it done. A bed scene? Easy—wait, no. That might be a problem. But he should be fine as long as he gets to rehearse, right?)
❤︎ if I lose my mind - @slightlymore (you’ve never cared much for your dreams. they were always confusing nonsense you forgot in the morning. this until you started to have the same dream again and again and again: a lobby, pleasant elevator music in the background, many golden doors, a handsome young man welcoming you and asking where you wanted to go that night. his name was haechan and apparently you weren’t supposed to know that, let alone fall in love with him.)
❤︎ this is the story of how we fell in love, apparently. - @navyhyuck (running a youtube channel with your best friend isn’t easy, not when he’s like a ticking time bomb that’s constantly bubbling up something new. what’s worse is that you’ve had a crush on him for the past three years.)
❤︎ face sitting - @haetkeeper
❤︎ pervert (M) - @haechannielove (you confront haechan on his disgusting and constant objectification of you.)
❤︎ Pearlescent - @d-nghy-ck (A shoreline sunset spent cozied up against Hyuck dives deep past surface level. His lips profess his heart’s intent; his eyes reflect waves dancing in iridescent glimmers; his love whispered into your skin evokes heated passion.) 
❤︎ i love it, starboy - @staargirlblog (slight yandere! idol! haechan x fangirl! reader)
❤︎ college boyfriend!haechan - @lvlyynim
❤︎ perv!haechan - @4everhyucks
❤︎ My Boy. - @prodbymaui (A series of failed relationships and you were this near of giving up on love. But then here comes little Donghyuck and his persistence. Maybe-- he was the one fated to you, after all.)
784 notes · View notes