#i love him and his slim brother

[acid-onthefloor]

Look at these little mice in the example picture of today's lecture about fat cells!

he is one big adipocyte

[ariestrxsh]

olderbrothersbsf!matt x innocent!reader

જ⁀➴ ♡ content warning: smut, innocence corruption, sneaking around, praise, oral (m! & f!receiving), temperature play, pool sex, small age gap (both characters are adults), forbidden love

જ⁀➴ ♡ summary: your protective older brother has always warned you to stay away from his best friend, matt sturniolo but after losing your virginity to him, you're hooked.

dividers by @/roseraris

Young God

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 |

Your brother had been home from college for a few days now, and your parents had taken him into the city for a fancy lunch to celebrate graduating another year. You'd opted out because all you wanted was a nice, quiet, and relaxing day spent by the inground pool in your backyard.

You laid out a bright yellow towel beside the crystal blue body of water that you'd finally deemed warm enough to swim in. You kneeled by the poolside and in one hand, you held a creamsicle that was slowly being melted by the afternoon sun, and with the other, you delicately ran your fingers across the surface of the water.

The cold feeling of the liquid on your warm skin was rejuvenating and refreshing. You could smell the chlorine and freshly cut grass that drifted through the summer air. You laid on your side, propping yourself up with your elbow, enjoying the complementary combination of the slight, cool breeze and hot, sunny weather.

Behind you, the sound of the back gate slowly creaking open alerted you. You turned your head in the direction of the noise, and there stood Matt Sturniolo, your older brother's childhood best friend, your biggest crush as a little girl, and the man you'd given your virginity to just a few nights prior.

Your stomach fluttered, and your heart raced as the object of your affection made his way towards you, shirtless and in nothing but swim trunks.

"Hey, sweet thing. Is your brother home?" He asked you, watching the way you made your pink treat disappear behind your lips. You shook your head no. "He's out with my parents. I don't think they'll be home for another hour or so."

A sly smile peeked through Matt's expression as he realized what that meant. "Damn," he said, faking his disappointment and taking his beach towel that was thrown over his muscular shoulder and switching it to the opposite one. "Well, it looks like you and I had the same idea. Mind if I join you?"

"No, I don't mind at all," you responded, studying his slim build. "What kind of popsicle you got there?" He wondered, sitting next to you and watching the way you sucked on the cold dessert. "It's a strawberry creamsicle," you replied, blushing.

"You look so pretty with it in your mouth," he complimented you, and you responded with a timid giggle. His eyes grazed over your body, and how cute you looked in your black and white-striped bikini. "Look at you. You could be a swimsuit model," he flirted, running the tips of his fingers along the length of your thighs. You rolled your eyes and swooned.

"Have you put on your sunscreen yet, sweet thing?" He motioned towards the unopened bottle beside you. You shook your head. "Not yet. I have to wait til I'm done with this." You stuck out your tongue and licked a long stripe up your fruit-flavored treat.

Just then, some of the ice cream melted from your popsicle stick, landing on your chest, and you jumped at the cold feeling. "Let me help you with that," Matt cooed, and without missing a beat, he leaned in and licked it off the top of your breast that poked out of your bikini top with his blue eyes locked on yours. You softly hummed and squeezed your thighs together in response.

"Why don't I get your back for you, hmm? Gotta protect that pretty skin," Matt offered, picking up the suntan lotion. He applied a bit of the initially cold-feeling sunscreen to your shoulders, massaging it into your warm flesh.

He rubbed your back with his strong hands, exerting more pressure as you began to relax under his caress. He listened to the sounds you made while you sucked on your strawberry creamsicle, his cock stirring in his shorts.

After he had worked the lotion into the skin of your shoulders, he asked you to lay on your stomach, and he started to spread the lotion on the back of your calves and the back of your thighs while you propped yourself up onto your elbows.

He squirted a bit of suntan lotion onto your perfectly round ass, and started thoroughly massaging it into the fleshy part of your bottom. You grew wet under the touch of Matt's large hands.

He spent a suspicious amount of time squeezing it and groping it, smirking to himself. He even gave you a light swat on the ass, and you blushed and timidly laughed before he asked you to turn over again.

Matt intently watched you run your tongue along your sugary dessert while he slathered sunscreen onto your chest and your stomach. "Why do you like watching me lick ice cream so much?" You naively inquired. "Maybe I'll show you once you're all done with it," he teased you. You playfully glared at him for not letting you in on the secret.

Without warning, Matt's fingers slipped into your bikini top, and he started tweaking your nipples, causing them to harden at the sensation. You gasped. "Matt, what are you doing? I'm not gonna get any sunlight there!" You giggled as you peered up at him, lapping up your melting dessert.

"That's only if this top stays on the whole time we're out here," Matt raised an eyebrow at you and his lips curled into a flirtatious smile that indicated that he was up to no good. You let out a moan as he tenderly grabbed a handful of each supple breast.

Lust twinkled in his blue eyes as he started to jiggle them in his grasp, which made your cheeks rosey pink with embarrassment. "Don't be shy, sweetheart. They're so beautiful," Matt's voice was laced with sensuality.

He moved his hands down your stomach, your waist, and your hips. He slowly pushed your legs apart, and he started oiling up your thighs. A smug expression played in the corner of his mouth as he inched closer to your special place. "Matt! I'm definitely not going to be getting any sunlight there!" You lightheartedly giggled as he slipped his finger beneath the fabric of your swimsuit bottoms.

"Oh, I know, sweet thing, but you can never be too careful. Plus, I like the way you sound when I touch you right here," he said, tenderly rubbing your clit in circles. You immediately felt a faint whimper pass through your lips, and you stuck your creamsicle back into your mouth, sucking on it.

"That's it. Keep making those pretty sounds for me," Matt hummed, a smug smirk playfully crawling into his expression while he continued his movements. He started slowly taking off your bikini bottoms, and you lifted your hip points to help him remove them more easily.

You finished the rest of your ice cream, licking the stick clean and holding eye contact with Matt as he slipped your bottoms down your thighs and tossed them to the side. He reached behind your back and untied your swimsuit top and started removing the fabric from your body.

He spread open your legs once again, revealing your glistening folds and causing your shy nature to surface along with a flushed expression. There you were, tits out and pussy on display in your backyard while Matt ran his fingers along your slit, teasing you and making you even more wet.

You shivered as the summer breeze passed over your wet cunt, creating a delightful sensation. He took the tip of his pointer finger and started tapping rhythmically on your sensitive bud, causing you to jerk beneath his commanding touch. "Oh, Matt," you gasped.

"Good girl," he hummed in response as he leaned down and planted a kiss between your legs. Another moan escaped your pink lips as his tongue gently caressed your clit, circling it and teasing you. His blue eyes lingered on yours while he continued this motion with his licks, drawing closer to all your nerve endings.

When he was right on your most sensitive spot, he closed his lips down around it and started tenderly suckling. You threw your head back and let out a delighted noise while his tongue danced along your folds, lapping up your wetness.

"You know, I've got a popsicle for you to suck on," Matt glanced up at you with his charming smirk. You nodded at him wide-eyed with your lower lip pinned between your canine teeth.

"Why don't you hop in the pool, sweetheart?" Matt suggested, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You went to reach for your bathing bottoms, but Matt swatted your hand away. "Ah, ah, ah," he shook his head. "Your bathing suit stays off."

"But Matt, I'm naked," you giggled in a shy voice. "Good. I like you that way," he chuckled in response, reaching up and gently groping your breasts again. His touch was strong and demanding, but there was a softness to it and a tenderness in his tone as he spoke. His eyes danced across your exposed body as you inched towards the pool, and you let out a shrill sound as you slowly submerged yourself in the cold water.

Matt's swim shorts fell around his ankles, and he stepped out of them, one foot at a time, and your gaze immediately fixated on the rod between his legs. You couldn't believe that something so big had been inside of you a few nights prior. His protruding tip was glossy with a clear fluid, and his veins decorated his shaft so beautifully.

You didn't mean to be rude, but you couldn't stop staring. Even as Matt sat at the edge of the pool, immersing only the bottom half of his legs, you couldn't pull your eyes off his pretty dick. He wrapped his fingers around it and started slowly stroking it in front of you.

"Come have a taste," he motioned for you to come here with his free hand. You nodded and made your way back over to the edge of the pool. Your stare flickered between his eyes and his aggravated tip. "Open up, sweet thing," he purred, guiding his cock towards your mouth and delicately grabbing onto the back of your head. You slightly parted your lips for him.

"You're gonna have to open a little wider for me," he cooed, chuckling at how cute you were. You obediently listened, parting them further. He burrowed his tip into your mouth, which was still cold from your dessert earlier, and he emitted a guttural moan at the way the temperature change elevated the sensation.

"That's it. Be a good girl and suck on it just like you did with your popsicle, hmm?" He encouraged you, giving you direction and showing you how he liked it. You hollowed out your cheeks and slowly bobbed your head up and down, lightly gagging as the head grazed the back of your throat.

Matt peered down at you with a loving, lustful stare. Your soft, cold tongue slithered up and down the backside of his length, caressing his veins and causing his dick to twitch against your lips every time you came back up and stimulated his tip.

"Eyes on me, baby," Matt whispered, petting your cheek with his thumb and grunting as you swirled your tongue around his nerve-endings. You couldn't get enough of the way Matt looked at you while you gave him head, almost as if the feeling of your mouth was saving his life.

He licked his lips and nodded at you with his eyes glazed over with pleasure as you continued to suck on it for him. "Good girl. Don't stop. You're gonna make me finish all over that pretty tongue of yours," Matt moaned, thoroughly examining the way you serviced him in the most intimate fashion.

His lovely words and the tone of voice he used when he spoke them made your stomach drop. He delighted in the image of you peering up at him with your innocent eyes and his dick buried behind your pink lips.

"That's it, sweet thing. Be a good girl and swallow it all for me," Matt encouraged you with his brows knitted together in an almost concerned expression. His blue eyes were filled with seduction and temptation, and he licked his lips again before letting out another sinful moan. His cock began to twitch between your lips, and he held you in place while he loaded your mouth with his thick, milky seed.

"Oh, yes. What a good girl you are," Matt gave you his most charming smile as the muscles in his stomach spasmed, painting your tongue with several spurts of his cum and nearly filling your mouth faster than you could gulp it down. It tasted bitter, but you did as you were told, making sure not to let a single drop go to waste.

"That was perfect," Matt whispered breathlessly as he caressed your face and ran his fingers through your hair. "That made me so wet between my legs," you admitted to Matt. "I guess you like sucking cock, hmm? You took such good care of it," He cooed, giving you his bedroom eyes. You nibbled on your lip and nodded up at him.

"Now, I gotta take care of my girl," he replied, dipping into the pool along with you, making a bit of a splash in the water. He reveled in the cold feeling against his warm flesh. He grabbed you by your waist and picked you up, and you squealed at the way he handled you.

He directed his still-hard rod towards your hole, sinking it in and listening to your whimper at the sensation of being stretched out again. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he pushed it in deeper. You were still sore from having lost your virginity to him a few nights before, and your walls fluttered around his sensitive cock. You whined in pain.

"Sh, sh, sh. It's going to be alright. I'm gonna make my girl feel so good," Matt hushed you, looking into your eyes and brushing his thumb across your flushed cheek once more. He went in for the kiss, passionately locking lips with you while your naked bodies were pressed up against each other in the water.

He slowly thrust into you, causing you to moan into his mouth, your lips vibrating against his while he held you in his strong arms, bouncing you up and down on his rod. Matt's tongue politely begged for entrance as he deeply kissed you.

The water around the two of you rippled out at the movements you made. You started to relax as the sensation transformed to pure ecstacy in the matter of a few strokes. He listened as your stifled whines turned into cries of delight.

"Good girl. You take it so well," Matt grunted, speeding up the pace and moving his lips down to your chest. He tenderly took your tit into his mouth and started licking and teasing.

"Oh," you muttered, throwing your head back. He hummed against your breast while his tongue flickered over your sensitive nipple. He suckled on it just like he had with your clit earlier while he drove his hips forward, stimulating that special place deep in your core.

His mouth moved back up, and he started kissing up your neck, nipping and biting at it while pulling you close again. You softly whimpered in his ear while he explored your erogenous zones with his lips.

Your arms were wrapped around the back of his neck, your fingernails lightly digging into his back as you tightly gripped his waist with your legs. "That's it, sweet thing. Take it," he groaned, savoring the feeling of your warm, wet pussy squeezing around his hungry cock while your bodies moved in tandem, giving and accepting one another in a primal dance.

Your brother had always warned you about Matt's perverse nature and his way with words, the way he could lull any girl he wanted into his arms and into his sheets, but you saw a different side of him. You saw his desire to make you feel safe, the appreciation he felt towards your body, and the way he prioritized your pleasure.

You were both on the verge of greatness, nearing your shared orgasm while you chanted each other's names. Before you knew it, your body was going limp as you steadily clenched around Matt's throbbing dick. The two of you finished together, and he filled you with his seed once again.

You'd been waiting for that feeling again, dreaming about it, yearning for it. You loved how easy it was for Matt to get you off, and your climaxes were so much more intense with him than they were on your own. You couldn't get enough of him.

The two of you were staring into each other's eyes, and your legs were still wrapped around Matt's waist when you heard a car door shut. You and Matt scurried out of the water, throwing your bathing suits back on. Matt was helping you tie the strings of your top back together when your brother wandered through the gate.

"Matt? What are you doing here? I told you I was going out to lunch with my parents," your brother said, clenching his jaw and squeezing his hand together in a fist. "I know. Your sister invited me to swim with her," Matt said, glancing over at you, and you blushed.

"What were you doing when I walked through that gate, huh?" Your brother raised his voice a bit. "I was just helping her fix her top. It came undone in the pool," Matt lied. "Dude, you're sick. Stay away from my sister when I'm not home," your brother said, baring his teeth and flaring his nostrils.

"Dude. Chill. Her top came untied when we were splashing each other, and I covered my eyes until she put it back on. She just wanted me to double knot it for her. That's all," Matt said, holding his hands up in a defensive position, his heart beating out of his chest.

"He's telling the truth," you nodded, Matt's cum still slowly dripping out of your pussy and into your bikini bottoms. Your brother's eyes glanced between you and Matt before he relaxed his shoulders and let out a sigh. "I'm sorry. I had a few beers with lunch. I just saw the two of you and assumed," your brother chuckled. The tension in the air was gone just like that.

"It's cool, dude. I get it. Come on. Let's go take some of that aggression out on those damn zombies," Matt laughed, playfully slugging your brother in the arm, and the two boys walked off together to go play video games.

Right before Matt disappeared from view, he looked back at you for a moment and winked, letting you know how much he was enjoying your little collective secret.

part four here ❣️

taglist: @thepubeburgler @realqueenofpepsi @mattsredgaphoodie @purpledreamertyphoon @moosegirl96 @idrk2292 @bsturnzmtts @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @jassturn @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @jaysturniolo @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @babysturniolo @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1

[ifwdominicfike]

matt loves to feed into your love for his hands.

── .✦. ──

this is the 3rd time today you’ve caught yourself staring at matts arms, if it wasn’t his arms it was his hands. the way the veins spread out and then trailed up to his forearms, you were practically drooling.

he knows this too, he’s caught you staring at him multiple times. he hasn’t told you anything yet though, watching you watch his every move when he wears a tank top or when he’s playing videos games with his brothers, he knows you’re staring.

how could you not though?? he was basically teasing you at this point, like the other day for example, he had gotten some new rings and was desperate to show you them.

“sweetheart come look at these new rings i got” you make your way to your shared bedroom and see him staring at his hands, flexing them making the veins more prominent. that infamous grin while doing so is telling you everything you needed to know.

your eyes fixating on his hands immediately, the way he stretched out his fingers to show off the rings made your thighs clench.

noticing the gleam across your face made his grin widen, “you like them doll? or are ya’ gonna keep ogling at them hm?” he takes your hand into his and start peppering kisses to your knuckles. you couldn’t take it anymore, his teasing words, his stupid grin, just him. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into you, your lips locking with his and you feel a hand cup your jaw and the other grip onto your hair.

“y’think you’re so fucking slick huh? staring at me like that with your thighs clenched like i wouldn’t notice, needy girl” he continues down your neck as his hands roam down your body, you gasp at the sudden movement of you being picked up. you’re back now lying against his white sheets “pl..please! matt- need you s’bad” you whine “gotta be more specific than that baby, what do you need from me sweet girl?” he grips onto your legs and places them on his shoulders “pl-please baby.. don’t t-tease me-“

your voice becoming more and more needy “aw, poor thing can’t take a little bit of teasing? such a desperate whore.” he starts sliding off your shorts, those being thrown and forgotten somewhere in the room while he stuffs your lace panties in his back pocket.. “so soaked f’me, all this over what? my hands?” he laughs in your face, tracing his fingers up and down your slick. you yelp out once you feel him slap your cunt, that same stupid grin on his face as he watched you squirm.

“fuck matt- come on pleasee, been such a g-good girl f’you” you grind against his hand, aching for any kind stimulation what so ever. “okay sweetheart, i guess you’ve had enough” you hum in agreement, you feel his slim fingers dip into you, the feeling of the cool metal from the rings sending goosebumps down your spine. “o-oh! mhm.. please!” you pleaded “yeah? s’this all you needed baby? dumb girl just needed my fingers thats all”

- avery’s note ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡-

first smut!! i was thinking of making this a full fic but i didnt.. anyways school has been beating me up pray for me 😞 okayy well thats all for now bye i love youu ᥫ᭡ !!

[luveline]

hotch’s daughter and him looking thru baby n childhood pics n realizing just how much they missed angst (her missing out on having a present father n him missing out on raising her)

Aaron’s winded when he sees you that morning. You’re smiling, in sweatpants and a hoodie with a bag on your shoulder that promises an overnight stay, but what hits hardest is the way you light up when he opens the front door. He sees you coming through the window and can’t wait for you to knock. 

“Hey, honey, you’re early!” he says. 

“I know,” you say, stopping just a paving stone away, “but I got this magic jigsaw for Jack that I thought he’d like. Once you complete it you can move it around and create a new jigsaw in the middle.” You smile. “You look happy. Good breakfast?” 

“I’m happy to see you, that’s all.” 

You cross that last step. “Thanks, dad.” You bite your bottom lip, ever so slightly bashful. 

He literally couldn’t be happier. “Did you eat?” 

Aaron brings you inside. Jack is already awake and eating his second breakfast in a meandering picking by the TV. 

You love being a big sister. It’s all the more endearing. “Hey, babe. What are you upto?” you ask. 

Jack whirls and sends a couple of grapes flying. “Oh my gosh yes!” he says, to your laughter and Aaron’s disbelief. He races across the rug in a blur of blue pyjamas to wrap himself around your thighs, face pressed to your hip. “You’re here!” 

“We said Saturday sleepover, right?” 

You get down on your knees to hug him. Your arms around his back, your face to his, you aren’t as rough as you could be —how do sisters hug their brothers? Aaron doesn’t know. But you rub his back in a gentle up and down and lower your voice to say hello. “Hi, Jack. You’re happy to see me?” 

“I’m so happy.” 

“Me too, I’m so happy. I brought you something.” 

“A present?” Jack asks, leaning out of your arms. 

“Not really, it’s for me and you, but I brought you cookies too.” 

“Dad,” Jack says, “can we have some?” 

Aaron holds up a finger. One cookie is enough sugar for the morning. “We can have a couple more after dinner tonight, okay?” 

You take the cookies from your bag, a huge box of palm-sized cookies, chocolate chips shaped like stars, the best kind of indulgence from the bakery not far from here. Aaron catches a look at the inside of your bag, spying a slim white photo album against your weekly medication divider and the plastic wrapped jigsaw puzzle. 

“What’s the album?” he asks. 

“Oh.” You slide your thumb along the sticker that seals the cookies and crack them open for Jack to take his spoils. “They’re my baby photos.” 

He stills. “They are?” 

“And some of me growing up.” You tip your head at him and smile. A little shy, more happy. “I was thinking about Jack, how we both do that chokey laugh when we’re tired, and I wondered if we had any other similarities. And then I realised you’ve never actually seen any of my photos. Would you want to look at them?” 

“Please,” he says immediately. “Yes. I’d love to see them.” 

You lay the album out on the coffee table. Aaron sits beside you on the couch, and Jack sits on his feet, and together you look through your baby album one page at a time. At first, he’s quiet. He has no idea what to say. You are a beautiful kid, you’re perfect, little baby you with a pacifier on your tummy, or in the summer sun with mud on your little hands, wearing a pink dress with matching canvas shoes and a smile so wide he can see all your baby teeth, or sitting beside a fish tank with a party hat on. 

His favourite is a photograph of you that’s been printed oddly, more sepia than colour, where you look to be eight or nine years old. He can see everything in your adult face right there in ink, your smile, the trusting warmth in your eyes when you love the person it’s directed at. Maybe he’s full of himself, but he swears it’s his smile, and Jack’s smile. Hotchner through and through. 

“I wish I’d seen you in person,” he says quietly. “Just once.” 

You tease the photograph from the plastic sleeve and offer it to him. “Sorry.” 

He doesn’t want you to be sorry. Aaron takes the photograph and stares at it against his leg, your little face, your hands behind your back, your left knee wrapped in a bandage. “We missed out on so much,” he says softly. 

“I know.” 

He places the photo on the armrest, precious and needing a frame. You melt into his arm as he wraps it around your shoulder, and you let him kiss your temple, even if he doesn’t deserve to do it yet. He’s polite about it, he knows his sincerity might feel gratuitous to you —after all, he missed out on so much. But you don’t go rigid at his affection, you just breathe. 

“I would’ve loved to have seen it,” he says, too old for tears, and yet a warmth collects behind his eyes anyhow. He won’t cry, only the feeling is there and aching as you move back and give him a typical Hotchner smile. Like he’s being silly, and like you love him. 

“It’ll be okay,” you say, “you’ve got, what, a good ten years left? You can see my golden years.” 

He laughs suddenly. “Ten? How old do you think I am?” 

“You act like you’re nearing seventy.” 

“Oh, I do?” 

You roll your eyes and lean across the photo album for another cookie. “You do! I wish we didn’t have to wait so long to meet, but it’s not like I’m going anywhere. You won’t find me so charming in a few years, so don’t worry. Now, could you leave me and Jack alone for a bit? I’m trying to sneak him another cookie and you’re getting in the way.” 

Aaron hugs you whether you want him to or not, a tight squeeze that you always seem to enjoy, before doing as you’ve asked, promising to find the jigsaw board in the garage so you and Jack can start the newest one. 

“Did you miss him?” he hears Jack asks inexplicably. 

“Who, dad?” Aaron watches you from the door that leads into the garage. He can only see your hands from this angle, your left one landing on Jack’s shoulder for a small squeeze. “I missed him so much you couldn’t believe it.” 

“Thank you for the cookie.” 

“You’re welcome! I missed you too, you know? I have to make up for all my lost time being your big sister. Here, you can hide this one in your pocket, if you want. Just don’t forget it’s there.” 

[charcoaldustonmyfingers]

Splinter mutation speculation! This one is actually pretty old, I drew it before I did all that research on turtles :)

Fun facts about rats: When they are happy, they do a thing called bruxing and boggling, wherein they will grind their teeth together sometimes to the point where the muscles of their jaw make their eyes wiggle in their sockets. They also don’t have paw pads the way dogs or cats do, but instead have little bumps of thicker skin. Look up happy pet rats, they’re absolutely adorable!

These are mostly just my head canons for Splinter as an old jokester with a messed up past trying to do better for the future. We don’t actually see much of him in the show despite dialogue refrencing his daily lessons and his great ‘embarrassing dad’ comedy, so I wanted to speculate of how he might be when the cameras not rolling, per se. It’s tough being the single father of four teenagers without the help of a community, but the brothers are pretty well adjusted (relatively speaking) and are loving towards each other and open to others.

In terms of his anatomy though, while rats may look chubby, it’s in part because of their curved spine and rodent posture. They can get pretty slim when they stretch out. It may be because of these changes to his skeleton that Splinter seemingly shank so much from his human form, while still having the strength to beat people up despite his age. He also made a vow to stop fighting in the Battle Nexus leading to his eventual mutation, which he does break when his kids are on the line, but could be a reason as to why he avoided many of their squabbles in the show? Who knows!

There’s a lot to work with from little characterizations, and it’s fun to see all the different interpretations of his character!

[General][Raph][Donnie][Leo][Mikey]

[v6quewrlds]

&.⠀⠀JOE BURROW⠀⋆⠀#9.

disclaimer⠀...⠀some fics are tagged as mature containing sexual content. please do not read/interact with these works if you are under 18. i am not responsible for your media consumption, so please be sure to proceed with caution.

(⋆) = personal favs.

FICS, works over 2,000 words.

ALL THAT MATTERS, 3k (fluff) joe burrow will always be a stubborn, ohio boy. even when his wife's brother is a 4-time nba champion for the cavs' rival team.

ALL YOURS, social media au nyla's latest single is making waves. the audience has questions for her elusive boyfriend, joe burrow.

BORDERLINE, 6.8k (smut, feat. tee higgins) working in and around the nfl for years, there aren't many people in the league who can knock you off your game. by some twist of fate, two of them show up together, hoping to lure you into their orbit.

GOOD DAYS, 2.8k (fluff) what gift do you get for a man who has the world at his fingertips? a really, really good day.

GOODIES (⋆), 6.2k (smut) ja'marr is a lot of things, subtle is not one of them. when he drops the bomb of joe's no nut november pact, it's only fair you make it as difficult for him to stick to it as possible, right?

INFINITY (⋆), 6.9k (fluff & smut) the bengals suffer a devastating loss against the eagles. it takes everything within you to face joe, hoping you'll be able to remind him of his worth.

LOVE LANGUAGE (⋆), 8k (fluff & smut) joe burrow was made to be a husband. your honeymoon is proof enough that loving you is his love language.

LOVE TALK, 1.9k (fluff) with your toddler off with the cousins at her grandparents' house, it's a quiet night in the burrow household. you take advantage of the quiet to spend some one-on-one time soaking in your warm tub.

MY LITTLE LOVE, 4.5k (fluff) the afc championship game is around the corner. thankfully amara burrow is more than happy to make sure her daddy is ready to bring it home.

PRETTY LITTLE THING, 6.7k (smut) it's a rare quiet morning for you and joe. while you plan to sleep in and take it easy, your husband has other more active plans.

SAY MY NAME, 6.8k (angst & smut) success is great until you realize that you haven't touched your fiance in nearly a month. feeling guilty about your absence, his new assistant's constant presence hits a nerve.

SLIM SHADY, 2.1k (smut) your boyfriend is cool, calm, collected, and now platinum blonde? though you're mentally conflicted, you can't help but feel drawn to his new look.

TOO PROUD, 8.3k (angst & smut) being friends with benefits with the cool, calm, and collected quarterback has been nothing short of a fantasy. but when he loses his cool in a way you've never seen before, you start to pull away.

SERIES, works with multiple parts.

HOMIESEXUAL ONE & TWO, (angst & smut, feat. andrei iosivas) joe burrow comes and goes through your life like the tides. just when you think you've caught him, he slips away from your grasp. just when you think you've finally moved on, he sneaks back in with empty promises. as if things couldn't get any messier, enter andrei iosivas, joe's wide receiver.

LOVE DROUGHT ONE & TWO, (angst & smut) chelsea's life appears perfect. a beautiful home, a great job, and a valuable last name. leaving behind her life in atlanta to come to cincinnati presents new opportunities and new challenges in her marriage. the biggest challenge comes in the form of the handsome neighbor next door, every married inch of him.

DOCTOR'S ORDERS joe x doctor!reader, collection of asks, fics, & blurbs.

BLURBS, works under 2,000 words.

ACCESS HERE, #joey b.

[maysileeewrites]

bittersweet symphony || prologue

Haymitch Abernathy x f!reader || series masterlist

Summary: After being reaped as a Tribute for the 61st Hunger Games, you and your mentor Haymitch Abernathy are off to a rather rocky start …

contents: mentions of canon-typical violence, mentions off death; Haymitch being a drunk, snarky asshole; angst; bantering, Haymitch and Reader having a rather rocky start; gratuitous use of Princess as a nickname (you'd better get used to it); age gap! (Haymitch is in his late 20s, Reader is 18 at the start)

w.c: 5.3k (it's worth it, I promise!!)

AN: Here it is! I’m so excited but also incredibly nervous … Also don’t worry, this is in fact a Haymitch/Reader story, but the lovely @imnotcryingyouare1 suggested a way that wouldn’t make Haymitch the only one experiencing guilt for falling in love again and because I like drama and heartbreak and pining, I took it and ran haha. In other words: I really, really hope that you all like the prologue!! 

It’s fascinating how drastically a person’s life can change within just a few seconds. 

A few seconds ago, you were standing together with the other seventeen and eighteen year-old girls, desperately hoping against hope that it wouldn’t be your name that would be drawn from the large glass bowl. 

A few seconds ago, the bittersweet taste of freedom was right there on the tip of your tongue. This is the last year you’re eligible for the Reaping - you were supposed to come out unscathed on the other side. 

A few seconds ago, your heart was slamming against your ribcage and your hands were slick with sweat.

And then, Effie Trinket, your District escort read out your name, and everything changed - all of that within the span of a few seconds. 

Numb with shock, you walk onto the stage in front of the Justice Building, trying to keep your head up high. Trying not to cry, trying not to break down in front of the entirety of District Twelve, and - worse yet - all the cameras. 

You might be from the poorest District in Panem, but you won’t give the Careers and whoever else may be watching the chance to brand you as a weakling already. Though you know that the chances of you actually surviving the Hunger Games are slim to nonexistent, you can’t allow yourself to give up  already. 

And so, you take a deep breath, squaring your shoulders as you come to stand next to Effie Trinket.

She’s saying something to you, but her words only register as a light, unpleasant buzzing in your ears. When you don’t respond, she frowns, before plastering a smile back on her face again, walking over to the other bowl of names. 

You bite down hard on your lip, and your hands twist into fists behind your back. 

Not Felix, please. Not Will, please.

Not Felix, not Will. 

Please. 

But Effie calls neither of your little brother’s names out. The relief that both your brothers will be safe for at least another year is only short-lived, though. 

„Kai Foster! Come on up, come on up!“ 

Your eyes widen with shock as you watch your best friend walk up onto the stage, coming to stand right beside you. 

This can’t be happening. Not Kai. Not your best friend. Not the only other boy besides your brothers you hold so close to your heart. 

The only thought that rings through your head as you numbly reach for Kai’s hand is that this can’t be happening. 

This can’t be happening. This was supposed to be your last year, you were supposed to get through this final Reaping together. Both you and Kai are already eighteen, in fact, Kai is turning nineteen in just a few weeks. 

And now, it seems highly unlikely that either of you will ever get to experience another birthday again. 

After the Games, who will be there to look after your little brothers? Ever since your mother died giving birth to Felix, it’s been you and your father looking after the boys, but your father’s a miner and while he’s doing his best to take care of you and your siblings, his work in the mines is already taking a big enough toll on him. Who will be there for your brothers? Who will be there to-

Breath hitching, you square your shoulders. You can’t afford to think like that, not yet. 

Not now. Right now, you have to hold yourself together, at least until you’re safely on the train headed to the Capitol. And so, you concentrate on the touch of Kai’s hand, as you’re looking out at the crowd, trying to hold yourself together. 

Then the Peacekeepers are ushering you off the stage and into the Justice Building, and then you and Kai are separated and you’re brought into a small waiting room, and before you get a chance to sort your spiraling thoughts and compose yourself, your family’s ushered into the small room. 

Your little brother Felix is crying, but Will, who’s only two years older than Felix and yet always trying to act all tough, is trying his hardest to keep himself from crying. He finally breaks when you turn to embrace him as well, begging you not to go, to please come back. 

You can’t lie to him, not to your little brother, and so just hold on to him tighter, catching your father’s gaze. He just gives you a sad, pained smile and somehow, that says more than all the words in the world ever possibly could. 

And then, the Peacekeepers are back again, ushering your family out and even though Felix and Will both cling to you, the Peacekeepers just drag them away, before ushering you out of the Justice Building and into a car that’ll take you to the train station. 

At least Kai is here with you, you think, as he silently reaches for your hand, threading your fingers together. At least he’s here with you as you’re being shipped off to your inevitable deaths together. 

The next few moments pass you by in a blur. Kai and you are being escorted onto the train by Effie Trinket. Her chipper, hyper-positive attitude is quickly starting to get on your nerves and so, you excuse yourself, saying that you just need to be alone right now. Kai shoots you a worried look, but you just shake your head, before heading off to your room. 

For hours, you just lie on your bed, motionless, staring at the ceiling. Thoughts of home, of your family and friends - all people you’re almost certain you’ll never see again, because while you certainly don’t want to die, don’t want to be just another quick, easy kill for the Career, you just know that there’s no real, tangible chance of you possibly winning these Games - race through your head, spiraling and spiraling and spiraling. 

Finally, when you can’t take it anymore, you stand up, feeling dizzy from the sudden, quick motion. You briefly consider going to find Kai, but somehow, you don’t really feel like you could stomach talking to him right now. 

And so, you head off to the compartment you were ushered into earlier that day, thinking that after grabbing a bite of food, maybe you won’t feel so bad anymore. You don’t encounter anyone as you walk through different train compartments, which is probably for the better, seeing how you’re still feeling incredibly dizzy and light-headed and the movement of the train underneath your feet isn’t exactly helping. 

You finally stumble into the dining compartment, only to freeze when you realize that the compartment isn’t empty as you’d been expecting it to be. 

„So, there she finally is.“ 

The words are delivered in a dry, mocking tone, yet there’s a slurred edge to them. Is he ever not drunk?, you find yourself wondering as you look up into the bright, grey eyes of Haymitch Abernathy. 

Haymitch Abernathy. 

The only living Victor of District Twelve.

Your mentor - he’s supposed to coach you, to help you and Kai get through the Hunger Games. The only problem is that he’s not even once managed to keep his tributes alive for longer than the first few days of the Games, which, you suspect, has a lot to do with him being constantly drunk out of his mind. 

He doesn’t seem to take anything in life seriously, especially not his job as a mentor, seeing how he’s failed to show up to the Reapings ever since you can remember. 

He wasn’t there for your own Reaping as well, and somehow, it’s that thought that finally manages to shake you out of your state of numb shock. 

„You were supposed to be there“, you say, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, „you were supposed to be there - you’re our mentor and yet you can’t even give us the grace to show up to our Reaping?“ 

Your voice has gotten louder with each word, and your hands are shaking with anger. 

Your eyes find Haymitch’s grey ones again. 

For a second, you think you see something akin to hurt flash in his eyes, but it’s gone in an instant, and his features twist into a scowl again. 

„Well Princess, I’m sorry for not clearing out my entire schedule for you“, he says, his tone sarcastic and mocking. 

Trying to suppress your anger, you bite down hard on your lip, shaking your head in disbelief. „Really?“, you grit out, „I can’t believe that there would’ve been much to clear.“ 

In reply, Haymitch just laughs. 

He laughs - he actually laughs in your face. 

„You’re unbelievable“, you seethe, not at all caring that he’s your mentor and nearly ten years older than you. 

He’s only twenty-seven - you’re not quiet sure, but you think that he was sixteen when he won his Games eleven years ago -, and while you have to admit that even with all the damage he’s done to his own body with all the drinking, he’s still fairly good-looking, with his short dark curls, tall stature and distinct features, yet the look in his eyes tells you that in his twenty-seven years he’s seen and experienced far more than most people do in a whole lifetime. 

Haymitch’s eyes find yours again, and something he sees in your gaze must get through to him, because he finally stops laughing, his expression turning serious again.

„I don’t really see that it would’ve made much of a difference either way“, he says, shrugging. „You and that boy would’ve still been reaped.“ 

„His name’s Kai.“ 

You expect another condescending reply, but when you look up at Haymitch again, he’s looking at you with a thoughtful expression. 

„Tell me something, Princess - why are you here?“ 

You frown. „Because I was reaped for the-“

„No“, he interrupts you, shaking his head, his gaze locking onto yours, „why are you here?“

„What - I don’t …“, you stammer, backing away from Haymitch , who, even though he’s still standing a few feet away from you, is too close, too close, too close. You feel as if even through his drunk stupor, he sees you, really sees you. He sees too much, way too much, and you just want him to stop looking at you like that. 

But, of course, he doesn’t. „Why are you here?“, he repeats his question again, „why are you here - why are you not in his room, pouring your heart out to your boy- Kai, right?“ 

At your sides, your hands clench into fists, but Haymitch continues talking, not giving you the chance to say anything. „Finally couldn’t take it anymore? Finally caught up with reality, did you now?“ 

„You’re one to talk“, you grit out through your teeth, angrily shaking your head. 

He’s unbelievable. He doesn’t even know you, and yet he just attacks you with all of these presumptions of his. He’s twisting the knife right where it hurts, and you hate him for it. 

For a moment, Haymitch just looks at you, his bright grey ares boring into yours. Then, his lips curl into another crooked grin, and he raises his glass, as if to toast you. „Touché, Princess.“ 

It’s disorienting, the way he’s switched from condescendingly provoking to a twisted, almost sarcastic kind of genuinety in just a few seconds. 

„Stop calling me that, just because you can’t be bothered to remember my name“, you snap, crossing your arms in front of your chest. 

Haymitch chuckles, before saying your name. At that, you quickly turn away from him, trying to hide your surprised expression. „I do know your name“, he says, chuckling again, „it’s just that I think Princess seems much more fitting for Your Highness who demands that I schedule my whole day according to her, wouldn’t you agree?“ 

And just like that, he’s managed to destroy the small inkling of sympathy you might’ve felt for him in these last few seconds. „Well, seeing as you’re supposed to be our mentor, I’d say that it’s not that outrageous a request.“ 

Haymitch doesn’t immediately answer you, instead, he takes another swig of his drink, then swirls the remaining liquor around in the glass. Finally, his eyes find yours again. 

„You really want my advice, Princess? Stop wallowing, and embrace the very unfortunate, very likely possibility of your imminent death once that gong sounds.“ 

You scoff. „Wise words, truly.“ 

Haymitch just shrugs. „You asked for advice, you got it.“ 

You roll your eyes, scoffing again. It seems pretty clear that there’s not much more you’ll get out of Haymitch, at least not right now. Whatever his deal is, you won’t get through to him by trying to appeal to a conscience he may or may not have. 

Normally, you’d up more of a fight. He’s your mentor, and whatever else he may be - a sarcastic, drunken asshole right on top of that list - he’s probably the best chance you’ll get at trying to survive in that arena, like it or not. 

But right now, you don’t particularly feel like trying to crack to complex riddle of Haymitch Abernathy. Right now, you’re just glad that your anxious thoughts have finally stopped spinning and you’re really looking forward to truly lying down in your bed and to finally just fall asleep. 

Your father always says that things look brighter in the morning, and maybe that’s true. 

Tomorrow, you promise yourself, as you walk towards the table holding all of the fancy liquor bottles. Tomorrow, you’ll talk to Haymitch, really talk to him. 

And so you take a glass, before reaching for a bottle on the table. You can feel Haymitch watching you, his own glass still between his long fingers, as you open the bottle. 

„So, I take it that you’re not in the mood for advice anymore?“, he asks you dryly. 

You laugh darkly. „No. I’ve had a shitty day, and right now, I just need a drink.“ 

Haymitch considers you for a second, before waking closer towards you and setting his glass down right next to yours on the table. „Well, there’s something I can help you with.“ 

You don’t bother with a reply, instead only rolling your eyes, trying to fight off the smile that’s tugging at the corner of your lips.  

Once you’ve finished pouring both glasses, you take yours, watching as Haymitch takes his as well. For a moment, you consider him, then you hold out your glass towards him. 

Haymitch raises his eyebrows at you, but then there’s that crooked grin of his again and you almost feel like grinning as well. „Well, what are we toasting to?“ 

„Staying alive“, you say, shrugging. 

Haymitch considers you for a second, then clinks his glass against yours. „Well, I’ll drink to that.“ He downs the contents of his glass in one swig. The same definitely can’t be said for you. Even before actually drinking the liquor, your eyes start burning. Then the sharp, almost acidic taste hits your tongue, and you immediately start coughing. How Haymitch willingly chooses to drink that stuff with abandon is beyond you. 

Haymitch watches you, chuckling. When you shoot him a dark look, he only shrugs, but his expression quickly turns serious again. 

He clears his throat. „Listen, Princess. If you stay off my case, I’ll - I’ll do my best to help you.“ 

You raise your eyebrows, looking at him. His expression’s sincere, his grey eyes are searching yours. He really does seem to mean it. 

So you nod, allowing a small smile. „Deal. But only if you stop calling me Princess.“ 

Haymitch just chuckles. „I fear it’s far too late for that, Princess.“ 

🏹☀

The next few days pass you by in a dizzying blur of differing impressions. It seems that at every corner you’re meeting new people. 

First, the morning on the train after your nightly run-in with Haymitch, there’s Effie Trinket, your District Escort. Of course, you’ve already met her the day before, but you weren’t really paying attention then, only registering that her forced positive attitude gets extremely annoying really fast. You still find her forced brightness and her constant exclamations of it being a ‚big, big, big day! for you and Kai‘ incredibly irritating, but you soon realize that underneath that flashy Capitol accent and all her twisted beliefs of the world of Panem, there’s actually a genuinely kind soul underneath. 

Even more surprising is the fact that Haymitch seems to know her. Of course, with him being Twelve’s only living victor and her being your District’s escort, he has to know her, but these two seem to know each other in more than just a superficial way. 

When you try to ask Haymitch about it, he avoids your searching gaze, only saying that him and Effie do indeed go way back. 

You want to press on the subject, but with the way he’s crossing his arms in front of his chest and still refusing to look directly at you, it’s clear that he’s not willing to say more on the subject. So, you just sigh, before walking back towards the breakfast table. 

At least Haymitch actually showed up to breakfast. You’re pretty sure that you’ve seen him spike his juice earlier, but still, he’s here. And he’s actually making an effort with both you and Kai, asking you about your strengths and skills and warning you that the Games don’t just start in the Arena - they’ll start the minute you get off this train. In fact, they’ve already started the moment you were reaped. From here on out, every single move either one of you makes will be watched, studied, analyzed. Public perception is key and public goodwill an advantage not to be underestimated.  

After breakfast, Haymitch’s the first one to excuse himself from the table, leaving the train compartment - not before picking up another bottle of liquor and winking at your irritated expression. 

You don’t have time to dwell on his behavior, though, because Kai’s already turned towards you. „Glad to see that you’re feeling better. Not to say that this doesn’t suck immensely, but, well - you know …“, he trails off, smiling sheepishly. 

You can’t help but grin as well, feeling blood rush to your cheeks when Kai continues to look at you with a soft, warm look in his eyes. 

„I know“, is all you say. Really, it’s all you need to say, even though the words somehow feel like both too much and not nearly enough all ot once. 

You’ve known Kai practically your whole life. He’s been your best friend for as long as you can remember. What else is there left to say, really? 

For a short, fleeting moment, doubt creeps into your mind. 

The truth is that there are things you could talk about. Things still left unsaid. 

Like how you’re not all that sure anymore whether what you feel for him is really best described as friendship. There’ve been those moments - moments where you’ve felt breathless just from the way he was smiling at you. Or when he’d gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear and your heart would start beating wildly in your chest.

You’re not really sure whether those are normal things to feel when in the presence of your best friend, but the thing is that there’s no point in dwelling on these thoughts, not now. 

Just as you’re most likely never going to see your family ever again, you’re also most likely never going to have a chance to explore those new feelings. 

„- hey, you still with me?“ 

Kai chooses that moment to break the silence and you’re glad to have your thoughts interrupted. 

You blink, forcing a pained smile on your face. „Yeah, it’s just - I … I ..“, you trail off, unable to put your thoughts into words. 

But Kai only nods, reaching for your hand and squeezing it. „Yeah, I know.“ 

Your eyes lock and when he squeezes your hand again, you somehow feel less awful. Kai’s always been that for you - a bright, hopeful spot in your otherwise dreary world. 

And he continues to be that for you during the next few days in the Capitol. 

He’s there for you, all the time. He never lets go of you, his hand is always there to catch you. 

When you stop off the train and are swarmed by Capitol citizens who all want to get to know this year’s tributes. He guides you through the crowd of eager, overbearing Capitol citizens, never once letting go of your hand. 

Then, before you’re both sent off to your prep teams, he hugs you, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, promising you that it’s going to be alright, somehow. 

With his words in mind, you manage to get through the grueling procedure - you’re washed and scrubbed and cleaned until your entire skin feels irritated. At least your prep team isn’t so bad. Sure, they’re self-absorbed, somehow managing to make everything about the Hunger Games about themselves, but at least they treat you with some respect. Your stylist’s alright as well, though she puts you in the same baggy miners outfits the District Twelve tributes have been put into during these last few years. 

After being deemed as presentable for the parade, you are reunited with Kai. There’s no time to talk though, because you’re already ushered into your chariot, surrounded by all the tributes from the other Districts. 

To you, the parade’s a blur of faces and voices and your heart beating wildly in your chest, but through it all, Kai is holding your hand, steadying you, grounding you. 

„Nice touch with the hand-holding“, Haymitch tells you, as soon as you’re all back in your rooms above the training center. „The people loved it.“ 

You just nod, though you could swear that Kai’s cheeks are turning rather pink. When you try to catch his gaze, though, he turns away, excusing himself and saying that he needs to go to the bathroom. 

Then, it’s just you and Haymitch. For a moment, neither one of you says anything. 

Haymitch’s eyes find yours. He looks as if he’s debating whether to say something, but then he just sighs, and that crooked grin of his is back. „Well, you should get some rest, Princess. The next few days are going to be crucial.“ 

And with that, he leaves you as well. 

For a moment, you just stand there, looking at his retreating form, but then you decide to heed his advice and to try and get some rest. 

Only that sleep evades you for hours. That first night in the Capitol you lay awake for hours, tossing and turning. Several times the thought of going over to Kai’s room, seeking his comforting presence, crosses your mind, but you decide against it every time. He’s got enough to deal with on his own, you don’t want to distract him as well. And, if you’re being completely honest with yourself, you’re also afraid of what might happen if you decide to completely let your guard down around Kai. 

Like that one evening in the woods, some months ago, when - 

No, there’s no point in thinking about that now. Not when come morning you’re both going to be prepared for you own death. 

So, you turn over, but still, sleep evades you. You lie awake for the better part of the night, only dozing off for a few minutes at a time, until thoughts about the fate of your family or what might await you in the arena rouse you with a chilling clarity. 

The following days, it’s the exact same thing every night. 

Every evening, after a grueling day of long training sessions with the other tributes, followed by private sessions with Haymitch and Effie - Haymitch does his best to give you and Kai strategy pointers for the Games and your interview, whereas Effie concerns herself with preparing you and Kai for your interview, teaching you important Capitol manners - you’re beyond exhausted. Your head feels fuzzy and there’s barely any strength left in your body to step underneath the shower and then out of the bathroom and into your bed. But the moment your head hits the pillow, you suddenly feel wide awake, plagued by anxious thoughts of what-ifs about the Games and your loved ones back at home. 

It’s the worst the night after the interviews - the last night before the Games. 

You toss and turn for hours, scenes of the last few days replaying in your mind over and over again.

The way Kai always encouraged you during training. The way Flora and Dalton, the tributes from District Eleven - both only twelve, so incredibly young - started following you and Kai around during training. How you eventually agreed to an alliance with them, even though Haymitch tried his hardest to convince you otherwise. But you and Kai stayed strong, wanting to protect the little ones, as Kai soon took to calling them. Soon enough, the tributes from seven and nine had joined your alliance as well, their tributes not as young as Flora and Dalton, but all still younger than you and Kai. When you’d told Haymitch about Cassie, Finn, Sarah and Lucas joining your alliance, he’d only sighed, shaking his head at you. 

„Well, I guess that no matter what I’ll say, you’re not going to reconsider?“ 

„Definitely not“, you’d replied, crossing your arms in front of your chest. 

Haymitch had sighed again, though this time it sounded far more weary than just simply frustrated. „Well, I did try to warn you“, was all he’d said, before pouring himself another drink, effectively signaling the end of that particular conversation.  

Remembering that conversation with Haymitch has doubt creeping back into your mind. What if he was right in trying to discourage you from forming that alliance? What if, if it comes down to it, you won’t be able to protect all these kids? You’re fast and aced the edible plants station at training, and though you’re not entirely useless when it comes to throwing a knife, when it really comes down to it, you’re not much of a fighter. 

Kai, having had to learn how to hunt illegally to in the foods to provide for his family years ago, is good with a bow and arrow and with setting traps, but who’s to say that the arena will even have a bow and arrows? 

What if it’s like that arena a few years ago, when the whole place was a desert? What if there won’t be any weapons at all? And even if there were, there’s still the biggest question of all that’s gnawing at you - would you actually use a weapon to end another life, even if it’s self-defense or to save someone else? 

Because no matter how you might try to spin it, telling yourself that you swore to protect those kids, that you want to protect Kai or that you just want to survive - in the end, it’s still another life you’re taking, just to preserve another one. 

Suddenly, you can’t take it anymore. Your thoughts are spinning and you feel too hot underneath your sheets, so you throw them aside, standing up and leaving your room in a split-second decision. 

You have no idea of where you want to go, you just know that you can’t spend even another second in that room right now. 

In the hallway, you cross your arms in front of your chest, trying to fight off the chilly night air. Where just seconds ago, your hands were sweating and you were feeling way too hot underneath your sheets, you’re starting to freeze in your thin, satin nightclothes. They’re pretty, the fabric’s incredibly soft and they’re probably more expensive than all the clothes you own back at home put together, but they’re doing nothing to ward off the chill you’re feeling. You really should’ve grabbed a sweater to throw on over your night clothes. 

Uncertainly, you turn towards Kai’s room. 

„Can’t sleep either?“ 

You freeze. Even without turning around, you know that it’s Haymitch standing in the Hallway with you, not Kai. 

„I mean, I get it, last night before the Games and all …“ 

Slowly, you turn back around. Haymitch is standing just a few feet away from you, arms crossed in front of his chest, a small bottle of liquor in his right hand, like always. 

He looks like he’s about to say something more, but before he gets the chance to, you quickly say: „Please, not right now Haymitch.“

Your voice sounds raw and uncertain, not exactly the strong, defiant tone you were aiming for. But you really can’t handle another one of his signature sarcastic remarks, not right now, not when thoughts about what awaits you in the Arena and what might happen to your loved ones back at home have been plaguing you for hours already. 

Haymitch looks ready to retort something, but then his eyes find yours, and his expression seems to soften. „Don’t worry Princess, I was just going to say that you should really get some rest … you know, get your beauty sleep and all that.“ 

Somehow, you find yourself laughing dryly. „Beauty sleep, yeah, right.“ 

Haymitch’s eyes widen when he hears you laugh and he grins as well, but then his expression turns serious once more. „I mean it, though. Adrenaline’s only gonna get you through everything for so long.“ 

You sigh tiredly. „I know, it’s just - I can’t stop thinking about … about … about-“

„About what the arena might be like?“, Haymitch interrupts you, a knowing look in his eyes. „About how your family and friends back home are doing? What you’ll do if one of your allies doesn’t make it out of the bloodbath alive?“ 

He trails off, and for a moment, neither one of you says anything. Haymitch’s grey eyes find yours again, and suddenly his eyes seem to be full of guilt and regret. 

He sighs deeply, running a hand through his dark curls. „Look, Princess, I know that that’s not the answer you want to hear, but I don’t have the answer to any of these questions, and neither do you. And driving yourself crazy over all of the what-ifs isn’t going to do you any favors.“ 

You nod, sighing. „I know. I - I know that, I - it’s just … “

„You can’t help it“, he finishes your thought, and you nod again. 

You look at him again, and something in his expression seems to shift then. There’s a dark, heavy look in his eyes, and his lips quirk into a twisted grin. „Look, I won’t - I can’t make any promises, because who knows what these Gamemakers might have up their sleeve, but trust that I’ll be looking out for you and these kids, alright?“ 

You want to say something in reply, but suddenly your throat feels all chocked-up. There’s pressure behind your eyes as well, and you blink heavily. Haymitch thankfully doesn’t comment on it, instead averting his gaze, as you try to compose yourself again. 

„I - thank you, Haymitch really“, you finally manage to say, your voice sounding small. 

Haymitch just nods, still avoiding your gaze. „Don’t thank me just yet, just - try to stay alive, because that would make my job a whole lot easier, you know?“ 

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his words, scoffing. „I’ll try my best.“ 

„Good. And now try to get some rest, you need it“, he says, his gaze serious once more. 

You nod. „Yes, I will - I - good night, Haymitch.“ 

„Good night, Princess.“ 

For a moment, he looks at you, but then he turns around and starts to walk away. 

„Oh, and Haymitch“, you say, causing him to turn back around to look at you again, „any last advice?“ 

His grey eyes find yours, an emotion in them you that can’t quite decipher. For a moment, you find yourself unable to look away from him and you can feel your heart starting to beat faster in your chest. 

Haymitch holds your gaze, nodding, a sad smile on his lips.

„Stay alive, Princess.“ 

taglist: @sundawn1990 @star611 @psychicfartvendor @madz22 @pervigilatrix @bemissconstrued @neonawax @not-the-teen-witch @luvlyluxx @cocastyle @mannythemunchkin @alitaar @juiceboxfullofslime @imonmyvigilanteshh @queenofnightdreamland @chenellearose @bluecookies08 @laramcflyyyy @nikki-is-a-nerd @jaybbygrl @face-the-grace-blog @knights-of-ni @mel3484 @heidiland05 @qtkarma @things-i-will-never-say-to-you @yoursrosie @theseerbetweenus @nyra-42 @eatmyheartdear @jarofshells @helenasarrow

[justjudethoughts]

The hardest part about recovering from Religious OCD is that you are eventually going to have to make the most terrifying leap of faith in the world: to admit that you have done all you can, and trust that God is going to take care of the rest.

For someone who has never experienced OCD, that probably doesn't sound scary at all. But believe me, when you seriously believe that your immortal soul is on the line, that kinda of trust take every last thing you have.

To trust that He wants you in heaven more than you want to be in heaven. To trust that He knows how much you love Him, even when you think that you aren't positive that you love Him. To trust that jumping through hoops isn't what gets you to heaven—His arms are.

For a Catholic, that probably looks like trusting your loved ones when they tell you that you don't need to go to confession. "Okay, but what if I did that time, and it happens to be the ONE time I wasn't obsessing?" 1) the likelihood of that happening is slim to none BUT 2) if it did, do you really think a God Who is love and mercy itself would hold that against you? Don't you know that He knows how confused and scared you are? Don't you know that He knows that you are trusting your loved ones because your brain can't be trusted? Don't you know that He knows that you love Him so much you want to never, ever, ever hurt Him, and you are just trying to be healthy? That is the leap of faith you have to make.

For an Evangelical, it likely looks like doing your best to dismiss questions about whether or not you are saved. You did what you knew to do. You repented, you were baptized, you love God and you are continuing to seek Him out. "But what if I didn't repent right?" --- If you weren't repentant, you wouldn't be worried about it. You love Jesus with everything in you. I know you do. Because if you didn't, you wouldn't be sobbing over the sinner's prayer, trying to say it "correctly." Jesus knows. Jesus knows Your heart, and He came to earth for you, and the misfiring neurons in your brain are not going to be what determines your eternal salvation. He wants you. And you want Him. And that's enough. That's your leap of faith.

And some point, you have to throw your hands in the air and say "Jesus, I did everything I can. I'm scared, and I'm confused, and I don't understand anything, and I don't know what to do anymore. So will you figure it out for me?" And rest in that. Because He will figure it out for you. You don't need to be solving all those mental puzzles. He knows the answers.

He is not mad at you for being confused. He is not upset with you for being scared. He is not angry that you don't have all the answers. Righteousness is not necessarily determined by clarity. He is not impatient with you for being a little lost. He does not begrudge you for your illness.

That is the scariest leap of faith you will ever take. But brothers and sisters, there is freedom on the other side. There is joy on the other side. And Christ will catch you when you jump.

[nanenna]

This Phone Call Could've Been the Start to a Beautiful Partnership

Sleepy King AU Masterpost

-----

Clark couldn’t help fussing over the sleepy boy as Danny zombie shambled into the kitchenette. Between the dimmed lights and the scents of various teas brewing the small room felt cozy, almost warm and inviting despite the austere sterility. Once Danny was seated, Clark sat between the boy and Bruce, having already handed out the meagre breakfast the others had silently offered.

The boy was so thin, he knew Ma would long to cook him a good hearty meal.

He could see the magicians gearing up for a spell of some kind, and he was still on distraction duty. It was easy enough, food and drink made for a good distraction, throwing in a few basic questions, anything to keep him from noticing the growing tension in the room despite everyone’s best efforts to make it calming.

There were three gasps from the magicians as what was clearly a phone’s ringing came from Danny. It was odd, they were sure the boy had no pockets on his well loved star patterned pajama pants and plain white T-shirt. The phone rang again, Danny’s hand already slowly raising to his ear. Clark watched wide eyed as an earpiece appeared at Danny’s touch, a slim line of light that traveled down the attached arm to reveal a neon green mic at the end.

“... ‘llo?” Danny mumbled, still slowly chewing his mouthful of toasted pastry.

Clark whipped out his own communicator and quickly started a group chat, ready to transcribe the whole conversation. Batman was already furiously typing at a keyboard he popped out of his tablet, so Clark focussed on just what Danny and his caller were saying.

“Danny?” A feminine voice asked quietly. With the volume set that low the boy must have very sensitive hearing for a human, meta perhaps? “Where are you?”

“‘M lost,” Danny mumbled sleepily.

“What do you mean you’re lost? Lost where? Are you in the ‘Zone?”

“... no, not the ‘Zone. S’okay, Dad’s here.”

“Dad’s there with you?”

“Mmm…” Danny nibbled some more of his pastry.

There was a soft sigh from the other end. “I wish they’d remember to tell the school about sick days,” the feminine voice grumbled before speaking up. “Danny, let me talk to Dad.”

“‘Kay,” Danny slurred, then he plucked the earpiece from his ear and blindly held it out to Clark.

Clark took the earpiece with a strained grin. “I’m just… going to take this out into the hall, wouldn’t want to be rude to everyone else. You’ll be okay by yourself for a minute?”

Danny made an agreeing hum, nibbling more on his pastry.

Clark carefully stood up and kept an eye on Danny as he moved out into the hall. Once he was out of line of sight he zipped further down, to where Constantine and Raven were waiting around a corner. He stuck in the earpiece and kept his communicator in hand, continuing to transcribe the conversation for the rest of the team.

“Hello?” Clark asked, wondering if he should keep playing at being Danny’s father.

“Who is this?” The voice asked suspiciously.

Clark took a deep breath, but decided this was for the best. “Superman, who’s this?”

“Superman?!”

“To whom am I speaking?” Clark insisted, he’d really like to know, even if he already had a guess.

“Why is Superman answering my brother’s phone?! Why did he call you our Dad? What’s going on?!”

Ah, it is the sister. “Well Ms. Fenton, it seems there was a bit of confusion on that part. He mistook me for your father and we decided that to keep him calm it was best to let him continue to believe that.”

“What’s going on?!” Jasmine Fenton yelled, clearly distressed.

“I’m afraid it’s a bit of a delicate situation, but rest assured we have our best and brightest working on a solution,” Clark reassured.

“Danny was missing this morning, did the Justice League seriously kidnap my little brother from his bed in the middle of the night?!”

“What?” Was faintly heard in the background of the phone call, clearly Jasmine wasn’t alone.

“We did no such thing,” Clark said in his most soothing voice. He wasn’t sure how much he should tell her, the situation really was delicate, and on top of that despite her having turned 18 recently Jasmine was not Danny’s legal guardian or parent. “We rescued Danny last night, but unfortunately there were some side affects from his kidnappers we’re currently trying to reverse before we send the poor boy home.”

“Superman says Danny got kidnapped last night, got rescued, and currently has side affects they’re trying to fix?” Jasmine said uncertainly. There was a hushed conversation after that, one the comm didn’t pick up. Clark despaired over technology being fine tuned to such a limited range. There were a few snatches of almost words he could catch, but nothing worth noting down. Then finally Jasmine and whoever she was speaking with seemed to come to a conclusion, “Where is Danny?”

“He’s safe.”

“Where?” Jasmine insisted firmly.

“He’s at a Justice League facility, where he’s being treated.”

“Treated how? He was able to answer his phone, even if he sounded half asleep still. What’s wrong with him? What are the side affects? Why weren’t our parents called?”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to tell you any of that,” Clark winced as he said that. It felt like such a cop out.

“Why weren’t our parents informed?” Jasmine asked again, voice hard as steel.

“As I said, the situation is very delicate.”

“But why weren’t our parents informed.”

“It’s a time sensitive situation, we’re working to solve it as quickly as possible.”

“This is ridiculous, give the phone back to Danny.”

Clark winced again, “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“What?!”

“As I said, the situation is very delicate, we can’t afford to stress Danny out until the affects have been removed.”

“And what even are these affects you keep speaking of?!”

Clark hesitated, looking down to the chat he’d been transcribing the conversation into, then over to Constantine and Raven, hoping desperately for some advice. All he got was a sloppy shrug. What did he tell her? What would they tell her family if they weren’t able to remove Pariah without killing Danny? “It’s… magical. In nature.”

“Forget it, you’re clearly no help.” The line went silent, the call ended.

Constantine held his hand out, Clark removed the earpiece and handed it over. “What is it?” He asked tiredly.

“According to Z it was a clever bit of necromancy she’d never seen before.”

“Necromancy?” Clark asked in confusion, couldn’t that only raise the dead? He’d never heard of necromancy doing anything else.

Constantine ignored him, already huddled over the earpiece with Raven as both muttered spells over the tiny thing.

Clark’s communicator beeped, it was a message from Bruce. “The sister goes by Jazz.” Right, he needed to know that if he was going to continue pretending to be Danny’s father.

He sighed, but plastered on a smile as he stepped back into the kitchenette. “Jazz was just checking in on us, I told her we’ll see her at dinner tonight.”

Danny just nodded his head and made a humming sound of agreement. Hopefully that’ll buy them a bit more sleepy time before the tyrant Ghost King woke up.

[klausysworld]

Hey,I like your klaus mikaelson stories very much. Can you do one in which klaus and reader(yn) were in an arrange marriage and they cant stand each other?And they slowly fall in love and at the end he gets her pregnant? As in arranged marriage I mean,something like the marriage between hayley and Jackson. And if you can please add smut,fluff,jealousy and daddy kink. Thank you

An Alliance or a Marriage?

Y/n could not believe that she was doing this.

Y/n was Jacksons sister, they always had each others backs and protected the other. So when Hayley came into Jacksons life, had him falling in love while she had feelings for Elijah Mikaelson, Y/n knew they couldn't get married. The only reason they were actually getting married was to unite the werewolf clans and to share Hayley's hybrid abilities as part of the marriage ritual.

But it would come at the cost of Jackson's happiness and most likely his life. Y/n was not stupid. She knew the price of loving a Mikaelson and it was one that Jackson could not afford and one that Y/n would not let him pay.

So without thinking, she made a fast decision.

"What if Ione of the wolves married Klaus? That way Hayley gets to be with Elijah and Klaus doesn't have to be so wary of Jackson around Hope or whatever his worry is? Wouldn't it just be easier?" She questioned and she felt everyone's gaze turn to her, most genuinely considering the possibility while Klaus looked both pissed and amused.

"I wouldn't trust anyone with Hope and under no circumstances will I be marrying anyone." He answered before storming out without another word. Jackson was second to protest then some of the other wolves.

They all went back to the bayou and tried to forget about the day.

What the wolves were unaware of were the arguments in the Mikaelson compound. Mostly between Rebekah and Niklaus. Rebekah was telling Klaus that for once, he should think of Elijah's happiness instead of only being selfish yet again. She continued to go on about how it was for Hope, how he should be the one sacrificing for Hope, not Hayley as she had already given up so much. The fight went on for hours but by morning it was settled. Niklaus would marry a wolf of his choosing.

Y/n was his choice. She was quiet but smart. Small but strong. Which meant she would be the best of his options. He knew part of her feared him, unlike some of the wolves there. She may challenge him a little but she wasn't stupid enough to truly go against him. This was proven when she silently accepted his decision.

Jackson was entirely against the entire thing. His sister was getting married to the original hybrid, moving into the beasts den and becoming apart of his twisted family. But he too kept quiet after Y/n told him it was what needed to be done. It was the only chance for everyone to walk out somewhat alive.

That was why she was walking down the aisle, Jackson unwillingly giving her away to Klaus Mikaelson before Mary began the ceremony. As the words "you may kiss your bride" left her lips, their fates were sealed. Klaus stepped forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his brides soft lips and watched as her and every other wolf in the rooms eyes lit up with golden flames, united as one.

The compound remained busy for the rest of the day, Klaus and Y/n stayed in opposite sides of the room at all times. Elijah urged his brother to at least be kind, Klaus however ignored any and all advice and instead drank the night away. Marriage was not in the cards for him. It was not what he wanted and he now knew that he was tied to this girl, a girl he harboured no feelings toward and a girl who only looked at him with distaste, for at least one lifetime. He knew the likelihood of them every liking each other was slim and he also knew that there were lots of rules in this werewolf marriage that he would have to follow in order to have the wolves protecting Hope. So he got off his face drunk, to the point where he couldn't get himself up the stairs at the end of the night.

It wasn't the best way for Y/n to find him on their first night 'together'. When she gave him that look of uncertainty and upset when she found him at the bottom of the stairs slurring his words, he just rolled his eyes and told her to piss off. But she didn't. Instead she fought against his sloppy attempts of pushing her away and instead managed to get him up the stairs and to bed. He fell asleep in seconds leaving Y/n distressed and alone on her wedding night. Instead of sleeping she went back downstairs and cleaned up the mess left over from the wedding.

Klaus had come down in the morning to find her scrubbing the corner of the room. He glanced around and noticed everywhere was spotless, his eyes travelled to the stairs and he was hit with the memory of leaning against her as she struggled to carry him up each one. Guilt bubbled in the pit of his stomach but he ignored it and made his way into the room and past her.

Y/n just stared at the nonexistent spot on the ground and tiredly rubbed the sponge against it.

Rebekah came downstairs after a little while and frowned when she saw Y/n, exhausted and leaning against the wall while her arm moved almost robotically to scratch away at the floor.

“Y/n? Darling we have maids for this” she whispered softly, supporting her new sister-in-law and guiding her to stand up and walk toward the stairs.

“I was just helping” Y/n mumbled, “wine was spilt” she stated as she glanced over to the area she thought was stained with alcohol but when Rebekah glanced it was completely clean. She lead Y/n toward Klaus’s room but paused when she noticed the mess it was in and began to realise why Y/n hadn’t been to sleep. With a soft sigh she brought the she-wolf to her bedroom and helped Y/n out of her wedding dress.

“I suppose this isn’t the way you had hoped to get out of your dress” she joked gently but Y/n didn’t look amused.

“I’d rather you than your brother” she murmured and Rebekah gave a small laugh.

“One day you won’t think that” she whispered as she grabbed some of her pyjamas and passed them to Y/n. “He’ll become kinder after some time, it’ll be a difficult ride but you’ll get there. Besides he must already like you to have chosen you out of all the wolves” she convinced but Y/n just scoffed as she crawled into Rebekah’s bed and let her head hit the pillow

“Lucky me.” She quipped and Bekah hummed.

“I’ll get him to let you rest for today” she told her as she exited the room and let the girl sleep in her room for the day.

Klaus claimed not to care what Y/n did with her time, where she went or who she was with but Rebekah reminded him that she was his wife. Whether he was happy about or not.

“You either need to set her up a nice room for her to have for herself or you need to actually be her husband and have her feel comfortable enough to share one with you. My god Niklaus, it’s not like there’s anything wrong with her. It won’t give you a disease if you smile at the poor girl.” She scowled and Klaus glared but kept his trap shut.

Klaus knew Y/n was beautiful. She was delicate little thing, from what he had seen she could be very sensitive for a werewolf at times. But he knew she had a certain fire in her. He wondered what he would have to do to light that flame and have her snap at him. He wondered if her fear would override that anger.

It was much later in the day when he went to check on his new wife. Part of him worried she had ran away but he knew that she would stay, for the survival of her pack.

He found her curled up in his sisters pyjamas and bed. Reluctantly he picked her up and brought her to his room, tucking her into his bed and leaving her to rest there instead. After all, his bed was where she belonged now.

When evening came around, he made his way back to his room. As soon as he started getting ready for bed, Y/n forced herself up despite her still clearly needing sleep. He sighed as she left the room, ignoring his presence and going downstairs for the rest of the night.

Some days she would stay downstairs and behave almost zombie like as she tried to keep her mind running and eyes open, other times she just went to sleep while she knew Klaus was busy.

It annoyed him to no end but at the same time he was relieved that he never had to really see or speak to her. Still, whether either of them liked it, she was his wife and the fact that she wouldn’t stand in the same room as him was not something he appreciated.

So he did what he assumed to be best.

Forced her to spend time with him.

Often it would be in a painful silence as he stared her down and made sure she wouldn’t get up and leave. However after some time, she would have little conversations with him so that he would be sated and leave her alone for a little while later.

When in front of the other wolves, Klaus would become a different person. He would make sure to kiss Y/n’s cheek or head, hold her waist or hand. One because he had to make it seem as though they were some what happy so that the wolves would not turn on him and two because he liked to piss Jackson off. He took amusement in how the wolf would growl and scrunch his face up in distaste.

Y/n knew what Klaus was doing but didn’t see the point in arguing or getting all stressed about it, besides it only happened every now and then so it didn’t matter much.

However when Klaus began accidentally doing the little gestures when others weren’t around, as though it were his second nature, Y/n felt confused. She didn’t understand his motifs or what he wanted from her.

Rebekah told Y/n that he didn’t want anything, that he was just warming to her but Y/n was still skeptical. Even when Rebekah came into her room grinning and held out a piece of paper with a beautifully sketched version of Y/n’s face.

“He must’ve been bored out of his mind” Y/n mumbled dismissively as she handed the drawing back to Rebekah who rolled her eyes.

“He likes you” she argued and Y/n scoffed.

“He does not. He just wants me to do whatever he says”she countered and the mikaelson sister sighed

“He isn’t all bad, you know?” Bekah questioned

“Sure he isn’t. He’s quite lovely towards his daughter” she agreed and Rebekah hummed as she watched Y/n pretend to have no clue about Niklaus’s thoughts or feelings.

Klaus wouldn’t admit that he had become accustomed to Y/n’s presence and began to want it more often. He wasn’t too sure why but he had taken a fancying to her, he just had.

And he most certainly didn’t like when other people took a fancying to her as well. Not at all.

Now he knew that she would never peruse anything with anyone else, that would break the magical marriage binding the wolves together but it didn’t mean he didn’t get angry. Especially when another wolf could make her smile or blush better than he could. His teeth would bring, jaw would clench and his eyes would flicker gold.

It fuelled something ugly and twisted inside him.

Jealousy.

“Jealousy is a weak man’s disease” Niklaus had told Elijah many times over the centuries. “A man who knows his worth and his strength never had to fear that his girl would stray. Jealously means they are nothing. I am not nothing, I never will be.”

And yet, as soon as Y/n’s attention was given to an attractive werewolf, Klaus would feel as though he was nothing. He would feel that weakness that he loathed so deeply.

The only way to diminish that jealousy was to eliminate the threat. To pick away at the weakness piece by piece until only strength was left.

But that didn’t go well.

When Klaus killed a werewolf, Y/n went ballistic. It was the first time she had actually yelled at him, expressed her anger and threatened his position.

“It’s like you’re actually a fool! You hurt my pack and they will not protect you nor your child, this marriage will be pointless and finished-“ she ranted and his anger bubbled.

“This marriage will not end just because our pack says so” he growled and she glared at him, her pointer finger jabbed at his chest aggressively and it took everything within him not to snap it in half.

“It is hardly a marriage and it had only happened for the benefit of my pack and for your daughter. It is you that has a hundred enemies banging down the door at night and it will be you that suffers if you do not have the protection that I offer you.” She snapped and he sneered in her face. He wanted to kill her in that moment however at the same time, for whatever reason, he had never been more attracted to her. His wolf wanted to force her into submission. To spank and pound her until she admitted that she was his and wouldn’t ever threaten to leave him again. But he was also beyond furious at the possibility of his daughter’s life being on the line and so stormed past her before he would harm her.

He ignored her mutterings of how pathetic he was and locked himself in his arm room which was utterly destroyed by the end of the hour due to his never ending rage.

The next morning he had expected a pack of wolves to be stood at his door, angry and threatening. However he found them all sat at their long table, Y/n was at the head informing them that they had ‘found’ the pack member already dead and had brought him here so that they may take care of his body accordingly.

She lied for Klaus.

She let her family believe that it was someone else who had killed the wolf. When they accused Klaus, she snapped back at them that he was with her all day and had helped her take care of the body.

Y/n gave Klaus a look that dared him to contradict her words but he didn’t utter a word. He just stood at her side and placed a hand on her shoulder as he listened to the others discuss the traditional funeral that the wolf deserved.

Once they left, Y/n walked straight past Klaus and to her bedroom. She was unwilling to speak with her for the next few days. The only time she would was regarding Hope.

The small toddler had taken a strong liking to Y/n and often asked for her. Nobody could not love Hope once they spent some time with her so Y/n was always happy to have the baby in her arms.

Klaus too, very much enjoyed the sight of his wife holding his child. His mind began to spin together images of Y/n pregnant with his child. His wolf craved the thought. He could imagine how beautifully round her stomach would be and how he would press his hands to the bump while nuzzling into her hair.

And then he would think of how he would get her pregnant. She would be so gorgeous sprawled out in his bed.

Since their wedding day she had been in her own room but now Klaus desperately wanted her in his.

He wanted to be inside her. To claim her. To love her.

Never did he think he would love her.

Then again, never did he think he would be getting married or having a baby.

But all of those things had happened and he wouldn’t take them back. Perhaps he might’ve gone about them a little differently but he would have still wanted them to happen.

He told her that once.

One night when they were having dinner.

Somehow he had managed to convince her to share a meal with him and him alone. She couldn’t be bothered to fight over it so complied.

Y/n hadn’t expected him to actually make such an effort. Or to have been so lovely the entire evening. It was clear he wanted to impress her and to engage her, and he had but she didn’t understand why.

Until he told her of how he wouldn’t have changed things,not fully. He had admitted to her that he was somewhat happy with the fact that they were married. He didn’t say he loved her, he knew that would through her off but he made it obvious that he liked her much more than he had initially expressed.

She wasn’t so sure how to respond to him.

Y/n had thought that he was only nicer to her lately because he too was avoiding arguments but she hadn’t truly believed it was because he was being genuine.

Klaus noticed the frown on her face and looked down at his plate. “It’s a little silly I suppose” he muttered to himself, he couldn’t help the deflated feeling that travelled through him as he placed his fork down. “Neither of us wanted this marriage” he mumbled while standing up from his seat making his chair scrape against the floor with a painful sound.

Y/n felt the guilt sink in and she quickly got up also and rounded the table as he started to walk away. “Klaus,” she called softly, reaching out for his hand.

His eyes fluttered when she held onto his hand, he hadn’t felt the softness of her touch since their first and only kiss of their relationship from their wedding day.

He glanced to her and reluctantly shrugged her off. “No it doesn’t matter, I was being a fool” he argued and kept walking.

Y/n sighed to herself and rubbed her hands down her face in frustration.

The next morning Klaus ignored her, barely looked at her even.

It was later that day that she finally caught his attention and pulled him off into another room.

“Klaus” she murmured in annoyance when he went to open the door she had just pushed shut. “You’re behaving like a child” she tutted and he growled. “Would you just stop?” She told him and he glared at her.

“What do you want?” He asked, not bothering to soften his tone which made her frown again.

“I want you to talk to me” she whispered and he narrowed his eyes.

“You never want to talk to me.” he snapped, “you only want to because I made a stupid mistake”

“It wasn’t a mistake” she told him, her tone much gentler than his. “I just wasn’t expecting it”

“Why? Because it’s so shocking that I could possibly feel something-“

“God, Klaus no. You know I dont think you’re a heartless monster-“

“That strongly contradicts things you’ve said in the past-“ he argued and she made a sound of frustration.

“Well I’ve changed my mind” she told him and his jaw tightened. “Klaus I’m serious. I know you now, I’ve seen you”

“Then what is it about me that you cannot love?” He whispered and her eyes softened further. They stared at each other until Y/n stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. Her arms went around his midsection and his went over her shoulders.

“It isn’t that I can’t” she mumbled and he closed his eyes

“You just don’t want to” he whispered but she still shook her head.

“I just don’t know how to” she corrected and he hummed quietly.

“But I love you” he uttered and she nodded.

“I know that now” she agreed “and I’ll make sure that I take that into consideration but Klaus, you can’t just expect that I’ll suddenly be all over you and madly in love” she told him and he frowned.

“Why not?” He asked and she scoffed softly. For centuries woman had been falling at his feet but the one woman that he married wouldn’t?

“Because the world doesn’t revolve around you?” She whispered, a little laugh in her voice that made him a little annoyed at first but when he saw her face he couldn’t help but laugh a little bit with her. Eventually he sighed and looked down with a small smile and a nod.

“I’ll earn your affections” he promised, kissing her forehead before exiting the room.

And from that day, he tried his very best to do just that.

Though of course they still had their arguments and disagreements, now he would be the first to apologise or to admit his wrong doings.

And slowly, like he had hoped, Y/n began to love him too.

Rebekah, Elijah, Hayley, Jackson and all the other wolves began to notice the much softer side to them both when they touched to spoke to each together. Some were happier than others about the change in dynamics between the two.

Jackson for one, was very put off when Klaus kissed his sister in front of everyone. What was worse was that she kissed him back and asked him to grab her a drink. They behaved like a real married couple. The wolves didn’t like it.

Some of them went as far to verbalise their opinions but Klaus’s siblings were quick to shut them up before they could upset Y/n. They reminded them that it was in the best interests of everyone that the two got along rather than Y/n living a miserable life just for the benefit of the pack. Eventually the majority agreed and kept quiet.

Jackson was most concerned.

Especially when he came round to visit and found Y/n sprawled across Klaus’s lap while reading a book..

“Y/n” he called, his gaze hard as he watched her lift her head and smile before getting up and going out for lunch with her brother. He expressed his worries and she assured him that Klaus was much better now and that she felt that she could love him. Jackson knew that her using the word ‘could’ was solely for his benefit. She wanted to say that she did love him.

With a small sigh he nodded and told her to just be happy and thanked her once more for everything she had done for him and their family.

When Y/n came home Klaus had made her a bubble bath for her to relax in. She laid in the water for a while before getting changed into comfy clothes and wondering downstairs. Klaus was in the kitchen grating Parmesan cheese over two dishes of pasta.

She smiled and sat at the table quietly, smiling at him when he placed the bowl infront of her before sitting down opposite with his own dish.

Klaus twisted his fork in the spaghetti and asked how her day with Jackson was. They chatted while they ate before loading the dishwasher and heading upstairs.

Y/n had been sleeping in his room lately. Mostly because they would accidentally fall asleep beside each-other when watching a film before bed but then Klaus asked if she would feel comfortable sharing a room with him and she agreed.

So this time they naturally just went to Klaus’s room or rather their room.

His eyes watched as she disappeared into the bathroom, a soft hum left her and her hips swayed gently. The tap started running which meant she was brushing her teeth and he followed her in and grabbed his own toothbrush to do the same. He glanced at her in the mirror as she focused on her mouth. He cleared his throat and finished cleaning up before kissing her head and going into their room to get changed into his sleep pants which he had only been wearing because he wasn’t sure if she would be comfortable with him in only briefs.

Klaus was unaware of how Y/n would imagine his naked body against hers, pressing and sliding against hers while they panted beneath the sheets of their bed.

It was why she started wearing tinier pyjamas to bed, in hopes it would entice him that extra bit.

The little shorts would allow him a glimpse of her ass, as though it was teasing him. And the little matching vest top would wrap around her upper body perfectly.

Klaus sat down on the bed and watched as she walked back in. His eyes glanced to wear her taut nipples would press against the Cotten of her clothes down to her long bare legs that he desperately wanted to bury between.

She let out a yawn as she slid into bed beside him and beneath the covers. He pulled her closer so that their bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces and sighed quietly as though having her touch soothed something inside of him.

“Thanks for tonight” she whispered as she leaned up and kissed his lips before laying her head down on her pillow. Klaus hummed and laid down with her.

“Thank you for having dinner with me again” he smiled and she returned it, her hand moved to caress his gently and he held onto hers tenderly.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, I love having dinner with you” she told him and his eyes flickered between hers as he took in her words because they both knew what she was actually saying.

“You do?” He whispered and she nodded.

“I do.”

Klaus kissed her again, for a few seconds longer this time. Just as he pulled his lips away from hers, she pushed them back together with a little more force. He groaned softly, his hand sliding down her back and over the curve of her ass to grip the back of her thigh and lift her leg up so her knee slide over his hip. His hand slid up under her shorts to feel the soft warmth of her pussy against his fingers.

Y/n moaned quietly against his mouth. Both her hands caressed his neck gently before one moved lower. Klaus grunted softly and pulled away from their kiss as he felt her hand cup his erection through his pants.

Their eyes locked as both their hands moved slowly, teasingly.

A small whimper left Y/n as Klaus’s fingers rubbed over her clit. She brought her hand under the waistband of his pants and wrapped her fingers around his cock. Her teeth bit into her bottom lip as she felt the length and thickness of him. Klaus’s mouth fell open slightly as he breathed shallowly.

Her hand pumped his cock slowly as he slipped a finger inside her. His thumb glided over her sensitive little bud, his eyes urging her to please move her hand faster. She complied and stroked him quicker, squeezing as she went.

His hips thrust against her hand while two fingers curled inside her to find her spot.

The whole room became hot and dark as the night deepened and the blankets were pulled over their heads to make them feel closer. Their breathing mixed together and little moans left them both as their hands moved faster.

Their mouths moved together sloppily as moans vibrated from both of them and their body moved in time to meet the other’s hand.

Y/n went first, her neck arched making Klaus move his lips down to suck along her throat while his hips thrust and his fingers fucked her fast. He panted as her cry of pleasure left her and he felt her pussy clamp down and release. It only took a few more squeezes of her hand around his cock for him to cum across her stomach.

They both lay, breathing heavily and looking at eachother. Y/n’s eyes squinted to see him in the dark, his hands were moving her onto her back so he could slot on top of her. Her thighs were nudged open and a gasp left her as the head of his cock started to push into her.

Klaus leaned down and kissed her again, deepening it in seconds so he could taste her while his cock finally felt the soft, wet warmth that he had longed for.

A strained cry of relief left her and her back arched off the bed as he filled her completely. His hands slid up her body and scrunched her shirt up above her breasts so that he could lean down and wrap his lips round one of her nipples.

“Klaus” she whimpered as his hips thrust slowly and his tongue flicked teasingly. He moaned softly around the bud before sucking it between his teeth. He released it with a pop before kissing up along her chest and throat until he took her lips to his. She kissed him back hungrily, accepting his tongue into her mouth without any resistance as his hips rolled faster into her.

He only pulled away from her lips when her pussy went unbearably tight on his cock, he let out a loud groan as he fucked into her as quickly as he could.

The harsh slap of his skin meeting hers repeated through the room alongside her moans for more. Klaus could feel himself getting closer to cumming and he was determined to fill her up. He wanted her to carry his next child.

His tongue traced the shell of her ear as she cried out and his fingers reached between her legs to rub at her clit until she was crying to cum.

“Shh sweetheart” he purred to her, “let me fill you” he whispered and the realisation of what he meant dawned on her.

“Klaus” she whimpered as she felt his cock release inside her. His hips slowed but didn’t stop as his cock softened momentarily before hardening again inside of her still.

He grunted softly as he glanced down at her, his fingers gently rolled over her clit while watching his cock slide in and out of her. He could see his cum spilling out of her and he desperately tried to fuck it back inside.

“I want you to be full of my child” he muttered to her and she moaned softly, her hand lifted to cup his cheek to draw his attention to her eyes.

"I love you" she whispered and he groaned quietly as he kissed her lips just briefly so she could speak again, "and I'll love our children" she told him making his hips buck roughly into her. She moaned in response and wrapped her arms around his neck while resting her head against his. "You''ll be such a good daddy to them" she murmured and a low growl rumbled through his chest as he took the praise and thrived off of it.

Y/n felt his pace quicken and her pleasure heighten making her kiss across his cheek to his ear slowly, "Please daddy?" she purred while her cunt clenched repeatedly and her lower stomach twisted into a series of knots. "Please give me your babies" she begged and he couldn't stop from snapping. His mind and body went haywire making her scream his name. Her body was practically vibrating as her body met his for the hundredth time and her head went back allowing his mouth to reattach onto her neck.

Her eyes rolled back when his teeth sunk into her throat.

Bliss rolled through both of them until their bodies were a heated, sweaty mess amongst the sheets.

His hand held the back of her head holding her face into his chest as they panted heavily. Her eyes closed as she felt him stroke her hair soothingly while he slid his cock out of her and caressed her swollen clit ever so gently with his thumb.

Y/n whimpered weakly and he smiled as he glanced down to watch her brows furrow together while her hips slowly rode the pad of his finger until one last cry left her alongside another orgasm.

Once he had ensured she was finished, he cleaned them both up and then their bed before dropping her down onto the fresh bedding and taking warmth in her giggle when she reached out and pulled him to lay beside her.

Klaus kept her snuggled up to him all night and into the next morning before reluctantly getting up and going downstairs to join the rest of the family.

He knew that everything was finally working out.

[hisfavegirl]

Endless Devotion- Daemon Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary : Though the kingdom’s future was always at the forefront, it was the love between you and Daemon that would defy fate, a love that transcended the barriers of duty. The day you were born, the future had already been written for you, and yet, you and Daemon would challenge it with every breath you took, every moment you shared.

Daemon Masterlist.

You were the third child of Prince Baelon and Princess Alyssa, born on a stormy night that claimed the lives of your mother and twin brother. The Maesters had whispered of your slim chances, but somehow, you survived—a fragile yet fierce reminder of the strength that ran in your blood.

Growing up, you were cherished by your father, Baelon, and doted on by your older brothers, Viserys and Daemon. The bond between the three of you was unbreakable, though it was clear that each of your brothers saw you in very different lights.

Viserys was gentle, the older brother who would read to you by the fire or braid your hair as you told him stories of your dreams. He had a natural inclination to protect you, a role he embraced as the future King of the Seven Kingdoms.

Daemon, however, was something else entirely. His affection was fierce, his attention constant. He was protective, yes, but also possessive. There was a sharp edge to his love for you, a depth that seemed to go beyond the bonds of mere siblings. Where others might have dismissed it as Daemon’s usual intensity, you could feel the weight of his gaze, the way his hand lingered on yours a moment too long, and the way his mood darkened whenever you spoke of marriage or suitors.

As you grew older, you noticed how Daemon’s attention never wavered. He always found excuses to be near you, whether it was accompanying you on dragon rides or sitting too close during family feasts. His words were often veiled with deeper meanings, and his actions spoke volumes he didn’t dare to put into words.

You loved both your brothers dearly, but with Daemon, there was an undeniable tension, a connection that made your heart race even when you wished it wouldn’t. You often found yourself questioning the nature of his affections and, more troublingly, your own.

As the years passed and the politics of the realm began to weigh on your family, Viserys took his place as heir to the Iron Throne, and Daemon’s restless spirit grew more pronounced. But no matter how far he roamed or how much chaos he caused, his attention always returned to you.

You couldn’t deny the warmth his presence brought or the way his protective nature made you feel safe, even as whispers in the court began to stir about the true nature of Prince Daemon’s feelings for his beloved sister.

The Throne room was heavy with tension as you stood beside Daemon, the newly crowned King Viserys sitting on the Iron Throne before you. His calm demeanor belied the storm brewing in the room. You glanced at your older brother, your heart heavy with uncertainty.

Viserys’s voice was steady, but there was a finality in his tone. “It is time to secure the future of our house, for the good of the realm. Daemon, you will marry Lady Rhea Royce of Runestone. The Vale is a strong ally, and this union will solidify our ties with them.”

Daemon stiffened beside you, his hands curling into fists. He shot Viserys a glare so intense it could have melted steel. “You expect me to marry her? A woman I have never met, with a temperament as cold as the mountains she comes from?” His voice was sharp, his disdain evident.

Viserys ignored his outburst and turned to you, his expression softening slightly. “And you, my sweet sister. Lord Jason Lannister has expressed interest in taking you as his wife. A match with the Westerlands will bring great strength and wealth to our house.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt the weight of Daemon’s gaze shift to you. His anger now burned hotter, directed at your eldest brother. “A Lannister? You would send her to Casterly Rock, to be a trophy for that pompous lion?” His voice grew louder, echoing through the hall.

Viserys’s expression hardened. “This is not a debate, Daemon. These matches are for the good of the realm, not for personal desires.”

“You mean your desires,” Daemon snapped, stepping forward, his anger barely restrained. “You sit on that throne and play the dutiful king, but you forget who we are. She is a Targaryen, not some pawn to be traded for gold and swords!”

You placed a hand on Daemon’s arm, trying to calm him, but his fury was like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. “Daemon,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Please.”

He turned to you, his face softening for a moment as he saw the uncertainty in your eyes. But when he looked back at Viserys, his rage reignited.

“If you think I will stand by and let this happen, you are mistaken,” Daemon growled, his voice low but menacing. “I will not let her be taken from me.”

Viserys rose from the throne, his patience thinning. “You will obey, Daemon. Both of you will. This is my decree as your king.”

Daemon’s lips curled into a bitter smile, his voice dripping with venom. “Then perhaps I am no longer fit to be your brother, if all I am to you is a sword to wield and a pawn to marry off.”

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the hall, leaving you standing there, torn between your loyalty to your eldest brother and the fiery love and devotion of the younger.

Viserys sighed heavily, his face a mixture of frustration and sadness. “He will come to understand, in time,” he said, as if trying to reassure himself more than you.

You stood your ground, your heart pounding as you faced Viserys, who had returned to his seat on the Iron Throne. His expression remained stern, but you could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he regarded you.

“Brother,” you began, your voice steady despite the turmoil swirling within you. “You must reconsider this decision. Daemon is not someone who will take this lightly, and you know it.”

Viserys exhaled sharply, leaning back against the cold iron of his throne. “You think I don’t understand Daemon? I’ve been dealing with his impulsiveness and defiance all my life. He will learn to obey, as we all must for the good of the realm.”

You stepped closer, your gaze unwavering. “You may think you understand him, but you do not see what I see. Daemon will not accept this. He will do whatever it takes to undo what you’ve decreed, and you know as well as I do that his methods are… dangerous.”

Viserys frowned, his fingers drumming against the armrest. “And what would you have me do, sister? Set aside what is best for the realm because of his temper? Because of his… feelings for you?”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, you hesitated. “This isn’t just about his feelings for me,” you said softly. “This is about preventing a fracture in our family—one that may be impossible to mend. Daemon’s anger is like a wildfire, and once it begins, it will burn everything in its path. Including you, including me… including the realm.”

Viserys looked at you, his expression softening ever so slightly. “You think I enjoy this? That I take pleasure in making decisions that hurt those I love? I must think of the greater good.”

“Then think of the consequences, Viserys,” you pressed. “Think of what Daemon might do. He is loyal to his family, yes, but his loyalty to me is stronger than any bond you could force upon him with a marriage to Rhea Royce. And if you send me to Casterly Rock… you will lose him. Completely.”

Viserys rubbed his temple, weariness etched into his features. “Daemon must learn to control himself, and so must you. I cannot rule with my heart alone, sister.”

“You must rule with wisdom,” you countered. “And wisdom means understanding the consequences of your actions. I am begging you, Viserys. Think this through before it is too late.”

For a long moment, silence hung between you. Viserys seemed to weigh your words carefully, his gaze searching yours for answers. Finally, he spoke, his voice heavy.

“I will consider it,” he said, though the exhaustion in his tone betrayed his uncertainty. “But know this, sister—whatever happens, I will do what I believe is best for House Targaryen.”

You nodded, though your heart remained heavy with doubt. As you left the throne room, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over—and that Daemon’s reaction to all of this would shape your family’s future in ways none of you could yet foresee.

You made your way to the training grounds, where the sound of clashing steel and labored breathing filled the air. Your eyes immediately found Daemon, his silver hair damp with sweat as he ruthlessly swung his sword at a weary guard. The poor man could barely keep up, his shield trembling under the relentless force of Daemon’s strikes.

“Daemon!” you called out, your voice cutting through the din.

He didn’t stop. His sword continued its brutal arc, forcing the guard back until the man stumbled and fell to one knee. You took a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Daemon, that’s enough!”

Still, he ignored you, his focus fixed on his opponent. The guard, clearly terrified, raised his hands in surrender, his weapon slipping from his grasp. Daemon sneered but finally lowered his sword, stepping back as the man scrambled to his feet and fled the training yard.

Daemon turned to face you, his expression cold and furious, his chest heaving. His violet eyes burned with anger, though whether it was directed at you or someone else, you couldn’t tell.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice low but sharp. “Go back to Viserys if you’re here to plead his case.”

You stepped closer, refusing to be intimidated. “I’m not here for Viserys. I’m here for you.”

He scoffed, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “What do you want, sister? To tell me to fall in line? To bow to his commands like a dutiful dog?”

“No,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “I’m here because I know you. I know how angry you are, and I know what you’re capable of when you feel cornered.”

His jaw tightened, and he turned away, gripping his sword so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Then you should also know that I won’t sit by while he takes everything from me.”

“You think this is about taking from you?” you demanded, stepping closer. “Daemon, this isn’t just about us. This is about the realm, about alliances, about keeping peace.”

He turned back to you, his eyes blazing. “To hell with the realm! To hell with alliances and peace! You are my sister, my blood, and I will not stand by while he gives you to some Lannister!”

“Daemon,” you said softly, your voice breaking slightly. “I don’t want this any more than you do. But if you do something reckless, if you act out of anger, it will only make things worse. For both of us.”

For a moment, his anger faltered, replaced by something raw and vulnerable. He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to cup your face gently. “I cannot lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I won’t.”

You placed your hand over his, your heart aching at the desperation in his words. “You won’t lose me, Daemon. But we have to be smart about this. We can’t fight Viserys on this—not like this.”

His gaze searched yours, his anger giving way to a deep, simmering frustration. Finally, he sighed and stepped back, letting his hand fall to his side.

“Then tell me what to do,” he said, his voice quieter now but still tinged with defiance. “Tell me how to fix this without losing you.”

You hesitated, unsure of what to say. But one thing was clear—you would have to tread carefully if you wanted to protect both Daemon and yourself from the storm brewing around you.

You grabbed Daemon’s hand, pulling him forcefully away from the training yard. He resisted slightly, his voice sharp with frustration.

“Where are we going?” he demanded, his tone laced with irritation.

You didn’t answer, your grip tightening as you led him through the winding corridors of the Red Keep. He huffed behind you but didn’t pull away, his curiosity piqued by your determination.

Finally, you arrived at the council chambers where Viserys was still seated, reviewing documents and speaking with an advisor. He looked up as the door swung open, surprise flashing across his face as he saw you enter with Daemon in tow.

“Leave us,” you commanded, your voice steady and firm.

Viserys frowned but waved his advisor away. The room emptied quickly, leaving the three of you alone. He set his quill down and folded his hands, his expression expectant. “What is the meaning of this?”

You stepped forward, releasing Daemon’s hand but keeping him close by your side.

“You call yourself a king of fairness and justice,” you began, your voice steady but tinged with anger. “Yet you would take from us the right you claimed for yourself.”

Viserys raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly in his chair. “And what right is that?”

“The right to marry the one you love,” you said sharply. “You chose Aemma, a woman you cared for deeply, despite the fact that the match was orchestrated by our grandfather. You didn’t resist it, not because it was your duty, but because it was what you wanted. And now you sit here, dictating our futures without a care for what we want.”

Viserys’s gaze hardened. “It is my duty as king to secure alliances for House Targaryen. Aemma was a choice that benefited the realm, as are these marriages I’ve proposed.”

Daemon stepped forward, his voice low and laced with anger. “Aemma was no mere alliance to you. She was your love, your comfort. Do not twist the truth to suit your decisions now, brother.”

You glanced at Daemon, grateful for his support, before turning your focus back to Viserys. “We are not pawns to be moved on your board, Viserys. We are your family. Your blood. Do not expect us to accept this without question.”

Viserys’s jaw tightened, his frustration evident. “And what would you have me do? Allow you to marry whomever you please, damn the consequences for our house?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, your voice unwavering. “If it was acceptable for you, why not for us? Do you fear that granting us the same freedom will make you appear weak? Or do you fear that we will make choices that do not align with your vision of the future?”

For a moment, the room fell silent, the tension between the three of you palpable. Viserys stared at you, his expression unreadable, before his gaze shifted to Daemon, who was watching him with barely concealed disdain.

Finally, Viserys sighed, rubbing his temples. “You speak boldly, sister, but you fail to understand the weight of a crown. The realm demands sacrifices, and those sacrifices often begin with us.”

Daemon scoffed, his tone biting. “Spare us the lecture, brother. You made your sacrifices with Aemma, but they were sacrifices you were willing to make. Do not expect the same from us when you refuse to acknowledge our desires.”

Viserys hesitated, the weight of your words clearly affecting him. He looked at you again, his gaze softer now, though still conflicted. “And what do you propose, sister? That I abandon my plans entirely?”

“I propose that you listen,” you replied, stepping closer. “Listen to us, to what we want, and find a solution that benefits everyone. You owe us that much, at least.”

Viserys leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful but strained. “I will consider it,” he said finally, though his tone lacked certainty.

It wasn’t the answer you wanted, but it was enough for now. You turned to leave, Daemon following close behind, his steps heavy with frustration.

“Do you truly think he’ll change his mind?” Daemon asked as you walked down the corridor.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, glancing at him. “But I had to try. For both our sakes.”

He was silent for a moment, then reached out to gently squeeze your hand. “If he doesn’t, I’ll find another way. I won’t let him take you from me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you said nothing, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of you as you continued walking together through the shadowed halls of the Red Keep.

You and Daemon walked together through the halls of the Red Keep, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words. The weight of your conversation with Viserys bore down on your shoulders, leaving you feeling drained and uncertain.

You glanced at Daemon, his expression unreadable as he walked beside you. Though his face betrayed little, you knew him well enough to sense the storm of emotions brewing within him.

“I love him, you know,” you said softly, breaking the silence. Your voice wavered slightly, but you kept your gaze forward.

Daemon stopped walking, forcing you to halt as well. He turned to face you, his silver hair catching the faint light from the torches lining the walls.

“I know,” he replied, his tone low but steady. “You’ve always loved Viserys. Just as you’ve always loved me.”

You swallowed hard, your heart tightening at the truth of his words. “But it’s not the same,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes softened, the anger and frustration from earlier giving way to something deeper—something raw and vulnerable.

“I’ve always known that too,” he said, stepping closer to you. “And I’ve never cared. Because I know you, just as you know me. You don’t want to lose him, but you’re terrified of losing me.”

You felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I don’t want to lose either of you,” you whispered.

Daemon reached out, his fingers brushing against yours before taking your hand firmly in his. “You won’t lose me,” he said, his voice firm. “No matter what happens. Viserys can scheme and command all he likes, but I will not let him separate us.”

His words sent a wave of relief through you, though the fear still lingered. You knew how determined Viserys could be, and you knew the lengths Daemon would go to defy him.

“You promise?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

He tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I promise,” he said, his tone carrying that familiar hint of mischief. “Even if I have to burn the realm to the ground, I will not lose you.”

You let out a shaky laugh, his words both comforting and unsettling. But that was Daemon—wild, unpredictable, and fiercely loyal to those he loved.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” you said, squeezing his hand.

He chuckled softly, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “With Viserys as king, it just might.”

The two of you resumed walking, the tension between you eased but not entirely gone. You didn’t know what the future held, but as long as Daemon was by your side, you felt a flicker of hope amidst the uncertainty.

Two days had passed since your conversation with Viserys, and in those two days, the weight of his decision loomed over you like a storm cloud. Despite the pressure, you and Daemon continued to find solace in each other, meeting in secret within your chambers or his, navigating the hidden paths of Maegor’s Holdfast with the ease of familiarity.

This morning, however, was different. A summons had come from Viserys, commanding both you and Daemon to meet him in the council chamber. The air was heavy with anticipation as you and Daemon walked side by side through the Red Keep, the silence between you filled with unspoken thoughts.

When you entered the chamber, Viserys was already seated at the head of the table. His expression was stern but not unkind, and you noticed a hint of weariness in his eyes. The room was empty save for the three of you, the absence of the councilors adding to the tension.

Viserys gestured for you both to approach, and as you stepped forward, he sighed deeply, his hands resting on the arms of his chair.

“I’ve thought long and hard about this,” he began, his voice steady but tinged with exhaustion. “And I’ve come to a decision.”

You exchanged a glance with Daemon, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I was wrong to try to dictate your futures without considering your wishes,” Viserys admitted, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “You were right, sister. I made my choice with Aemma, and it was a choice I was fortunate to have. You and Daemon deserve the same.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words sinking in.

“I’ve informed House Lannister and House Royce that the arrangements have been canceled,” Viserys continued, his tone firm. “You will marry each other, as you both clearly desire. I only hope this decision brings you happiness and strengthens our house.”

Daemon let out a quiet laugh, the sound laced with relief and triumph. “You’ve finally seen reason, brother,” he said, his smirk unmistakable.

Viserys shot him a pointed look but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned back to you, his expression softening further. “I only ask one thing of you both,” he said.

“What is it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Do not let your love for each other blind you to the responsibilities you bear as members of House Targaryen,” he said. “The realm looks to us for guidance, for strength. Be each other’s strength, but never forget the weight of the crown.”

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you, Viserys. I promise we will honor our house and our family.”

Daemon’s hand found yours, his grip firm and reassuring. “You have my word as well, brother,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

Viserys smiled faintly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Then it is settled. The preparations will begin at once.”

As you and Daemon left the chamber, the reality of what had just transpired began to sink in. For the first time in days, you felt a sense of hope and relief, the weight of uncertainty lifted from your shoulders.

Daemon turned to you, his smirk returning as he leaned closer. “It seems the gods favor us after all,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

You laughed softly, your heart light for the first time in what felt like forever. “Perhaps they do,” you replied, your hand tightening around his.

As the two of you walked through the halls together, you couldn’t help but feel that this was the beginning of something extraordinary—a union born not of duty, but of love and unyielding loyalty.

You laughed uncontrollably as Daemon suddenly lifted you off the ground, throwing you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing.

“Daemon! Put me down this instant!” you demanded, half-laughing, half-protesting, as you squirmed in his grip.

He only chuckled, his voice rich with amusement. “Not a chance, sweet sister. A betrothal like ours deserves to be celebrated.”

“Celebrated? By making a spectacle of me?” you shot back, still laughing as he carried you with effortless confidence.

“Precisely,” he replied smugly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Daemon strode confidently to where his horse was waiting. Setting you down briefly, he helped you into the saddle before mounting behind you, his arms resting comfortably around your waist as he took the reins.

“And where exactly are we going?” you asked, trying to sound annoyed, though you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips.

“To the Dragonpit,” Daemon replied, urging the horse forward.

“The Dragonpit?” you repeated, your curiosity piqued.

He grinned, leaning closer to your ear. “Caraxes and Maraxes deserve to know about our betrothal, don’t you think?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of your dragon, Maraxes, and Daemon’s Caraxes. The two dragons had always shared a bond, much like their riders.

The ride through the bustling streets of King’s Landing was exhilarating, Daemon’s confidence radiating behind you. His presence was as steady as the rhythm of the horse’s hooves, and you found yourself leaning into him slightly, the excitement of the moment overtaking your initial protests.

When you arrived at the Dragonpit, the cavernous structure loomed before you, filled with the faint echoes of dragon growls. Daemon dismounted first, his hands quick to help you down.

Inside, the air was thick with heat and the unmistakable energy of dragons. You immediately spotted the familiar forms of Caraxes and Maraxes, their red and silver scales gleaming faintly in the dim light.

Daemon smirked as Caraxes let out a low growl, his serpentine neck arching toward his rider. “There’s my boy,” he murmured, stepping closer to greet his dragon.

Meanwhile, Maraxes let out a low rumble of recognition, her sharp eyes locking onto you. You approached her with a smile, placing a hand on her warm scales. "Hi my love," The bond between you and your dragon was as strong as ever, a connection forged over years of shared battles and flights.

“Do you think they approve?” you asked, glancing at Daemon as he ran a hand along Caraxes’ neck.

He smirked, his eyes glinting with that familiar mischief. “They’ll have to. They’re bound to each other, just like we are.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his audacity, though his words carried a truth you couldn’t deny. Standing there together with your dragons, it felt as if the world had aligned perfectly for this moment—a celebration not just of your betrothal, but of the bond you shared, one that had always felt inevitable.

You watched the Dragonkeeper closely, noting the concern in their eyes as they observed Caraxes and Maraxes. One of them, a young man who had worked with dragons for years, hesitated before speaking.

“Maraxes and Caraxes have been acting out recently,” he said, voice low. “They’ve been more aggressive than usual, particularly Maraxes. We thought something was wrong.”

The other Dragonkeeper, an older woman, nodded in agreement. “It’s unlike them. We’ve been keeping a close eye, but nothing we do seems to settle them.”

You exchanged a glance with Daemon, who stood quietly beside you. The air around them felt thick with the dragons’ restlessness. However, as the Dragonkeepers’ gazes shifted toward you and Daemon, their expressions shifted from concern to shock.

Maraxes, normally a force of nature, moved with an uncharacteristic calmness. She stepped forward slowly, lowering her massive head toward you. Then, in an almost deliberate motion, she nudged you gently, pushing your body toward the area where she and Caraxes slept. It was a soft nudge, but it was clear that she wanted you to follow.

“Maraxes…” you murmured in surprise, but you allowed the dragon to guide you. You took a cautious step forward, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you. Daemon followed close behind, a knowing look in his eyes.

As you reached the resting place of your dragons, your breath caught in your throat. There, nestled among the bedding of fireproofed hay and soft stone, lay four dragon eggs.

The sight of the eggs made your heart skip a beat. You knelt slowly, reaching out with trembling fingers. The eggs were large, their shells shimmering with an iridescent glow, a mixture of deep reds and silvers that mirrored the colors of Maraxes and Caraxes.

Daemon stood behind you, his eyes softening as he spoke. “This… explains everything,” he murmured. “They’ve been guarding these. Their aggression, their restlessness—it was to protect their future.”

You felt a rush of emotions—pride, awe, and a profound sense of connection. The change in Maraxes and Caraxes was not just a random shift in their behavior; they had been preparing for something, something bigger than the two of you had expected.

“I didn’t know…” you whispered, your fingers tracing the smooth surface of one of the eggs. “They were expecting.”

Daemon moved to stand beside you, his voice low and reverent. “Neither did I. But it makes sense now. They’ve been waiting for their offspring. They’ve always been protective, but now… this is their legacy.”

The Dragonkeeper, who had been watching in stunned silence, finally spoke. “It’s extraordinary. The dragons have chosen to trust you both in ways we never imagined. Not only are they accepting of you as their riders, but now, they’ve given you their future.”

You felt a sense of awe wash over you, realizing that this moment was more significant than anything you could have imagined. Caraxes and Maraxes were not just dragons bound to their riders—they were family, and they were passing on their legacy to you.

Daemon placed a hand on your shoulder, his gaze intense but filled with something softer, something deeper. “This is just the beginning, my love. We have something far greater ahead of us now.”

You nodded, the weight of the moment settling in. You had always known that your bond with Daemon and the dragons was something extraordinary, but now, you understood just how much more it truly was.

The eggs lay there, waiting, as if the dragons were telling you both that they were ready for this next chapter—to share their legacy, their power, and their future with you.

After returning to the Red Keep with Daemon from the Dragonpit, the exhilaration of discovering the dragon eggs still lingered in your mind. As you made your way through the corridors, a servant approached and informed you that Queen Aemma had requested your presence in her chambers.

You exchanged a glance with Daemon, who smirked slightly. “Go on,” he said, his tone teasing. “I’m sure she’s been planning our wedding more than we have.”

Rolling your eyes but smiling softly, you left Daemon and made your way to Aemma’s chambers. When you entered, you found her seated near the window, her delicate hands working on a piece of embroidery. The golden light of the setting sun bathed the room in a warm glow, and she looked up with a gentle smile as you approached.

“There you are,” she said warmly, setting aside her work. “I was beginning to think I’d have to send someone to drag you here.”

You laughed softly and took a seat across from her. “I was at the Dragonpit with Daemon,” you explained. “But I came as soon as I heard you wanted to see me.”

Aemma’s smile widened, but there was a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “Ah, Daemon. I suppose he’s too busy parading you around on dragonback to think about the details of your wedding.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, feeling a sense of comfort in Aemma’s presence. She had always been kind and supportive, treating you more like a sister than just her sister-in-law.

“I thought we could discuss the arrangements,” Aemma continued, her tone softening. “Your gown, the feast, the decorations… all the things that men don’t think about.”

You nodded, grateful for her guidance. “I’d appreciate that, Aemma. I’ve hardly had time to think about any of it.”

She reached for a small chest beside her and opened it, revealing swatches of fabric in various shades and textures. “I had these brought in for you,” she said, holding up a piece of silvery fabric that shimmered in the light. “I thought this might suit you—something that reflects your connection to your dragon and your Targaryen heritage.”

You ran your fingers over the fabric, marveling at its softness and beauty. “It’s perfect,” you said, already envisioning the gown that would be made from it.

Aemma smiled, her expression thoughtful. “You’ll look radiant,” she said. “And I know Daemon won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

The warmth in her voice made your heart swell, and you reached out to squeeze her hand. “Thank you, Aemma. For everything.”

She squeezed your hand in return, her gaze steady and full of affection. “You’re family,” she said simply. “And you deserve to be happy.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and planning as you and Aemma discussed every detail of the wedding. For the first time in days, you felt a sense of peace, knowing that you were surrounded by love and support as you prepared for this new chapter in your life.

As you opened the door to your chambers, the familiar warmth of the room greeted you, along with the sight of Daemon standing near the fireplace. The golden glow of the flames reflected off his silver hair, giving him an almost ethereal presence. His arms were crossed casually over his chest, but there was an intensity in his gaze as he turned to face you.

“You’re here,” you said, raising an eyebrow as you approached. “I expected you to be… elsewhere. At the brothel, perhaps, celebrating your last night of freedom with Mysaria.” Your tone was teasing, but there was an edge of curiosity beneath it.

Daemon chuckled, the sound low and rich, as he stepped closer to you. “Is that what you think of me?” he asked, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Is it not true?” you countered, tilting your head. “You’ve always been so fond of such places. Why not indulge one last time before you can’t go back without consequences?”

He laughed again, this time louder, and shook his head. “You’re sharper than a Valyrian steel blade, aren’t you?” he said, his voice tinged with amusement. “But no. I haven’t set foot in a brothel—or seen Mysaria—since you came of age.”

That caught you off guard. You stared at him, trying to process his words. “What?”

Daemon stepped even closer, his expression softening as he looked down at you. “Do you really think I’d waste my time there, knowing what I know now? After realizing how much of myself I gave to the wrong people, the wrong pursuits?”

You blinked, still trying to make sense of his words. “What are you saying, Daemon?”

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch was gentle, but his gaze was anything but—it was intense, almost searing. “I’m saying that for too long, I gave my attention to the wrong women. Women who didn’t matter. Because I was too blind to see what was right in front of me.”

Your breath caught, your heart pounding in your chest. “Daemon…”

He smiled then, a rare, genuine smile that softened his features. “You’ve always been the only one who mattered,” he said softly. “And I’m not going to waste another moment pretending otherwise.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, you could only stare at him, your emotions a whirlwind of disbelief, hope, and something far deeper.

“Then why are you here?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “If not to celebrate your last night of freedom?”

Daemon’s smile turned into a smirk as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Because I’m not losing my freedom,” he murmured. “I’m gaining you.”

The fire crackled softly in the background as his words hung in the air, and for the first time, you realized just how much this marriage meant—not just to you, but to him as well.

Daemon’s gaze softened as your hand gently caressed his cheek, your touch tender and full of unspoken emotions. His lips parted slightly as if to say something, but before he could, you rose onto your toes and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

For a moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you. When you finally pulled back, your eyes met his, a quiet intensity passing between you.

“I’m lucky to have you, Daemon,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The raw honesty in your tone made his jaw tighten, though his eyes glimmered with something vulnerable.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you continued before he could, your hand still cradling his cheek. “If our father were still here…” you paused, a pang of sorrow in your chest, “he’d be proud of us. Of you, especially.”

Daemon’s expression faltered for a moment, his confident facade cracking as he absorbed your words. His hand came up to cover yours on his face, his touch warm and steady. “You truly believe that?” he asked softly, his voice almost uncertain, as if he needed to hear the answer more than anything else.

You nodded, your thumb brushing against his cheekbone. “I do. He would have seen the man you’ve become—the man who fights for what he wants, who protects those he loves. He’d be proud of you, Daemon. Just as I am.”

Daemon exhaled deeply, his forehead leaning against yours. “You give me too much credit,” he muttered, though there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Not nearly enough,” you countered gently, your own lips curving into a smile.

For a long moment, the two of you stood there, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s presence, the flickering firelight casting soft shadows around the room. It was a moment of quiet understanding, a bond stronger than any words could convey.

And in that moment, you knew—no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as you had each other, you could face anything.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence near the window of your chambers, the cool night air filtering in as stars scattered across the dark sky. Daemon’s arm was wrapped possessively around your waist, his grip firm yet comforting. Your head rested against his shoulder, and the steady rise and fall of his chest matched the rhythm of your own breathing.

He broke the silence, his voice low and curious. “Why did you name your dragon Maraxes?”

The question made you smile softly as you turned your gaze toward him. He was looking down at you with a mixture of curiosity and fondness, his fingers absentmindedly tracing small circles on your side.

“She reminded me of Rhaenys’ Maraxes,” you said after a moment, your tone thoughtful. “The strength, the grace… Even as a hatchling, she carried herself like she knew she was born to be something great.”

Daemon smirked faintly, his eyes reflecting the dim glow of the moonlight. “And you always did have a penchant for the stories of our ancestors. I remember how you’d make me read them to you when we were younger.”

You chuckled, leaning further into his warmth. “Those stories are part of who we are, Daemon. Rhaenys and Maraxes… they were a force to be reckoned with. I wanted my dragon to carry that legacy, to remind the world of the power our family holds.”

He tilted his head slightly, his lips brushing against your temple as he spoke. “Maraxes suits her, just as you suit her. Both proud, unyielding, and utterly impossible to ignore.”

You laughed quietly, a soft blush creeping into your cheeks. “And what of Caraxes?” you asked, glancing up at him with a teasing smile. “He’s as wild and unpredictable as his rider.”

Daemon grinned, unbothered by your playful jab. “Caraxes and I understand each other,” he replied. “We don’t need names steeped in history. We make our own.”

Your smile softened as you looked back at the sky. “That’s why we work, Daemon. I carry the weight of the past, and you carve the path for the future. Together, we balance each other.”

Daemon didn’t respond immediately, but the way he held you tighter said everything. In his embrace, you felt the promise of a shared destiny—one that neither history nor the future could take away.

Your wedding day was meant to be perfect, and every detail had been meticulously planned. Yet, the air was thick with tension as a heated argument unfolded between Daemon and Viserys.

Daemon stood firm, his voice sharp and unyielding. “We are Targaryens. The blood of Old Valyria flows through our veins. This wedding should honor our ancestors with an Old Valyrian ceremony.”

Viserys, seated on the Iron Throne, was equally resolute. “This is a union that will be celebrated across the Seven Kingdoms. You will marry in the sight of the Seven, as is tradition.”

You stood silently between them, your heart heavy as you watched your brothers clash. Daemon’s jaw was set in frustration, while Viserys exuded the authority of a king determined to have his way.

“I’ve allowed this match to proceed,” Viserys added, his tone sharp with warning. “But do not mistake my indulgence for weakness. If you insist on this foolishness, I’ll put an end to it. Daemon will wed Rhea Royce, and you will wed Jason Lannister.”

The room fell silent, the weight of Viserys’ threat sinking in. You looked at Daemon, whose expression was a mix of fury and disbelief. His hands clenched at his sides, and you knew he was moments away from saying something he would regret.

Before he could speak, you stepped forward, your voice calm but firm. “We will marry in the sight of the Seven,” you said, your words directed at Viserys but meant for Daemon as well.

Daemon turned to you, his eyes searching yours for an explanation. You met his gaze with quiet determination, silently pleading for his understanding.

“This is about more than just us,” you continued, your voice steady despite the turmoil in your heart. “A wedding in the tradition of the Seven will solidify our union in the eyes of the realm. It will bring stability, which is what we need most right now.”

Daemon’s jaw tightened, his frustration evident, but he said nothing. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “It doesn’t matter how we marry, Daemon. What matters is that we will be together.”

Viserys nodded approvingly, his stern expression softening slightly. “It’s good to see one of you understands the bigger picture,” he said, his tone dismissive.

Daemon didn’t respond to Viserys. Instead, he turned to you, his violet eyes filled with unspoken words. After a moment, he gave a curt nod, his hand brushing against yours in a silent promise.

As you left the throne room together, you whispered, “Thank you for trusting me.”

Daemon’s lips curved into a small, wry smile. “You’re lucky I love you,” he muttered.

Despite the tension, his words warmed your heart. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you would face them together.

You entered Aemma’s chambers, the faint scent of lavender filling the air as sunlight streamed through the windows. She stood near a mannequin, admiring a breathtaking white gown made of the finest silk. Her face lit up as she saw you approach, her hands clasped together in excitement.

“There you are,” Aemma said warmly, gesturing for you to come closer. “I’ve had this gown specially made for you. I want your wedding to outshine even mine.”

You stared at the gown in awe. The intricate embroidery shimmered in the light, delicate patterns of dragons and fire adorning the fabric. The train was long and flowing, a masterpiece of craftsmanship, while the fitted bodice sparkled with tiny gemstones.

“You’ll be the most beautiful bride the realm has ever seen,” Aemma said, her voice filled with determination. “This wedding will be the grandest of all, as it should be.”

You smiled softly, touched by her efforts. “You didn’t have to go to such lengths, Aemma.”

“Nonsense,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively. “You’re my sister now, and this is the happiest I’ve seen Daemon in years. This marriage is a celebration not just for you, but for the family.”

She guided you to stand before the gown, motioning for her handmaidens to help you try it on. The silk felt cool against your skin as the dress was carefully draped over you. Aemma adjusted the neckline, stepping back to admire her work.

“You look perfect,” she said, her eyes glistening with pride.

You turned to look at yourself in the mirror, the sight taking your breath away. The gown fit you like it was made for you alone, the shimmering silk enhancing your natural beauty.

“I hope Daemon doesn’t cause trouble just so he can get a glimpse of you before the wedding,” Aemma teased, a playful smile on her lips. “He’s been restless ever since Viserys gave his approval. He might just break tradition.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “He’s always been impatient.”

Aemma took your hands, squeezing them gently. “I want you to know how happy I am for you,” she said, her voice soft with emotion. “You and Daemon… you belong together. This wedding will mark the beginning of something truly beautiful.”

Tears threatened to well in your eyes, but you blinked them away, nodding. “Thank you, Aemma. For everything.”

She smiled, pulling you into a warm embrace. In that moment, you felt the love and support of family surrounding you, giving you strength for the journey ahead.

After trying on the gown Aemma had prepared for you, you made your way to the throne room, which was abuzz with preparations for your fast-approaching wedding. Servants scurried about, setting up tables and arranging decorations with meticulous care. The banners of House Targaryen hung proudly from the walls, their red and black sigils casting a regal presence over the space.

You paused, taking it all in—the grandeur, the anticipation. This was more than just a wedding; it was a union that would be remembered for generations.

As you stood there, lost in thought, you felt a familiar warmth at your back. Daemon’s hands slid gently around your waist, his touch both possessive and comforting. He leaned in close, his breath brushing against your ear.

“I’ve seen you in your gown,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing. “And I can already tell they’ll speak of your beauty for centuries.”

You turned your head slightly, catching his smirk from the corner of your eye. “You couldn’t wait, could you?” you replied, a mix of amusement and exasperation in your tone.

“Patience was never one of my virtues,” he admitted, his arms tightening around you. “But it’s not just the dress. It’s you. I’m not sure the Seven or even the old gods could have made something more perfect.”

You felt your cheeks flush, but you quickly composed yourself, glancing at the bustling preparations before you. “Everything is coming together,” you said softly. “It feels… surreal.”

Daemon shifted slightly, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder. “It’s fitting, isn’t it?” he said, his voice softer now. “A grand celebration for us. For what we are and what we will build together.”

You turned in his arms to face him, your eyes meeting his. “And what is that, Daemon?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“A legacy,” he replied without hesitation. “A bond stronger than dragonfire, one that no one—not even Viserys—can break.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, the chaos around you seemed to fade away. All that remained was him, and the unyielding certainty in his gaze.

“Come,” he said suddenly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’ve grown tired of watching others make preparations. Let’s see to the dragons instead. Let them know that soon, we’ll be joined as one.”

You couldn’t help but smile, allowing him to guide you away from the bustling throne room. As always, with Daemon by your side, the future felt both thrilling and inevitable.

You gently patted Maraxes’ powerful back, feeling the familiar warmth of her scales beneath your hand. The wind whipped through your hair as you soared high above the Red Keep, the world below appearing as small as a map laid out on a table.

Beside you, Daemon and Caraxes raced ahead, the Blood Wyrm’s elongated form slicing through the clouds with ease. Caraxes let out a piercing roar, its cry challenging the skies themselves.

Maraxes, not one to be outdone, responded with a thunderous roar of her own, her wings beating harder as she surged forward. You gripped her saddle tightly, leaning closer to her neck to encourage her.

“Show them, Maraxes,” you murmured with a grin, the thrill of the flight coursing through you. “Show them what you’re made of.”

With a sudden burst of speed, Maraxes lunged forward, her massive wings cutting through the air with precision. The distance between you and Daemon began to close rapidly.

Daemon glanced back, his silver hair shining under the sun, and you caught the smug smirk on his face falter as Maraxes closed in.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” you called out, your voice carrying over the roar of the wind.

He laughed, the sound carried to you by the wind. “Careful, my love,” he replied, steering Caraxes into a sharp dive. “I’d hate for you to lose your nerve.”

But you didn’t falter. Maraxes followed Caraxes’ lead, diving with grace and speed that rivaled even the most seasoned dragons. The ground rushed toward you, but you trusted her completely.

As you leveled out beside Daemon once more, the two dragons roared in unison, their voices blending into a symphony of power and dominance. You and Daemon exchanged a glance, the exhilaration of the ride mirrored in his eyes.

“Maraxes is a true queen,” he said, his tone filled with pride.

“And Caraxes a worthy prince,” you replied with a playful smirk.

Together, you guided your dragons into a synchronized ascent, their forms weaving through the sky like a dance. In that moment, it wasn’t just the bond between you and Daemon that felt unbreakable—it was the connection you shared with your dragons, the legacy you were creating together, and the love that burned as fiercely as dragonfire.

You dismounted Maraxes with practiced ease, patting her side gently as she let out a low, satisfied growl. You turned toward Daemon, who had already slid off Caraxes and was approaching you with a small smirk on his face.

The two dragons, seemingly understanding their riders had finished their flight, began to walk together toward the Dragonpit. Their massive tails swayed lazily as they moved side by side, a rare display of harmony between the two fierce creatures.

Daemon’s attention, however, was solely on you. His sharp violet eyes took in your slightly disheveled appearance, a teasing glint in them. Without saying a word, he reached out and gently tucked a strand of your hair back into place, his touch lingering for just a moment.

“You look as if you’ve just fought in a battle,” he said, his voice warm with amusement.

You laughed softly, brushing dirt from your sleeve. “Flying with Maraxes always feels like a battle—she doesn’t let me relax for even a moment.”

Daemon grinned, his gaze flickering to the retreating forms of the dragons. “She’s a reflection of her rider, then. Stubborn, relentless, and utterly magnificent.”

You rolled your eyes at his words but couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto your lips. “And what does that say about Caraxes, then?”

“Loyal, fierce, and just unpredictable enough to keep things interesting,” he replied smoothly, his grin widening.

Shaking your head, you allowed him to help you onto his black horse, a sleek and well-bred creature that always seemed to mirror its master’s confidence. Once you were comfortably seated, he climbed on behind you, wrapping an arm securely around your waist.

The ride back to the Red Keep was peaceful, the rhythmic clatter of the horse’s hooves filling the quiet between you. Daemon’s hold on you was firm yet comforting, and as the walls of the castle came into view, you leaned back slightly into him, finding solace in his presence.

“You know,” he murmured near your ear, breaking the silence, “this is how it should always be. You, me, and the dragons.”

You tilted your head slightly to glance back at him. “And what of the world that waits for us within those walls?”

Daemon’s lips curved into a wry smile. “Let the world wait. For now, it’s just us.”

His words settled over you like a warm blanket, and as you passed through the gates of the Red Keep, you couldn’t help but wish that this moment could stretch on forever.

The day of your wedding had finally arrived, and your chambers were bustling with activity even before the first rays of sunlight graced the horizon. Aemma, ever the perfectionist, had gathered her trusted ladies-in-waiting to ensure every detail of your preparation was flawless.

You sat before a large mirror, dressed in the finest silk undergarments, as one of the maids carefully wove intricate braids into your hair. Aemma hovered nearby, her sharp eyes inspecting every detail, from the embroidery on your gown to the gleaming jewelry laid out on the table.

“This will be the grandest wedding the realm has seen,” Aemma declared with confidence, adjusting the tiara that would soon rest on your head. “You will be the vision of perfection, as you deserve to be.”

You gave her a soft smile, but your attention was pulled elsewhere. From the corner of your eye, you could see the faint outline of Daemon standing behind the sheer curtain at the far end of the room. His unmistakable figure was partially hidden, but you could hear the faintest sound of his chuckle.

You turned slightly in your chair, catching the amused glint in his violet eyes through the thin fabric. “Daemon,” you said firmly, though your lips quirked into a knowing smile, “you’re not supposed to see me before the ceremony.”

His voice came through, low and teasing. “I’m only ensuring my bride is being treated properly. Wouldn’t want them to dull your shine before the day even begins.”

Aemma turned toward the sound, her face a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Daemon, you’re being ridiculous. Out!” she scolded, waving a hand toward the curtain.

He only laughed softly, his silhouette lingering for a moment longer. “I’ll see you soon,” he murmured, his tone laced with a promise, before retreating out of sight.

You shook your head, warmth blossoming in your chest despite yourself. Aemma returned her attention to you, adjusting the intricate neckline of your wedding gown with care.

“He adores you,” she said softly, her expression unexpectedly tender.

You met her gaze in the mirror, a quiet smile tugging at your lips. “And I, him.”

Aemma’s smile deepened, and she patted your shoulder gently. “Good. Now, let’s ensure you’re ready to take his breath away.”

You were fully prepared, dressed in the stunning gown Aemma had so carefully designed, every detail perfect. Now, it was Viserys who stood by your side in the carriage as you made your way to the Sept.

The ride was quiet, the clattering of the wheels over the stone streets filling the silence. Viserys sat across from you, his face soft yet tinged with a sadness he couldn’t entirely hide. His violet eyes lingered on you, taking in the serene expression on your face and the subtle joy radiating from you.

“You look… just like Mother,” he finally said, his voice low and thoughtful. “She would have been so proud to see you like this.”

You glanced at him, touched by his words. “And Father?” you asked gently.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Father would’ve been furious that you were grown enough to marry,” he replied, his tone lightening. “But he’d have been proud, too. Proud of you and of the match you’ve made.”

The mention of Daemon brought a new look to his face—one of conflicted fondness. He sighed and leaned back in his seat. “You and Daemon… You’ve always been inseparable. I only hope this union will bring you happiness, as much as it does the realm.”

You smiled softly, your fingers lightly brushing over the delicate fabric of your gown. “Daemon and I will do our duty, but this marriage is not just for the realm. It is for us.”

Viserys’ gaze softened further. “You and Daemon, happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for either of you.”

As the carriage approached the Sept, you caught a glimpse of the banners of House Targaryen flying high, the crowds gathering to witness the union.

Viserys reached out and placed a reassuring hand over yours. “The realm will celebrate today, but remember, this is your moment. Take it, and let no one tell you otherwise.”

You nodded, your heart steady with resolve. Today, you would not just be a bride but a queen of your own destiny, standing beside the man who had always been your closest confidant and deepest love.

You walked gracefully down the aisle, your arm linked with Viserys’. The grand Sept was filled with lords, ladies, and knights from across the realm, all gathered to witness the union. The light from the stained-glass windows painted the room in hues of gold and red, illuminating the Targaryen banners that hung proudly from the high arches.

At the altar stood Daemon, his usual air of confidence softened by the rare, genuine smile gracing his lips as he watched you approach. His violet eyes held yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away.

Viserys gave your hand a gentle squeeze before passing it to Daemon. His expression was one of reluctant acceptance, but you knew he cared for you deeply. Daemon took your hand, his grip firm yet tender as he pulled you closer.

The septon began the ceremony, his voice echoing through the sacred hall. He spoke of duty, love, and the strength of bonds forged in the light of the Seven. You barely heard the words, your focus entirely on Daemon—the man who had been your constant companion, your fiercest protector, and now, your husband.

When the time came to exchange your vows, Daemon’s voice was steady, yet laced with emotion as he spoke:

“With fire and blood, I bind my life to yours. From this day until my last, I am yours, and you are mine.”

Your own voice did not waver as you responded:

“Through the storms and flames, I will stand by your side. My heart is yours, now and forever.”

The septon proclaimed you husband and wife, and the crowd erupted in applause as Daemon leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that sealed your union.

As you turned to face the cheering crowd, Daemon whispered into your ear, “You were born to be mine, and now, the realm knows it.”

The two of you walked down the aisle together, hand in hand, ready to face whatever the future held as one.

The cheers and laughter of the gathered lords and ladies filled the air as you and Daemon stepped into the Great Hall of the Red Keep. The grand space was adorned with Targaryen banners, their crimson and black colors illuminated by the glow of countless candles. Tables were laden with the finest foods and wines from across the realm, a feast fit to honor the union of House Targaryen’s bloodline.

Daemon’s arm rested over yours as you descended the steps from the royal carriage. His smirk grew as he surveyed the crowd, his confidence radiating as always. You could feel his pride not only in himself but also in you—his wife, his equal.

The room fell silent as you both entered the throne room. All eyes turned to you, their murmurs of awe unmistakable. Your gown shimmered under the light, its white and silver fabric a reflection of the stars themselves, while your Valyrian features were framed perfectly by the intricate braids of your hair.

Daemon leaned in close as you paused at the entrance, his lips brushing your ear.

“They’re not here to celebrate the feast,” he murmured with a teasing tone, “They’re here to see the most beautiful woman in the realm.”

You smiled and gave his arm a light squeeze, your gaze sweeping across the room before the two of you moved forward, walking together with regal poise. At the center of the hall, Viserys stood waiting for you both, his expression a mixture of relief and joy as he raised a goblet to toast your union.

“Tonight, we celebrate not just the joining of two hearts but the strength of House Targaryen!” Viserys declared, his voice carrying across the hall. “May their love burn as brightly as dragonfire and stand as strong as the stone of Dragonstone!”

The crowd erupted into applause, and the music began to play. Daemon turned to you with a playful glint in his eyes, extending his hand.

“Shall we give them a dance to remember, my wife?”

You took his hand with a soft laugh, allowing him to lead you to the center of the room. As the two of you began to dance, the rest of the hall seemed to blur into the background, leaving only the two of you, your love, and the fire of House Targaryen burning brightly in your hearts.

The music swelled through the hall as you and Daemon danced, your movements perfectly synchronized as though you had been dancing together all your lives. The room faded away, leaving only the two of you in each other’s gaze.

Daemon’s hand rested firmly on your waist, guiding you effortlessly across the floor, while his other hand held yours with a gentle yet possessive grip. His violet eyes were locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that only he could convey. There was no one else in the world for him in that moment but you.

“You are breathtaking,” he whispered softly, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You smiled, your heart warming at his words. “And you look every bit the rogue prince they whisper about,” you teased lightly, though your tone was filled with affection.

His smirk deepened, but the love in his eyes never faltered. “Let them whisper. They’ll never know the truth of how you’ve stolen my heart.”

The music continued, and the guests watched in awe as you and Daemon moved as one, the perfect embodiment of Targaryen royalty. The way he spun you, the way you moved together, and the way he brought you back into his arms spoke volumes—this was not just a marriage of duty, but of deep, undeniable love.

When the music ended, the hall erupted in applause, but Daemon did not release you right away. Instead, he pulled you closer, his forehead resting gently against yours as he whispered, “We are bound now, by fire and blood. Always.”

You nodded, your voice just as soft. “Always.”

As the applause echoed around you, Daemon pulled you in even closer, his breath warm against your skin. He didn’t wait for the crowd to settle, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was full of promise, passion, and love. The world around you disappeared as you melted into his embrace, the kiss deep and slow, as though he was claiming you in front of everyone.

The sound of distant chatter faded as you lost yourself in the moment, feeling the weight of the vows you had just exchanged, the love you had built, and the bond that now tied you together. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer, as if he couldn’t bear to be apart from you for even a moment.

When the kiss finally broke, Daemon rested his forehead against yours, his breath ragged. “I never want to be without you,” he whispered, voice filled with raw sincerity.

You smiled, your heart full, and softly replied, “And you never will be.”

The crowd continued to cheer, but it was just the two of you in that moment, lost in each other, knowing that this was the beginning of your forever.

Tag list : @danytar @zaldritzosrose @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @callsignwidow

[gay-dorito-dust]

“I’m tired of loving from afar, never being where you are,”

Ford missing his S/O in the multiverse

The further into the multiverse Ford delve, baring witnessing to things that was reality here but merely a theory back in his home dimension. So much so that he looked to his side where you normally would be only to be reminded of the reality of his current situation.

He was alone within the wide expanse of the multiverse, you on the other hand were back home with his brother, waiting for him.

‘Wait for me.’ Ford would whisper to the photo he had of you before tucking it back into his coat pocket. ‘All I ask is that you wait for me.’ The fire he had made didn’t bring him nearly as much warmth as you did when you held him in your arms while you slept.

Ford swore he could smell your scent cling onto his turtleneck, hear your laughter amidst the wind as he looked up at the stars and seeing the Orion constellation, hoping that you were also looking at the same constellation as though you could somehow communicate through the cluster of stars formed in a unique pattern.

It was moments like theses where Ford was reminded of how he didn’t value what he had until he was far out of reach of it, in this case it was you who he was far out reach of, and Ford had never felt lonelier then he did in the wide expanse of the multiverse for everything he came across reminded him of you in one way or another.

The flowers that had a beautiful bioluminescent look to them as the night fell, looking like stars that had fallen from the skies and made their new home where they landed.

The warm breeze that playfully caressed his exposed skin in the same way you’d blow air against his neck or ear when you though he was spending too much time on his work and wanted him to take a step back from it all, which he had waved off because of how important his work will be in the future.

Ford couldn’t help but scoff, what future could he possibly have now since even thrown into a portal with a slim chance that he might not make it back home, back to you. It was moments like these where he got given time to self reflect on everything and relive moments he now regretted because he was too far away from you to make up for his stupidity and selfishness.

Ford found himself with little accomplishments and a fuck ton of regrets along with missed opportunities more than anything in due to how hellbent he was on making something of himself, so much so that he had forgotten that you didn’t care whether or not his work would be his magnum opus, all you cared about was him and had shown him time and time again that you deeply cared for him.

Only for him to become a recluse as withdrew himself in his lab almost 24/7, and if he wasn’t in the lab he was out trying to find something he could put down in the journal.

Not a single moment did Ford stop to consider you and now he regretted it more than ever as now all he wanted was nothing more than to apologise to you for being such a knuckle headed idiot. For not seeing you and not being with you like he should’ve and now he was haunted by his life choices and by the aspect that he might never make it back, never apologise to you, to wander aimlessly in the Multiverse on a small hunch that might not even be possble.

He’d lie awake and think of you and even made a small list of dimensions that he’d think you’d like such as Dimension 52, or that one dimension where things such as soulmates apparently exist, this was where he learnt from the locals that his own soulmate -you- were too far out of his reach and in great mourning and pain. He hated that he was the cause of your anguish and wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and reassure you that he was okay!

There was so many dimensions that Ford knew you’d love and would wish to live in but then he came across the one dimension where you and him were happily married, Fiddleford was an acclaimed inventor and Stanley made a name for himself, but still kept to some of his old ways though he aimed for the people who deserved it most.

This was the perfect dimension he could ever dream of but couldn’t help but become envious towards his alternate self for having the life he wished he could have, a beautiful life with you while in the company of his family and friends, only to soon feel an ache in his chest when he saw just how happy you and this version of him were; so much so that you could barely keep your eyes off of each other!

In every dimension Ford has been to he had been reminded that you two were together no matter what, there wasn’t a single dimension where a version of himself didn’t have a version of you by his side, looking happy and in love with one another that it made him wonder if you’ll still look at him with that much love or will you inevitably sour at the thought of him? He hoped you didn’t but how was he one to police your emotions towards him when he refused to be open about his own half of the time?

Every dimension seemed to hold an aspect of you that made Ford miss you all the more then he already did to the point where he couldn’t look at something and not think that you’d love it as he sneakily pockets it into his coat before moving forward, riding on the hope where he could see you once again.

‘Wait for me.’ He whispered to the wind in hopes it’ll carry his wish to you, dimensions away from him.

[leaawrites]

Slim Pickins (LN4)

Lando Norris x fem!photograpgher!reader

Summary: In which, she can't find a guy who's jacked and kind. Until she does.

Warnings: this is all fictional!, reader has a crush on Oscar in the beginning, Lily is an angel as always, swearing, bad jokes, suggestive at moments, Lando being a fuckboy, this is the end of this seriess :( It was so much fun, holy shit.

Wordcount: 9.1k

Masterlist, Short n'Sweet Series

Bright lights. Cars flashing by in a second before her. She made them brighter - more colourful. She made them come alive in a way only pictures could. She made them her own. Adding the preset she usually used and adjusting whatever needed to be adjusted. Whether it be the brightness or whites, darks, shadows, temperature.

The pillow behind her back made the position she was in feel more comfortable than it actually would be. Hunched over her laptop, the light of it illuminating her face, glasses on top of her nose. She had to get the pictures ready before midnight. Headphones over her ears to drown out the noises from the room next to hers. Girlish moans fighting the wall to get through her. But she wouldn’t let them. The loud volume of the music made it impossible for anything to get through to her. Not even the loud banging sound that was heard from the hallway.

Oscar furiously knocked his fist against the room of his teammate. He had a long night already, being dragged out by Lando for a couple of hours beforehand, exploring some clubs and bars and girls. It wasn’t in any of his interest. He had a girlfriend which he loved, he wasn’t in need for more than one. Not like someone else.

In the corner of his eye he saw a shadow slip out of the room next to Lando’s. He felt sorry for the girl, having to hear some kind of animal like Lando after a few drinks and in a horny state. It was unbearable to sleep at that.

“He won’t answer you any time soon,” the girl said, putting the headphones around her neck, stopping the music that was once playing in order to hear him in case he should answer. She hoped he would. She loved his voice. The soothing feeling of it, almost giving you the feeling of his mouth travelling up your skin. Speaking closely; calm.

“Yeah,” he agreed with her, snapping her out her daydreams. “But, thought I might as well try since I can’t sleep now.” He crossed his arms over his body, stepping towards her. Even if only a few centimetres, it was something. Still though keeping a respectful distance between them to not over step any lines.

How can anybody be so perfect? she thought. Her eyes trailing over his face, following his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose.

“No luck, apparently,” she said, leaning against the door frame next to her.

He nodded his head again, looking at Lando’s hotel room door once again. “Where are you off to now in the middle of the night?”

“Just getting a snack before going back to work,” she answered, holding up the wallet in her hand.

“You’re still working?” Oscar always believed that after 8 pm everyone - beside overnight jobs - stopped working, leaving the night to take over. Apparently not.

“That’s the disadvantage of putting it off for the whole night to meet up with friends. And now I’m in a rush and immense need of coffee,” she told him. She felt her eyes already wanting to fall shut.

The answer made him laugh, a breathy sound escaping his mouth. The amusement written clearly on his face. Y/n looked up at him at the sound of his voice a smile on her face, though it quietly faded as she saw the almost brother-like behavior radiating from him. He knew how girls could be, putting off everything until the last second to have a little more fun in life. He knew it all too well. His sister demonstrating her tactic more than often. The feeling of him seeing her as nothing more than just an additional sister weighted her down, the truth knocking on her door, telling her once again that there would be nothing more. She knew he was in a relationship. she wouldn’t wanna change that. Not after seeing how he talked about Lily, how he would mention whenever he could, how he still blushed at the mere mention of her name even after so many years of dating. The jealousy taking over the joy of being friends with him.

Though, the bigger hole she couldn’t fill, was that she didn’t want only him as a partner in particular, she wanted someone like him. Some guy who was willing to commit without fear, some guy who made her feel loved no matter how far away they would be from one another, some guy who saw her as she was, not what he wanted her to be.

It was a never ending story of disappointment in her life when it came to dating: finding a cute guy, going on a date, fucking, being told that it would only be something casual. What were guys so afraid of? Why did they make themselves look so insecure and frightened when it came to relationships? What did it even mean: casual? What was the purpose of dating casually if nothing would come out of it in the end?

Why did guys have to be so goddamn ashamed of love?

The door next to them opened, Lando standing in the doorway. Hair messy, grey sweatpants thrown on, his pupils were deflated, his breath still a bit heavy, eyes dancing between the pair in front of his door. A girl was heard inside, calling out to him with a drunk giggle, before she quietened down and fell asleep. He, himself, was hanging on to the door frame in a drunk manner. His eyes almost falling shut any second.

“What are you doing here?” he stammered, his eyes focusing on the girl for a bit longer before he let his head fell against the wood frame tiredly. His head was throbbing already.

“Getting coffee,” she answered.

“Thinking about handing in a noise complaint,” Oscar answered dryly, making the girl laugh at his answer.

Lando’s eyes flitted over to her frame, softening at the sight until he remembered she didn’t laugh because of him, she never did. She never found him funny, or so he thought. Truth been told, she did like his humour, finding it rather absurd than funny, but still. The only thing holding her back from laughing was the general distaste she had for the person telling the joke. Lando was the definition of everything she despised in a guy. He was a playboy, never taking on anything serious and having more than one girl at once by his side. It made her almost sick.

“Sorry for having a life,” Lando answered annoyed, staring at Oscar with bored eyes.

“You know not everything in life is about sex, right?” the girl asked him, growing more cold with him than she did while talking to Oscar.

“How would you know?” Lando mumbled, ready to head back to bed without further thinking about his behavior.

Y/n narrowed her eyes at him. Oscar looked between the pair. He knew they weren’t particularly fond of each other, preferring to distance themselves when possible, but this - the annoyance at the other’s mere existence or voice - was something he never thought to experience. Lando slipped back into the room, closing the door and leaning against the door. He could still hear them talk, bidding the other goodnight, Oscar apologizing for his behavior, Y/n waving it off as ‘classical Lando’ and probably rolling her eyes at the memory of their interaction. He could hear Oscar telling her, that he had no idea why he acted like that around her and that he didn’t do it with anyone else. To which she only replied, that it was because of the same reason she couldn’t handle him for very long: they were too different to properly see eye to eye. She also said, that she was fine with that and that she even preferred it in that way.

What were they too different in? Lando couldn’t help but wonder about everything they had in common and everything they hadn’t as he laid in bed that night, wide awake. The alcohol breaking down, making him able to think more clearly. They both liked photography, racing, friends, family, travelling. They were both adventurous, both keen to learn new things whenever they could, staying up late, going out, staying in every once in a while. He liked parties, she preferred alone time - maybe even with a possible lover. And that’s when it hit him. When his eyes drifted over to the girl laying in his bed, sleeping tight, naked. He liked the company of people, the roaring feeling of a new experience every night. She liked the image of having one person to feel excited about forever, stepping in and out of the house with them, holding hands, kissing softly in the morning, telling secrets, fears and dreams.

But both didn’t like falling asleep alone.

While he coped with it by never being alone - even when it wasn’t the same as how he’d want it - she let the weight of loneliness heave down her chest. She let herself feel.

Taking a shower at 7 in the morning and leaving his hotel room shortly after, Lando walked out on the still quiet streets, camera in his hands. He caught barely any sleep, always wondering instead. Worrying. About everything he feared he couldn’t make right anymore, that everything he did wrong was already too fucked up to make it stable again. The camera gave him a sense of security, being a reminder that even only one photo was the reminder of something good. But coming back an hour later with his SD-card still empty he lost all hope for a good day. Being depressed in the morning made you feel bad the whole day. That was just the way life goes. He had to accept it. He had to feel it.

With his head bowed low, gaze focused on his shoes rather than in front of him, Lando soon smashed into a body. Catching whoever it was before they could fall down. A light surge of hope rushed through his veins, thumbing to his heart as he imagined it being Y/n. Looking up, he was faced with the girl he went to bed last night. Eyes wide, mouth open in shock. Neither thought it would be the other. She mumbled a little “thank you,” offered him a smile and then hurriedly headed out the hotel, climbing in the uber that stood at the side walk, waiting for her.

“Lovely reunion,” Y/n commented sarcastically as she walked past him. Heading out as well.

She almost slipped away from him until he caught up with her step, exiting the building again. His hands stuffed in his pocket, camera dangling from his wrist. “Where are you going?” he asked. They walked down the street he came from before.

The girl stopped walking, holding up her own camera and taking a picture. It was a way smaller one then she normally used. A digicam instead of a professional camera. He had never seen it before, though it was rather an older one.

Indirectly answering his question, she asked one as well. “Where were you coming from?” They continued walking down the street.

Lando held up his own camera to her, not taking a picture like she did in the process. She knew he liked photography as well, finding his jpg insta account rather quickly after doing a deep dive into him on her first day of work - can’t a girl be prepared? He took good pictures, some great ones even, impressing her more than once when she saw that he had posted new ones. Always interested in others talent and passion, she started conversing with him about the topic at hand.

“What pictures did you take then until now?” She asked eagerly, waiting for him to hand his camera over to her.

“None,” he answered, making her frown.

“What do you mean ‘none’?” She never understood how someone could take zero pictures in a new place. Always being the one finding beauty in the ordinary she felt lucky for such a talent.

Lando switched on his camera and showed her the 0/0 and No Picture Available lining his gallery screen. It almost seemed like mockery in his eyes, how it made him look so boring. She was finally interested in what he was doing and now he had nothing to show her. Y/n frowned at the sight in front of her, her eyes slipping from the screen to the person in front of her. Shaking her head in dismissal of his failure. She couldn’t just sent him back his own way now, could she? Not when she noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Not when she saw the look in his eyes, a rather hopeful one for her allowing him to stay. And when he looked at her like that, how could she deny him? It wasn’t too hard to push away the persona he had at night and at least try to see the version Oscar had told her about - the version almost everybody else told her about.

Lando was sure she would sent him away, sent him back to the hotel. He was ready to turn around and go, leaving her to her peace.

“Looks like we need to change that,” she said, before beginning to walk again.

After looking at her back perplexed for a second, he quickly followed her. Catching up with her quick step. Catching a photo of her figure while doing so.

“What do you shoot besides fast cars on track?” Lando asked, intrigued at seeing her walking through the streets and mostly not even looking twice at the cars driving by.

“Men,” she joked, smirking at him from the side. Seeing the septic look in his eyes, she added, “Just kidding. Only in America.”

Lando cracked a smile at her humour, but the lack of laugh leaving her worried. “Sorry, was it too much?” She asked, turning her head to see him smiling at her, shaking his head. Most people didn’t found her funny. Most guys she was out with thought she was being mean and arrogant, when mostly it was just sarcasm.

“No, don’t worry,” he assured her. “I like your humour.”

“Well, thank you,” she said, hands behind her back, clamping together. Her thumbnail pressing into her palm to keep her from smiling too much. He’s not a good guy, don’t let yourself be fooled, she reminded herself. He wouldn’t want any more from you than all these other douchebags in your phone.

“I mostly just shoot whatever looks beautiful, anything that captures my eye,” she answered again, truthful this time. Lando nodded at her answer, he felt the same, always photographing whatever looked good, never because he felt the need to stick to a certain type of object or action.

“Yeah, it’s kind of the best way to go at it, right?” Lando said, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, why capture something forever if you don’t like it?”

“Exactly,” she agreed with him. Her voice being barely a whisper now, thoughts coming through she wished to have pushed far away.

What’s the purpose of staying if you don’t even like me? A sentence she will never forget. The perfect guy - kind, sweet, alive, nice, respectful, hot - turned out to be another disappointment. That was a year ago, shortly after she was accepted by McLaren as a photographer. She told him about the news, thinking he’d be happy to hear her getting the job. Instead he accused her of not loving him because she would have to travel so much with all the races and not caring about how he felt about that. Was she really so unlovable to not get the one she wanted? The good guy. The one that felt as much a friend as a boyfriend. Was there really no way she could get someone she could truly love?

“Are you okay?” Lando asked, sensing her now stiff body and her sunken mood. Putting his hand on her shoulder to make her stop walking and look at him. He wore a frown on his face, some kind of worry flashing through his eyes when she faced him fully, eyes connecting.

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” she said, mustering a small smile.

Lando learned that, unless they’re your partner, you shouldn’t pressure anyone into talking about something they didn’t openly talk about first.

The longer they walked, the more the streets came alive. But she barely cared about them, she took pictures of the buildings. Doors, windows, architecture. That was what she thought had to be remembered, the things human build and that would eventually fall apart because of them.

“You don’t really like photographing people, do you?” Lando asked as they sat down in a cafe, getting a coffee before walking home again.

They were already two hours outside, finding new streets every few minutes and just walking wherever light shone. When a street would be too dark for her liking, she would just keep on walking, ignoring Lando who promised to protect her. She only said, that she didn’t really trust his martial art skills, so she refused.

“I do, sometimes,” she argued with him. Her eyes turning sharp and a frown came on her face. “I just prefer everything else.”

“And still you photograph me and Osc after every race,” he smirked at her.

Y/n’s face turned red, her eyes widening in surprise that he noticed. She wasn’t assigned to take photos of them after races all too often, being used more to take pictures of the cars throughout the race, qualifying or practice. Still, she would often use her camera to take pictures of them from behind everyone else. Catching angles and moments the assigned photographers weren’t so likely to catch themselves. They were focused on the Instagram account, while she was more focused on sending them to their families for enjoyment and memories. Sometimes she would sent them to Oscar as well, so that he could show them to his girlfriend. A bitter sweet reminder how he saw her.

After being left with silence, Lando continued, leaning forward to talk quieter. “You sent them to my mom, my dad, even Osc, but never me. Why?”

“I don’t have your number,” she said simply, not having another explanation. It was the truth, but she also wasn’t too keen on having his number in her phone.

“I could give it to you,” he suggested.

“You could,” she said back.

She couldn’t get the perfect guy, but Lando was willing to take her. And maybe that could be enough.

“It was nice today,” Lando said, stopping in front of her room at the hotel. Hands tucked in his pockets.

He took about 130 photos, a third of them being of her. The girl standing in front of him, smiling sweetly and nodding her head.

“Yeah,” she agreed with him. “It wasn’t too bad.”

They stood opposite each other for a while until Y/n cleared her throat.

“I’ll see you later tonight at the dinner?” She asked, reminding him off the plans the team had for the evening.

His eyes widened in remembering, “Oscar said, that you wouldn’t be there.”

“I wasn’t going to go, but my plans got cancelled, so I don’t have anything better to do.” She shrugged.

“OK, then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She waved at him before closing the door as soon as she put a foot in her room again. Leaning against the wooden surface, she lets out a sigh. How did that happen?

Y/n pulled out her phone to look at the time, instead she was greeted by a dozen missed calls. All of them belonging to one particular person, Johanna, her best friend since kindergarten.

Calling back, she heard screaming on the other line: “Where were you? I thought you were kidnapped and killed. Holy shit, girl, don’t do this to me ever again.”

“I’m sorry,” she laughed at her friends exaggeration. “I was just out, taking pictures like usual.”

“For how long?”

“About 3 hours, I think? Maybe only two, I don’t really know,” she answered, falling down on the mattress.

“OK,” she squealed. “Who was with you?”

“I wasn’t with anybody,” Y/n defended herself, biting her lip to keep herself from saying more. To not unravel her lies.

“Sure you weren’t,” Johanna said, knowing she would get through to her in some way. “You would’ve answered my calls if you were alone, because you’d have your headphones on. But you didn’t. So, who were you with? Was it Oscar? Did you finally get him?”

“I was with Lando,” she confessed. Unable to keep anything from her.

Johanna gasped in shock, sucking in her breath while she spoke, “No.”

“We met in the foyer of the hotel and he just came back from being outside, taking pictures. Or at least, attempting to do so, because when I asked him about it, he confessed that he had taken no pictures. So, I offered him to walk with me again and we did. Taking pictures.”

“For 3 hours?” her friend asked, knowing how she could get annoyed very easily when having to pass by photo-possibilities in case of annoying the person she was walking with. That was why she always went out alone, until now.

“For 3 hours,” Y/n confirmed.

“Was he an asshole?” Being on the receiving end of most of the girl’s rants about how annoying Lando could be, she couldn’t stop herself from asking. Some things were just too bizarre to not be curious about.

“Surprisingly no. He was really nice, actually. We talked and when we got back, I asked him if he came to the dinner tonight.”

“He probably said no, because he hates those things.”

“He tried confirming that I came as well, because I actually had plans. Apparently Oscar told him about it.”

“You had plans? Why didn’t you tell me about those plans?”

Y/n sighed, not eager to share the news. “I was supposed to go on a date with this guy, nothing serious in the future, just something to get my fixings, you know? He canceled this morning, saying that he was back with his ex.”

“What an ass,” the girl on the other line said. She never understood why Y/n had to have such a bad taste in men, particularly because she deserved so much more. “Maybe you could use Lando to get your fixings?” she suggested, trailing off at the end of her sentence.

“I’m not gonna use him,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“What does he do with all the other girls? There isn’t much to it. It’s all the same, just you’ll get slut shamed if you’d do the same. Turn the tables,” she said.

Y/n shouldn’t listen to her, she knew that. Being the friend who had been through the most toxic relationships, and only barely holding onto her sanity because of the situationship she had at the moment, she wasn’t someone who should give out advice like it were pennies from her pocket.

“I’ll text you when I come back from the dinner, alright?” Y/n settled on the agreement with herself of leaving today to let things settle, maybe sleeping about it was the wiser choice.

The knock on her door was a signal that she should already be dressed and ready to go. Instead, she stood in front of the mirror for 30 minutes already, pondering if she should wear a jacket or not. She didn’t know whether they sat outside or not, most likely not. Shrugging the extra clothing off and throwing it on the bed, Y/n made her way to the door, expecting Oscar to wait for her.

“Lando, what are you doing here?” She asked the boy who leaned against the wall next to the door, fidgeting with his fingers. Waiting for her, she supposed.

“Waiting for you,” he confirmed. “I thought we could get there together.”

“I was actually already meeting up with Oscar.”

“Oh yeah, he had something he needed to talk about with Lily, so he will come after,” Lando said, scratching the back of his neck as if in need for a good answer to appear.

“Oh, okay,” the girl said, slightly disappointed, before turning around and locking her room.

“You look good,” Lando commented as they walked down the hall.

Standing in front of the elevator, she turned her head towards him. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

The dinner went by in mostly silence, besides Lando’s unusual presence and therefore also the unusual amount of bad jokes and laughter filled heated discussions about racing or video games. It wasn’t as irradiating as she thought it would be and the topics weren’t as confusing to her foreign mind as she expected them to be. All because, whenever Lando saw her eyebrows knit together and her lips parting in confusion, he would explain the subject at hand to her in the smallest detail to really make her understand what the conversation was about. Making it easier for her to follow than normally.

They stayed behind, engrossed in conversation with whoever was willing to talk about a certain topic, until even the last engineer decided to head back to their room and get their rest. Now, they were sat next to each other at the big table, all alone. The restaurant wasn’t empty by far, still enough people were talking and maybe even eating. Everyone paid for their own food and drinks, so now the only left open bill was theirs.

“I enjoyed going out to take picture with you today,” Lando confessed into their silence, sipping on his espresso.

“I did too,” she said back, surprised at her soft tone and faint smile. “You weren’t half as annoying as normally.”

He laughed at her answer, her smile growing bigger at the sound of it. “I didn’t expect any other answer.”

Their laughter died down with every passing moment, only smiles remaining, as the slow jazz music filled the place again. Cutlery on porcelain skimming through the air and conversation from different tables surrounding them once more. But in their heads, they heard none of that. All they were aware of was their heartbeat and the comfort they found so suddenly in the other. She felt his hand grazing her leg and he could feel her skin passing by under his fingertips.

“Maybe we could do it again in another city.”

“That would mean that you have to arrive earlier and spent less time in Monaco,” she reminded him, knowing how most drivers - him included - preferred to arrive at track the night before media day. He would never find the time go out with her and explore the city then.

“For you, I’m wiling to do that.” Lando leaned closer, his back against the chair he was sat on, but his hand now on her thigh.

“What a charming man you are,” she said back, mocking him in a way, but her cheeks still turned red at the contact.

“It’s natural,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

She scoffed at his behavior, turning her head away for a second before responding, “And the people on the internet call you Lando Norizz. I really understand it now.”

“Very funny,” he commented back. “Still I got you blushing.”

“It’s just very hot in here,” she brushed it off simply.

“Probably because of me, right?”

There it was again, the reminder why she couldn’t stand him.

“Dream on, Norizz.”

“I will.”

They drank their espresso before heading back to the hotel, walking side by side. With the restaurant being only one entrance next to the hotel, it made it all easier and faster to get back.

“Have a good night, Y/n,” Lando said as they reached her hotel room.

“Good night, Lando,” she said, her hand on the door handle and her mind gambling whether she should play the game or let it be. Turn the tables. She did, kissing his cheek and leaving him left standing with a deep red colour creeping up his neck, before slipping into her room and looking irritated by her own actions at the reflection in the mirror.

Sunday came around the corner and though she photographed Lando, she hadn’t talked to him yet.

Their conversation still hung in the the air every time they passed each other in the paddock or he smiled for a picture of hers. Receiving one in return when she looked at the photo appearing on her screen shortly after. She had never done it before, smiling at his face whenever she saw it, but now she couldn’t help it. Looking at Oscar photo bombing by accident made the picture just a little sweeter.

“You’re blushing,” a voice said from behind her. Turning around in a state of shock, she tried to hide the zoomed in on face on her camera from whoever was invading her private space. “It’s because of my face, right?”

“Oh, you wish, Norris,” she laughed back awkwardly, trying to slip into the easy banter as naturally as he did. Rolling her eyes half jokingly.

Slowly, bit by bit, they fell into a pattern. A pattern of meeting and kissing and flirting and growing closer. And no matter how hard she tried to convince herself that this was all for fun and that he was nothing she wanted, he seemed to become more perfect with every second she spent with him. He was gentle and kind. Funny, romantic, flirty, nice. A good listener and he watched movies with her no one was willing to watch with her before. He kissed her in the mornings and he held her at night. He took her out on dates and he made sure that everything was perfect for her. In his mind, a dream girl deserved a dream life. And he was willing to provide it for her no matter the cost.

She didn’t need much, but all his gentle gestures and romantic words. It was too much of all she learned to mistrust. He was a playboy, why wasn’t he acting like one? Why was he acting like this could actually be something?

She still posted more pictures of Oscar than him, even after they started seeing each other regularly. It had kept him occupied now for a while, the thought that maybe the woman he loved didn’t like him as much as she made pretend. Maybe, he wasn’t the one.

The tension in his apartment had never been this high. With her hunched over her computer, editing new shots from the weekend, which she didn’t get finished on the plane or before he left for his quick morning run she would never participate in, he could see Oscar’s smiling face look back. Trophy in his hand and victory in his eyes. He saw her smiling faintly every time she looked from the regulations of the warmth or colour to his face.

He definitely wasn’t the only one.

“You like him more than me, right?”

“What? Who?” She looked up at him. Confused and scared. Caught. He could see it in her eyes. How she prayed he didn’t ask her about the cards which were already laid out on the table, facing him. She prayed for him to see different cards, the wrong ones, but she knew that only one pair existed.

“Oscar. You like him,” he stated. “He has a girlfriend, you know that, right?”

“Of course, I do.” How could she forget?

“Why still sob after him then?” he asked, genuinely curious. He wasn’t as mad at her as she thought he would be. All that he felt was disappointment. In her. In him. In them.

Why still sob after him?

“He’s perfect,” she finally answered. She knew, being this honest would be a possible mistake. But what did she had to lose? Nobody else would know. As much of an asshole Lando could be, he would never betray someone like that, she knew that much. And they barely ever talked, so it wouldn’t be too awkward (she hoped). “He’s a good guy, with no problematic past. He’s nice and he knows how to be nice, which is even better. I mean, who wouldn’t want the nice guy?”

“You don’t care who it would be as long as they were a nice guy?” Lando asked, looking down at his cup.

“I will never get the nice guy,” she said back.

“Instead you took me? The guy willing to date you? You don’t even care about how I feel, do you? All that is important to you is not being alone, you don’t even care how it makes the others around you feel. God, you’re really an awful person, you know that? So self-centred and completely unaware about anyone else.”

“You aren’t really one to talk, Norris. In fact, you should be the one person to understand. Sleeping with random girls to fill in the void of your unbearable loneliness isn’t much better. At least I tried having something that could last.”

“I tried too, with you. I tried having something meaningful because I actually liked you and yes, I slept with many girls in the past, but at least I never lied to them. They always knew where they were at, they knew it was never meant for something more. I wanted something more with you.”

“Yeah, right.” She laughed dryly, rolling her eyes at his manners. He couldn’t be serious. Why would he want something more with her?

“Why can’t you believe me?” He seemed like he wanted to say more in his defence but she cut him off. Scoffing.

“Because, maybe, you are one of the most entitled people I have ever met. You see nothing more in life than adrenaline, in whichever way it’s closest. And when you want something, you get it. You are everything I never wanted in a man.”

“What?” His voice got quiet and suddenly time stopped. He was stuck there now. He was everything she’d never want, but she was everything he desired. She was everything he loved.

“You are arrogant and snobby and put your opinion above anyone else’s. Every time we went out for dinner with the team it was always you who was missing, out in a club or simply at home, probably with some girl too. You don’t care about the team.” Lando started walking around the living room, picking up stuff that was aimlessly laying around. “And when Oscar won, you weren’t even happy for him. I know they fucked up the strategy, I know that you were angry and I understand why. But god, he even felt sorry about winning. He was in pain the whole time - and I know you didn’t know - but maybe stop assuming you know everything about one’s life, because you don’t. You could’ve at least looked happy for him.”

“Yes, I was angry at the team. Yes, I may have been even a bit angry at Osc in that moment. Yes, I didn’t look happy then, because I fucking wasn’t. But after the race, I talked to him and we are great teammates. We talked it all out, I apologized and then I congratulated him.” He put the stuff into her arms, standing in front of her again. “So, maybe you should stop assuming you know anything about what isn’t happening in front of your eyes. Because you don’t.” She looked down at the stuff. It were a few books, a laptop, a shirt that was discarded on the floor the nigh before - all hers. He also brought a suitcase from the bedroom - hers.

“Leave,” Lando said, turning towards the big window, away from her. “Please.”

4 weeks. It had been 4 weeks already and the heavy feeling weighting down their hearts still felt the same. It felt like they could feel the other’s pain too, but both too prideful to admit that things could’ve ended differently. They should’ve ended differently. Nothing was making sense anymore. All of her pictures looked empty now without his face and huge smile covering half of the photo. All of his passions for racing felt dull now without the exciting ping of his phone whenever she posted a new photo dumb, the excitement of looking if there were any pictures of him in them was gone.

Both blamed it on themselves, but neither got over themselves to knock on the others door and apologize or talk it out.

Y/n knew she fucked up. She knew she deserved the reaction she received and she couldn’t blame him for it, having reacted the same when faced with that kind of situation. Though, for someone like Lando, who had to constantly live with the fear and possibility of being used by those people close to him, actually discovering such thing had to be much worse. He only selected a few people he trusted to be this close to him and she fucked it up. She fucked it up the moment she felt the same way he did, finally. The closeness and awareness she always craved to feel for and with someone was finally in the palm of her hands, until she threw it away.

Lando - though he was still disappointed - thought that maybe he could’ve waited with throwing her out of his flat after calming down and collecting his thoughts, though by the time that happened she was already gone, as was every trace of her. Almost every trace, he reminded himself as he looked at the small camera still laying on his bedside table. He hadn’t looked at the SD-card yet, neither did he tell her she forgot it when she left. He forgot to give it to her. But giving it back felt too real.

His eyes flickered from the TV to the camera every few seconds, the plot and characters only being a background story to his misery, a way of pretending to be alright. Although he would never say it out loud, he missed her. Every part of her, he missed it. And oh, how he hated that he did. Missing someone so cruel was the most devastating thing to happen. Missing the one who hurt you was never a good path to follow, but he did. It looked nicer than the shallow, lonesome one he took all these months before her.

From one moment to the next, the camera was in his hands and the SD-card was out of it, connected with his computer. Lando hesitated for a second before clicking on the folder titled with the camera model. It was the same one she took with her when they walked through Barcelona and the pictures on there were mostly, him. She still hated him then, so why did she take so many pictures of his body and face and shadow. There were hundreds of him, on the streets of Barcelona and after the race. Just him. No Oscar, no engineers or random people. The only person clearly visible was him.

Maybe there was more than she ever said.

God, he couldn’t do this now.

The Dutch Grand Prix was nearing. Practice 1 was good, though it could always be second. Racing on the track where his WDC rival won every consecutive race for the last 3 years, he couldn’t help but feel challenged by him every session he climbed into the car that weekend. If he wanted to stand a chance against Max, he needed to win this.

“People would just get more reasons to hate on me if I fuck this up,” Lando continued talking, oblivious to the stare of his best friend until he didn’t receive an answer. Looking up from his water bottle and stop picking on the straw attached to it, he tried catching Max’ gaze, though the Brit wasn’t focused on him or the ramble of words coming from his mouth, he was focused on something else. Someone else.

“I know you said, that she looked good, but man I doubt my knowledge of your taste now,” he answered without giving any context clues. Lando, slow as ever off track, was wildly looking around the area his best friend was looking at. Not finding what he he meant - or rather who he meant - until Oscar stepped aside for a moment.

There she stood, her face shallow, a forced smile on her lips (though it still looked scarily natural) and no life surrounding her once bright eyes. It all seemed empty now. The way she talked without any enthusiasm lingering in her words or the air around her, the way she shook hands so lazy and unmotivated, the way she stood more hunched over than normally, greeting Lily. Oscar’s girlfriend.

A few months - hell, even a few weeks earlier she would’ve lost her mind when the words left Oscar’s mouth after he called for her. “I wanted you to meet my girlfriend, Lily. Lily, that’s Y/n, the photographer you like.”

“Hi,” the young woman smiled brightly, extending her hand with excitement and looking genuinely happy to meet her. “I really love all the pictures you take, whether it be of Oscar, Lando or just the paddock. You really capture everything perfectly and naturally.”

“Thank you,” she said back, not being able to look past the fact that Lily was simply perfect. Not just from the way she talked or looked or was, she was simply perfect for Oscar. The boy looking at her like Y/n had never seen anyone look at someone. His eyes filled with love and passion for her. “Oscar, told me you were studying to become an engineer, that’s so cool. Like, we really need more woman around here, these blokes are just annoying.”

All three of them laughed and though - she hated to say it - it didn’t feel weird. Everything felt natural and nothing hurt. There was no jealousy or conflict building up inside of her, those people were simply great to be around. Especially together. Lily made Oscar talk more, urging him to answer questions or bringing up new conversation topics whenever the talk started to quieten down.

Though with all these distractions around, she still found him more often than she’d like to admit. In the garage, out on track, on the leader board, it was always his name, his face, his car that she seemed drawn to.

Meeting her eyes, Lando quickly turned around again, hitting Max’ leg under the table when he didn’t avert his eyes from her, but instead waved and smiled.

“What are you doing, mate?” Lando asked, slumping deeper and deeper in his seat as he felt her eyes still on the back of his head.

“What? I’m just being nice,” Max answered back, a smug grin on his face.

“Stop being nice to her. Start being nice to me.”

The drivers started getting ready for the qualifying, sitting in the car and waiting for the go. All eyes were glued to any sort of screen there was, whether it be strategy, the cars or simply the screen broadcasting the session.

Y/n and Lily were both stood against a wall in the McLaren garage, waiting for the cars to get out of the box and onto the track. The silence didn’t feel threatening, not after their conversation earlier, but it was still a bit awkward. Both girls were unsure of what to say.

“What happened between you and Lando?” Lily suddenly asked, breaking the silence and Y/n’s stare at the screen and that one car.

She noticed it, of course she did.

“Nothing,” Y/n quickly replied, a tad too quickly she noticed as Lily looked at her with unconvinced eyes.

“If nothing happened, then why are you so awkward around each other and stare at the other all the time?”

“We do not do that.”

“Yes, you do.”

Y/n took a deep breath; how was she gonna get this over with? She wouldn’t tell the Oscar part, obviously. But what other part wouldn’t be necessary and could milder the catastrophe they found themselves in again?

“Lando and I, we never understood each other much,” she started to explain, looking at Lily to see the focused look in her eyes as she listened to every word the girl had to say to give advice in the end. She knew it was needed. “But then, we went on a walk together, both taking pictures and something just clicked, I guess. We found something similar in our very different perspectives of the other. He kind of always seemed to be this fuckboy, dumb idiot that I could never get to like in my head and because of that, I never tried talking to him or anything. But after that walk, we talked more, on the phone and overall. I guess, we started dating sometime then as well. It was only like a month, but we grew really close until I completely fucked it up. We had a fight where he asked me if I even actually liked him and truth been told, I definitely only saw it as a bit of fun at the beginning, but then I started really liking him, but because of a past relation ship - that wasn’t the best example of healthy by far - I had a really hard time accepting that.” Sensing that she was already talking for far too long, she decided to keep the ending short. “I basically told him, that he embodied everything I never wanted in a man and then he threw me out of his flat, rightfully so.”

Lily was silent for a second longer, processing all the new information before she started to say something. “I think you should talk with him about it. From what you’ve told me, you really like him and pushing that feeling away is only gonna make it worse. You’re working with him, you can’t avoid it forever. And even when he doesn’t forgive you, it would still feel better to have it talked out for both of you.”

“Thanks, Lily,” Y/n answered, smiling gratefully at the girl next to her. She was truly a pure angel. “I just don’t think he wants to talk with me at the moment.”

“All you can do is try.”

He was back in again, looking at the data and thinking about how to get the fastest lap and pole. From Q1 into Q2.

And then it happened.

The garage came alive once more, when his name stood on top of all at the end of Q3. Lando Norris got the pole position for the Dutch Grand Prix, and he couldn’t fuck this up. He just couldn’t. All while she was watching from the sidelines once more with a small mile covering her face. Usually she would go out and take pictures for social media, but she wasn’t needed today. She was just another part of the crowd now.

Their hotel rooms were near once more, like they always were. She could hear the quiet music coming from his room as she sat on the balcony in a hoodie and sweats, watching the sun go down, seizing the moment where the clouds were gone from the sky, allowing it to be looked at by her. And him.

Lando watched her sit in peace from his balcony doorway. He wanted to go out, watch it with her, but then he had to face her and he wasn’t too keen on that. Not after the conversation he had with Max and how he overheard Y/n and Lily talking about the situation and her wanting to apologize. He needed to concentrate. But all his eyes were able to find was her.

Retreating back to his room, Lando put on a pair of his running shoes before exiting the room and building completely, letting his thoughts being swept away by the cold air and fresh breeze that flew through the city at this hour. He wouldn’t let her ruin this weekend for him too.

She watched his figure disappear into the night while he ran towards it. Snapping a picture of his back in the process.

Walking down the hall with her face stuck in her phone, Y/n didn’t notice the figure doing the same walking towards her. She didn’t notice him until he let his phone drop to keep her steady by holding her arms, pulling her towards him in the process.

“Uhm, sorry,” she mumbled, bending down to pick up his phone and give it back to him.

“Yeah, thanks,” Lando mumbled in return before he started walking away again. Ignoring her completely.

It was now or never.

“Lando,” she called after him, making him stop dead in his tracks. Fuck this shit, she thought as she took a step towards him and then another just to not having to yell all her feelings at him once more. Just now it’d be the truth. “I’m really sorry.”

“I wasn’t looking where I was going, don’t worry,” he brushed it off, facing her. He knew what she meant and she could see it in his eyes that it did. Part of him wanted for her to say it, but the other part knew he would run back to her immediately. That latter part knew it wouldn’t be wise to keep on listening to her.

“I’m sorry about what I said to you before Spa. I didn’t mean it, I truly didn’t.” She took a deep breath, collecting herself and trying to keep back the tears threatening to spill her every emotion. “I know I was a dick and I’m sorry about that, I know I’ve hurt you and I never wanted to do that.” He scoffed at her answer. “You were never what I wanted in a partner, but you’re everything I need. You’re really funny and charming and nice. I’m sorry that I took so long to notice all that when you were standing right in front of me all the time.”

She didn’t look up at him once while she was talking, her eyes were angled at the ceiling and when she walked past him, she did it in shame. Eyes on the ground and head low. She didn’t look at him, too afraid of his disgusted face she would receive probably.

But all Lando did, was standing there, in the middle of the hall, with his mouth agape like he wanted to say something in return though he was speechless. No words left his mouth until the elevator doors closed and made a ping sound he hasn’t heard in a long time.

“I’m sorry too.”

The garage was filled with anticipation, he could do this. He could win it.

She was ready for it, for the chaos that would break out and for the run needed to make when he actually crossed the chequered flag first and won. If he didn’t crash into a wall, he could do it. He could have a chance at being a world champion.

The chaos that broke out was worse than she expected, but she was there in Miami, so she had been through worse. The moment he was around the last corner, she started moving with the crowd, choosing another way than most of the engineers and team members to celebrate. She was still having to do her job. Photograph him. The moment Lando got out of the car, everyone seemed to explode in cheers and hollows. 20 seconds. Lando had a lead of 20 seconds.

Fucking amazing, Y/n thought, taking one snapshot after the other. Trying to hit all the angles she learned looked good on him over the last year. Or as in his words, simply lovely.

Lando jumped into the crowd, not as aggressively as in Miami, but the crowd felt the same nonetheless. Wild, ecstatic, prideful. He was so happy that, when he looked at her, he smiled, one finger next to his face and smiling at her. Not at the camera, at her. Y/n stood close enough to see the look in his eyes, he was forgiving her. After all she’d done to him, he was forgiving her and smiling while doing so.

And then he walked away, towards the cool down room, leaving her eyes to flicker down at the screen like she’d done so many times before. This was it. This was what she was hoping to receive, but better. She hoped for a pad on the back and a small smile, but when he looked at her, for a moment, it felt like nothing between them changed. It was still them, being reckless and in love.

The whole team gathered in front of the garage, celebrating the win like they’d always do. A big smile on Lando’s face as he sat in front of the sign with his P1 written on it, the trophies for him and constructor in front of them. The whole team was cheering and the moment the click on the camera went off, the champagne was popped.

It was more an instinct than part of a plan, though the moment Lando started to run away from the sticky liquid, running into her direction to shield her from the champagne. Hugging her waist and bending the part of his upper body what wasn’t already protecting her over her head to protect her hair. He felt her giggles against his chest. The champagne against his back got less and when it did near nothing, he took her hand in his and started running off from the crowd and into the back of the garage.

Letting his back fall against one of the walls, he pulled her in by her waist once more. Pressing their bodies together so they were breathing as one. Their chest heaving up and down from the adrenaline at the same time, both too excited still to process what they were even doing. The people outside were still heard cheering but to them that meant nothing. Especially not when one adventure swept right into the next one.

His lips crashing on hers like they were a lifetime separated. Like nothing they’d done before felt quiet like this and it didn’t. This was more. This was everything.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted and I’m sorry that I didn’t say anything yesterday,” he panted against her lips. “But I swore to myself that when I won today I’m gonna listen to the immature part of me and try to make you mine for real this time.”

“I just wanna be yours.”

[shotmrmiller]

Ghost knew that declining any type of work in this industry wasn't ideal. He can do as he likes because Ghost is a name everyone knows, a porn actor no one forgets.

Unlike you, the newcomer. Still so green behind the ears.

So, with a downturn of your alluring lips, you inform him that the meeting to go over the upcoming threesome with Price would have to wait.

"My manager sent me an email this morning, very last minute, about a video I'm gonna shoot with Gaz."

The fingers that were tugging your hair still. "Oh yeah? Know wha' kinda scene your doin'?"

You softly hum. "He's to be my handyman neighbor. Gotta bat my eyes at him as I ask if he can come fix my kitchen sink."

Kyle's a decent bloke, a looker for sure.

He's an up-and-coming entertainer. The pretty boy next door, the brother's best friend type.

Face as if sculpted from marble, a smile to die for.

Beautiful, really. Not particularly Ghost's type though, he likes a little more meat on his bottoms. Not that what he thinks matters, of course.

"Tha's alrigh', love. We'll postpone it to after then, yeah?"

Ghost quietly sits behind Price with his arms crossed, never taking his sharp eyes off the small screen. Even though Kyle is there too, all he can see is you. Your rosy tongue tantalizingly licks your bottom lip as you give Kyle a once-over.

Smart fingers undoing the button on his trousers, hooking into the waistband, carefully pulling them down until they puddle at his ankles.

The way you gaze up at him through your lashes, with his cock in your pert mouth, taking him in until the tip of your nose grazes his trimmed pubic hair.

How your neck cranes back so beautifully, eyes fluttering closed as Kyle slides his expert tongue through your slick folds. Your soft thighs trembling as you buck into his mouth, the heels of your feet digging into his back. Ghost's ears catch the sound of your breath hitching, while his eyes feast on the delectable sight of your back arching off the kitchen counter as you reach your peak.

His fingers sink into his thick bicep when Kyle doesn't relent after; continues to lap away at your sodden cunt, pressing tiny kisses on your sensitive clit. Ghost's spine straightens instantly when he hears your pained whimper.

It's too much, Kyle needs to back off before he forcibly gets him off of you—

It takes less than a minute for you to reach another peak, squealing as you come.

Your airy laugh dissolves the tension in his shoulders and leans back into his chair.

Good.

He drinks in the euphoric expression on your face when Kyle slowly sinks into your wet heat— your sweet moan forever music to his ears. Ghost watches you jolt back on the counter with every sharp snap of Kyle's slim hips. He hears the breath punched out of you with each thrust. He can see your white, creamy release around the base of Kyle's thick length, strings of slick connecting you two.

Your hands curl around Kyle's forearms, your shaky legs wrapping around his waist.

Ghost's eyes narrow when Kyle leans forward to whisper something into your ear, and you mewl loudly. Ghost clenches his jaw so tightly that he hears a pop.

Kyle's got stamina, Ghost'll give him that. He fucked you through three orgasms until he finally pulled out and spurted thick cum over your mons.

Price calls it a wrap, and the crew begins to take down the lights and such.

Ghost doesn't move from the chair he's in, knowing that you'll come to him, even on unsteady legs.

And walk over you do, slowly but surely. "Hi, Ghost." He pats his thigh invitingly, gesturing you to sit.

"Hey, love. You did so well," he praises. "Looked a dream."

As you glance down in embarrassment, his dark eyes lock onto Kyle's, who stands with a cold water bottle in hand across the room. "Flatterer."

He holds Kyle's gaze a couple more seconds before flicking them to you. "Only tellin' the truth, pet. Alrigh', let's get outta here. Ya hungry?"

He places an arm around your lower back, the other under your knees, and lifts you off his lap.

"Don't even try to pull tha' dietin' bullshit on me either," he chides.

He huffs in amusement when you sputter.

[55sturn]

in which valentine’s day with matt doesn’t go as planned…

idk what inspired this LMFAO but if this idea has been done, i apologize [ i haven’t read any matt fics in so long ] but if you’d like inspo tags or creds of any sort, just send me a dm and i’ll tag you!

you knew. you absolutely knew that you shouldn’t have expected much more than a horny “u up?” text from matt on valentine’s day. after all you were two best friends that had a tendency to fuck every other week.

but the reoccurring sweet, albeit bare minimum, but somewhat romantic gestures from matt had fed you false hope. again and again. he always made promises of more, he was always calling you his special girl, or his number one girl, putting you before almost anything.

and you had secretly hoped that he had something planned, even if it was just softer, slower, and slightly more passionate sex. but you were let down. and it broke your heart a little bit more than you wanted to let on.

he had hinted at getting together for valentine’s day earlier in the week, giving you a vague time to be ready by, and that was more than enough for you to take the idea and run. you had always been a little naive, but this time, it seemed to reach a new level, especially as his replies from monday and today seemed to grow from slim to almost nonexistent. but still, you held onto that hope.

dinner time had finally come around, and you felt ridiculous, and honestly, a little helpless, waiting on a sign, any sign possible, that matt was thinking about you. but as you checked your phone for the millionth time, you were met with radio silence. the pathetic sting of being forgotten about started to roll in as you took in your appearance. you had done your makeup, put on a cute dress to hide the delicate blue lingerie set you had on underneath.

you felt tears start to sting the back of your eyes as you stood and made your way to your room, starting to break down all the work you put into looking pretty and delicate, only for the one man you wanted to pretend you didn’t exist. after your shower, not complete without you berating yourself and crying silently as the water fell down in a heavy a stream, and a post sob session nap, your phone finally pinged, waking you from your sleep.

matthew.sturniolo posted a new story!

upon clicking the notification, you were met with a blurry and almost impossible to figure out picture of matt with a film camera covering his face, and a girl tucked into his side. and you were forced to swallow a bitter pill.

matt had chosen another girl over you. he had picked someone else to spend the day with. the one day quite literally marketed to spending time with the ones you loved deeply, marketed to embracing all sorts of love and connections. and he didn’t pick you. he wasn’t beside you, teasing you about the way you blush every time he called you “his darling girl” and he wasn’t kissing you so hard that you felt like you couldn’t breathe. but rather, he was on the other side of the city, tangled up in someone else’s bed.

and he had the nerve to text you days later, making up some lame excuse that he had gotten over worked and busy filming videos ahead of time with his brothers to post while on tour. and you wanted to ignore the texts, letting him stare at the tiny, bolded “delivered” taunting him beneath each text he sent. but you couldn’t, not when his apologies seemed so genuine, sickeningly sweet, and so convincing, even when you knew the truth.

and you couldn’t help but fall back into his embrace, but it felt different this time. it was ruined by something a bit more solemn than usual, it was a sweet and comforting reunion, tainted by the bitter taste that lingered in your mouth every time he kissed you. and matt couldn’t ignore that you weren’t fully present, no matter how hard he tried. despite him initially only showing up to get in a quick nut, he still cared deeply for you, after all he was your friend, first and foremost.

you didn’t cave when he first asked, surprisingly, you stood your ground and acted as if you were unbothered, but you slowly started to crumble the softer and more desperate his voice grew. and as he pleaded during the final ask, with his eyes softening around the edges, and his hands cradling you so gently, as if you were made of glass, and sometimes you felt like you were with how sensitive you could be, you bared your soul. you told him how much him ignoring you on that stupid holiday made you feel, tears pricking your eyes as he scoffed.

he was quick to remind that he didn’t owe you anything romantic and domestic, especially not on a holiday meant to celebrate couples and love, when he didn’t love you, at least not the way you wanted him to. and he was quick to deflect his shitty behaviour and the way he left you hanging, waiting on him, by calling you naive, questioning how you could genuinely believe that he would do something like that. he was cold, mean, and so very cruel, blaming his own empty promises on your feelings and emotions. and he left without so much as another word upon seeing your hurt written all over your face, feeling far too guilty for playing with such a delicate heart, but he was damned if he’d ever admit that he hurt you.

he had too much pride in his soul to acknowledge that what he was doing was cruel, there was something so wrong that felt so right in having you wrapped around his finger, waiting on his every beck and call because you were too blindly in love with him to see he was only using you for something physical.

and once again, you were left feeling small and minuscule after he had broken your heart again, and you couldn’t fathom why he hurt you so much when he was meant to be your friend before and above anything else. and so you found yourself stuck in that same helpless and utterly pathetic cycle of waiting for him to return with his tail between his legs, spewing nothing but bullshit, with half-hearted apologies and promises of things you knew he’d never deliver, begging you to forgive him.

and you knew you would. because that was the difference between you and matt, you would forgive and believe anything to have him in your life, while he would lie to you just to get back into your bed.

[venusbyline]

Aemond Targaryen — The Beloved Son

— summary: If Aemond could not seek love from the only woman who would take him in her arms and caress his hair, then he needed to find a replacement. An older woman who could make him feel safe and loved again.

— pairing: Aemond Targaryen x brothel worker!reader

— type: smut, dark

— word count: 4.9k

— tags/warnings: female!reader, DEAD DOVE: DO NO EAT, rough sex, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, mommy kink, breeding kink, breast worship, nipple licking, nipple play, overstimulation, pregnancy kink, dacryphilia, rough kissing, disturbed themes, age gap (older woman/younger man), Aemond is 19 and Reader is 29, biting, crying, pre-relationship, unhealthy relationships, referenced character death, Lucerys Velaryon mentioned, past underage sex, past child abuse, religious guilt and conflict, crisis of faith, blood licking, implied forced pregnancy, mommy issues, labor mentioned, implied Targtower Incest (mother/son) BUT NOT REALLY, implied Aemond Targaryen/Alicent Hightower BUT NOT REALLY, past Targcest (older sister/younger brother), past Aemond Targaryen/Helaena Targaryen, referenced non-consensual somnophilia, referenced rape/non-con, referenced breastfeeding, referenced lactation kink, minor Helaegon, Aegon Targaryen mentioned, past Aemond Targaryen/Madam Sylvi, underage dubcon, minor Alicent Hightower/Criston Cole, curse words, mild angst, ambiguous/open ending, switch!Aemond, sub!reader, canon divergence (Pre-The Dance of the Dragons), porn with plot. no use of y/n, english is not my first language.

— author's notes¹: I decided to explore Aemond's "mommy issues" side. There's no real incest between Aemond and Alicent, but I put it as a trigger warning because there are scenes about them that can be uncomfortable to read. And also because I see their mother and son relationship too complex and intense. In my opinion, Aemond had an adoration and love for his mother in the season one that the writers left aside during the season two.

— author's notes²: Furthermore, I believe that Aemond's loss of virginity with Madam Sylvi may also influenced a part of his weird behaviour. So this time I wrote about the consequences of this in Aemond's mind, even a few years later. I see what happened with him in the books/show as a real child abuse, so don't read this fic if you've triggers with these themes. I do not support any form of abuse, this is just fiction.

— crossposting: AO3

❥ about me • Aemond masterlist • HOTD masterlist • main masterlist

Aemond needed to vent. He needed some time away from all the chaos that must have been in the Red Keep since he confessed to killing Lucerys. Some time away from all the chaos he caused.

He remembered everything quite accurately. How he arrived at the castle with wide eyes and his body drenched, entering his mother's chambers without even knocking on the door. Alicent had let out a loud scream at the sudden appearance and covered her slim body with the white bedsheets. Despite there being no one there with her, his mother's body was sweaty and her cheeks were flushed, as if she had cum just a few minutes ago. At first he ignored the strange sight and muttered, with his voice trembling and weak, that he had become a kinslayer.

He remembered explaining confusingly how he was trying to scare Lucerys and ended up losing control of Vhagar, causing the old dragon to chew every bit of his nephew, only some remains of his tiny dragon falling from the sky.

He remembered Alicent widening her eyes, still covering her small breasts and telling Aemond to wait for her outside the room.

As much as he wanted to leave the place and wait for her in the hallway like the good son he had always been, Aemond nodded and left. Not just her chambers, but also the castle. He looked for any clothing that did not look so expensive as to give away his noble origins, and wore it along with a dark suit. He passed by Ser Criston Cole on the way out of the Red Keep, ignoring the fact that the guard's armor was not orderly as usual, and said something about needing to get some air away from there. Aemond did not wait for a response from the older man, knowing that it was only a matter of a few minutes for Alicent to look for Criston and tell him what her beloved boy had done.

Aemond was lost. He knew that.

As soon as Aemond entered the brothel, he looked everywhere for Madam Sylvi, his sweaty and trembling hands searching for the only woman who could perhaps help him.

When he was chasing Aegon together with Ser Criston to take him by force to his own coronation, he did not expect to be reunited with the prostitute who had taken his virginity. Aemond had an excellent memory and remembered that night very well, every second of that embarrassing moment. If he tried harder, Aemond could even feel Madam Sylvi's full lips around his still developing cock, or the way she lifted his wine-flushed face to her large breasts. Aegon demanded that she not be too soft with his younger brother, saying that a thirteen years old should already be brave enough to handle a little sexual intensity. However, the woman respected Aemond's nervousness and guided him calmly.

That night had not been so bad at all, even if he had not wanted it. He never returned to any brothel, his mother's disgusted reaction to Aegon's impulsive and selfish decision and her plea to Aemond not indulge in such promiscuity made him give up on going there again. He should do as she asked, marry a pretty noble lady and be a loyal husband, be Aegon's opposite.

He did not want to hurt his mother's feelings, he did not want her to look at him with the same look of disgust she gave her eldest son. He wanted to keep making Alicent proud, being her beloved son.

But Aemond had already failed with her the moment he decided to act like a spiteful boy and chase Lucerys through the skies. Now that he was a Kinslayer, his mother would fear him. She would be ashamed of him. I would see him as a murderer, cursing their whole family forever.

And if Aemond could not seek love from the only woman who would take him in her arms and caress his hair, then he needed to find a replacement. An older woman who could make him feel safe and loved again.

Perhaps Madam Sylvi could do that. When she spoke to Aemond when he and Ser Criston were looking for Aegon, she made it clear that he had grown up so well. She looked surprised, perhaps even horny.

Now, after six years without visiting the place, Aemond was there again. The place where he had promised his dear mother in the name of the Seven that he would never set foot again.

He needed to seek affection from Sylvi or another whore who would make him feel as loved as Alicent made him feel before he grew up. He needed to feel worthy and loved by a mother again.

That was a busy night at the brothel for you, too many clients for too few prostitutes to deal with them. Madam Sylvi warned the women that she would take a day off to rest, a privilege that only the oldest and most renowned courtesans were entitled to. Most of her favorite clients seemed angry about this fact, and even though you and the other girls explained the reasons as calmly as possible, no one cared about what you had to say.

Some people just rolled their eyes and walked away, others snorted and threw coins at you so you could do her job then, and some were even excited about fucking a different cunt.

It was not unknown to you why Sylvi had so many customers who frequented the place in search of her. She was very experienced, a beautiful older woman, with large hips and big breasts. She understood how to please men and even women, both sexually and emotionally.

"Where is Madam Sylvi?" A deep voice caught your attention from behind your shoulder, making you jump and widen your eyes, sighing embarrassed when you saw that it was just a customer.

"She is not here today, sir." You forced a smile, trying not to look too much at the eye patch the boy wore. It was strangely familiar and he had facial features that seemed more handsome than most of the men you served, even if he wore a hood that shadowed his details.

With a frown, the man clenched his jaw and muttered one more time. "I need her tonight. Right now."

You recognized almost all of Sylvi's frequent men, and that one was completely unknown to you. You bit your tongue to try not to question him about why he was so desperate to see the woman if he had never been there recently. However, you took a deep breath and forced another smile, your voice sweet and hiding your curiosity. "My apologies, sir, she is not here tonight. But you can look for another courtesan if you want to, we have many options." You reassured and tried to walk past him to go find another man or some woman who could pay you a few coins, before being stopped by the man's hand on your arm, keeping you close to him.

"Well, you are free to please me." It was not a question. He already knew you did not have any customers waiting. You stared at that violet eye for a few seconds, before swallowing hard, your throat hurting while you nodded, having no choice whatsoever. "Then get an empty, private room for us immediately."

You opened your mouth to explain that the isolated places required a greater amount of gold than the common services, but the man interrupted you, handing you a heavy bag full of coins that were almost slipping out of the opening. "I assume you will make it worth the price, woman."

The moment you and Aemond entered the isolated room, he watched you pulling the curtains until they closed, keeping the events that would follow there a secret from other people. Although you still did not realize who he really was, there was an expression on your face indicating that you were suspicious about something. Perhaps it was the money he was willing to spend without complaining during just one night with someone who was not even the courtesan he was looking for, perhaps it was the eye patch that left a little part of his scar exposed, perhaps it was the extremely pale skin...

It could be many things that were making you suspect there was something unusual happening.

When the other prostitutes finished pouring some wine into two glasses and warming the place with candles, Aemond finally cleared his throat, almost as if he were embarrassed or did not know what to do.

"How old are you?" He asked in a more vulnerable voice than he intended, cursing himself for it.

Your brow furrowed at the rude question. There were men who sought out younger and less experienced whores to satisfy some dark desires, but you doubted that was the case. "Twenty-nine, sir."

Aemond sighed and nodded, satisfied with the answer. You might not be as old as Madam Sylvi or Alicent herself, but you were a maturer age than his. It made him less tense. "Good... That is good." He muttered, his single eye directed to the ground when some thoughts shuffled through his mind. A part of Aemond hated himself for having listened to his mother's advice to never set foot in a brothel again. Now, he was ten and nine and barely knew how to talk to a whore, while Aegon must have already fucked even the one he was about to try something on. "Has King Aegon II already enjoyed your services?"

His words caught you off guard, making you fidget with some discomfort, sitting on the mattresses around the floor, your robe tied and expecting anything other than that. "I cannot expose any of my clients' secrets, much less our King."

Aemond hummed without surprise, already expecting an empty answer like that. He took off the hood that shadowed the most part of his face, revealing his long silver hair tied with a not very effective ponytail and the violet eye that shone much brighter now without the dark fabric that made you unable to noticed the true color.

You did not have to be so smart to know the man in front of you was a Targaryen. A Targaryen prince. Perhaps...

"Aemond." His name dripped from your lips like the sweetest honey. "Aemond Targaryen."

The prince maintained his look of neutrality and almost disdain, nodding and then shrugging. "Or Aemond One-Eye, like some people call me. Your King Aegon is my older brother." Due to your lack of response and your wide eyes, Aemond sighed. "And I asked you a question about my brother. Are you going to answer it or not, woman?"

"He... He never fucked me, Your Grace. During the few times I saw him around here, he was either too much drunk or already busy with another courtesan."

That was good. Someone untouchable by Aegon. Not like his mother, who had given birth to Aegon three years before him, contaminating her precious womb with that bitter soul she one day carried, swearing that her firstborn would become an ambitious and noble-hearted boy, worthy to sit in the Iron Throne.

You also would not be like Madam Sylvi, who had already slept with Aegon several times even before his brother forced him to wet his cock inside her during his thirteenth name day.

You were... Pure. Not for the eyes of the world, which saw you as a mere whore, a hole for fun. You were pure for Aemond's eyes. You were untouchable by Aegon's filthy hands. You could be like a mother to Aemond. Hold him like Alicent had held him when he was a child, you could let him fuck you like Madam Sylvi had done when he was just a little boy...

You could be whatever Aemond asked you to be. His whore for some minutes but his mother afterwards. It will be a way to distract himself from what he had done to his nephew. A way to justify his impulsive actions that were about to declare war.

Aemond thought to himself if he should let it all out and just leave later on. That was what he planned to do with Madam Sylvi, even though she was attractive and hot.

Gods, he should not even be there, with the curtains closed and an older but kind woman waiting for him sitting on the mattress, your robe tied carelessly so you could seduce the customers who saw the smooth and transparent silk cloth covering just a little of your beautiful body. He should be with his mother, asking for forgiveness due the war he would cause, begging for the kisses on the forehead that she used to give him when he was younger.

Aemond should just turn around and leave. Leave and wait for Sylvi the next night.

Or rather, he should leave that dirty place forever and go to the Sept to seek forgiveness for his terrible behavior and quick promiscuous solutions.

Of course Aemond should do anything like this. And yet he did not. There was something interesting about being there, analyzing you as if you were fresh meat. Analyzing every detail like he did when he was buying some wooden toys for his nephews Jaehaerys and Jaehaera.

He was analyzing everything with precision, and was enjoying every bit of that vision. "Tell me your name." He crossed his arms, none of his clothes other than his hood were off his body.

You bit the lip before whispering your name and repeating it later, along with your last name. The prince nodded, humming the name on his mouth to test the sound. Enjoying the result, Aemond gestured to your robe and you immediately obeyed his nonverbal demand, untying the knot and letting the thin fabric fall around the mattress, your bright eyes lifting so you could see how the Targaryen prince was reacting.

With flushed cheeks and arms crossed again, Aemond walked a little closer to you, steady and slow steps until he was face to face with you. His index finger lifted your chin with a calm that was the opposite of everything you were used to in the brothel. You even believed that he could treat you really well, unlike other rude customers. But your hope disappeared the moment he grabbed your cheeks, his short nails digging into your skin and forming tears in the corners of your eyes.

"I need... I guess I need to take my emotions out on something. On Someone."

You did not dare blink, muttering an agreement and not resisting when the prince pushed you to lie down. His body was warm, unlike his hands that was cold from sweat. You remained in the position Aemond had placed you in, lying beneath him with your legs spread to let him take control if he wished.

Aemond's heart beat fast, knowing this would be the second time he was about to fuck a woman. The second time he was going against the Faith of the Seven, against his mother's requests. Hurting the feelings of the woman he loved most and probably amusing his older brother, who should have been laughing and drinking, finding it funny that Aemond had not only killed his own nephew due some petty revenge, but was also now enjoying the pleasures he had always despised.

"Do you need help, Your Grace?" You worked up the courage to ask the prince as you noticed how his fingers were a pathetic mess, unable to undo the ties on his own pants after he freed himself from the tunic.

Aemond wanted to tell you to fuck off. To tell you to be quiet and let him fuck your cunt until it is dripping with his seed. Until you are pregnant with a silver-haired bastard. He wanted to humiliate you like Aegon did to all whores.

But for the Seven Gods' sakes... He did not want to be like Aegon anymore.

"I do not know!" Aemond shouted, breaking the silence of the private room. He stopped trying to get rid of his clothes and turned his body to the other side. His heart felt like it was about to explode, his hands were trembling again and his legs were weak. Aemond's head ached like the Seven Hells and he had not drunk any drop of wine that the other courtesans had left there for the two of you. "Gods! I thought this would help me, but I can barely get my fucking cock out!"

Your body moved closer to his, pressing your face against Aemond's warm and bare back. His breathing became more erratic when you remained quiet, but brushed the tip of your nose against his skin as if you were a kitten.

Aemond opened his mouth to scold you for your childish action, and then closed it. There was something different about your silent actions. You did not judge him for being there, you did not mock him when he failed to drop his pants and fuck you fast like any man in their right minds would do. Aemond was far from a sane man and it did not take long for you to notice that.

Even though he was fully aware that you might change your mind about him when you learned the truth of what he had done to his own half-sister's son, Aemond let out a sigh of relief. Neither of you moved the bodies, feeling something good from that whole complex situation.

Then Aemond turned to you, his eye filled with tears that he cursed himself for letting escape. His palm went to your chin, holding it softer than he had done before. It was gentle and almost delicate now. Everything he liked to be for his mother. A good boy. A good son.

The prince looked down at your naked body, your breasts so inviting to him that he did not think twice and immediately touched them, squeezing the soft flesh with an inexperience that was cute to you. Aemond only felt the smoothness of a female chest three times during his entire life.

One of them was when he was just four years old and he was jealous of his mother breastfeeding his youngest brother Daeron after his birth. So he touched Alicent and asked for her milk too, which was denied and he spent hours crying until he got distracted by some wooden toy that which the maids brought at Alicent's request, to entertain the greedy little boy as quickly as they could. After that, Daeron began to be fed by a wet nurse and Aemond never noticed his mother's breast milk again.

The second time was when Helaena was pregnant with the twins Jaehaera and Jaehaerys. Aemond was still an innocent twelve years old boy and was very curious seeing how the girl's breasts were suddenly bigger due to the breast milk. His youthful curiosity got the better of him and he took advantage of the fact that his older sister always let him sleep next to her when Aegon was busy fucking whores in the brothels. He snuggled into a hug with Helaena as she slept and pulled the neckline of her nightgown aside, playing with his thumbs on her nipples until they were leaking white and sweet drops.

Unfortunately for Aemond, Aegon arrived drunk just as he was sucking Helaena's nipples, being breastfed like a baby. Aegon laughed loud at the scene. Aemond's cute lips were so wet with his sister's milk and his face was reddish like a strawberry, body shaking as he explained himself in the least convincing way possible. But fortunately for Aemond, Helaena did not wake up and probably never found out about his immoral act. Or at least he preferred to believe that she never found out about that.

Despite having begged for forgiveness at the Sept so many times, Aemond was dragged against his own will by his older brother to a brothel to celebrate his thirteenth name day. He did not want none of that and he was angry with Aegon, but also scared of the whole situation that would develop, even if a part of him wondered if this was some divine punishment he deserved for taking advantage of his dear sister's innocence during her sleep.

The night of the loss of his virginity had been the third and until then the last time that Aemond touched any intimate part of a female body, his young and plump face buried in the middle of Madam Sylvi's large chest.

He had promised to the Gods that he would only do something like that again with his future wife. But here he was, thumbs rolling your hard beaks and making you gasp. Aemond may not have been sexually experienced like his brother Aegon, and not like his uncle Daemon or his sluttly half-sister Rhaenyra, but he was a quick learner with a good memory.

He remembered Madam Sylvi encouraging him to pay a special attention to her nipples using his mouth, and Aemond was eager to follow that old lesson. Wrapping one of your beaks with his lips, Aemond licked you like a hungry man, his tongue swirling around it and then nibbling.

Every muffled moan that left your lips was like music to the Prince's ears.

Once your breasts were completely soaked with Aemond's spit and red marks from the bites he gave you, Aemond smirked satisfied, the desperation that was taking over his mind disappearing and giving space to the lust building up inside his veins.

He spread your legs like he watched Aegon do with the maids when they were both younger, smirking at the view of your wet cunt, the pubic hair glistening with your own juices. "Fuck, you are really dripping. I thought you whores got paid to pretend, not to actually enjoy it."

You moaned at his mockery. In fact, you did not usually feel pleasure with your customers, even the most frequent ones who were not rough to you. They always focused on themselves, not really caring if what you were feeling was pleasurable or not.

But Aemond Targaryen was different. He was appreciating your body, hands on your breasts as if you were an anchor keeping him safe, face in front of your legs, excited to devour you and satisfy all his hunger.

Aemond Targaryen barely seemed to see you as a whore. He seemed to be seeing you as a woman he wanted to worship more than anything. Almost like a...

"Do you have children?"

The prince was full of random questions, and it was another one of the moments when he crossed an unusual line. Why the hells was this important? Was he some boring man who wanted to have sex just with not so experienced whores? Was he disgusted by pregnancies?

"I do. I have... two kids."

The words was almost impossible to hear. Anyone would tell you to repeat what you said. Anyone could be angry due the answer. Anyone but Aemond Targaryen. The prince's keen hearing caught your words perfectly, a smirk of relief and excitement pulling at his lips.

It was perfect. Almost too perfect to be true.

It did not matter where your children were now. It did not matter if they might be suffering from having a mother working in a brothel to be able to feed them with the bare minimum. All that mattered to Aemond at that moment was that you had two children. Just like Alicent had Aegon and Helaena before he was born.

He could pictured himself coming out of his mother's womb. She always said that Aemond was the most painful birth of all, as the boy came out of her womb with such eagerness that the midwives swore it almost caused a hemorrhage inside Alicent's cunt. While Aegon's birth had been traumatizing due to the fact that it was Alicent's first time going through that labor experience, Helaena's birth was soft. The little girl was born so silent that for a few seconds the Queen feared she had been born dead, but Helaena cried when Alicent began to sob, as if she was feeling her mother's emotional pain.

Aemond remembered how his mother described the birth of each of them, even Daeron, who was the fastest of all to be born. And one thing Aemond would never forget was how his mother described his birth.

Alicent said it was like giving birth to a dragon. She felt like she was being ripped from the inside out and for a moment she could swear that little Aemond enjoyed hearing her screams of pain while the midwives were desperate to help stop the bleeding. She said he stopped crying immediately, the sounds of her suffering calmed him.

If he came out of Alicent's body like a dragon whelp, then he would come into yours with all the Targaryen fire inside his veins too. The true perfect replacement for her mother could handle anything. Perhaps he could really trust you to vent and look for affection if you also saw him as your and Alicent's third children. The most devout and the most feared. He could be that for both of you.

Six years ago, Aemond had no awareness about how to please a woman. He was sure that Sylvi had pretended to cum so that he would not feel so humiliated, not that it mattered anyway, since Aemond had not lost his virginity by choice and Madam was already used to faking pleasure reactions for the vast majority of men who visited her brothel. However, there with you, after not knowing how to deal with the chaos tormenting his own mind, Aemond allowed himself to lower his head and get between your legs, rubbing his tongue on the swollen bud that he knew what it was based on what it was written in the forbidden books of the library in the castle.

At first, the movements of his tongue were disorganized and uncomfortable, and you tried to guide his head, but Aemond bit your thigh, drawing some blood from you and hearing you cry out. Aemond did not care about any of that, licking up the red drops that dripped down and going back to licking your clit, taking a little more care than before, understanding that he had done something wrong. He made his tongue less pointy and flattened it better, rubbing it against your cunt and giving gentle licks, eating out the juices that dripped from your wet hole and then moving it up to focus on your clit, trembling moans escaping you while you rolled the eyes at the sensation.

Your thighs trembled and your back arched upward, forcing Aemond to grip your legs to keep your body down, the wet sucking noises buzzing in his ear when you had the first release.

Aemond did not wait you to recover yourself from your high. He kept your legs open with one of his large hands, the other undoing the ties of his pants more quickly than during the first attempt, throwing them to the side and caressing his hard cock. You looked at his muscular torso and looked down at his long legs and the dark hair on his groin.

You did not even need to entertain him with false praises or get him drunk with the wine the other prostitutes prepared for the two of you. Aemond was ready for it and ignoring his own nervousness.

He spat into his palm, pressing his arousal one last time and finally slamming into you, the abrupt stretch hurting your cunt, lips parted and eyes widening when Aemond ignored your brief pain and started moving his hips, letting out low guttural growls at the feeling of your tight warm walls crushing him.

"Your Grace..." You moaned in a mix of pleasure and discomfort, the thrusts hitting the soft part of your cervix and making you see stars.

Aemond smirked at your incoherent moans, lowering himself until his face was close to yours, capturing your mouth in an aggressive kiss, uncoordinated tongues together, teeth practically devouring each other's lower lip. The exchange of saliva tasted like blood and your own cum.

He had not felt the sensation of being inside a woman in so many years that the pleasure was almost like losing his virginity for a second time. It was intense, strange and desperate. He needed more. He needed to fuck you deep inside, until you were like Alicent, carrying a part of him in your womb.

The faster he got closer to his orgasm, the more Aemond's low growls became whispers begging the Gods for forgiveness and also tearful moans calling you his mother. Prayers and cries coming from a filthy sinner in search of redemption, or from an innocent little boy who needed the love of the woman who gave birth to him.

With each violent thrust inside your tight and sore cunt, Aemond pictured a little silver-haired boy coming out of you after nine moons and destroying you just like he had done to Alicent during his own childbirth.

Now that the only woman who ever loved him with her entire body and soul saw him as a monster, Aemond wished that future routine nights with you in the brothel could fill the void inside his heart. However, deep down Aemond knew that no one could ever love him more than the woman who brought him into the world. For Aemond, failing Alicent was worse than failing the Gods. And there was no divine or maternal forgiveness for a murderer.