#the boy :] he knows not what horrors await him-

[ak319]

Village Boy x Fem civil servant reader

《Beloved's Veil》

(Warnings: will have themes like possession/horror and abuse) This story will have more than two parts, so enjoy🌼

"Do you like it this far, Ma'am? The village?" Odai’s voice cut through the soft hum of the engine, drawing your gaze to the rearview mirror where his eyes met yours.

"Yes, it’s quite peaceful. I've never lived in a village before."

"You’ll love it, Ma’am. It’s indeed peaceful, which is good for someone like you who enjoys working in a calm environment. The beauty here adds more to the experience." He smiled, his eyes glinting with nostalgia. "This is my second time here. I once drove the Commissioner on a visit. The people are kind too."

"Mhm." You nodded thoughtfully as Odai slowed the car down on a narrow street. Your eyes wandered, taking in the surroundings--quaint homes with old wooden doors, vibrant rugs hung on balconies, and villagers watching the car with curious eyes. "But even the smallest villages have their dark sides. Crime, hardship--they exist everywhere."

"Indeed, ma'am." Odai's voice took on a more serious edge. "I kept news of your arrival under wraps, which is why no one's gathering around our cars." You glanced back at the security vehicle trailing behind, steady and unobtrusive.

"Good," you mused, lighting a cigarette, the flicker of the flame momentarily catching your gaze. "Maybe they are not happy to get a new DC so soon." You chuckled softly, exhaling smoke into the still air. "And what about the other task I gave you? Judging by those wary glances, it might be working."

"Yes, ma'am. I handled it." You'd instructed Odai to spread rumors before your arrival, whispers about your uncompromising nature--how you were a stickler for the law, an officer with unshakeable honesty. It was a strategy you'd wanted to test, a way to plant seeds before even setting foot in Al Razeh. Spread your roots before you even step into the territory, you thought with quiet satisfaction, watching the smoke curl and dissipate into the air, like invisible tendrils laying claim to the village before you.

You, (Y/n), had just been appointed as the Deputy Commissioner, DC, of a district called Kamandik, and your new office--and residence--was nestled in the village of Al-Razeh. It was a quiet place, far from the hustle of the city, a change you welcomed after the long, exhausting journey. Coming from a distinguished family, it almost seemed like destiny had led you to this path. Your lineage boasted army officers, doctors, and civil servants. Your father, a retired military man, had served with distinction, and your mother, an army doctor, had met him through her service. It was that kind of background that had built your discipline and drive.

"Is the Assistant Commissioner going to be there?" you asked, gazing out at the unfamiliar landscape as you approached.

"He will arrive tomorrow, ma'am. His flight got cancelled for today." Odai replied.

Good. You felt a sense of relief. One less formality for today. You leaned back into the seat, letting the exhaustion sink in, already imagining the stillness of your new residence awaiting you.

═════ ◈ ═════

"But I want you to work with me, my son," the old man said, his shivering hands reaching out as his weak, but soft gaze fell upon his youngest. Habib--the kindest, gentlest, and most beautiful of his sons--stood there, looking down at his father. His pale green eyes and thin, golden locks were a wonder, something the village marveled at since his birth. His father, prayed each day that God would grant his son a life as beautiful as he appeared, for Habib had known nothing but pain because of this beauty--this curse.

"Baba, you know they don’t want me to," Habib began, his voice barely a whisper, catching in his throat before it could fully form. The familiar heaviness of his situation silenced him completely as soon as his oldest brother, Basim, strode into the room with an air of command.

"Baba, how many times must we go through this?" Basim’s voice cut through the room like a blade. "I told you--he is not working, and that’s final!"

"He is going to work in the store I go to! With me! He has to do something."

"Him? Are you serious? " Kadir despite being not having the desired strength at the moment stood up from the bed and Habib immediately supported him, his own eyes casted down in his brother's presence.

"Basim, you seem to forget that I am still alive," Kadir said, his voice low but firm, "and I am very much capable of making decisions for this house. Do you hear me?" His words hung in the air, heavy with authority, and Basim, eyes flickering between his father and younger brother, clenched his jaw before storming out of the room, leaving a tense silence in his wake.

Habib finally exhaled the breath he'd been holding, his shoulders sagging slightly. "Don’t be afraid, son," Kadir soothed, resting a reassuring hand on his son's cheek. "I’m here for you. I will always be."

Habib nodded, pressing his lips softly to his father’s weathered fingers. "Just follow what I tell you in the shop," Kadir continued, "and you’ll learn the work in no time."

Outwardly, the Jafaris appeared to be a humble, respectable family--Kadir himself was a respected elder in the community, with his two eldest sons already married. But beneath the surface, the Jafaris were infamous. And though it seemed like many things, perhaps the real reason for the rumors that clung to them like shadows was just one thing--Habib.

Habib woke with a start, his heart pounding as he scanned his dimly lit bedroom. The narrow terrace window was open, a detail he couldn't remember opening himself. No, wait, he had opened it earlier, hadn't he? The memory was foggy. He looked down at the book in his lap, the dim light from the terrace lamp casting strange shadows around the room. Quickly, he turned on the side lamp, its bright light offering a small sense of relief.

He ran his fingers over the pages of The Book of Kings. The words seemed to mirror his own sorrow: “On my heart, this pain and sorrow are so abundant, in mourning for you, the assault on my anxious heart is endless. O heart, you are with me, but you constantly mourn the lost beloved. Every day, we remember you, and at night, we weep for your love, as if my heart cannot reach any solace from your absence and this pain has no remedy.”

Indeed, there seemed to be no remedy. The ache and torment felt as fresh and unyielding as if it had happened just yesterday.

His footsteps were light as he stepped out of his chamber, and with a whispered prayer, he made his way to the kitchen. It was 10 p.m., and most people had gone to bed by 9. He had missed dinner once again. The worried faces of his parents flashed through his mind, contrasting sharply with the indifferent expressions of his brothers.

As he approached the dishes stacked in a corner--likely left there by his mother--he began to prepare his plate. Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, signaling someone's presence behind him.

'No, please-'

The words of the cleric, Nazim, echoed in his mind: “Remember, my boy, never be afraid of anything, for these things feed on fear.” Despite the reminder, he remained paralyzed, his fear not only of the unknown but also of the possibility that it might be Basim, who wasn’t pleased with what Father had said earlier.

The plate in his hand nearly dropped when the person touched him. "God!--Uncle, it’s me, it’s me, Rahim. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you...""

"It’s alright, Rahim." The teenager, Rahim, was the son of Basim, his oldest nephew, and also his best friend. "Why are you awake?"

Rahim smirked and leaned against the counter. "Just couldn’t sleep," his playful demeanor shifted to concern as he took in his young uncle’s appearance. "Uncle... were you sick again?"

"I’m always sick, nothing to worry about."

"You should take better care of yourself. I worry about you. And..." Rahim hesitated, "I doubt that--"

"Rahim, I’m fine. And no, it’s gone. Long gone. Believe me. I’m just... going through some side effects."

"Wow, all that pain and now side effects too, even when you’re free from it? It’s been years! You should see an actual doctor." Rahim was just a toddler when his uncle was afflicted in a way he never imagined possible. Yet, he remembered it all like a vivid nightmare.

"Rahim, please. I am fine," Habib reassured, his voice soft but firm, trying to mask the lingering shadows of his past.

The boy decided to drop the topic for now with an unconvinced sigh. "I brought those pastries you love."

"Why?! You know Brother Basim--"

"Uncle, please. It’s my pocket money, and I get to buy whatever I want for whoever I want." Rahim smiled, and Habib couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound light and comforting in the quiet of the kitchen.

Rahim’s grin widened. He always loved seeing his uncle, who was more like an older brother to him, happy. "Shall I make tea?"

"No, I'll make it. I don't want you waking the whole house."

The two chatted softly, the kitchen door closed to keep their voices from carrying. Basim would be furious if he knew they were up.

"Oh, how could I forget to tell you! When me and my friends were playing, we saw the new DC’s car. She’s here. And from what we’ve heard, she’s very upright and strict too. Which I think is a good thing, considering the previous one was lousy as hell."

"We’ve never had a female DC before, have we?" Habib wondered aloud, trying to recall if he had ever seen any officer around or remembered the last DC’s name.

"Um, no. And do you know her bungalow walls are so high, you can’t see past them! Imagine how cool it must be from the inside. Plus, all the cameras and stuff, which I heard they’re going to put around the village too."

"Mhm, nice." Habib nodded, his smile fading slightly as he sipped his tea. The conversation about the new DC and the changes in the village did little to distract him from the quiet sadness that lingered in his heart.

➺Part II

[daily-rubbersoul-redux]

finally, the boy

[vixensbrainrotts]

TR men reacting to little kids wooing you

Content: reactions

Tropes: established relationship

Warnings: none (lmk if im wrong)

Summary: A little boy, perhaps four or five of age comes waddling over to you two whilst you're out on a date together and offers you a flower, confessing his spontaneous love for you. How does your man react to that?

Vixen’s two cents: hi! This has been sitting in my drafts forever so i need to get it out cause it’s collecting cobwebs. It’s sort of a random idea but whatever, i found it entertaining. Also im editing this in the car and its giving me a stroke why is the road so fucking uneven? If you have any ideas for me to write please please please my requests ans messages are open! Yeah, let me know if there are any other characters that fit those types and enjoy!

(Takemichi, Chifuyu, Souya, Hakkai, Shinichiro, Sanzu (I don’t care what anyone says. Shy Sanzu is forever on my agenda), Inui)

Nearly deceased type, it took him so long to get you. How HOW is this little ass kid wooing you better than he could ever dream of? What the actual fuck was happening? He couldn’t believe his eyes when that actual toddler came up to you with a flower, the stem freshly plucked, and a glimmer in the kid‘s hopeful eyes. The boy had almost serenaded you the way he sang praises to you: „excuse me miss, you’re really pretty! Would you accept my flower please?“. And what was even more unbelievable, was when you giggled and accepted the flower giddily. Then the little boy crossed the line: „can I have a kiss in return Miss?“. And you did. You pecked the cheek of the boy meek two minutes after meeting him! Unbelievable! It took him 3 dates to even hold your hand. Outrizzed by a five year old.

(Nahoya, Mikey, Baji)

Ready to fight the kid. He's deadass about it too, rolling up his sleeves and cracking his knuckels and snapping the kinks in his neck, looking menacingly at that poor little boy. He doesn't care that this may be the kid's first crush, he'll crush him in return. You were his damnit and he was gonna prove it to anyone who tried him. Kids included. When you pull at his arm though, prompting him to calm down, he stops a little. What do you mean you dont want him to establish his dominance? He's genuinely stumped and just kinda stares at you for a second, watching you intensely as you lean down to the boy, whispering something in his little ear and taking the flower from him. The boy giggles at you, his former horror dissipated, instead replaced with a furious blush that spread all the way down his neck and up his ears. He blew you a kiss before skipping away, giddily going back to whatever he was doing beforehand. Your boyfriend turns you around by the shoulders immediately and gives you a harmless glare. “What the fuck was that about?” But he doesn’t get a response, as you just wrap your arms around him and laugh. “You’re so cute when you’re jealous!” Well… that wasnt the answer he was looking for but he’ll take it.

(Ran, Shion, Draken, Benkei, Wakasa)

Sitting back and watching the show. He finds the little kids advances hilarious and will gladly watch the little shrimp try to win you over whilst you’re trying your hardest not to burst out laughing. “So sweets, how old are you anyway?” The boy asks you with a smirk on his face. “Too old for you.” You answer incredulously, just about ready to cry from laughter. “No no no baby, no one has to know! It can just be between the two of us and that’s fineeee!” He draws out the syllables and leans one elbow on table you and your boyfriend are sitting at. Your boyfriend all the while has probably pulled out a phone, discreetly filming the whole thing whilst leaning back and hiding his tears. You shoot both boys an amused look and then answer the awaiting kid. “Come back to me in a few years and maybe we can arrange something, yeah?” The little kids eyes widen as he looks at you with a determined smile. “Yes! You won’t regret it! And I’ll beat up your wannabe boyfie over here once I’m strong enough too!” He exclaims and runs off leaving you howling in laughter and your boyfriend, who is suddenly enraged by a child, fumes silently, sending daggers across the room. “Relax baby.” You reach a hand over the table to hold his, wiping the tears from your eyes. “Don’t touch me.” He hisses and puts the phone down, crossing his arms in fake offense.

(Hanma, Kokonoi, Izana, Rindou)

The false hope typa guy. In this case, the boy made the mistake of coming up to HIM and innocently asking for your name. “Why, you like what you see?” Your boyfriend uses language much too mature for the little kid, but he gets a timid response of “yeah, she’s real pretty..” nevertheless. Your boyfriend chuckles and pats him on the shoulder. “I say go for it, I’m sure you’ve got a chance with her!” The little boy has wide eyes and an open mouth “Really? You sure she doesn’t have some super big ‘n scary boyfriend?” He has to suppress laughter when he answers. “I’m sure she doesn’t, go talk to her, ask her for her name and tell her that I said hi too.” And with that, he’s sent the kid on his way. Your boyfriend watches him shyly go up to you and pat your leg slightly to get your attention. He watches you smile down at the little boy and talk to him, your eyes widening and laughing when you exchange a few words with the kid. When he sees fit, he comes stalking over to the two of you and wraps his arm around your waist and smirks at the kid. “Hey there.” You greet your boyfriend and turn to look at him. “Have you met—“ he guesses that you’re about to introduce him to the little boy but he doesn’t care to listen, and leans down to shush your lips with a long, over-the-top kiss, even going as far as to cracking one eye open to look at the little boys horrified face before finally pulling away. You’re a little dazed and very confused when you look down and find your little admirer gone. You throw your boyfriend an accusing look but he only raises his hands in surrender, claiming innocent with a smug smile on his face.

[kenjisatos]

MSBY BLACK JACKALS READ THIRST TWEETS ! (SAKUSA EDITION)

will probably make this a series. i just love this team so darn much *sigh*

[atsumu version]

this fic features…

haikyuu timeskip!spoilers, highly suggestive content (as the title entails), inappropriate language, sus atsumu 🤨, genre: crack, some of these are actual tweets i found lol.

Set the scene: the MSBY quartet shuffle into frame, they each take their seat in front of the iconic blue backdrop. You hear Hinata and Bokuto exchanging lively words, Atsumu fixing his hair so it swooshes the right way, and Sakusa removing his face mask and handing it to their team’s pr manager who accompanied them to this shoot.

“Is one of us gonna say it or are we all gonna say it together?” Hinata asks, looking at his teammates.

“I think we should all say it,” Atsumu replies, to which Sakusa nods in agreement.

Bokuto claps his hands together, getting excited. “Let’s do this!”

- cut scene -

“Hi, we’re the MSBY Black Jackals and we’re here with Buzzfeed to read your thirst tweets!” They say in unison.

Bokuto makes a jazz hands gesture, “Sakusa Kiyoomi edition~” he sings, as Hinata bounces in his chair and Atsumu slaps Sakusa’s back in an attempt to hype up the outside hitter.

Sakusa sighs and lets out a defeated chuckle, “Lord, help me…”

- cut scene -

The crew tosses Sakusa a phone, he catches it easily and takes a deep breath before reading.

“I need MSBY’s #15 to bend that flexible hand inside my bussy. Please and thank you.”

Sakusa quirks a confused brow, “What’s a bussy?”

Atsumu snickers. Hinata smiles, “Well, at least we know Omi-kun isn’t chronically online.”

Bokuto puts an arm around Sakusa’s chair, knowing better than to drape it around him or else he’d throw a cold glare his way. “I told you to get on Tiktok, Omi.”

Sakusa rolls his eyes, “I am not getting that dancing app, Bokuto.”

Bokuto’s lips funnel into a pout, “Then how are you gonna learn the language of the people?”

“What, like bussy?”

Atsumu childishly laughs again. “Haha…bussy…”

Sakusa tsks, “Are you gonna tell me what it is already or what?”

Hinata sighs and puts his hands together, “I am sorry to tell you this, Omi-kun, but it means—“

“Butt pussy!” Atsumu blurts out, unable to hold it in any longer. “Like a boy’s pussy, Omi-Omi. Get it?”

Sakusa’s expression is one that makes it look like he was in physical pain, which he might as well be in at the moment. He side eyes Bokuto, “That’s the so-called language of your people?”

“It’s funnier when Miya isn’t combusting.”

Sakusa sighs, “I’m not using that word, let alone using my flexible wrists for it.” He says before he passes the phone to Hinata, who reads the next tweet:

“Dear Sakusa Kiyoomi, *taps mic and clears throat* NO LUBE, NO PROTECTION, ALL NIGHT, ALL DAY, FROM THE KITCHEN FLOOR TO THE BATHROOM SINK, FROM THE DINING TABLE TO THE BEDROOM—“

Hinata lowers the phone and says, “That’s it. That’s the tweet.”

Atsumu wolf whistles and Bokuto hoots while shaking his head. Hinata is biting his thumb, trying NOT to burst out in laughter.

Sakusa blinks once, twice, before speaking up. “That’s…wow that sounds filthy.”

Atsumu barks with laughter, “Literally!”

Sakusa’s eyes widen in horror, “The bathroom?? Seriously? I get the other places, but really? The dirty bath—“

Bokuto intervenes, “Woah woah there Omi, you get the other places?”

Hinata snickers, “You hiding your freaky side from us, Omi-kun?”

Sakusa groans, dragging his hands over his face. “Please, let’s not discuss this on Youtube dot com”. He recovers and clears his throat, looking right at the camera, “Make wise choices, censored user.”

Hinata passes the phone to Atsumu. The blond setter chuckles before he even reads it out loud, Sakusa already feels the dread awaiting him.

“It’s the broad shoulders and tiny waist and the compression sleeves and the undershirt and the butt and that neck and those curls and his eyes,” Atsumu reads through breathless laughter.

He turns the phone around so that his teammates can see the screen, “And then, they attached a screenshot from a manga that simply transcribes ‘cock sucking noises’!” He wheezes, nearly dropping the phone.

Bokuto’s mouth hangs open but no noise comes out as he struggles to catch his breath, leaning his weight into Atsumu who is just as equally—if not more—cracked than he is. Hinata is busy hiding his face with his hands as he laughs, nearly folding himself up from how far he’s leaning down from his seat. Sakusa is watching his teammates loss their minds as he begins to question his life choices that led him to this moment.

Sakusa sighs, “There will be no cock sucking noises, but thank you for the compliment.”

Atsumu begins to recover, “Oh man…” he wipes a tear, “Omi-Omi, stand up and let ‘em see that slutty waist of yours.”

Sakusa shoots Atsumu a deadly look. Bokuto cheers to encourage Sakusa, while Hinata can’t help but glance at Sakusa’s waist.

“Allow me to correct myself; there will be no cock sucking noises nor will there be any showing offs of the slutty waist.”

Atsumu and Bokuto boo, Sakusa rolls his eyes at their reaction. Hinata winks at the camera, “But there will be some slutty waists in next week’s Calvin Klein feature that Sakusa did.”

Sakusa hums, “Yeah, so save those thoughts until then.”

Atsumu passes the phone back to Bokuto, who mumbles: “C’mon give me a good one…”

Bokuto clears his throat, “Sakusa Kiyoomi might be an outside hitter for MSBY, but i need him to be an INSIDE HITTER for this pus—“, he turns to the camera, “They cut themselves off there.”

Sakusa winces at those words. Hinata laughs, “I like the play on words.”

Sakusa adjusts his posture, “That would be very painful, no?”

Atsumu clarifies, “I think that’s what they want, Omi-Omi.”

Bokuto rubs his chin in thought, “Sakusa hits spikes pretty hard…I can’t imagine how hard he could go inside user-san’s—“

Sakusa waves his hand panickedly, “Please don’t finish that sentence.” He glances at their pr manager, who—by some unexplainable miracle—hasn’t said anything so far.

Sakusa clears his throat, “Unless the pay is higher, I will not be changing my position to your inside hitter, sorry. Actually, I lied; I am not sorry.”

The phone gets passed back to Sakusa, “Sakusa Kiyoomi has 47 moles and I intend to suck each and every one of them off his body.”

Hinata giggles mischievously, “Miya-san, did you write that?”

“I DID NOT WRITE THAT!”

Bokuto cackles, “How else did the user know the exact amount of moles on Sakusa’s body? You’re the one that’s always staring at each of us in the locker room.”

“WE DON’T EVEN KNOW IF THAT NUMBER IS ACCURATE!!”

Sakusa speaks up calmly, “It is accurate, actually.”

Atsumu goes pale at his words, “O-oh okay…but that doesn’t mean I wrote it!!!”

Sakusa disguises a laugh as a cough, “As much as I love to pick on Miya—“

“HEY!”

“—I’m still impressed that the Twitter user got that number right. Bravo.” He then applauds. Bokuto and Hinata follow. “Maybe I’ll let you do what you said since you got it right.”

Hinata elbows Sakusa suggestively, to which Sakusa repels away from his touch, “Okayyy, Omi. Get it, I guess. Need me to find the user’s number?”

“No.” Sakusa says immediately, but he’s concealing a smirk. He passes the phone to the winking orange-head.

Hinata begins to read: “For Sakusa Kiyoomi, I would bathe in 99.9% disinfectant, drink that shit, even inject myself with it—if it meant getting a shot at bagging that man.”

Sakusa rolls his eyes, already huffing. “Look, I don’t know who started the rumor that I’m a crazy germaphobe, but let me sit the record straight now: I am not that deranged; I just like things to be clean and tidy.”

Bokuto nods, crossing his arms, “Yeah, you tell ‘em, Omi!”

Atsumu shakes his head in disappointment, “Ya guys keep making Omi-Omi sound like some freak. Yeah, he wears a mask everywhere and carries hand sanitizer wherever he goes, but that’s just basic hygiene standards. Do better.”

Hinata points at the camera with his chin up, “Yeah, the only time Omi-kun is a freak is when it’s in the sheets.”

“SHOYO!”

“HINATA, HEYYY!”

Sakusa facepalms and sighs, “Give me my mask back; I’m leaving.”

“NO, OMI-KUN, WAAAAAIT . I’M SORRY—“

“This is supposed to be a thirst tweets video, and yet my teammates seem to be the thirstiest of all.” Sakusa says to no one in particular.

“Call it team-bonding. Meian would be proud.” Atsumu responds, imagining the look of approval on their captain’s face.

Sakusa tilts his head back, appearing to be praying to some god. He looks back at the camera, “But to that user, please don’t do that. That’s deadly.”

Bokuto clasps his hands together, “Awww, Omi cares~”

- cut scene -

Sakusa tosses the phone back to the crew, “And that’s all, thank god.”

Hinata grins, “Thanks for sending us your tweets and traumatizing our Omi-kun.”

Sakusa grimaces, “Ah yeah, it was a delight.” He says sarcastically.

Atsumu flashes the camera a charming smile, “Tune in for the upcoming videos of the rest of us reading your thirst tweets.”

Bokuto throws up finger guns to the camera, “Can’t wait to see what you guys have in store for us!”

“This was the MSBY Black Jackals, goodbye!”

kenjisatos

[princessbrunette]

oofff flashing criminal!rafe through the divider glass when you visit him in prison 🥰🥰🥰

𐙚 ㅤ  ❦︎ ㅤ ₍ᐢᐢ₎

you promise yourself you won’t cry, and you don’t — brows etched in a permanent knit as the stoic officer leads you through to the visitation centre. you’re seated infront of a glass window and a telephone, awaiting the men in uniform to escort your boyfriend into the room.

he’d been in jail for a few weeks now, and today was finally the day you were able to visit him. it had been long and lonely without him, your communication wittled down to measly 2 minute phone calls that was likely listened in on by guards or other prisoners. you’d only hoped he had been doing okay, trying to put the horror stories you’d heard of prison out of your mind.

they bring in rafe, the man looking already more bulky from his time away, head shaved and orange uniform worn lazily, the shirt open to reveal a wife beater. you try to swallow down the urge to fully check him out, the concern getting the better of you as you snatch the phone to your ear, staring at him with wide glassy eyes. a smirk tugs at his lips at the eagerness as he raises his own to his ear.

“hi, baby.” his voice comes through drawled but clear as day.

“hi, are you okay in there? do you need me to send you anything? i— i just recently got in touch with this lawyer who said there may be a loophole —”

“yeah uh, let’s not talk about that a’ight? another time. i’m… i’m in here now, okay so— let’s just talk. normal shit.” he raises his eyebrows, to show it’s not a request but more so a demand— however at the end his expression melts into a reassuring smile. you sink a little in your seat, sucking in a deep breath.

“yeah, sorry.” you shake your head and he waves you off with a hand to show he didn’t mind, leaning back in his seat with his legs spread a little, phone still pressed to his ear. you stare at eachother in silence for a moment before he speaks again. “that dress… i haven’t seen that one.”

“its new.” you nod, looking down at yourself. he presses a few fingers over his lips, nodding slowly as he stares at the way the fabric is taught around your chest.

“mm… walkin’ round lettin’ other guys see you like that, huh?” he speaks but it’s soft, like he’s not really accusing you of anything — but old habits die hard. you frown, shaking your head anyway and he returns your gaze with his eyes hung low.

“wore it for you.”

“yeah…” he glances at the robotic officers stood stationed at the back of the booth, minding their business whilst simply doing there job. “why don’t you uh… gimme somethin’ to remember when i head back in? hm?” he cocks his head, eyes jumping down to your chest again.

“like what?” you sit forward slightly. you wanted to help him with whatever you could, you just wasn’t so sure what he was getting at.

“like… why don’t you pull that dress down for a sec? just real quick baby, i’m tryna see something.” he lowers his voice, and your eyes naturally flutter at the nasally rich-boy drawl that comes through the phones receiver. you burst into a giggle, looking around at the other visitors.

“rafe!” you sweetly scold, and whilst his lips jump up just a tad, he sits forward like he means business.

“m’not joking, okay? look if— if i could reach through this glass n’grab those fuckin’ titties right now i would, but i can not so i’m beggin’ you to work with me here. you don’t know what it’s like in here, kid — i’m a man starved, a’ight, please.” he drops his voice even more to hiss in a desperate whisper and you look around, wetting your lips as you consider making your move.

you return your gaze to him, and as your dress was strapless all you had to do was pull it down. you giggle mischievously as you do so, pushing your tits together with your hands, squeezing at them a little before yanking your dress up after you suspected the officer taking peeks. rafe grins, pleased — before shifting in his seat, adjusting his crotch area and glancing around. “mm, s’what i’m talkin’ about baby.”

“i miss you.” you’re still giggling, the smiling gently fading into a pout and he presses his lips together with a nod.

“miss you too. when i get outta here it’s fucking over for you, hope you know that. don’t expect to be walkin’ for a few days. that’s a damn promise.”

“well, i look forward to it, big bad rafe cameron.”

𐙚 ㅤ  ❦︎ ㅤ ₍ᐢᐢ₎

[no-144444]

the break up of the century - (l.norris, no 4)

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pairing: lando norris (no.4) x fem! singer! reader

summary: you and lando break up on horrible terms, can a new album and a special performance bring you back together? is that even what you two want?

7.6k + words, brief fade-to-black smut, fluff, mainly angst :)

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You weren’t sure how it happened, one moment you were on stage, the next, you were crying in your dressing room, hating every single thing about your life. Funny how one moment leads into the next, right? 

Y/n Y/l/n. Household name at the age of 19. Now, 23. Fans impatiently awaiting your next album, the album you hated, and now on a world tour that is sucking the life from your body. 

Sounds like you have it all. 

The money, the fame, the clothes, the boys, the voice. It’s all you’ve ever dreamed of. And now it means nothing, because you have it. And it’s nowhere near as good as you wanted it to be.

You’d always been told of the horror stories of fame taking more than it gave, and you always brushed it off with a smile and a ‘that’ll never happen to me’. Low and behold, you’ve had 4 stalkers in 2 years, 3 lawsuits against you from old record companies that dropped you, 2 grammys, and 1 ridiculously public break-up with he-who-shall-not-be-named. 

Having it all really means having too much to think about, and too much to deal with. You would’ve preferred to just go to university like all your friends. Be young. Make mistakes. But those were luxuries you took for granted, and now you’re paying the price. 

“Y/n?” Sasha, your manager called from outside. “We have the meet and greet.”

And then there was your fans. They were great, obviously, but they were also very hyper teenagers and young adults that paid a lot of money to see you, and it made you feel even worse about not being 100%. At least you’d cut ticket prices down by 50% in meetings, meaning they were much cheaper than any other artist at the moment. At least you could do that for your fans. 

You nodded, sniffling as you wiped your eyes on the sleeve of your dress. 

“Do you need your makeup touched up?”

“Yes,” you answered, voice hoarse. “How many more shows?” 

“This was your 97th. You have 53 left.”

“Fuck!” You groaned. “Fuck this.”

“You have the British Gran Prix tomorrow, you have to make an appearance, alright? I’m sending Maria in to fix your makeup,” Sasha was trying to pity you, but she also had a job to do, which you understood. 

“Thanks Sash,” you sighed as Maria came in. 

“Hey babe,” she smiled softly, sympathy and pity shown in her eyes. 

“Hi,” you sniffled, wiping your last tear away. 

“Let’s get you fixed up, yeah?” She started unpacking her bag with all your makeup as you nodded, turning to face her. “You’re amazing. You were so pretty tonight.”

You somehow didn’t scoff in her face. “Thanks.”

“I know you don’t believe me,” she sighed. “I can’t even understand why. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You hiccupped, the tears threatening to pour again as you thought about him. 

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

Stop thinking about him. You told yourself. He’s in the past.

But he wasn’t in the past, how could he be when he was always on your fucking feed with his new girlfriend. Allison and Lando, what a beautiful couple. More like a bunch of crap. They weren’t real, everyone knew it was just pr, especially considering that she was promoting her new racing movie. You had no idea why they even tried to keep up the charade. They didn’t even look good together. 

Alas, they were together, and you weren’t anymore. 

And you were going to be reminded of it every single second of the next day. 

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You pressed your entry card to the barrier and walked through as cameras flashed and you smiled one of your best fake smiles.

“Y/n!” Oscar smiled, walking up and hugging you. You knew everyone, and you started to feel embarrassed about everything. This was his workplace, and you had to be here to do press and sing a song you didn’t want to sing.

Bullshit.

“Hey Osc,” you smiled, hugging him back. 

“You look so wonderful today,” he smiled, taking your hand instead. He led you to the McLaren paddock as you two chatted about tour and races. You asked about Miami, and Oscar answered. “It was the best day of his life- his words!” 

“Meeting you was the best day of my life. That’ll never change.”

Oh. I guess it changed. 

“How's the tour? It looks amazing!” He cheered as you two entered the paddock. Mechanics and engineers greeting and hugging you as you went through and lied about how ‘amazing’ the tour is. 

“Y/n!” Zak cheered. “My favourite girl!”

He pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, and you hugged back. It felt good to be back, and to still have so many people still like you. “Hi Zak.”

“I missed you so much! Please tell me that awful Allison girl is gone and you and Lan are back? She’s driving me crazy,” he scoffed.

“No, I’m just here to do some press with Ferrari,” you chuckled. “But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to come see my favourite CEO.”

He sighed but nodded, knowing that Lando had the board cut you off the ‘influencer list’ when you two broke up. “Well, once you know that you’re my favourite.”

“You’re my favourite too,” you smiled. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Lips are sealed,” he smiled and moved on, going about his various duties. For a moment you looked around the paddock you had known so well and felt your heart ache a little. You loved Lando, you still loved Lando. You loved McLaren, and you loved the people here, yet you didn’t get to see them anymore because of the stupid fucking tour. This tour was ruining your life. You didn’t talk to family, or friends, you and Lando had broken up, you weren’t eating or sleeping, you always felt sick, you were rarely allowed to speak during the day so you could ‘conserve’ your voice for shows. 

But the worst part was that nobody noticed. 

“He's right y’know,” Oscar  smiled. “We all miss you. Even Lando.”

“Lando is with Allison. He has no reason to miss me.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “All they do is fight.”

“So? That’s what Lando and I did for weeks.”

“But it was different. You two were in a bad situation, but you loved each other, so the fights meant something. Allison and Lan are just wrong for each other, they’re fighting to fight.”

You groaned, sitting on the bench and resting your head in your hands. “When did you become a philosopher?”

Oscar laughed, and placed a hand on your back. “I’ve always been this philosophical, you were just too busy to notice.” 

“Shut up,” you chuckled, pushing him off. 

“All I’m saying is that you should talk to him, that’s all,” he shrugged, walking away from you and further into the paddock. 

“Y/n.”

Your head snapped up, so hard it hurt. There he was. Lando. For the first time in months. With Allison. And a dog.

Oh. 

“Hi,” you smiled, standing up. It was a puppy, a jack-russell terrier, the kind you’d always wanted. The kind like your childhood dog. Great, now they stole your dog breed. “Nice to see you.”

“I didn’t know you would be here,” he said bluntly. “What are you doing here?”

“Press for Ferrari. Oscar just… brought me in to say hi to everyone. So, hi. And now I’ll take my leave,” you smiled, then started to try and walk off. But Allison clearly had other plans, since she stuck out her hand for a ‘handshake’ that conveniently stopped you from walking off. 

“Allison,” she smirked. “And this is Mila.”

You stared blankly at Lando for a moment. Seriously? He’d taken the dog breed and what you’d agreed to be the name of your first child? Give me a break. 

“Y/n,” you shook her hand. “And I have to go, bye and good luck today.”

Thank god Ferrari was on the other side of the fucking track. 

“Y/n!” Charles cheered, hugging you close. You’d been getting closer with Charles since your split with Lando and his split with his ex had happened within a week of each other. “How are you?”

You took a deep breath. “I’m fine, tired.”

“I have been seeing the tour, it looks great!” he smiled, pulling back. 

“Thanks Charles, it was amazing to see you, but I better go. I have to-”

“Sing the new song? Yes! I can't wait,” he cheered. You mustered up a small smile, and left him alone. 

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Sasha came and found you in the bathroom an hour later. “Y/n?” She was frantic, and stressed, so you just decided to give up and show yourself. 

“Yeah?”

“It’s time, come on,” she sighed. “I know this is hard-”

“How could you know it’s fucking hard? My entire life is in shambles and I’m supposed to be happy about it because I’m a ‘superstar’ what the fuck does that even mean? My boyfriend broke up with me because of this tour, and I thought I was going to marry him. Isn’t that insane? Isn’t that fucking crazy? And the worst part is, that I can’t even stop if I want to. I’m not allowed to stop. Sasha, how could you ever understand how hard this is for me? I’m 22. I should be in college, having fun. But instead I’m about to sing a song I don’t like or care about, in my ex-boyfriends workplace. Does that sound like fun to you, Sasha?” 

Her face was blank, stoic, unmoving. “Let’s go, you have soundcheck.”

You just followed her. Sasha was good at that, good at making you feel small, making you feel like a nuisance. The stage was big, bigger than most of your stadiums, but you didn’t care. You just had to get through it. 

“Have you eaten?”

“Feel sick,” you replied. “No thanks.”

Sasha sighed. “You’re going to faint one day.”

“Let’s hope I never wake up,” you replied dryly. Sasha scoffed and walked on, showing you the layout of the stage. You followed and asked questions, getting into ‘work mode’, and warming up your voice as you went along. A small crowd of the driver’s was gathering, even Lando was standing there, front row, just like he used to. 

You wanted to punch him, in all honesty. How could someone do that? He had no fucking right to stand there and watch you sing. He should be with Allison. 

“Start when you’re ready,” Sasha called and you nodded. 

The music started, and you were off. When the music started, you became someone else. You were moving around, laughing with your band, smiling. It was nice. Even if you hated the tour, you felt free on stage. Even if the song was sad. 

‘Champagne problems’, you’d written it right after your break up with Lando, it was new, and it had just been released. It had become the top of the charts in 15 countries. It would be on your next album, 

‘What if it doesn’t get easier like everybody says?’, and it was your most raw album. It was clearly all about your break up with Lando, there was no denying that. 

The song ended and the entire track clapped. You stopped moving when you spotted Lando’s parents, and you realised very quickly that you had to get out of there. 

You ran to the Ferrari hospitality, did some promos for your next album with them, and suddenly it was time to sing for real. The stands were full, the microphone was on, and the spotlight was on you. 

“Hi everyone,” you smiled, and the crowd erupted in cheering. “How are we feeling today?”

You had worn a short red dress, for Ferrari, and it was sparkling in the late afternoon sunshine. Everyone could see how beautiful you looked. Your hair perfectly styled, your makeup flawless, your beautiful face. 

Lando was entranced. 

You started singing and you sounded like an angel, truely. Lando had always thought you sounded otherworldly. He knew it was about him. He knew he’d fucked up. He knew he missed you. He knew it was too late, and that was the worst part. 

“Thank you so much for coming out and listening to my dumb sad song,” you chuckled as the crowd cheered. “But I have something else for you,” you were cut off by excited fans. I have something just a little bit happier, it’s called ‘Lover’. Please enjoy!”

Lando watched you as you danced around the stage, and he felt something dark growing in his stomach. You weren’t talking about him. It was someone new. You were seeing someone new. 

You couldn’t be seeing someone new, you’d been in a new city every few days. You couldn’t make it work with him, you were never on your phone, so it couldn’t be online. How did this happen?

You finished your song, and you left the stage. You fell into a chair and passed out. Maybe not eating was a bad idea? Probably. 

“Y/n,” Sasha shook you awake. “Someone’s here to see you.”

“I feel like shit-”

“We all do. Let’s go.”

And you followed. Because you had to. What else were you supposed to do but follow? Was this your life now? Taking orders and following them. 

“Now, you have to be nice to everyone, even Lando and Allison, alright?” she turned to you, stopping in front of the door. 

“I really don’t feel well,” you tried to protest. “Can I grab something to eat first?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’ll be 15 minutes, you’ll survive,” she sighed, opened the door, and pushed you into the room.

The drivers and their partners all cheered, happy to see you back in the paddock. 

“Y/n! I missed you so much!” Carmen immediately pulled you into a hug.

“I missed you too,” you smiled, even if it was forced. You needed to sit down, you needed a drink, and you needed to be alone. 

“Some pretty amazing songs!” George cheered, patting you on the back. 

“Thanks George,” you smiled. Soon you were all sitting on the various couches and chatting, even if you didn’t speak. Lando’s eyes were glued to his hands as Allison’s eyes were glued to you. She was practically sitting on him, on the verge of straddling him if you looked in their direction again. She didn’t know it, but you were looking at the door behind them, wondering when you’d be called. It had surpassed the 15 minute mark, and you felt yourself getting more and more faint as time went on. 

“Y/n?” Allison cut across Daniel chatting to you about your latest show in Manchester, remembering a story of the two of you when you were there, and telling it to the group. “How’s the tour going?”

You cleared your throat. “Well, thanks,” you smiled shyly. 

“So the rumours that you haven’t been performing to your full capabilities aren't true? Like I’ve heard you’ve been lip syncing,” she smirked as the rest of the drivers and wags just looked at her with disgust. Oscar rolled his eyes. He’d been sick of her for weeks, and he was usually quite good with people he didn’t like, but he hated her. So did Lily. 

You gulped. “I don’t lip sync, but obviously 97 shows in 113 days is quite a lot for my voice, so I don’t always sing my super vocally- challenging songs every night or else I’d have to go on vocal rest all the time,” you explained, feeling the change in energy in the room. 

“And that would just be horrible, right guys?” She turned to Lando with a smirk on her face, but he was just looking down, embarrassed by her. “I’m a huge fan of your music, how much of it is about Lando?-”

“What the fuck?” George stood up with Carmen by his side. “Allison, what is your problem with her?”

“It’s just a question!” Allison defended as Lando got up and left. She looked a lot less imposing with Lando gone. “He’s my boyfriend now!”

“Yeah, we wish he wasn’t,” Lewis said under his breath.

“Guys, it’s fine,” you just wanted to leave. “Some of my songs are, because I like to put my feelings into music, right? But not all of them, because my life doesn’t revolve around Lando, it never did. I am more than my relationships, and you’d do good to remember that for yourself. Don’t let love become who you are, it doesn’t end well.”

With that, you got up and left. You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t care if Sasha screamed at you, you didn’t care if they all came running after you. 

It was done. You and Lando were over. Was it your choice? No. Was it a choice you had to deal with? Yes. His choice. Yet, everyone had looked to you for answers. ‘What happened?’ ‘Was it going downhill?’ or your personal favourite; ‘Did he get bored?’.

You didn’t know. All you knew was that one moment, you were with him, and the next you weren’t. 

You ran to your dressing room and lay down, eating some random snacks you found. You felt better after eating, you felt-

Knock knock. 

“Come in!” You called, not caring much about who it was.

“Hi,” Lando’s voice was small and quiet. 

You sat up, staring at him. 

“Beautiful songs,” he smiled softly. “Missed hearing you sing.”

You nodded. “Good luck today.”

“Thanks,” he sighed. “I'm sorry about Allison, she’s the fucking worst.” 

You chuckled softly. “I’m sorry you’re dating her.”

He cracked a soft smile, then it fell. “Who’s the new lucky guy for you?” He watched as your face fell. 

“No… no new guy, just an old one I wrote back at the start of… us…” you trailed off. 

His heart was shattering, watching you be treated like this. Watching from afar as you lost your mind, lost your life, over a fucking tour. He saw the soulless look in your eyes, the dropped weight, the dampened smiles, all of it. He was shocked that other people couldn’t see it too. He’d regretted breaking up with you since the moment he did it. He was haunted by the way you begged him to stay, and he questioned how he’d ever said no to you. How was he so blind-sighted? How did he not see how much pressure you were under? How did he not see that he was what was keeping you above ground? 

“Oh,” he breathed out. 

You took a deep breath. “I’m releasing an album soon, and a lot of the songs are about our relationship,” you explained hesitantly. “I wanted to offer you a chance to listen to it before it goes out, just as a… heads-up? In case you’re worried about what’s on it.”

God, punching him square in the face would hurt less than watching you feel awkward around him. He cleared his throat. “Oh umm…yeah. I’d like that. Thank you.”

You nodded and got up, taking a cd out of your backpack. “Here you go. Sorry again, about… everything.” 

“I’m sorry too,” he nodded. “So, are you leaving now or…?”

“No, I’m holding the chequered flag today, so I’ll be up at race control,” you explained, trying to look anywhere other than him. “And I’m handing off the 1st place trophy.”

“Maybe I’ll be first to see you,” he chuckled. 

“Maybe,” you shrugged. 

“The tour looks… awful. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” he spoke after a minute’s silence. 

You just shrugged. “Not your fault,” you lied. 

He knew this was when he was meant to leave, but he wasn’t sure when you two would be in the same room again. He didn’t know when he’d see you again, so he took a moment to fully take you in. “You were really incredible today. You sounded like an-”

“Angel? Thanks Lando, see you soon,” you nodded, finishing the compliment you always used to get from him. He nodded and left, realising he had no more time. 

When the door closed you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. How could he do that? How could he stand there and be nice to you, after what he said that night? After what he fucking put you through?

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Weeks of complaining from him, blaming you for his performance in races, telling you that you needed to be there for him, not calling you back, not texting back, not listening when you told him about how awful everything was going. 

“I’m sorry Lan, I know how hard this is. It’s hard for me too-”

“How the fuck can you say that? You’re the one who choose to do this, you fucking decided to tear us apart! This is all your fault, and you’re telling me it’s ‘hard’ for you. What is hard for you? Spending all your time with adoring fans? Being on stage and living your dreams? Being away from me?”

“Lan, you know better than anyone that I didn’t want this tour to happen,” you cried. Even then, even 48 shows in, you were being driven crazy. You were exhausted, you missed home, and you missed Lando. “I had no choice-”

“You had every fucking choice! And don’t give me that fucking bullshit about your label forcing you, we both know that’s a fucking lie!” he shouted. You hated it when he shouted, when anyone shouted. He had no fucking right to speak to you like that. You didn’t want this to happen, you had no say, you just had a contract and an incompetent lawyer to thank.

“I don’t know what you want me to say to that,” you shrugged, your voice breaking. “I love you, and I miss you. We can make this work Lan, I just need time to figure it out, alright? I just need time-”

“Yeah? Well I’ve given you all the time I have to give. We’re done, I bet I could find a million girls just like you, girls who would actually take my feelings into account before she made huge life decisions!” he scoffed.

“Lando, please don’t do this. I-I don’t know what- I- Lan please, I need you,” you pleaded. “I’m trying my best I swear-”

“Your best isn’t good enough.”

And he hung up.

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The fallout of your relationship didn’t exactly go great either. A day later your feed was flooded with pictures of Lando out with someone else. One day later. 

What the fuck? Didn’t he care? Didn’t he love you?

Well, apparently not. 

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Lando knew he wouldn’t see you again for months. This was his only fucking chance to speak to you, to see you, and instead, he stayed in his driver’s room listening to the heart-wrentching songs you’d written about him. God, if he thought ‘champagne problems’ was devastating, ‘cowboy like me’ was worse. It was a long album, almost 2 hours long. It spanned your entire relationship, starting out, your first date, your grammy win, his podiums, the hate you two got, the start of the fighting, the end of the relationship, and the after. It was awful reliving it from your perspective, especially since you had tried to tell him, and every time he’d pick a fight. 

“Lando?” Oscar’s voice came from outside his door. “Allison’s looking for you.”

“Tell her to piss off!”

“You can do that, mate,” he scoffed and walked off, into his own driver’s room. 

“Lan?” Her voice rang out, and he wanted to scream. He had put himself in this position, he knew it,  but it was still difficult to fully self-actualise his own shortcomings. 

“What?” he groaned, opening the door. 

“The other girls are excluding me,” she pouted. 

“I wonder why,” Lando rolled his eyes. “They love Y/n.”

Her face fell into a frown. “But you love me, so they should love me. They keep going off to find her and talk to her, and any time I try to tell them that I’m uncomfortable around her, they tell me not to come.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he sighed. 

“Talk to their boyfriends, ask them to include me!”

“Babe, I have a fucking race today, please leave me alone,” he sighed. He pushed past her to walk to the paddock, knowing he just had to keep his head down and race today, he just had to do the one thing he was good at. 

“Well, what am I supposed to do for the rest of the day?” 

“I don’t know,” he grunted, and moved on. The garage was somehow too loud yet not loud enough to drown out the negative thoughts in his head. Recent months had been difficult. Races were taking more and more out of him, he was lonely, and if he wasn’t training or racing, he was looking at old photos of you or watching the tour. He could see how you deflated as you left the stage, how upset you looked going on stage. It was all a terrible reminder of how selfish he’d been. How hadn’t he seen it? Why didn’t he listen? 

He remembered telling Max what had happened. He’d gotten so angry, begging him to call you back and apologise. He’d been so blindsighted, he wouldn’t listen to Max. Why was Max always right?

“You good?” Oscar asked, a hand on his shoulder to drag him out of his thousand-yard stare. 

Lando sighed. “Good,” he lied, and it wasn’t convincing. Everyone knew what you were to him. You grounded him, you knew him, every single part of him. You loved him. “You?”

“Good. Y/n’s set was great earlier,” he offered a small smile. “At least you have a good break-up album, right?”

Lando cracked a small smile. Oscar was good at that, making him laugh when he was down. “Yeah, it feels great when it’s about you.”

Oscar chuckled. “Story for the grandkids,” he shrugged. “Don’t sweat it.”

Lando nodded. 

“Oh yeah,” Oscar added. “When you left, Allison asked Y/n what songs were about you, so just… expect that conversation with her, I guess? I’m not entirely sure what’ll happen-”

“What did Y/n say?”

Oscar swallowed. “Something like; ‘some of my songs are, ‘cause I like to put my emotions into music. But not all of them, because my life doesn’t revolve around Lando, it never did. I am more than my relationships, and you’d do good to remember that for yourself’.”

Lando nodded, and could tell by the look on Oscar’s face that he was holding something back. “That’s it?”

“‘Don’t let love become who you are, it doesn’t end well’,” Oscar finished. “Then she left.”

Lando nodded as the weight on his chest got heavier. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Of course,” Oscar offered a pity-smile and walked off to his side of the garage. 

Lando was always a person to be stuck inside his own head. He wasn’t good at expressing his feelings. He didn’t know how to talk about them. Yet, you always knew how to get him to talk. You always had the right solution, the right thing to say, the right face to make. He was in awe of you, so effortlessly perfect. 

He remembered back to Greece, back in the off-season, before the tour, before the season started. Before he fucked everything up. 

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You smiled as he pulled you closer. The air was anything but cold, and the water was still. There you two sat, sitting on the bow of the as the sun set. The clear water beneath the yacht you’d been on for the past few days was calm and steady, lulling you both into an unmistakable tiredness. Yte, Lando wanted to stay up, wanting to soak up as much time with you as he could. He was going to miss you so much this season. You hadn’t ever been to every race in a season, you were a busy person, he understood that. He was a busy person too. But you’d go to as many races as possible. Now, ‘as many races as possible’ means about 4. Stupid tour. 

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, your eyes closed as you soaked in the moment. You leant against his chest as you lay in his arms, your favourite place to be. 

“How much I’ll miss you this year,” he admitted. There was never any point in lying to you, you always knew. 

You pressed a kiss to his arm. “I’ll miss you too.”

You were straight forward with things, he loved that. It was a bad situation. You were off to a tour you didn’t want to do, and he was off to another season. 

“I love you,” he confessed. He said it a lot, but it always felt special. He made you feel special. You made him feel special.

“I love you,” you opened your eyes, a smile on your lips. You spoke again after a few moments of silence. “You’re going to win a race this season, I can tell.”

He chuckled. “Once I get back home to you, I don’t care if I win.”

You laughed. “Sure, we all believe you.”

He smiled. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You looked at him for a moment, that perfect, soft smile on your face. “Ditto,” you laughed as he did too. Your laugh was melodic, his favourite sound. 

“Who says ‘ditto’ to that?!” he laughed.

“I do,” you chuckled. 

You two locked eyes for a moment, then he leant down and pressed his lips to yours, soft and sweet. 

The perfect night. 

----------------

He caught a glance of your red dress walking into the garage. 

“Y/n!” The engineers cheered. He heard your laughter. 

The room was a collection of cheers and conversation, and he wanted more than anything to be able to walk over to you and hold you, and kiss you, and tell everyone to leave you alone because you were his girlfriend, not theirs. 

You walked in with a smile on your face. That smile dropped in half a second. Everyone was talking, everyone was patting you on the back, everyone was looking at you. You caught a glance of Lando and immediately felt the pit in your stomach grow. Everyone knew everything, everyone looked at you. Everyone blamed you. Oscar wrapped his arm around you and walked you through the garage as he saw you getting overwhelmed. He’d learnt the signs from his little sisters. Blown out pupils, teary eyes, tight features, heavy breathing. Oscar had always been a great friend to you, he’d always cared for you. He brought you through, doing most of the talking if anyone stopped you two and let you in his driver’s room, promising to grab you when you could leave without being bombarded by crew, or the press. 

Lando followed behind after a few minutes, then knocked on the door. He knew how to calm you down, he was probably the only person who did. 

Oscar opened the door looking panicked. “She’s having a panic attack,” he whispered. 

Lando nodded and walked in, taking your hand in his as you hid your face in your other hand. He knelt beside you on the floor as you sat on the bed. “It’s me baby, I’m right here. Come on, squeeze my hand,” he said, voice steady. You didn’t. “You need to start breathing properly, squeeze my hand like I’m squeezing yours,” He put some light pressure on your hand, which jump-started you into squeezing his hand as hard as you could. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair. You hated how well he knew you. You wanted him to not know you, to not understand you and your body better than you did. “Just like that,” he cooed. He pressed your hand to his chest, where you could feel his steady and calm breathing, feel his regular heartbeat. It was in stark contrast to you. The thump of your own heartbeat in your ears, the quick breathing, the erratic heart. “Breathe with me. Please baby,” his voice was soft and comforting. You tried, gently slowing your breathing down to normal. The adrenaline was still rushing through your body as you calmed down. Oscar offered you a water bottle and you let go of Lando’s hand to take it. 

“I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry,” you said, sounding smaller than ever. “Zak said he wanted to see me after my set. I should’ve just said no.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Oscar placed a hand on your shoulder. “Seriously.”

“We want you here,” Lando added. The air was sucked from the room. “I want you here.”

“You don’t,” you refuted. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Lando sighed. “Let me walk you back to Ferrari, please?”

You shook your head, finally looking up and making eye contact with him. “You and I both know how that’ll go.”

Lando nodded, his heart breaking for the thousandth time. It’s hard to find an end to something you never want to let go of. “Ok,” he whispered, his emotions getting the better of him. 

“Goodbye Lando,” you sighed, then took Oscar’s arm and let him lead you back to Ferrari. 

----------------

“I’m sorry about Lando,” Oscar sighed as you two walked up to the entrance to Ferrari. “About the break up, now, and basically everything in between. He’s been… difficult recently. He’s always been a ‘glass half empty’ kind of guy I guess… I just… you made him better, y’know?”

You chuckled sadly. “Thank you for apologising, but you don’t have to. Lando is an adult, so am I. Things just… end sometimes. Him and I just aren’t meant to be.”

Oscar cocked an eyebrow. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

You didn’t know how to respond. Oscar had never been this straightforward with you, and he sure as hell had never broached this topic before. You just nodded and took his hand. “Thanks for helping me.”

And then you walked back to Ferrari. 

Oscar did get one thing right, Lando wasn’t done with you. Maybe it was seeing you again, maybe it was the album, maybe it was Allison, maybe it was all of it, he didn’t know. But what he did know was that he was still in love with you. He’d never stopped. How could he? He missed everything about you, your lips, your smile, your kindness, the way you’d make him laugh, the way you’d make him smile. Everything. He missed listening to you sing, seeing you on a stage that you wanted to be on. Seeing you get to be you. 

----------------

The Silverstone after-party with Charles who dragged you along. You’d thought it would be a bad idea, but when you were already 8 shots deep, you didn’t really notice. Yuki had pulled you away to sing a karaoke duet with him as Pierre and Charles laughed at you both, and you somehow ended up outside on the balcony with Carlos, both of you laughing at something random. 

“Y/n!” Lando cheered, clearly as drunk as you. A part of you had forgotten about everything before this moment, like you were seeing him for the first time. Perfect, with his curls, unbuttoned shirt, and damn pretty smile. “I didn’t know you were here!” 

“Lan!” you cheered, pulling him in for a hug. Carlos gave you both a very confused look, but was called away by Charles for a game of beer pong. Surprisingly, these ‘fancy’ parties usually just turned into something out of a frat house in Florida. Maybe it was just Logan’s presence. “How are you?” You slurred. 

“I feel great!” he shouted. “We should go for a walk!” 

“Yes!” you agreed. 

----------------

And that’s how you ended up back in his hotel room making out with him on his bed as he pulled your dress off. Funny how things can happen when you’re actually 18 shots deep, not 8. Oops?

“So pretty,” he murmured into your neck as he settled you on his lap. “So pretty for me.”

You laughed into his mouth, pulling back. “Lan, speed up.”

He smirked at you, his eyes heavy, then pressed his lips to yours again. He fully pulled your dress off of you as you started making quick work of his belt and trousers. 

“Fuck me,” you whispered in his ear and he let out a low moan. “Please Lan.”

He didn’t waste time. 

----------------

You woke up the next morning with a blinding headache, and a very naked Lando Norris beside you. You had to leave. You’d just fucked him, and he had a girlfriend. You were a homewrecker. You didn’t know if the sudden urge to vomit came up because of that, or the 18 shots of straight vodka you did the night before. 

You quickly grabbed your clothes, shoes, one of his hoodies, and tried to salvage whatever dignity you had left, then made a swift exit. It was still dark out and you were just praying that you could get through the 2 blocks you had to walk to your hotel without running into someone, or running into cameras. You quickly dialled Sasha’s number and tried to stop yourself from crying. You just pray you two used protection, or fell asleep before doing anything real.

“Morning?” she answered groggily. 

“Sasha I did something really fucking stupid,” you admitted, the tears welling up in your eyes as you walked into the lobby of your hotel. “And I don’t know what to do.”

“Come to my room, we’ll sort it out,” she sighed. “You’ll be ok kiddo, I promise.”

----------------

You knocked on her hotel room door, tears in your eyes. 

“It’s 5 am,” she stated, opening the door. 

You rushed in, bursting into tears. “I think I fucked Lando, I mean- I-I think we fucked, last night- we were so drunk a-and then I don’t re-remember,” you hiccuped. “I’m so fucking stupid!”

She put a hand on your shoulder, sighing. “That was a very stupid thing to do,” she nodded. “But it’s not the end of the world. Did you use protection?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll go get Plan B, you stay here. Get changed into some pyjamas. Get some water, relax. Just don’t leave the hotel, yeah?”

“Alright,” you agreed. She left for the door. “Sash?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you said in a small voice. She offered you a pitying smile, and went on her way. 

----------------

Months passed and you both went on with your lives. He didn’t reach out, you didn’t either. Sadly, you were in fact a homewrecker. A week after ‘the incident’ Allison and Lando broke up. You truthfully felt so ashamed and awful for the girl. It wasn’t right what you two had done, and truly, you were insanely drunk. In no world would you fuck Lando Norris sober. 

The tour had finally ended, and your world was no longer turned upside down. You were working on new music, healing your body after all the travel and abuse you put it through, and continuing to try and get over Lando. 

It hurt like a bitch. He hurt like a bitch. 

----------------

Lando two-wins. Contender in the Championship. Supposedly dating someone. Last Lap Lando.

Lonely Lando, more like. Max Fewtrell had decided to stage an intervention and join him for the rest of the races, worried about his mental state. Since seeing you again, he’d been… less than alright. He’d talk about you all the time, stalk your instagram (to the point that Max took his phone off of him in Greece), and generally just think about you a lot. It was coming up to the album drop, and you were having your launch party in Italy. The same weekend as the race. All because Charles wanted to come. 

Shit was bound to go down, and no one was more excited than Hallie. 

You were dressed to the nines, nervous and excited. You’d fired half of your team, you’d dropped your old label, and you’d become… happier? That couldn’t be right, not when you felt the oppressive weight of your own regret on your chest everyday. Not when you woke up reaching for Lando. Not when you watched every single race and couldn’t look away until he was safely across that damn finish line. 

You were surviving. That’s the best you could do. 

----------------

“You look beautiful,” Charles smiled as he walked into the party. The night had gone off without a hitch so far. A select group of fans, influencers, celebrities, and almost all the drivers were mingling with one another, and not one sighting of Lando Norris. Not that you didn’t miss his face, or him in general. You did. More than you’d ever thought possible to miss someone.  

“Thanks Charles,” you smiled, pulling him into a hug. “You look great too.”

He smiled and beside him, Alexandria smiled at you, then pulled you into a hug. You continued the superficial chatting for a few moments, just hoping Charles wouldn’t ask the dreaded question. 

He looked at you for a second too long, and you knew it was coming. “Are you alright?” God, why did he have to ask stupid fucking questions? Obviously you weren’t alright. Obviously, if you could, you would run away. Obviously, you were drowning. 

Didn’t he see that? Didn’t anyone notice? Didn’t anyone care?

Apparently not. 

You nodded, putting on your best fake smile. “Just nervous.”

He nodded. It was enough to fool him. 

The night went on in a flurry of uncomfortable small talk, ridiculous requests from your most esteemed guests, and it was finally time to start listening to the album. You stood on stage, a nervous smile on your face as everyone looked at David, your producer, who was speaking in length about how proud of the record he was, and how proud he was of you. Everything was perfect. Everything was right in the world. 

But, of course, because he had to always be the centre of your universe, Lando walked in. 

And you were fucked. Every single breathing technique you’d learnt, every single pressure point tapping you’d done, it all left your head. Everything stopped. You stopped breathing. You stopped. 

But it didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel bad to have him there. It felt awfully, and soul-crushingly, right. Lando was always meant to be there, a devastating realisation that you didn’t exactly want to make while on stage in front of 200 people. 

“Any words, Y/n?” David asked, passing you the mic. 

You looked at Lando and he smiled, waving at you. You smiled back. 

“Please enjoy this album, it’s from a very important time of my life where I finally learnt what it meant to be in love, and be loved wholly in return. Obviously, it didn’t end very well, and that’s when I learnt what grieving someone was. I still have a lot of love for him, probably more than I should. But I have it. And I had nowhere to put it, so I put it to music, which is really the only thing I think I’ll ever truly understand. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you understand it,” You explained to the crowd. You watched Lando the entire time, looking at how his eyes lit up when you talked about your relationship. Lando had always cared about you. He always would. 

The opening cords of the first song started playing, and the attention was off of you. The crowd just closed their eyes and listened. You exited the stage and joined the crowd, desperately trying to get out of there. You stood on the balcony as the music blasted inside. People danced along, sang along as they started learning the words, and you stayed outside, tears falling. 

“You’re beautiful,” Lando’s whisper made you jump. You turned to see him, standing there behind you. “The album’s beautiful.”

You scoffed. “The album’s an album. What was beautiful was us,” you sighed. “Thank you for coming.”

He nodded, leaning against the barrier beside you. “Do you even wish our lives weren’t as complicated as they are?”

You chuckled. “More than anything.”

“We were beautiful,” he shook his head, trying to remember why he ever ruined the best thing in his life. “If you ever find yourself wanting to love me again, just… call me?”

You nodded, looking at him. “I will.”

He nodded, putting his hand on your shoulder and letting it sit there for a split-second, just to remind him of what it was like to touch you. Just to remind himself that once, he didn’t have to wonder if you loved him, to remind him of the unwavering support you gave him, to remind him of how his whole world came crashing down when he made you leave it. “I love you,” he whispered before walking to the door. 

His phone started ringing in his pocket as he got back inside. Unknown number. He answered it. 

“I think I want to love you again,” he could hear your smile through the phone and he immediately whipped around, his smile growing as he got closer to you. When he stood in front of you again, you both took the phones down and smiled at each other.

Lando didn’t waste time. He closed the gap between you two in one simple stride, wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his lips to yours. “I love you so much,” he pulled back. “I’m never letting you go again.”

----------------

landonorris

1,488,928 likes | liked by oscarpiastri, y/ny/l/n, and others

love of my life. @ y/ny/l/n

comments

user28: WHAT THE FUCK THEY BROKE UP MONTHS AGO THO????-> user92: they were seen kissing at her launch party

y/ny/l/n: who's that pretty girl? -> oscarpiastri: she's too good for him -> landonorris: >:( -> oscarpiastri: hurt her again and I push you off the track. ->carlossainz: I second this -> charleslecerc: I third this -> alexalbon: I fourth this -> georgerussell: I fifth this.

georgerussell: Trying to beat me with no shirt?

lewishamilton: Yay! (I begged her not to take you back you asshole). -> pierregasly: Yay! (I'm trying to be supportive of her).

lilymhe: fuck off. ->user83: LMAO -> user18: DAMN EVERYONE HATES HIM

danielriccardo: HAHAHAHAHAH (I'm crying.)

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[neptuneiris]

could you pretend to be in love? (08/10)

The Revelations

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: unfortunately the trip to Dragonstone is over and you and Aemond define the relationship, however some surprising and unexpected news awaits you at home.

word count: 7.7k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

surprise! i guess hehe

It's not a secret why I stopped updating the story, but if you don't know, basically writer's block and also some issues in my personal life, but finally here it is, what everyone has been waiting for!😙

I didn't give notice or anything because I wanted it to be a surprise and I have no idea if the story will be well received again but… I have no intention of abandoning it, I plan to finish it because I know that some of you want it, so enjoy the new chapter and I promise I won't take so long with the next one🙏

after all we are getting to the end!

Last night in Dragonstone.

It has definitely been a great experience for you, you had a lot of fun, you did amazing activities you haven't tried before, you learned about Old Valyria and you like this feeling every time you are with Aemond.

And since it's the last night at the castle, Aemond invited you and Alysanne to watch a movie in his room with his friends. The plan would have been different, but a storm was reported for the early morning and no one is allowed out until the morning you will return to Kings Landing.

So that's what you're doing now, watching a horror movie, which isn't really scary, lying on the couch on Aemond's chest, both of you cuddled up and with blankets over you, keeping warm.

Every now and then you watch the huge windows, watching the lightning reflect in the night sky to the horizon and raindrops fall against the glass, nothing heavy yet but you know it will rain harder in a few hours.

Aemond's arms get tighter around your body, gently caressing your lower back with one of his hands as you feel his nose nuzzle the side of your cheek, feeling his chin against the side of your forehead.

You let out a contented sigh and snuggle closer against his chest, enjoying his warmth and closeness, as well as his scent mixed between rich detergent and his cologne.

“Are you cold?”

His soft, low voice makes you raise your gaze to him as he secures the blankets wrapped around the two of you.

“No, I'm fine.”

“Well, if you change your mind, tell me and I'll give you some of my hoddies.”

You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Is my weight bothering you already?” you inquire amused.

“That's not what I said,” he instantly defends himself.

“Oh no?”

He slips one of his hands between your bodies, cupping your jaw gently but firmly enough, making you lean into him as he watches your lips.

“I'm just trying to be nice, love,” he says in a low, husky tone.

And you let him, leaning in, unable to stop watching his lips either.

“Such a nice boy you are.”

Aemond brushes a lock of hair behind your ear and pulls you closer to him if possible and catches your lips with his.

And you sink so deep into him, not being able to get enough, tilting your head and deepening the kiss further. Your lips mold perfectly to his and he takes the opportunity to in one smooth glide, his tongue meets yours in languid caresses.

You gasp softly into his mouth and move your hand up to the nape of his neck, stroking his hair, as his hands slip under your shirt, caressing the bare skin of your lower back with his fiery hands that send electric shocks and bristle your skin.

It's soft, delicate and tender.

Then he's the one who slowly pulls away, with a small grin, brushing his nose against yours. When suddenly, Alysanne's voice breaks the spell.

“Hey!”

The two of you turn your heads and she along with Aemond's other friends watch you.

“Have you two stopped making out like cows? You won't let me listen to the movie, I can hear the sound of spit all the way over here."

The blood rushes to your cheeks, laughing in embarrassment, hiding your face in the crook of Aemond's neck who laughs too, feeling his chest vibrate at the sound, hugging you against him.

"I'm sorry. We got a little excited."

"Well, don't.’’

His other friends laugh too as he and you exchange an amused look and he returns to have your head resting on his chest to continue watching the movie.

Unfortunately the next morning comes quickly and you find Alysanne ready to board the ferry back to King's Landing.

She's talking to you about something that happened between her and Cregan on the beach after she finished her surfing practice when you notice Alys in the distance with her group of friends, not at all discreetly talking to each other as they watch you out of the corner of their eyes.

The whole time you were in the castle or on the beach you didn't even notice their presence and now you don't know what they must be talking about, but honestly you don't care.

So you ignore her and all her friends.

Then Aemond shows up ready with his suitcase and by the time the two of you are in the same place together, neither you nor he will leave each other's side.

Much less on the ferry back to King's Landing, which is totally peaceful.

He and you can't help but touch each other all the time. The two of you hug, laugh, there are gestures, caresses and you let yourselves be carried away by this different complicity that you have developed during the trip.

You even take photos and videos together to keep as memories as the ferry rocks gently in the waves and Aemond wraps his arms around you, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead.

For the return journey you've chosen an overly summery blue dress, so he can't help but gaze adoringly as the sunlight reflects off your entire figure, looking absolutely beautiful.

And even though his clothes are simple, that damn silver chain and also those sunglasses he's wearing is more than enough to have you drooling over him.

And that's exactly one of the reasons why you can't stop touching him.

Between more kisses and laughter, the two of you lose yourselves in your own world, oblivious to the stares of the other students and especially the stares of Alys and Floris.

Until you finally disembark at King's Landing and everyone boards the buses.

This time you finally take a seat next to him and both continue your complicity, sharing AirPod's together and using each other as pillows, hugging each other.

When the whole trip is officially over the buses pull into the school car park and all the students start to get off. Then you wait until you can also take your suitcase from the huge compartments below.

"So…" Alysanne approaches you, "Shall I drive you home? Cregan already won you the passenger seat as soon as he found out I brought my car."

"Oh… Cregan?" you say with a mischievous look, "The same guy you said you didn't know whether to take him on a date with?" you scoff.

"Oh come on, you told me to accept," she reproaches you, causing you to let out a giggle, "Besides I already told him I'm not looking for a serious relationship and he said he's totally fine with it."

You look at her slightly surprised and excited.

"Really? That's great!"

"Yeah," she nods, with a small smile on her lips, "So I'll drive you then?"

"Oh no, thanks, Aemond will drive me."

"Okay," she grins mischievously at you, starting to walk away, "Then have fun."

"You too with Cregan," you look back at her.

She gives you a pouty face and you laugh softly, organising all your things.

"Well…" Aemond now approaches you with his suitcase in hand, ‘Are you ready?"

"Yes," you nod with a small smile.

He helps you with your suitcase as well and together you head towards his car, where once during the drive, neither of you say anything, yet there is no tension and no awkward silence, only the moderate volume of music from his Spotify playlist.

You know that the two of you have to talk about what happened and you know that Aemond knows that too, otherwise he wouldn't be so quiet, but neither of you dares to talk about it first.

And you don't know if that's good or bad, but thinking about it and finding yourself in this position, you don't feel it's a bad thing. Yes, that moment was unexpected, so was everything that came after that wasn't just pretending, but it felt real.

Every gesture, every look and every touch felt real. And this new closeness with Aemond, far from causing uncertainty, brings you a calmness that envelops you and makes you feel to some extent happy.

However, you know that when you get home, you'll have to talk about it.

You try not to think too much about it for the rest of the drive, trying to distract yourself with the music, but inevitably you feel the time passing quickly and finally the car stops in front of your house.

You let out a low breath and unbuckle your seatbelt at the same time as you throw a quick glance at Aemond, who returns it almost instantly and seems to hesitate for a moment to say something. But again, neither of you say anything and you get out of the car.

He helps you again with your suitcase by taking it out of the trunk while you wait patiently for him and notice how he is incredibly serious, as if he is organizing his thoughts.

Then when the suitcase hits the ground and you pick it up, you can feel his gaze and also his nervousness, as if he is trying to find the right words. But you don't give her a chance to start speaking, as the words come from your lips without thinking.

“Just tell me that what happened wasn't simply pretending.”

You tell him, seeking clarity in his gaze, to which he seems momentarily taken aback by your frankness and your words, processing them. You see a glint of uncertainty in his eye, but almost instantly his expression softens, showing you honesty.

“No, it wasn't for pretending.”

He finally replies, his voice firm and sincere. And you can't help but feel a huge relief sweep through you, watching him hopefully and wanting to confirm his words.

"What happened was real, Y/N. I wasn't pretending, or trying to act. I was enjoying being with you, being myself."

And there it is, his statement confirming what you had felt throughout the trip, that genuine connection that emerged between the two of you.

“Really?”

He smiles softly at you as he sees your face, taking a step towards you and tilting his head towards you.

“I wanted to talk about it earlier at Dragonstone, even on the bus but… I didn't want to ruin anything.”

You see his eye twinkle as he watches you and even notice how he wants to say something else, but doesn't know how to express everything he's feeling, just the same way you do.

At least you know he's being honest and clear, which is why you feel a calmness and a clarity that fills you after hearing his words.

“I wasn't pretending either,” you admit, feeling more open to expressing your own feelings, “And I'm glad to know I wasn't alone in feeling that.”

He nods, understanding what you're saying, not failing to notice that twinkle in his eye.

“I'd like this to continue,” he tells you, his voice soft but determined, “I don't even care about the contract anymore, I just… I want this to be real.”

A warm flush of heat runs through your chest and you smile softly, a little shamed but completely thrilled, not quite believing that this is really happening.

“I want the same thing,” you reply with conviction.

He smiles warmly at you and without expecting it, he leans toward you, takes both of your cheeks in his hands and leaves a soft kiss on your lips. You are surprised, but you kiss him back, feeling a smile form on your lips as you do so.

Then finally Aemond says goodbye with a smile, telling you he'll see you at school and you nod, thanking him for bringing you home.

You both kiss again and you head towards the entrance of your house feeling lighter and with a sense of excitement and happiness, unable to stop smiling the whole time.

You remember all the moments at Dragonstone and what just happened, which completely intensifies that feeling. And you know that Aemond is probably feeling it too.

And once in your room you start unpacking and organizing your clothes, you think about everything and how this with Aemond will totally change.

Before, what was just pretending to be in love will now be real. It won't make a difference in front of everyone at school, but for both of you it will.

The rules that you both had agreed upon in the beginning have lost their meaning, you don't need to think about them anymore, because you know that what you feel for Aemond is real and the best thing is that it is reciprocated.

And that's what excites you, that there will be no more acting as you imagine spending time together, talking, laughing and sharing moments that will no longer be tinged with pretense.

And that's all you think about as you organize your things, the smile never fading from your face, as your phone beeps softly, lighting up the screen with a notification that interrupts your reverie, but the feeling of joy stays with you.

You think it's Alysanne or even Aemond, which mainly excites you and makes you keep your smile, but as you pick up your phone and look closely, you notice that it's a message from an unknown number.

'Silly little thing.'

That's what you read and almost instantly you frown, not understanding its meaning. Then curiosity drives you to open the message, and what you see in the chat makes you lose your smile completely.

You feel all that feeling from before, all the nice things you were feeling, just slowly fade away, with surprise, confusion and disappointment washing over you.

A huge lump settles in your throat and with your lips parted you look at a picture of Aemond and Floris apparently at a party, kissing.

A knot also begins to settle in your stomach that you can't help, beginning to feel the whole unpleasant sensation through your body as you continue to stare at the photo and your hands begin to shake.

The photo also has the day and time at the time it was taken, and you realize that this happened at the party he invited you to after the two of you had that little argument as you tried to end the fake relationship and he disagreed.

At that time when he invited you, you preferred not to go with him and told him to have fun.

And he didn't mention any of this during the whole time together at Dragonstone, although of course he wouldn't… but he could have since nothing had changed between the two of you at the beginning of the trip.

This is why Floris was acting delighted and hopeful around him.

This is probably why he took the first step to apologize to you, all out of guilt and wanting to make amends. And at the time telling you wouldn't have meant anything but now with everything that happened… of course it means a lot that he kept it from you.

And knowing all this, with all the pieces falling into place, a wave of mixed emotions wash over you, with tears starting to want to escape your eyes.

But not wanting to cry, being a feeble attempt at wanting to stand your ground, you put your phone aside and disconnect from social media, with the feeling of sadness and betrayal in your chest.

For the next few days you completely ignored Aemond.

It wasn't easy, especially when your feelings for him are strong despite what you found out. And you know that ignoring him is not the long term solution, but for now it's the only thing you can do because of how hurt and betrayed you feel.

Until the inevitable Monday arrives, where Aemond texts you again asking if he'll pick you up for school, to which you take a moment before replying with a simple and cold 'no need' and nothing more.

You were tempted to skip school for a day or two, mostly because of anxiety and sadness. And the thought of seeing Aemond, of facing him, seemed too painful. But you knew you couldn't avoid it forever, especially since the two of you share several classes.

But when you got to school you made up your mind to stand your ground, you have no idea how but you have to try, at least until you could process your feelings and face the situation. So you prepare yourself mentally.

Or so you try.

The bustle of students coming in and being in the parking lot surrounds you and makes you feel slightly overwhelmed and anxious, but you know you can't stay out here as long as you need to since classes will be starting soon.

So you enter the building with a slight determination.

Each step to your locker feels like an eternity as you watch everything around you, attentive and intimidated. As the seconds pass, you're at least relieved to see that no one is watching you, which is a good sign, since they don't know about the photo, yet.

But that's not what makes your heart start beating too fast. It's the anticipation of seeing Aemond, running into him by accident, because then you have no idea what you'll do, let alone what you'll say to him.

That's why you look around, alert and once in your locker, you quickly grab your books, adjust the strap of your backpack and head to your first class, repeating in your mind that you'll be fine since luckily you're not sharing this class with him.

But on the way, you do run into Alys and her friends in one of the hallways.

You try to keep your head up so you don't look weak and cowardly, but the sadness and humiliation you feel is too much and you just can't, so you hurry past them, trying to avoid any kind of eye contact.

However, their gazes follow you, shallow and mocking looks, all at the same time as you hear the whispers and giggles between them in the distance as you walk away, making you feel even more vulnerable and exposed.

And thinking that would be it, just as you turn down a hallway to make them lose sight of you, you run straight into Floris, who just like you stands frozen for a moment, both of you staring at each other.

Your eyes widen slightly at the unexpected encounter and your breath catches.

She looks at you with an expression you can't really read, but you don't stop to analyze it either. So you quickly lower your gaze and keep walking, trying to keep your composure and not let the tears escape.

You don't know if it was her who sent you the picture or if it was Alys with her friends, but that doesn't matter, you still feel the humiliation of remembering how they saw you in Dragonstone completely in love with Aemond and like a naive fool not knowing what had happened at that party.

And once classes start, you can't concentrate at all. Your mind keeps coming back to the image of Aemond and Floris kissing.

You want to find a possible solution, to think that it's probably all a mistake, that maybe it's an old photo, but the more you think and analyze it, it can't be possible.

The date coincides with the party he invited you to after the dinner with his family and that little argument you both had, you also saw that he posted pictures with his friends on Instagram and his outfit is the same as the one in the picture.

There is simply no justification.

Again tears threaten to flow down your cheeks, but you force yourself to hold them back. You don't want to cry, especially not here in the middle of class where everyone can see you and eventually the gossip will disperse, creating more drama when they find out about the photo too.

You watch the time on your phone, hoping to go home soon, but you're also faced with Aemond's unread messages. They keep piling up, as the last one he sent you was eight minutes ago, but you don't read anything and delete the notification.

The rest of the classes you avoid certain people at all costs, you even don't attend the classes you share with him, you know that not having assistance later will cost you but in these moments you don't care and you hide in the bleachers.

Alysanne didn't come to school today, you thought that with her help everything would be easy after explaining her everything that happened, even telling her about the fake relationship, which is not even important at this point.

But when you texted her to ask where she was, she told you that she woke up too late and didn't make it to school on time.

So you hide out during lunchtime as well.

Aemond's messages kept coming, but you continue to ignore him, wishing the time would run faster so you could go home soon. But ignoring him doesn't make you feel good either, not at all.

You feel an emptiness in your chest, a mixture of sadness, confusion and betrayal that won't leave you alone. You wonder how you got to this point, how something that started as a simple act has become so real and complicated.

And despite everything, you can't help but remember the moments you shared with Aemond at Dragonstone and even before the trip.

But when the last bell rang, finally ending the school day, you felt an immediate relief and your thoughts were put on pause.

You quickly grabbed your things and were the first to leave the classroom, also the halls, then the building and finally the school, heading towards the bus stop.

Your phone vibrates more at that moment but you ignore it, knowing that Aemond is probably looking for you, trying to talk to you, but you manage to run away in time.

And the next day, you repeat the same routine with the same goal in mind; to avoid him.

He hasn't stopped contacting you, but you ignore every message and call, feeling a mixture of sadness and determination at every moment.

You continue to skip the classes you share with him, avoid the busiest hallways to minimize the possibility of an encounter and the cafeteria as well.

You honestly feel like a ghost roaming the school, all while every vibration of your phone is a pang of anxiety that you continue to be willing to ignore, unwilling to face his questions, his explanations or whatever he has to say.

You don't even know if he knows you were sent that photo. You'd rather he knew, so things would be easier or else he'd just be out to get you for wanting to know why you've been avoiding him and you have no idea how to confront him about it.

Just now you take refuge in the library, which gives you a break, trying to study and do your homework in peace. But in the middle of it, you hear footsteps approaching towards your desk and you quickly raise your gaze, alert.

Fortunately, it's just Alysanne.

“May I know why your boyfriend has been texting me like crazy asking me if I've heard from you?” she asks confused, taking a seat in front of you, watching you intently.

Your heart shrinks at the word 'boyfriend', definitely not expecting to hear this and a little chagrined you lower your gaze, biting your lips, where you are slowly filled with the need to clear things up once and for all.

“What? Did something happen?” she asks you worriedly as she observes your reaction and sad look.

“He's not my boyfriend,” you say quietly, broken and with your sad look, ”He never was.”

Alysanne frowns, clearly bewildered and watching you more intently than ever.

“What are you talking about?”

You pause for a moment, trying to find the right words and that little bit of stability before you get it all out. And with a deep sigh, you decide to be honest.

And before long, you spend the next few minutes telling Alysanne everything from the beginning. You tell her about the contract, the reasons behind it, Alys, the dinner with her family, the little arguments and what happened at Dragonstone, which was real to you.

And you also tell her about Floris, that party and the photo you received, with your sadness and the pain clearly evident in your voice.

Alysanne listens to you silently throughout, her expression shifting from surprise to understanding as she takes in every detail you say, but in the end she maintains an expression that you can't really read at all.

And when you finish, her gaze doesn't tell you much and you fearfully expect a not-so-good reaction.

“Well…” she lets out a long breath, “I wasn't expecting any of that,” she finally says, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I'm sorry, Alysane,” you say, feeling guilty for keeping the truth from her, ”I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. It was silly from the beginning.”

She looks at you with a mixture of empathy and surprise.

“No Y/N, you don't have to worry about me.“

You look at her slightly confused and fearful.

“You're not upset?”

She lets out a small chuckle under her breath, shaking her head.

“Why would I be?” she asks you blankly and you remain silent, really not having an answer, 'I mean, you're lying to everyone, not just me,” she explains, unconcerned, "I'm a little offended, yes," she admits, "But I understand it's a complicated situation."

You're surprised by her response and understanding, so you can't help but feel relief coursing through your body at still having Alysanne on your side.

“Thank you,” you tell her sincerely, giving a small sad smile, “I just didn't want you to feel betrayed.”

“Betrayed? Please, not at all,” she says incredulously, "At least not the way you feel about Aemond," she says with a more serious tone and her worried expression.

You lower your gaze, shake your head and let out a long breath, bringing one of your hands to your forehead.

“I want to believe that what happened at Dragonstone was real, but that picture…” you say sadly, "He said it was all real to him too but… I don't know," you get frustrated.

Alysanne places a hand on your arm in a supportive gesture, watching you sympathetically.

“Hey,” she says softly, wanting to get your attention and it makes you watch her with your sad eyes, ”I understand you. And you shouldn't talk to him if you don't want to. Besides you don't have to decide anything right now,” she assures you, "But eventually you will have to talk to him and you know it," she tells you honestly, ”You can't keep hiding from him forever.”

You sigh, knowing she's right, but you still feel insecure and hurt.

“I just want to understand what happened, why he didn't tell me,” you say sadly, ”But on the other hand I just want it all to be over so I don't end up more hurt than I already am.”

“Then just ask him to tell you what you need to know, after that no one will owe anyone any explanations. But if it's easier for you to just end it all, you can make that decision too, and no one will judge you for it,” she assures you, gently squeezing your arm, giving you some comfort.

The warmth of her support gives you a respite in the midst of the turmoil. And you realize that having someone who understands and doesn't judge you is invaluable at times like this.

Even if the answers aren't clear, her presence makes you feel less alone.

“Thank you, Alysanne,” you murmur, sincerely grateful.

She stays with you, advising you, while you ask her for help in knowing what you can do, what exactly to say to him if you decide to talk to him or how to end it all, making notes in your mind.

Then she talks to you about trivial things to distract you and make you laugh a little to lighten the load you're carrying, until the two of you head off to your next class.

You're running late.

Your father drive you to school today but your alarm didn't ring when it was supposed to, so now you're just running to your first class of the day, hoping the chemistry teacher will let you in.

However, the irony of fate.

Maybe being late was your purpose to finally face what you've been avoiding, as in the middle of almost running down the hallway, as you turn towards another, you come face to face with him.

You stand completely paralyzed, feeling your heart stop before it begins to beat frantically, where surprise is evident in your gaze, as Aemond's gaze lights up as he finally sees you, but confusion begins to invade him in the midst of all his emotions.

He seems as surprised as you and in the midst of all that he is feeling, a fierce determination comes over him.

And you seeing the resolve on his face, the finally understanding of what is happening, you feel a wave of panic wash over you and without a second thought, you turn and start to walk away from him as fast as you can.

'Y/N,' Aemond's voice calls out to you, urgent and full of anguish, but you refuse to look back.

'I can't.'

You think with the pain in your chest and your hands beginning to shake.

“Y/N!”

Your steps become faster, almost stumbling in your haste to get away from him, hearing his equally hurried footsteps behind you.

“Y/N, please wait!”

You don't wait. You don't even see him. You just want to walk away, but Aemond doesn't give up easily and he certainly won't now that he's finally seeing you.

“Y/N, please,” his footsteps quicken, trying to reach you, his voice more insistent, full of urgency and concern, ”Please, we need to talk.”

You know it, but right now you can't.

Tears threaten to stream down your cheeks as you walk faster, with your thoughts being a tangle of conflicting emotions, where every fiber of your being wants to escape and run away from the pain that threatens to overwhelm you.

But Aemond is having none of it anymore.

“I said wait,” he tells you just as desperately but more firmly, unwilling to let you go.

And finally, in one swift and decisive move, he reaches out and grabs your arm, forcibly stopping you with his firm but gentle grip, placing himself in front of you so as to prevent you from running away.

Biting your lips, you watch him for a second before lowering your gaze, seeing the desperation and confusion on his face.

“What?”

Is all you can barely say in a low murmur and shaky voice, straining to keep your composure, not daring to look at him, as his beautiful blue, piercing eye desperately searches yours.

“What?” he repeats in confusion, not understanding, ‘That's all you're going to say?’ he say incredulously.

“Aemond,” you call out wearily, "I don't want to do this," you mutter sadly, trying to dodge him, but he quickly blocks your path again.

“What's going on?” he demands to know, confused and desperate, ”I haven't heard from you, I was worried.”

You clench your jaw, staring at an unimportant spot in the hallway.

“I'm fine,” you say emotionlessly.

He watches you even more uncomprehendingly, his frustration growing by the second.

“Yeah, I can see that now, but you're ignoring me and I don't even know why,” he says incredulously, noticing how you avoid his gaze at all costs and lets out a bitter little laugh, "You can't even look at me," he says with his voice tinged with pain, ”What happened?”

You feel lost in your thoughts, caught between sadness and confusion. You don't even know how to begin, how to explain to him the whirlwind of emotions you've been feeling since you saw that damn picture.

You don't even know how to explain that to him.

Your mind fills with conflicting images: the moments at Dragonstone, the warmth of his hugs, the tenderness of his kisses, and then, the devastating image of him making out with Floris.

“After Dragonstone I thought everything was going great, you… you seemed great,” he says blankly, shrugging his shoulders, "Even after I dropped you off at your house and we talked, everything was fine and I don't—" he lets out a sigh, "I don't understand anything," he gestures defeatedly with his head.

You take a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to sort out your thoughts, when his voice brings you back to the moment.

“Can you at least look at me?” he asks in a sad, defeated tone.

'Can you?'

All that comes to your mind just being near him is that picture of him and Floris. You even think you're overreacting but… he should have even told you before the whole hot tub thing happened.

So with a painful effort, you finally look him in the eye and confront him.

“Were you with Floris at that party you invited me to after dinner with your family?” you ask, your voice barely audible, but laden with firmness and expectation.

Aemond freezes, his eye widening in surprise, definitely not expecting this. And that's when he knows.

He understands everything now, your behavior, your attitudes, the fact that you've been ignoring him, everything. And he can really blame you? He's really in a position to demand answers after what happened between the two of you in the hot tub?

And it's not even a question with an answer, because the answer you already have, he knows it by looking at your serious and hurt face, just waiting for the confirmation that will end up breaking your heart completely.

“Y/N…” he tries to speak, but doesn't know exactly what to say.

“Just answer me,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, ”You were with her?”

He doesn't answer.

Even after he opens his mouth to speak, words seem to fail him and he says nothing, searching for a justification that doesn't seem to come. The guilt on his face is evident and the desperation to try to fix what he has broken is reflected in every line of his expression.

And all that coupled with his silence is the answer.

You feel a lump form in your throat and your eyes begin to fill with tears. You don't know what to say or what to do, with the pain and confusion in your eyes more evident than ever.

And seeing your whole expression, Aemond feels it like a dagger in his heart, trying to find a way to ease the pain he has caused.

“Y/N, let me explain. It's not what you think—

“You kissed her,” you interrupt him, your voice breaking.

“It didn't mean anything—

“I saw the picture.”

“Y/N—

You fall silent and suddenly… you don't hear anything anymore.

Aemond's voice distorts, like an echo drifting away, as you finish processing everything that's happening.

Memories of Dragonstone mingle with the image of Aemond and Floris kissing, both on the bus, in the jacuzzi, on the beach, at the aquarium, on the yacht, again on the bus and finally at your house, creating a whirlwind of emotions that takes your breath away.

Aemond takes a step toward you with his hand extended, wanting to touch you, to hold you, but you take a step back, avoiding his touch at all costs.

“I kissed you,” you say in a broken voice, ”In the hot tub.”

“I know,” he immediately says urgently.

“I didn't pretend.”

“I know, I know Y/N, just please listen to me—

“After what happened in the hot tub, you should have been honest with me,” you interrupt him again, with anger and hurt mixed in your voice and tears starting to slide down your cheeks, ”Now I don't know what to believe. I don't know if all that meant anything to you.”

“Of course it meant something to me, Y/N,” he tells you desperately, his voice heavy with sincerity. “It meant more than you could ever think.”

“How do you expect me to believe that?” you inquire, your voice breaking.

He looks at you desperately, searching for the right words he can't seem to find.

“It was a mistake, I swear. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“Then why didn't you tell me?” your voice rises with a mixture of pain and anger.

Aemond opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out and frustrated, he doesn't know what to say, how to explain himself, holding a hand to the back of his neck and shaking his head.

“You and I weren't really dating at the time, Y/N,” he tells you in an attempt to justify himself, his voice barely a whisper, “And I didn't think you and I would make it this far.”

You shake your head, looking at him as if you can't believe what you're hearing. Aemond lets out a long sigh, closing his eye tightly for a moment, only making the situation worse.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—

“And you've already forgotten about that?” you inquire and just as broken as before, ”The contract?”

He lets out a sigh, not knowing what else to say or what to do.

“Y/N—

“We agreed not to be with other people,” you remind him slowly and clearly, with the bitter tone in your voice, with the tears in your eyes and the pain in your gaze, “And even though it wasn't real, in their eyes you cheated on me.”

“I swear it didn't mean anything Y/N, I don't—

“And they saw at Dragonstone how delusional and naive I was with you after that.”

“I didn't tell you because I didn't want to lose you!” he finally admits to you, firm, desperate and worried, ”After what happened between us in that place… I didn't want to ruin it.”

You shake your head slightly, feeling your emotions overflowing.

“That's not justification.”

“It's the truth,” he insists, ”And I was wrong, I know. I should have told you and I'm sorry,” he exasperates, "But I swear that kiss with Floris was a mistake. And everything that happened between us was real to me, every moment, every kiss, everything was real to me Y/N," he tells you with intensity and sincerity in his gaze, ”It was and I wasn't playing with you.”

You stare at him without saying anything, because you don't know what to say and because even though Aemond is honest, still hearing that hurt you.

He tries to make you understand at that moment with everything he can that he is being completely honest with you. But then thoughts come over you, still with tears running down your cheeks.

You think of her, of Floris.

You think about everything Alysanne told you the two of them had before she decided to go on exchange, about the relationship and the complicity the two of them shared and still share.

And suddenly, the realization hits you hard.

“You still care about her,” you say with a lump in your throat.

Aemond watches you for a moment uncomprehendingly, not understanding what you say, but as you both fall silent and he watches your face, he knows what you are implying.

“Floris,” you clarify, “You still care about her,” you repeat firmly.

And he doesn't say anything.

He just watches you there not knowing what to say, with desperation and pain in his gaze. He opens his mouth to protest but can't say anything, his expression betraying him, until eventually his gaze falls to the floor, unable to hold yours.

That silence is all you need to confirm your suspicions and the weight of betrayal falls harder on your chest again.

“It's not like that, Y/N,” he tries to explain.

“That's right,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “That's why you didn't tell me. Because, deep down, there's still something between you.”

He looks up, the desperation in his gaze more than evident.

“Y/N, please—

“If this whole thing between us was really real to you, if it really meant that much, you would have told me,” you say, your voice breaking, each word hurting you like a stab, ”You would have been honest.”

“You don't understand,” he tells you in exasperation, reaching his limit, running a hand across his forehead, ”She was there for me when Alys and I broke up after a very ugly fight. She listened to me, kept me company, gave me advice,” he explains desperately, "And obviously it hurt me that she left, obviously I missed her, Y/N. And those feelings won't go away so easily, we both have history," he says incredulously, ”But if I assure you that kiss was a mistake Y/N, it shouldn't have happened and I'm sure she knows it too.”

His words pierce through you, a sharp pain settling in your chest. And you don't say anything, because you don't know what to say. You don't even know if you have to say anything about it.

But the reality is you don't.

You understand that his relationship with Floris is something that existed before you, but knowing that doesn't make it hurt any less, it doesn't ease the pain you feel and it definitely doesn't erase the image of that kiss in your mind.

Because that means there will always be a part of him that belongs to her, just like Alys. And this is exactly why you can't help but feel as if you're competing with her past, when you shouldn't be.

And finally, you look up, where Aemond sees in your eyes a painful resolve.

“Then I guess what happened between us was also a mistake.”

Aemond watches you in complete surprise, his eye widening in concern, his heart beginning to pound.

“No, no, Y/N, not that, I would never—

“It shouldn't have happened,” you interrupt him, firm with your statement, "Because believe it or not, if Floris hadn't gone on exchange, you and her would still be together," you say bitterly and sadly, ”She would have helped you with making Alys jealous and none of what happened between us would have happened.”

Aemond takes a step toward you, despair painted on his face.

“That's not true, Y/N. Don't say that. What happened between us was real, what I felt was real,” he insists, ‘But Floris and I… it's complicated," he says with frustration, ”But I don't care about her anymore the way I care about you, I can assure you that, because I want to be with you, I really do.”

Do you believe him?

You're not sure.

Right now you don't know what to believe, let alone what to do, to which Aemond steps forward, taking your hand, wanting to fix this because he doesn't want it to end, at least not like this.

“I'm sorry,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “I'm so sorry, Y/N.”

You swallow hard, shake your head and with your free hand wipe the tears from your cheeks, to which he watches you worriedly, hating to see you cry.

“Me too,” you say in a mumble with your lowered gaze and hoarse voice.

You make him let go of your hand and looking at his face one last time, full of regret and despair, you turn and start to walk away.

And he of course reacts immediately.

“Please, Y/N, don't walk away. Let's talk about this. We can fix it.”

But you feel there is nothing more to say. You've heard his words, you've seen his despair, but you don't stop even with tears streaming down your cheeks.

He tries to make you stay with the anguish in his tone of voice, he asks for your forgiveness again and tries to fix everything, but all you want at that moment is to walk away and that's exactly what you do, leaving him behind.

Even though you couldn't concentrate later in the whole school day, with your mind constantly taking you back to all that has already been said, finally classes end and you get home.

Yet you had to avoid Aemond at all costs after the conversation you both had, as well as his calls and messages only increased, making your whole day worse.

And now finally in your room you can have that break.

You're still feeling down and you're thankful your father is still at work or else he'd have to watch you wiping away the tears that involuntarily fall down your cheeks at every turn.

You try to distract yourself by watching movies or series, which works, but your mood is the same and the feeling of sadness in your chest won't go away, as well as that accompanying feeling of emptiness.

You let out a long breath and lying on your bed, you distract yourself on social media, Instagram, Tiktok, whatever. Then you log on to Facebook and scroll aimlessly through your feed, reading every news and every shared post or photo.

When suddenly an announcement appears from the official Facebook page of Citadel University.

“Attention future students! The application process for new admission as well as the entire scholarship process has been finalized. Results will be sent to students soon. Watch for the mail and thank you all for your preference!”

You quickly sit up in your bed, looking at the announcement confused and surprised, with a new wave of anxiety hitting you.

This is what Aemond should have done, get you into your dream college as part of the contract, including the scholarship.

But then why didn't he tell you?

Uncertainty and fear begin to invade your mind, so you quickly open your email, assuming that news must have reached you that you got in, as he promised.

After all, you gave him all the documents and your personal information to work on your application, phone number and email included, so you should get that email soon, right?

You browse through everything you find, feeling that every second that passes increases your anxiety, checking your inbox, the spam folder, updating everything at any second, attentive and alert. But as time goes by, there is nothing.

No mail from Citadel University arrives.

Then another realization comes to your mind at that moment, with the knot in your stomach and disbelief in your gaze as you stare at your cell phone screen, unable to believe it.

The absence of news can only mean one thing: Aemond didn't keep his part of the deal.

That's why he didn't tell you anything.

general taglist:

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff @bluerskiees @urmomsgirlfriend1 @toodlesxcuddles @rosie-posie08 @iloveallmyboys @bellaisasleep @deliaseastar @cupcakesminicakescupcakes @dixie-elocin @lilostif16 @wickedfrsgrl @a-beaverhausen @a-beaverhausen @saturnssrings @ladythornofrivia @iloveallmyboys @vhwyrm @strangersunghoon @urmomsgirlfriend1

[dilvei]

vei sama i have a request pwetty pls may i get yandere!monster x m reader it can be scenarios or oneshot or even a drabble i am so hungry for your writing

𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 ( y! naga x m! human reader )

yandere! naga x m! human reader

warnings:

kidnapping

creepy + stalking behavior

dubcon/noncon

oh and some venom poisoning

brief mentions of corpses

first post here so idk what to add help

thank you for requesting pookie 🙏🙏 this almost went into smut territory ngl but i remember u said u only want a little bit of sexy so i'll end it right there hehe + i think its better for it to stop right there too so :)) hope you love this one since i know you like snake bois 🎀🎀

✾ | you are a hunter, a monster hunter, to be exact; stalking predators under the safety of shadows, silently prowling, avidly watching.

✾ | you have always known the dangers ever since you were but a little boy, ever since your father fell victim to the large amount of dangerous beast leeching their hide in the darkness of the woods.

✾ | but being a monster hunter has its perks—money, for one—and you are never one to deny yourself, especially when you have the perfect set of skills that would make the job much, much easier.

✾ | the request that forever alters the fate of your life comes in a murky, rainy evening, brought to you by a young survivor who lived to tell the tale.

✾ | the heaving man with haunted eyes comes to you immediately, pace frantic as he pushes through the crowded tavern to hand you a heavy bag of gold.

✾ | "this is only a quarter of it," he says as he pants, a hand shivering as he holds on to his own cloth. "i want you to kill the hideous beast hiding in the cave. i want him dead by the morrow."

✾ | by the time the clouds above has parted enough to let way for the moonlight to shine on the damp earth below, you are already in gear, striding into the forest with a rabid-like smile.

✾ | if only you had known that, this time, the monster you'd thought would be your prey, has been eagerly awaiting your presence all this time.

✾ | as you wait near the cave, searching for signs of life from a safe distance, your predator is all smiles, feasting on your figure from afar, unseen, patient.

✾ | when you think to yourself there is no monster hiding inside the cave, nothing but a mountain of corpses and bones that's putrid smell crawls under your skin, the creature lunges from the shadows, presence felt before seen.

✾ | your weapon helplessly clatters to the ground before the creature swiftly seizes both your wrists behind your back with a single, powerful hand. then, a cruel, slithering tail entwines your lower body, coils tightening around you with inescapable force, rendering you immobile in the creature's grasp.

✾ | you cannot run, so you twist your neck for a glimpse, only for both awe and horror to fill your lungs. it almost leaves you breathless.

✾ | you realize that the creature that has captured you is a naga, a serpent guardian, a half-human and half-snake, feared and revered in equal measure.

✾ | his upper body is unmistakably human, with muscular arms and a face that is both eerily beautiful and terrifyingly alien. his lower body, however, is a massive, sinuous tail, its powerful coils tightening around you with every passing second.

✾ | the naga smiles at you, and an instinctive shiver wracks your body, a distant part of your mind realizing that, somehow, the naga has been patiently waiting for this, for all of this, for you.

✾ | the naga's grip tightens, pulling you closer until you can feel the heat of his scorching breath against your skin.

✾ | slowly, almost deliberately, he laps at your trembling neck with his forked tongue. the twin tips of his tongue flicker over your pulse point, sending hot shivers down your spine.

✾ | and then, without warning, he plunges his sharp teeth into your neck, a searing pain radiating from the puncture wounds, a breathless gasp escaping your lips.

✾ | you can feel his venom coursing through your veins, a burning heat spreading from the bite as your vision blurs and your limbs grow heavy. it takes hold quickly, the venom rendering you completely powerless against him.

"You are adorable, little hunter," the naga says, sweetly. He releases his hold on your hands, now that you are unable to struggle, and cradles you against him, pressing you flush against his upper body, as if to soothe you.

His hand carefully caresses your cheek as he looks down at you, smiling gently, almost proudlike. "A human who acts like we are prey, a human who thinks himself better than us. How rare it is to find a piece of treasure like yourself."

With the last of your strength, not yet rendered useless by the venom, you turn your head away, only for his fingers to catch your chin, tilting your gaze back to him.

"I have been watching," he croons, "for quite some time now. My eyes have always followed you, whenever you stepped foot into these woods."

Your breath hitches at the confirmation, but even more so at how utterly enamored the naga sounds as he says those haunting words.

"My little hunter, my adorable treasure. Your presence has tempted me for so very long now. I could no longer ignore it, especially when I imagined how exquisite you would look under my grasp."

You feel utterly helpless, and it doesn’t help when he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “So I made a plan.”

You close your eyes, but you can still feel the naga’s gaze piercing into you.

"The man who gave you this job—a frail, pathetic-looking man, wasn’t he? It was I who sent him.” He laughs, a cruel and chilling sound. "It was I who ordered him to find you, to send you here, so you could be all mine."

A soft kiss is pressed against your cheek, and you suppress your urge to vomit.

"I'm glad you arrived here safely, my little hunter. I am so utterly happy, so utterly famished to taste you, to taste everything of you."

His heavy breath is against your ear now, and you can feel him grin as he asks, "You would want that too, wouldn't you?"

You open your eyes, see the crazed look in his slitted eyes, and tremble once more. "There is no need for such fear in your eyes, my sweet darling. I am not your villain," he sing songs.

You swallow the lump in your throat.

"I am not your predator, and nor are you my prey."

Your jaw clenches as your mind spins and spins and spins.

The naga chuckles at your expression, wanting to forever etch it into his mind. "You and I. We will only ever be each other's. I am yours, and you are mine."

"Beast," you finally spit out, venom lacing your voice.

The naga pauses, his eyes widening, before an absolutely elated expression crosses over his face. He seems terribly sated as he, so very slowly, whispers to you his greatest and utmost desire, "I am your beast. Forever."

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

the platonic little sister relationship aegon has to someone like reader 😭 i hope we can see more, but like without the darkness of house of the dragon nor gore of it, just aegon ii staring at his little sister and vowing the world and even the throne for her, relinquishing it the first chance that he gets to rhaenyra whilst in tears holding his littlest sister 😭 he wishes no throne, no treasures, no liquor, only her safety and nothing more. i can imagine him trying to escape with her to the free lands because she is the only good in his world and he’d be damned if he let otto try and spoil the only kindness that the gods have give him. i can also imagine him stowing away on his dragon and flying on dragonback to the blacks to proclaim his loyalty with little reader bundled up in his cloak. i can imagine him fiercely protective but also relenting when he knows she is happy, being by her side as her older brother and uncle to her children to whomever it may be 😭

(sorry for the long anon, i just wish to see more 😭)

- familial issues anon 😔

THE HISTORY BOOK ON THE SHELF. ( HOTD x READER ) [ Pt. 2 ]

author notes: I promise, I'm gonna write a fluffy part 3 after this.. pairing: King Aegon ii Targaryen x Younger Sister! Reader ( Platonic ) prompt: When Blood and Cheese attack, the feeling of being safe in the Red Keep dies along with your sweet nephew and son. word count: 1, 000+ words

The night of Blood and Cheese, you had wandered into the children's bedchamber. Something pulled you from your dreams, telling you that the children needed you. You did not know a thing. The night was quiet and cool, the gentle pouring of rain filling the air. Everyone was safe and content. No harm could come to any of you with Vhagar in the City. But, as you got closer and closer, blissfully unaware.

You did not know the horrors that awaited you. Helaena held at knife point, her eyes so wide and full of silent horror. Your son cuddled up next to Jaehaera and Jaehaerys like he always did, all three of them dead asleep and unaware. Two men, one tall and imposing. The other thin and chuckling like a mad man. A debt they said, "A son for a son."

A son for a son. A son for a son. The world that that point is going silent and you think of was, why? Why? Why? Why?

You don't remember much of anything, no matter how much you tried to, just the muffled screams and sound of flesh being cut. You stumbled and wandered down the empty halls of the Red Keep, a dead look on your face. A thousand unspoken words on your tongue.

A son for a son. A son for a son. A son for a son. A son for a son. Where the fuck were the guards? Where were the maids? Where was everyone? They liked to snoop, so why this time were they gone?

You did not know when Helaena had departed from your side. You just vaguely remembered bumping into one of Aegon's friends, the drunken smile on his face falling. His face went pale and a stuttered call for Aegon.

Staring dead at the man, you could not remember his name, just that he was kind and one of Aegon's friends. Feeling your bottom lip wobble, you tried to hold back the sobs, emotions bubbling up. Feeling familiar hands on your shoulder, you dreadfully become aware of the wetness in your nightgown, though it was not your monthly blood or rain that soaked the linen. The realization trickled in that it was blood sinking in. Blood. Jaehaerys blood. Your son's blood.

"Hey, hey, hey. Look at me, look at me, not the blood. Tell me what's happened." A voice faintly orders, "Y/n, look at me. Look at me."

Blinking back the tears that bubbled up, your vision clears up, seeing Aegon standing right in front of you. He reeks of strongwine. But, the look on his face was deadly sober. Seeing his lips moving, you couldn't hear him, the haunting sound of Jaehaerys and your son slowly being beheaded still ringing in your ears. Son for a son. A son for a son. Jaehaerys was just a boy. He was barely six years old. A baby. Helaena's baby. Your boy was a year his younger, only five.

"You weren't there. Why weren't you there?" You hiccup, "You were always there. Why weren't you there?!"

"Y/n?"

"You said you'd be there if we were in trouble. That⎯That⎯That if we need you, you would be there. Why weren't you there? Why weren't you there?!" You scream out, your pained voice echoing loudly.

"Who's blood is that? Where is your son?" Aegon asks, his face and voice of panic.

Son for a son. A son for a son. Son for a son. A son for a son. Your son. Why him? He wasn't Aegon's heir. He wasn't Aegon's son in any way. He wasn't anyone's but your own. Your baby. Your sweet baby. Why did they pick him? He was no threat. He was just sleeping. He wasn't harming anyone.

"Gods damn it, Y/n! Where is your son?! Where is he?! Who's blood is that?" He demands, "Tell me, tell me."

"The...They took his head..The boy...My boy..Blood..He's in the bed...They came from the walls..Helaena.." You choke out, not able to properly string together a sentence.

Bursting into a fit of tears, the throne exploded into chaos the moment tears were spilled, orders and demands being spouted out to anyone in ear shot. Why? Why? Why? The Red Keep was safe. Aegon told you it was safe. It was supposed to be safe. That they would not dare to harm any of you. It was supposed to be safe.

'You will never have to marry again. You and your son are under my protection. No harm shall come to you whilst you stay in the Red Keep, sweet sister. I swear upon it.' He had said, tucking back a strand of hair from your face.

'No harm shall come to you whilst you stay in the Red Keep, sweet sister. I swear upon it.'

'No harm shall come to you whilst you stay in the Red Keep, sweet sister.

'No harm shall come to you...I swear upon it.'

When did your big brother become such a fucking liar?

Watching you collapse to the ground, Aegon swiftly follows you to the ground, cuddling you close to his chest. He may have been a little tipsy, but now he was dead sober. You stumbled in, looking more like a ghost than a person. Your hair down, you always loved to leave it down when going to bed. Your nightgown, white with little butterflies sewn into the hem, now stained in blood. Who's? He did not know and dreaded finding out.

Stroking your hair tenderly, he prayed, truly prayed for the first time since his youth. Not for your safe return home. Not for his Father's love or a fragment of his time. Not for the Seven to rid him of all the bad in him. He prayed that you were just spouting out about some nightmare. That this was just like all those times in your youth, when you'd sneak into his chambers. A whimpering mess, spouting about the monster under your bed.

"It's just a dream. It's just a dream." Aegon tries to reassure, not sure if he was trying to convince you or himself.

"Aegon, what⎯what⎯what do we do?" One of his friends stutters out, a shell shocked look on his face.

"Get the fucking guards! Wake the fucking Keep up! Damn it!" Aegon bellows, his face flushing red from anger.

Struggling to figure out what to focus on, he couldn't keep up as the Red Keep seemingly exploded. Guards are everywhere. Orders being spouted out. He wasn't sure if his voice was one of them. It was all just a blur. This could not be real. This had to be a nightmare or a figment of his drunken mind. Soon enough he would awake. You'd come into his chamber's like you do every morning, warning him that your Mother was on her way. Yes, yes, that was it. He would wake up and everything would be good.

"Aegon. Aegon." Someone calls out for him, his grip tightening on you instinctively.

"Your grace, the Prince Jaehaerys and Prince⎯" A guard stops speaking, the look on his face enough to make his blood cold.

"No, they are alright. Tis' just a minor wound, no?" Aegon shakes his head, not wanting to think of the worse. "Just a bloody nose or.."

"Your grace.." The guard shakes his head, "I am afraid tis' more grave than a bloody nose."

Feeling tears bubbling up in his eyes, he shakes his head, laughing bitterly in disbelief. This could not be true. This had to be some jest. Some dream of his. There was no way that his son and your own were dead. The Red Keep was safe. Rhaenyra would be a fool to attack with Vhagar flying above. Hearing your wails grow louder and more heart wrenching, it felt like the world just fucking snapped. Tears of sadness morphing into red hot anger. His face hardening.

They killed your son. They killed his son, his heir. They fucking made you cry. They made you and Helaena watch. Fuck the peace treaty. Fuck being kind and being cordial. Fuck doing this the proper way. Fuck all of them. He'd killed them. He'd kill them all for this. He'd kill anyone who dared to do this. He'd fucking murder all of their bloodline for this. This was war. This was fucking war.

"I'll kill them! I'll kill them all! Traitor's and murderer's!"

---

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@nightvers

@zaldritzosrose

[julesinsummer]

like a moth to a flame - theodore nott

theodore nott x fem!reader | angst | in which theodore is everything he wishes he wasn't and wants the one thing he knows he cannot have

cold. subdued. emotionless. complex.

theodore was nothing if he was not written off as a loner, a nobody in a crowd of dazzling faces. he didn't amaze crowds with his beauty, or even particularly stand out among the people he'd been raised with.

theodore was nothing if he was not a disappointment to his father.

nott sr. was an impatient man, insolent and violent at times. he was fiercely loyal to his master, his lord above all else. when his master ordered his wife, a bride taken from another land to wed at an age far too apart from his to die, he did it. he did it without hesitation, without mercy, and without the thought of doing it away from his young son's eyes.

theodore was nothing after he watched his father brutally slaughter his mother in their drawing room. he was ten at the time.

it was that moment, he thinks, that he became who he was.

cold. subdued. emotionless. complex.

nott sr. ensured no emotion was shown from his boy. his heir, his only living relation, and his only chance at continuing the hate he'd been bred to feel.

it was in his bones, that hate. and it simmered and boiled over when he realized that hate did not grow in his young son's.

theodore was born to be sensitive. he was born to be an academic, with a wit like no other and a knack for knowing just what to do. he was born to be a good person, a person with solid morals and a fond eye for adventure.

but he never could be any of those things, could he? voldemort didn't like academics. he didn't like people who were smarter, witter, and brighter than him. he didn't like restless children who always wanted to know more.

and true to his nature, nott sr. began to hate everything that theodore truly was. he was determined to kill it and burn it to the ground, determined to shape him into a near mirror image of himself.

and once he was beaten down enough, mentally and physically, theodore began to relent. his father wanted cold, subdued, emotionless, and complex.

theodore became all he was meant to be in his father's eyes.

hogwarts became his only reprieve from the monstrous horrors that awaited him at nott manor. he felt comfort in the cold, stone walls of the slytherin dungeon. he would sit and watch the black lake on occasion, lounging lazily in an armchair moved to the precise position to catch the best view.

he felt a deep connection to the feelings of the giant squid that inhabited the lake. he too was trapped in a body of water, unable to move very far or do very much without being watched or being scrutinized. he felt that they were very alike.

sometimes his friends would join him to watch the window. draco took the most interest of all of them, much preferring theo's company to anyone else's. he'd known him since his birth, after all. they were as good as brothers, if you'd believe it.

theo was quiet while draco was loud. theo was meticulous and analytical while draco felt and felt and felt some more. they balanced and complimented each other nearly perfectly.

draco often wished he could save theo one day. save him from his father, from the life he'd been forced into. it was impossible of course, with nott sr. and lucius malfoy being brothers in a purely fraternal organization with the same goal in mind.

theo was grateful for draco's constant presence. he appreciated his thoughts and how he was comfortable just existing alongside theo.

draco began being interested in girls around fourth year. he could have any girl he fancied. he was an attractive boy, with sharp features and piercing grey eyes. theo wished many times he could understand what it was like to like someone, anyone, in a way more than just friendship.

it was hard for theo to even maintain his friendships most times. he was often afraid that his father would use them as leverage against him, or even worse, that the dark lord would make a point to have them killed in front of his eyes.

it was the yule ball that gave theodore even more reason to be terrified. even more reason to be a cold, subdued, emotionless, complex human.

he wore his finest, sent over from italy at the request of his father. he knew he was a handsome boy and knew why girls wanted him to be their date. he also knew why he couldn't and why he wouldn't let himself feel anything other than apathy towards them.

at least, he did. until he saw her.

she was dressed in the finest gown he'd ever seen, silk and shining under the enchanted lights in the great hall. her hair was styled perfectly, shaping her face in a way that had to be considered art. her makeup was complimentary to her face, not cakey and overdone like pansy's, or little to nothing like astoria's.

she was perfection personified, and he didn't even know her name.

"what are you looking at, mate?" draco asked with a slight laugh, trying to trace the line of sight theodore had locked onto.

"she's beautiful," theo breathed out timidly, his brain nothing but static as he stared at her. she gracefully spoke to her friends, a glass of punch in her hand as if she'd been raised to be the center of society.

draco eyed her meticulously, studying the human figure theodore was so entranced by. "y/n?"

theo looked at draco, shrugging, suddenly missing the sight that he'd been so focused on moments before.

"she's quite beautiful," draco agreed, sipping from the glass in his hand. he tipped it towards her direction, "a pureblood, too, i assume. she's too graceful to not have practiced this."

theo once again turned his attention to her figure. he was completely and utterly entranced by her, a feeling like none he'd ever felt before at the sight of a stranger. she turned around at that moment, her eyes sweeping the great hall before landing on his. she studied him for a moment, a small smile on her lips. she gave a polite and small wave of her fingers in his direction, her eyes never leaving his.

"oh god," theo breathed out, feeling as though all the air from his lungs had disappeared. she turned back around to her friends, seemingly laughing and joking around.

draco chuckled, putting a hand on theo's shoulder. "she didn't come with a date," he informed him, "so the option is there for you."

theo shook his head rapidly. "you know why i can't do that."

"i know," draco conceded, his expression falling as the weight of theodore's position settled in his heart.

theo spent the rest of the night sneaking subtle stares her way, eyeing her as she danced happily and laughed with her friends. he felt pangs of jealousy strike his chest when other boys asked her to dance. at the same time, he felt immensely relieved when she turned them all down.

it was the best night he'd ever had, in his mind.

it was fifth year before he saw her again. this time he spotted her in arithmancy sitting at the table beside his own. she sat with astoria and daphne, a slytherin green tie adorned around her neck. theodore wondered how he'd never seen her before the ball or after.

maybe it was better that way. if he didn't see anything he wanted, he could still be cold and subdued and emotionless and complex.

he was lost in thought during the lesson, his mind everywhere but in the classroom when he caught her looking at him. he locked eyes with her in an instant, almost out of instinct.

her eyes could draw him in and push him out like the tides, he thought. he'd never seen anything more beautiful.

she looked away as professor vector gazed upon the class once more. theodore felt the loss.

it went on like that for a few more weeks, with her catching his eyes during class, staring at each other with more intensity than theodore ever thought possible, and then turning away before they were caught. theodore didn't like it one bit.

he wanted more. he needed more.

he was like a moth to a flame just from her glances, wanting so badly to be close to her, to be close to something he could not have.

it was near all hallow's eve when he heard her speak for the first time.

she walked up to him in the library where he sat alone in a corner that was so unused that dust and cobwebs had taken over all flat surfaces and corners. he felt safe there, away from the rest of humanity. from the rest of his life.

"i like your eyes," she said to him, quietly but with a strength and fierceness that could not be more evident. she stood lengths away from him, her arms crossed lazily over her chest and her head cocked to the side. her hair fell around her face perfectly, enhancing the already ethereal beauty she contained in her body.

theo stared at her for a few moments, probably more than he should've. he considered going mute at that moment and saving him the trouble of what even speaking to her would start.

"i like yours, too," he finally told her, quiet and low as his tone usually was. he was a monotonous creature, something he was reminded of daily.

she smiled and theo felt his world crumble around him. he was falling down a pit he'd sworn never to fall down, the one that showed who he really was. the pit full of sensitivity, feeling, and everything he truly was made to be. the pit reminded him of his mother and all the ways she'd imprinted her very soul upon his.

she nodded and pushed her hair away from her eyes where it had fallen. she stood silent for a moment after that. when she did speak, theo knew it was full of quiet contemplation and consideration.

"i don't think you are who you try to be," she stated with finality. "and i would like to get to know the real you. not the cold and closed off bullshit persona you put on."

theodore nott was nothing if he wasn't acting. but in that moment, all of her words struck him in his proverbial achilles heel. in that moment, theo didn't feel like a failure. he didn't feel like a disgrace or a disappointment to his father. he didn't feel like the theodore nott he'd played for so long.

he felt seen.

theo took many deep breaths before he answered. he figured at that moment that y/n could be the most patient person he'd ever encountered. she held his eyes with a ferocity that would rival even the most courageous of lions and a determination that put all snakes to shame.

"you don't want that responsibility," he finally spoke, his words full of emotions he couldn't quite name, but ones he felt in the very depths of his soul. his hands had begun to shake.

y/n sat next to him in a dusty, ancient armchair. "i don't shy away from a challenge," she laughed timidly, "and i find that i'm drawn to you like a moth to a flame."

"moths will die if they touch the flame," he responded immediately, his face devoid of any named emotion.

y/n chuckled and touched theo's hand gently. "only if they're stupid enough to run into it."

theodore only bared his very soul to one person in his life. y/n was true to her word and refused to back down from his challenge. eventually, she was rewarded with theodore nott. he was sensitive and an academic, a witty, bright, intelligent boy who felt everything and loved fiercely and without a second thought. he was adventurous and fun and y/n loved him with a determination that was almost impossible.

theodore nott was once again cold, subdued, emotionless, and complex after the battle of hogwarts. his side had lost and the mark he'd taken on his left forearm to appease his father and protect the love he wanted and needed forever was fading.

he vowed to be everything his father wanted him to be after the battle. after he'd seen his only remaining family slaughtered at what he thought to be his safe haven. after he saw her, beautifully effervescent and ethereal, laid on the ground in a way that was so poetically tragic.

she'd died at the hands of his father and quickly thereafter, nott sr. was dead at the hands of his own son.

it wasn't long after the battle that theodore himself lost himself completely.

draco had found him, cold and lifeless in nott manor with only the bottles of firewhisky around him to blame.

draco knew in his heart that he could never have saved theodore from the end he was sure to meet. it didn't make it any easier.

-

this is my first piece of writing on here and i hope you enjoy it! i swear i can write happier things, but this has been on my mind for a while so i decided to get it out!

reblogs and notes very much appreciated!!!

[novaursa]

we know that Aemond can be very obsessive.

What if the hand of his little sister was given to a lord in exchange of an army but that happens when he killed Luke. When he came back to King’s Landing he heard the new from Aegon and goes into an furious anger

He threatened her future husband and maybe even end up killing him.

Blood and Vows

- Summary: While Aemond was at Strom's End, your family gave you away to Tyrell Lord in exchange for support of the Highgarden. But you were Aemond's, and only his.

- Paring: sister!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 18+

- Word count: 2 900+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: I've changed the thing with future husband slaying a little. I think this fits better. I hope you don't mind.

The torches flicker along the narrow halls of the Red Keep as Aemond strides with purpose, his cloak billowing behind him, the faint scent of salt and sea clinging to his skin. The echo of his boots against the stone floors is the only sound accompanying him as he makes his way toward the council chambers, where his mother and grandsire await. The weight of what he has done hangs heavily upon him, yet he feels no regret, only a dark satisfaction that lingers in his chest. Luke is dead. But in the cold aftermath, another gnawing thought takes root—you. The one person whose absence has left a void he cannot ignore.

When he finally reaches the doors of the council chamber, the guards open them, revealing Alicent and Otto, both already seated and deep in conversation. Their eyes snap to him as he enters, their expressions shifting from curiosity to alarm as they take in his appearance—the dampness of his clothing, the exhaustion that lines his face, and the unmistakable tension in his jaw.

“Aemond,” Alicent’s voice is laced with concern as she stands, her hands trembling slightly. “What has happened?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead pacing to the center of the room, gathering his thoughts. How to tell them? How to make them understand that what he has done was necessary, that it was just? He looks at his mother, her eyes searching his, then to his grandsire, whose gaze is sharp and calculating, always weighing the advantages, the risks.

“It’s done,” Aemond finally says, his voice steady but cold. “Lucerys Velaryon is dead.”

Alicent gasps, her hand flying to her mouth as she stumbles back a step. Otto, though shocked, is quicker to recover, his mind already racing with the implications.

“By your hand?” Otto asks, though the answer is clear.

Aemond meets his grandsire’s gaze, unflinching. “Yes.”

The silence that follows is thick with tension, Alicent’s horror palpable in the air. She closes the distance between them, grasping Aemond’s arm as if to steady herself, as if to make sure he’s still there and not some ghost conjured by her fears.

“What have you done?” she whispers, her voice cracking. “You’ve started a war, Aemond.”

“There was already a war,” Aemond replies, his tone devoid of remorse. “I’ve only struck the first blow.”

Otto, ever the strategist, cuts in before Alicent can respond. “The boy was heir to Driftmark, and his death will provoke a retaliation we are not prepared for. We need allies—more than ever.”

Aemond barely hears him. His mind is already drifting elsewhere, to you, to the knowledge that you are far from him, being promised to another. The thought is like a blade twisting in his gut.

“I’ve ensured that the Greens will not be seen as weak,” Aemond continues, his voice darkening as he pushes past his mother, toward Otto. “But we must be prepared. Daemon will not let this go unanswered.”

“Indeed,” Otto mutters, his hand rubbing his chin in thought. “The timing could not be worse. At least your sister has already been promised to Lord Tyrell. The Reach’s support will be crucial when the storm inevitably comes.”

The mention of your name pulls Aemond’s attention sharply. His gaze snaps to Otto, and his heart pounds in his chest, the rage simmering beneath his calm exterior flaring dangerously.

“No.” The word is spoken softly, but it carries an unmistakable weight. 

Otto’s eyes narrow slightly, the hint of a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Aemond, you understand the importance of this alliance. Your sister’s marriage to Lord Tyrell will secure—”

“She will not marry him,” Aemond interrupts, his voice low and filled with menace. “I will not allow it.”

“Aemond!” Alicent’s voice is frantic, pleading. “You cannot speak this way. It is already arranged—”

“Arrangements can be broken,” Aemond growls, his one eye blazing with a dangerous light. “She belongs here, with us. With me.”

The intensity of his words sends a chill through the room, and for a moment, even Otto is at a loss for words. Alicent’s hand trembles as she reaches out to her son, her voice a whisper now. “Aemond… she is your sister.”

“She is mine,” he hisses, his voice low and possessive. “Not some pawn to be traded for power. I will bring her back. I will make sure of it.”

Alicent’s eyes fill with tears, and she looks to Otto for support, but Otto remains silent, calculating, weighing the balance of power that is ever shifting. He knows Aemond, knows the fire that burns in him, and realizes that to challenge him now would be to ignite that fire into something uncontrollable.

“Aemond,” Otto finally says, carefully choosing his words. “You must be careful. The decisions you make now could determine the future of this realm.”

“The future is already determined,” Aemond replies coldly, turning on his heel to leave. “I will bring her back. And woe to anyone who stands in my way.”

As he exits the room, his heart is set. There is no power in this world that can keep you from him. You are his blood, his fire, and he will see to it that you are where you belong—by his side, bound to him as tightly as dragon and rider.

Aemond mounts Vhagar that night, the storm in his heart mirroring the one that brews on the horizon. Highgarden may be far, but for Aemond Targaryen, no distance is too great, no obstacle too daunting. He will have you back, and not even the gods themselves will stand in his way.

The night air is sharp as Vhagar soars above the clouds, her massive wings beating rhythmically as she slices through the sky. The stars are scattered like silver dust across the dark expanse, and below, the world is nothing but a distant shadow. The wind rushes past you, cold and biting, but you feel none of it. Your focus is entirely on your destination—Highgarden, where you are waiting, unaware of the storm that is about to descend upon you.

Aemond’s grip tightens on Vhagar’s reins as he leans forward, urging the ancient dragon to go faster. Every beat of her wings carries him closer to you, and every moment that passes without you by his side is a moment too long. The image of you haunts his mind, more vivid than any memory. He sees you as you were the last time he laid eyes upon you, your features softened by the firelight, your eyes shining with a warmth that you never quite showed to anyone else, not even to him.

But he saw it—felt it. That warmth was meant for him, only him. The thought of you being offered to another, of you standing before some lord of the Reach, promising yourself to a man who is not him, fills him with a fury that threatens to consume him. You are his sister, yes, but more than that, you are his. The very idea that you could be taken from him, that you could be used as a pawn in this game of thrones, is unbearable.

The wind howls louder as Vhagar dips lower, closer to the earth. The landscape below becomes clearer—the rivers, the hills, the forests that stretch on for miles. Aemond’s thoughts drift to the conversations he had overheard, the whispers in the corridors of the Red Keep, the plans that had been laid out without his knowledge. They had decided your fate as if you were nothing more than a chess piece to be moved at their whim. His mother, his grandsire—they thought they were securing an alliance, strengthening the Greens’ position in the war that loomed on the horizon.

But they were wrong. They had miscalculated. You were not a piece to be played with. You were a Targaryen, born of fire and blood, and you belonged to him. Aemond’s heart pounds in his chest as he thinks of how it must have felt for you, to be sent away to Highgarden, to be kept away from the family, from him. Did you feel abandoned? Did you think he had forgotten you, that he had let them send you off without a second thought?

The thought gnaws at him, a festering wound. He had always been there for you, had always protected you, even when others sought to control your fate. And now, when you needed him most, he had been miles away, lost in the chaos of war and duty. But no longer. He would not let anyone—his grandsire, his mother, not even the King himself—decide what was to become of you. That was his right alone.

As the dark silhouette of Highgarden comes into view on the horizon, Aemond’s heart races with a wild intensity. Vhagar lets out a deep, resonant growl, sensing the anticipation in her rider. The sprawling fortress, with its high walls and lush gardens, is a beacon in the night, but to Aemond, it is nothing more than a cage that holds you captive.

He thinks of you again, wondering if you’re awake, if you feel his approach, if your thoughts are with him as his are with you. The bond between you has always been strong, stronger than anyone could understand. Even when you were children, you had always been drawn to each other, a connection that went beyond mere blood. It was as if you were two halves of the same soul, destined to be together, to complete each other.

The idea of you marrying another, of giving yourself to another man, fills him with a possessiveness that borders on madness. He can’t bear the thought of anyone else touching you, holding you, claiming you. You are his, and he will make sure the world knows it.

As Vhagar circles Highgarden, Aemond’s thoughts become clearer, sharper. He will take you back, and he will do whatever it takes to ensure that you are never taken from him again. The Reach may offer its armies, its loyalty, but it will do so on his terms, not because they have taken you from him.

With a final command, Vhagar descends, her massive form casting a shadow over the land below. Aemond’s pulse quickens as he imagines your face when you see him, when you realize that he has come for you. He pictures the relief, the joy that will light up your eyes when you understand that he will never let you go.

As he prepares to land, his mind is filled with only one thought, one burning desire—to have you by his side, where you belong. And this time, no one will stand between you and him. You are his, and soon, the world will know it.

The ground trembles as Vhagar lands just outside the walls of Highgarden, her massive wings folding against her sides with a rush of air. The sound reverberates through the night, startling the guards and servants of the Tyrell household who have never seen a dragon so close. They scatter like leaves in the wind, their fear palpable as Aemond dismounts, his dark cloak swirling around him like a storm. His mind is set, his purpose clear. You will leave this place with him, and nothing—not even the Lord of Highgarden—will stand in his way.

He strides toward the castle, his steps purposeful, each one echoing with the cold determination that grips him. The great doors to Highgarden open before him, revealing a grand hall bathed in candlelight. The Tyrell banners hang from the walls, their golden roses a stark contrast to the fire and blood that courses through Aemond’s veins.

At the far end of the hall stands Lord Tyrell, a man of considerable girth and wealth, though neither his stature nor his riches can save him now. He watches Aemond’s approach with a mixture of unease and defiance, his gaze flicking nervously to the massive shadow of Vhagar that looms just beyond the doors.

“You’ve come a long way, Prince Aemond,” Lord Tyrell says, his voice trying—and failing—to sound cordial. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Aemond’s eye narrows, his gaze cutting through the lord like a blade. “Where is she?”

Lord Tyrell’s composure falters for a brief moment, but he quickly recovers, straightening his shoulders. “Your sister is under my protection, as per the arrangements made by the Crown. She is to marry my son in due course, as we agreed. The union will—”

“Where is she?” Aemond’s voice is sharp, filled with a dangerous edge that silences the room. The air grows thick with tension as the threat in his words becomes clear. 

Lord Tyrell’s face pales slightly, and he hesitates before nodding to a servant, who quickly rushes out of the hall to fetch you. Aemond waits, his gaze never leaving the lord who dares to think he can keep you from him.

“You must understand, Prince Aemond,” Lord Tyrell begins, his tone now laced with a hint of desperation, “this marriage was arranged for the good of the realm. It will bring the Reach’s strength to your cause, solidify—”

Aemond takes a step forward, his presence menacing, his eye blazing with a fury that makes the lord take an involuntary step back. “The only thing this marriage will bring is your death if you do not return her to me now.”

The words hang in the air, the weight of them suffocating. Lord Tyrell’s face blanches completely as he realizes that Aemond is not here to negotiate or to parley. He is here to take what is his.

Before the lord can respond, you are brought into the hall, flanked by two servants. Your eyes widen as you see Aemond standing there, his expression one of fierce determination. Relief washes over you, mixed with fear for what might happen next. 

“Aemond,” you breathe, taking a hesitant step toward him.

In two strides, he closes the distance between you, his hand reaching out to take yours, pulling you to him as if to assure himself that you are real, that you are safe. His grip is firm, possessive, and the moment his fingers entwine with yours, you feel the undeniable truth of his words—he is here to take you away, to claim you as his own.

“This is madness,” Lord Tyrell stammers, his voice shaking now. “She is betrothed to my son. You cannot simply take her—”

“She was never yours to give,” Aemond snaps, his voice low and dangerous. “She is mine.”

With those words, the last vestiges of Lord Tyrell’s composure crumble. “This is treason! You cannot—”

But Aemond has heard enough. His free hand moves with the swiftness of a serpent, and before anyone can react, his sword is drawn and buried deep in Lord Tyrell’s chest. The lord gasps, his eyes wide with shock and pain as he collapses to the floor, blood pooling beneath him. The hall is silent, save for the dying man’s gurgling breaths, and the eyes of every witness are fixed on Aemond, none daring to move, to speak, to challenge the dragon prince who stands before them.

You stare at the fallen lord, your heart pounding in your chest, but when you look up at Aemond, his expression is unreadable, his focus entirely on you. 

He sheathes his sword, and with a voice that is as cold as ice, he speaks to the room. “Anyone who wishes to dispute my claim on my sister, speak now.”

No one moves. No one speaks. Fear grips them all as they realize that to oppose Aemond Targaryen is to invite death upon themselves. And with Vhagar just outside, there is no doubt that the prince’s wrath would be swift and unforgiving.

Aemond turns to you, his eye softening just slightly, though the intensity of his gaze remains. “We’re leaving,” he says, his voice gentler now, meant only for you. “You’re coming with me.”

You nod, unable to find the words, but knowing that there is no other choice. You’ve always known that Aemond would come for you, that he would never let anyone take you away from him. And now, as you stand beside him, the reality of his promise is clearer than ever.

He leads you out of the hall, his hand still gripping yours, guiding you back to where Vhagar waits. The great dragon lowers her head as you approach, her eyes gleaming in the darkness. Aemond helps you mount, his hands firm but gentle as they guide you into the saddle before he takes his place behind you.

As Vhagar rises into the sky, Aemond’s arms wrap around you, holding you close. You can feel the steady beat of his heart against your back, the warmth of his body shielding you from the cold night air. His voice, when he speaks, is low and filled with a fierce determination.

“We will be married,” he vows, his breath warm against your ear. “No one will take you from me again.”

You close your eyes, letting the wind whip through your hair as Vhagar carries you both far from Highgarden, far from the reach of anyone who might try to come between you. And in that moment, you know that Aemond’s promise is one that will never be broken.

He is your brother, your protector, your everything—and he will do whatever it takes to keep you by his side.

[aaagustd]

freaky friday | myg (m)

title: freaky friday pairing: min yoongi x f!reader genre/rating: smut, horror, f*ckbuddies, friday the 13th au; 18+ summary: they were right to be afraid. wc: 2.6k warnings: m*rder, mild description of d*ad bodies, blood, weapon play, outdoor s*x, mentions alcohol, slight power play dynamics, ch*king, multiple org*sms, squirting, overstimulation, dirty talk, a bit of dark humor, i think that's all...will update later. can be triggering so please proceed with caution. release date: september 13th, 2024

note: hi! i'm back lol. had some downtime so I whipped this up. slightly edited but this was just a quick drabble i wrote. mask credit.

September 13th, 2024

Snap.

You stop in your tracks so another twig doesn’t crack beneath your feet. The forest becomes eerily quiet as you await your fate. After seconds of standing somewhere within the forest surrounding Camp Crystal Lake, you unclench your fists and cautiously tiptoe to the nearest tree. 

Relief washes over you but doesn’t erase the fear pumping through your veins. You’re not safe until you reach the lake so there’s no time to celebrate a victory this small. 

“Clap!”

Fuck.

You hear one of the seekers call out in the distance, and abiding by the rules, you clap your hands once to pinpoint your location. The caller is far from your area, but that doesn’t mean another isn’t nearby.

You brace yourself as you hear the sticks being crushed by someone’s footsteps behind the tree that shields you and you brace yourself for the jump scare that comes with being discovered.

Holding your breath, you close your eyes and wait—but the moment never arrives. Sighing, you turn slowly to scope out your surroundings.

The moon provides enough light to see what’s in front of you, but the night is gloomy and does an excellent job of concealing you in the darkness. 

Camp Crystal Lake has always been a popular summer camp location. You and your friends have run through these woods more times than you can count. Now as counselors, you still haven’t grown up entirely.

This place brings out the kid in you, but like quite a few attractions, it comes with a dark history.

The story of the boy who drowned in the lake has always been the camp’s employees' favorite spooky bedtime story. It’s a way to get the kids to bed early so that the adults can have some fun. Although it’s just a scary story, you can’t help but feel like there’s some truth to it. 

You can never really shake the feeling of being watched, but you won’t let your paranoia ruin your last night of fun. Camp ends tomorrow, and then it’s back to long nights of studying for you. Hopefully, you can snag a victory this time around and have some bragging rights for next time.

After looking in every direction twice, you take the first step. Looking around you again, you don’t see or hear any sign of movement. So, you make a run for it.

You don’t think you’ve ever run so fast. You cover over half the distance within a minute. You nearly slip and burst your ass when the ground becomes steeper.

“Better slow down,” you tell yourself.

You wouldn’t want to slide right into the lake. You’d be covered in mud by the time you climb out. 

Before you continue, you look around to make sure you haven’t been spotted, and this time—you aren’t so lucky.

“Oh, shit.”

Your heart drops when you see the figure standing no more than 15 to 20 feet away from you. You’re frozen because you know you’ve been caught, but what you can’t determine is by who.

After they’ve moved closer, you can make out the white mask and clothing. 

It’s Yoongi.

None of you know him too well. This is his first summer working here. You’ve heard stories about him but to you, he’s just a guy trying to make some extra cash. You don’t think he knows any more about this place than the rest of you. The kids have already given him every scary name they could think of, and that’s mainly because he doesn’t talk much and sticks to himself. It took you weeks to get him out of his shell, and he’s been fucking your brains out ever since.

“You still have that on?”

Like you, Yoongi pulled the short straw and they made him wear a hockey mask to scare the kids. You thought he went to bed after his little show, but maybe he couldn’t resist the opportunity to fuck with everyone.

He doesn’t reply or answer the question. Instead, he continues to make his way towards you. 

“Yoongi?”

Still, nothing comes out of his mouth and worry starts to build in your gut. You almost make a run for the campgrounds, but then he decides to speak up.

“Damn, you look scared.”

If you had a rock, you’d probably throw it at him. “Why would you do that?”

Yoongi laughs and lifts the mask. His skin seems to glow underneath the moonlight, fueling your attraction. His hair is pushed away from his face, giving you a full few of his forehead and slit eyebrows.

“I was about to kill you, but I changed my mind,” he shrugs.

Your mouth falls open.

“You would not!”

You smack his chest as he snakes a hand around your waist. The other clutches his prop—a machete he probably got from Party City.

“Maybe I won’t,” he replies. “It depends, really.”

“On?”

Another shrug of his shoulders serves as a response, an indicator that your question is probably one you already know the answer to. However, he still doesn’t hesitate to enlighten you.

“Are you going to be good for me?”

Your skin feels on fire as his lips move against your cheek. He invades your senses with the smell of s’mores and liquor mixed with his familiar scent of shampoo, detergent, and nature. His body is warm, his heart beating rapidly from his adrenaline. Yours is racing just as swiftly, anticipating another heated encounter with the mysterious stranger who knows your body better than anyone.

“I can try.”

Yoongi guides you closer to a nearby tree, gently pushing you against the bark. He pulls down his mask before he speaks again.

“I sure hope you can.”

His blade touches your thigh and you let out a small gasp because of how cold it is. It feels real. It looks real.

“Wouldn’t want to make me mad tonight, love.”

“Why not? You’re gonna use that?” you ask him, now entirely aware of how huge the prop really is.

Yoongi pauses and tilts his head. “Sounds like you want me to.”

You can’t deny how intrigued you are by the object. You’ve experimented with all kinds of toys, but this would be a new one for you. However, another opportunity like this won’t come often—if at all.

“And what if someone sees us?” 

“What if they’re already watching?” he counters.

Even Yoongi notices your reaction despite it being dark. Your hands clutch the bark, hoping your knees don’t buckle or give out. 

As Yoongi moves the machete further up your leg, you know he wants to know where the skin stops—when will he reach the fabric of your shorts? However, you just threw on some shoes and ran outside when you got the text. He’ll never find what he’s looking for.

Realizing at that moment, he lifts your oversized shirt slightly to confirm his suspicions. 

“Should have known.”

You give him a little smirk, letting him know it was intentional. You never know when a quickie will present itself around here. You have to be prepared at all times.

“You should have,” you repeat. “Wanna see the back?”

Yoongi nods and lowers his weapon so you can turn away from him. When you’re facing the tree, you lift your shirt, knowing he’s expecting you to stop at the waist. Instead, you remove the item entirely and drop it beside you, leaving you standing there in nothing but your panties.

Yoongi whistles and you scold him playfully. “Shh! What if someone heard that?”

“Trust me. No one did,” he promises.

Once again, he’s all over you. His arms around you, his lips kissing your neck and shoulders, his body shielding you from the breeze in the air. You’re drunk from his touch within seconds, and the way he speaks in your ear only intensifies the throbbing between your thighs.

“Don’t worry about them. I need you.”

No, he needs to be in you.

You can feel his boner getting harder the longer you stand there naked before him. You would tease him, make him chase you for it, but who knows how long before the others come looking for you?

“Well, it’s right here. Just take it,” you reply.

Yoongi doesn’t waste a second. He tears off your underwear, causing you to cover your mouth to capture your startled shriek. You would have just taken them off if he just asked, but you have to admit the manhandling is kind of hot. You’d put on seven layers of clothes just to watch him rip them off you.

The sound of his belt buckle and zipper lets you know what’s to come. You feel the thick tip of his dick touch your ass when he steps behind you, and just from the small contact, you know he’s standing at attention.

You spread your legs for him and he slides his cock between your thighs. Both of you exhale, already relieving some of the tension. Your wetness is already pooling at your entrance so he slowly slips inside of you in one motion. 

“Fuck me.”

He’s momentarily caught off guard by your eagerness but recovers quickly and fulfills your request.

“Can’t wait, huh?”

Yoongi begins to thrust his hips, causing a skin-slapping noise to resonate through the woods. You can only hope no one hears the obscene sounds coming from the two of you. You try your best to suppress your cries of pleasure but Yoongi doesn’t hold back as he moans in your ear.

“This pussy’s so good,” he mumbles against your flesh. His hand wraps around your throat and he begins to squeeze, making your head spin. “I’m going to miss this.”

“Not me?”

Your voice comes out rough and shaky. You can barely finish your sentence because the words are getting trapped in the back of your throat. Yoongi chuckles sending vibrations straight to your core, the sensation leaves you trembling.

“Enjoy the moment, baby.”

He knows you’re joking. You barely know each other. This is fun, but that’s all it is. You know you’ll probably never see him again.

“Oh, I am.”

You can feel yourself getting hotter. Each snap of Yoongi’s hips takes you closer to the edge. Drool and tears roll down your face but you don’t bother wiping them away. You barely know they’re there.

“You like getting fucked in the wood? Butt ass naked, hm?” he growls. “Such a little freak?”

“Fuck, Yoongi.”

He laughs.

“No shame at all, baby. You’re really enjoying yourself, huh?”

You try to nod but you realize that you can’t so you croak the best response you can give in your position. “I am. It’s good.”

“I know.”

As he fucks you from behind, you almost forget about what he’s holding in his right hand. It doesn’t cross your mind until the blade touches your skin. He drags it across your skin, leaving goosebumps all over your body. Only one question comes to mind.

“Is that real?” you ask through your labored panting.

Yoongi pauses and brings the machete to your throat. 

“Move and you’ll find out.”

Your eyes widen as your soul threatens to leap out of you. Excitement mixed with fear and curiosity makes you let out the moans you so desperately tried to conceal. You can feel the sharp edge threaten to break through your fresh as Yoongi begins to fuck you again. You aren’t sure how much you have left in you, but you know it’s not much.

“I feel you clenching,” he reveals. “You’re just as fucked up as me.”

He’s no longer controlling himself. He goes deeper and deeper with each stroke, touching your cervix and making your back arch. Your head tilts back, resting on his shoulder for support. Your nails dig into the bark as you stare at the moon, mind racing with a flood of disgusting thoughts and possibilities. 

You wonder if someone’s watching, or recording you. If the blade will leave a mark, making you remember this encounter forever. Everything just hits you like a whirlwind. You barely have time to warn Yoongi.

“I—I’m cumming!”

The leaves and dirt become damp with your juices squirting all over the ground beneath you. Yoongi has to drop the machete to keep you on your two feet. He fills your ears with the filthiest things, intensifying your orgasm. You have no idea how long you’ve been cumming all over his dick, but Yoongi’s only a few thrust away from reaching his peak.

“This pussy’s so good. Give me another one,” he demands, fucking you harder.

“Wait a minute!”

You try to bargain for a month to recover from your last orgasm but Yoongi’s ready to blow his load. He grabs your hips and drills into your sensitive cunt with only one thing in mind. All you can do is hold on and hope he doesn’t have to carry you back to camp.

“Fuck!”

He curses loudly into the night when another wave of pleasure causes your walls to squeeze around him. This time he has no choice but to pull out and release his seed all over your ass. He moans and groans as the ropes of cum paint your skin. Soon, the only noises you hear are the crickets and both of you breathing heavily.

“Where is everyone?” 

You can’t help but notice how besides the two of you no other voices can be heard. The game of hide and seek doesn’t even seem to be going on anymore. 

It’s dead silence all around you.

“Probably dead,” Yoongi answers.

You roll your eyes and grab your shirt, shaking off the dirt before putting it on. You turn to Yoongi who’s adjusting his pants. His mask lies on the ground beside his machete, and you can’t help but notice the red stains splattered all over the white object.

“You really went all out, huh?”

You point towards the items and he laughs. “Yeah, you can say that.”

Both of you stand there for a minute before you decide to head back to camp. You assume everyone forgot about you so technically you have a victory.

“I’m gonna head back but this was really fun.”

Yoongi nods. “Tell your bunkmates I said hi, yeah?”

“Uh, sure. Okay.”

Everyone calls Yoongi a little weird, but you like that about him. You talk about all kinds of things that others would find strange. However, you don’t ever recall him speaking with the people you share a bunk with. They don’t even work with your group.

The walk back isn’t a long one, and on your way to your cabin, you take a peek at the kids. Some are actually sound asleep while the others are pretending to be. You smile thinking about how you and your friends did the same thing as kids.

You leave them to continue doing whatever it is they were doing, giving them a last taste of summer before the return home and school begins.

For some reason, the counselor quarters are unusually dark tonight and you struggle getting in the door. You don’t turn on the light, noticing that there’s someone slumped over the couch asleep. They look hammered so you leave the be. In your room, you notice that your bunkmates are all asleep. You tiptoe so you don’t wake them, but slip on something wet as you make your way to your bed.

“Shit, what the fuck?! I’m sorry guys.”

You carefully get up, covered in some sort of thick goo. You struggle for several minutes to find the light switch and when you do, nothing but horror awaits.

Blood.

The entire room covered in it. You try to shake everyone, trying to wake them up from the sick prank. However, the longer you examine the state of their limp bodies, the realization finally dawns on you.

“He wasn’t joking.”

[thefloatingwriter]

the victors as complex characters will always be more interesting than making them amazing people.

like these are people who did absolutely everything in their power to survive something as traumatic as the games. most of them probably sleep with weapons in their hands. the thought on the forefront of most of their minds is survival. everything else—anyone else—can wait.

they sacrificed everything to crawl out of a killing game. their mental stability. their innocence. their childhood.

and after all of that, they realized that the games never really end. that they would sacrifice ever having a good night sleep without being plagued by nightmares. they would sacrifice their brains to help the capitol. they would sacrifice their bodies, something that should have always been their own, now snatched away from them. all for surviving a killing match that twenty-three children didn’t.

no victor is immune to this either. do you think cashmere doesn’t regret being so excited to go into the games after her brother after staying the night in a strange man’s bed that she doesn’t know? do you think gloss doesn’t regret not warning his sister about the horrors that await her after she wins? do you think brutus doesn’t sometimes wake up in a cold sweat after having yet another nightmare about being on the receiving end of his weapon, just as all of his victims were before everything faded to black? do you think enobaria doesn’t run her tongue over her sharpened teeth and wonder if it was worth it?

do you think beetee doesn’t flinch every time he sees lightning? do you think wiress doesn’t think of how if she hadn’t learned acrobatics that the 48th hunger games would have gone very differently? do you think finnick doesn’t see nets in the same way ever again, after he saw the girl from nine begging for her life tangled in a net he set up before he stabbed her with a trident? do you think annie doesn’t think about if she hadn’t spent all of that time on the beach growing up, playing in the water, that she wouldn’t have survived the dam breaking in her arena? do you think mags doesn’t think about how she left her district partner to die in the first ever traditional career pack? how if maybe, if she had been there to take the blow for him, there would be a different victor of the 11th hunger games?

do you think that blight doesn’t wonder what would have happened if the boy from two had looked up a little bit sooner, looked a little bit closer at the treetops above him, before the knife previously in blight’s hand found it’s way to the boy’s back? do you think that every time johanna picks up an axe, she doesn’t think about what if felt like to stab someone with it, what blood felt like when it splattered you? do you think she doesn’t wake up in a sweat, thinking the moisture on her skin is blood, that she’s back in the third quarter quell? do you think she doesn’t ever walk into her house in the victor’s village and think she sees a glimpse, a shadow, of her lost loved ones?

do you think that woof doesn’t use real knives anymore because every time he sees one, he remembers how it felt to stab blindly at the boy from seven? that even when he was seventy-five and the male tribute from eight for the third quarter quell, he couldn’t even look at the utensil and had to get cecelia to take it away from him? do you think cecelia can’t look at seashells anymore, that she could barely stand district four on her victory tour, because the girl from four was her last kill? that her necklace, a pretty one her sister made for her with a seashell strung through the string, was what cecelia used to choke the life out of her?

do you think that chaff doesn’t ever feel the phantom feeling of his hand? doesn’t ever touch the stump where it used to be and feel the phantom pain of it being sawed off like it was yesterday, even thirty years later? do you think that seeder doesn’t ever feel the hot sun of her arena on her body, doesn’t ever think she’s back, waiting for her death to come?

do you think that haymitch doesn’t start shaking every time a blowgun is provided at the cornucopia? do you think that he didn’t see the gold pin on katniss’ arena wear and have to sit down, remembering a very different girl with blonde hair and a quick witted humor with the same pin? do you think that peeta doesn’t hear foxface’s voice during her interview, over and over and over, until it’s so distorted he can’t even remember what she had actually said? that he doesn’t ever think of the girl from eight, a girl he might not have even known the name of?

do you think that, years down the line, katniss doesn’t realize the fate that waited for glimmer if she had won? do you think that she doesn’t wonder what would have happened if cato was a little quicker to get to the cornucopia to save clove? do you think she doesn’t wonder what the girl from four was like, what her name was, what her parents were like, what she was like? do you think that she doesn’t think about what would have happened if marvel was just a little bit quicker with his spear than her with her arrows, what would have happened if she was just a little bit slower to get to rue?

the what-ifs plague them. their games will never leave them. they will never escape their experiences. their lives will never be their own, if they ever were, ever again.

[maxillness]

Dress || MV33 x best friend!reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, semi-public (there’s a party in the house), marking, oral (F receiving), hair pulling, fingering, praise kink, sub!max

Wordcount: 1.1k

It was crowded in her house as she looked for him. She was hosting a party at her house. She had told her friends they could invite a few others if they wanted, but she never expected it to get so crowded

She had bought the dress only for him, and now she could find him. She looked for him for a few minutes before she finally caught the eye of him

She made eye contact with him from across the room. She didn’t approach him, but they kept having eye contact, even though he was having a conversation with his friends

He couldn’t keep his eyes away from her. She was fucking gorgeous. She wore a tight, short, black dress with a slit on the side. She also wore his initials and his driver number around her neck on a golden chain

Her hands were shaking from keeping her hands away from him. Every time he said her name, the world would stop around her

A person walked by her, and when they walked away, so was he. He couldn’t see him in the room anymore

She saw in the corner of her eye that he walked around the corner into the hallway, but the hallway didn’t lead to the bathroom, so what was he doing?

She walked towards the hallway, leaving her drink behind. He turned again, going into her bedroom

“You’ve been here enough times to know this isn’t the bathroom” She smiled as she closed the door behind her

“Yeah, sorry. I just needed to get away” He explained to her as he sat on the edge of the bed

“It’s fine” She sat down on the bed beside him. She looked into the floor as he still couldn’t keep his eyes off of her

She didn’t know if it was the alcohol or she actually had confidence in her body, but she decided to speak up about her feelings she have had for about him

“I don’t want you like a best friend” She kept looking into the ground. He didn’t say anything “I only bought this dress so you could take it off” She looked up at him

His pupils were bloated. His eyes dark, yet no emotion in the rest of his face. He was fidgeting with his hands

“I want you to carve your name into my bedpost, ‘cause I don’t want you like a best friend” Her eyes were full of horror, awaiting his answer

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” His words put comfort on her “You have no idea how long I’ve liked you” Knowing he felt the same, eased her horror

“What?” “I was just too scared to tell you. I would rather have you as a best friend then not have you at all” Her hand came to rest on his thigh as he spoke

“Max, you would never loose me, even if I didn’t have the same feelings” She smiled at him as she unintentionally moved her hand further up his thigh

She noticed how his breath hitched. She took away her hand, but he grabbed it before she could get it too far away. He pulled lightly on her arm, pulling her into his lap

His actions made her dress hitch up her waist past her ass. His hands were on her waist as hers were on his houlders

She leaned on, pressing her lips to his. She pulled away briefly, only for Max to smash their lips back together

This time, the kiss wasn’t soft like before. It was hot and heated, all teeth and saliva. Her hands went to his face as his traveled from her waist to her ass

She leaned them back so Max’ back was against the bed. Her lips tried traveling to his jaw, but he kept wanting them on his

Her hand forced his face away from her so she could kiss his jaw and down his neck. He whimpered once she started sucking lightly on his skin

“No marks, please” He whimpered as she started sucking more harshly

“That’s up for me to decide, pretty boy” He could her smirk into his skin

He bucked his hips up into hers to get some kind of friction. She sunk her teeth into his skin at his actions, making him whine

“Please, I want you so bad. Please” She leaned back as he spoke. He sat back up as well. His hands went under her dress, and he pulled it off of her in one motion

He flipped them over so she was pressed against the bed. He went to the floor at the foot of the bed where her legs hang

He pulled her closer to the edge. He slid her panties down her legs, throwing it where he had thrown her dress

He darted his tongue through her folds, making her moan and grip his hair tight. Her actions made him groan, giving her more pleasure

He flicked his tongue over her clit, making her moan louder and grip his hair tighter. She started grinding on his tongue, wanting more from him

He took the hint and inserted two of his fingers into her, making her moan. He started moving them in and out of her

Her back arched off of the bed as her eyes rolled into the back of her head “Fuck, Max. Please. God”

“Fuck, get up here and fuck me” She pulled him away from her

He groaned, but stood up anyways. She watched him as he undressed for her. He leaned over her, planting a soft kiss at the space between her breasts

She hooked her legs around his waist, giving him more access. He lined himself up with her entrance

He pushed just the tip in, but it was enough for them to both moan. He slowly pushed all the way in

He started moving once she had adjusted to his size. They both moaned louder as their rhythm got faster

“Fuck, you feel so good in me” She praised him, which made him whimper “Oh, you like that? Getting praised?” He could only whimper again as he hid his face into the crook of her neck

She felt him twitch inside her as she kept praising him. Her nails dragged along his back

“Fuck. Please, i’m gonna cum” His breath shuttered against her skin as his thrusts were getting sloppier

She could feel her own orgasm as she clenched around him “Cum for me, Max” Her voice sent him over the edge

Him coming deep inside her, sent her over the edge as well. They stayed still for minute, catching their breaths

They had put all their clothes back on. She brushed her hair, before turning her body towards him

“You left hickeys” He pouted as he held her waist

“I know. They’re pretty, aren’t they?” She smiled kissing his lips soft “Max… Are we a thing now?”

“Yes, definitely” They both smiled shyly as they looked at each other

[idesofrevolution]

A Night at the Kings Theatre

The Kings Theatre had been long abandoned by the city for over half a century, haunted by the memory of that fateful night in 1978. No one knows exactly what happened, but from tragedy arose legend. 143 people entered the auditorium that April night, prepared to see a terrifying new film just recently brought to America out of West Germany. "Der Kuss der Lust" was some sort of return to the German Expressionist Horror of the 1920's, a film scarcely heard of outside art houses in Berlin, and the hapless crowd came in droves. By the end of the showing, the police had arrived, the majority of patrons leaving the theatre in handcuffs or straightjackets. The city never released any information on the event, opting instead to board up the grand building and never speak of the subject again. That is, until 2024.

The group stared up at the Grandiose Marquee, excited for the long awaited return of their neighborhood movie palace. The four of them giddy with anticipation, they each had their tickets in hand: all found mysteriously in their post boxes that morning. Teddy stood with his mouth agape in awe at the sheer beauty of the facade, while Rod, Sabrina, and Pete gossiped amongst themselves.

"Yeah, it was literally in my mailbox this morning." Sabrina's characteristic monotone delivery making the two boys snicker.

"Girl I can tell you're sooo excited." Rod rolling his eyes at his roommate, well acquainted with her stoic persona. Pete stood looking down at his phone, trying to browse the theatre website to see what film they were about to be subjected to.

"All it says on here is 'Grand Opening Event.' It doesn't say what movie it is. OH! I bet it's that new one we've been seeing trailers all over the place about! The one with Ryan Gosling and Ross Lynch necking while Jennifer Coolidge just sits there!" Pete's boisterous and brash demeanor yet again shining through. A lack of volume control was a typical symptom of his theatre gay archetype, but nothing his friends were unprepared for.

"Shhhh. Look, they're letting people in!" Teddy hushed his little group, pointing to the tall gentleman at the door, now checking ticket stubs as the patrons slowly trickled inside. Teddy was merely along for the ride, roped into the outing by Rod, who was continuously concerned with his homebody lifestyle. "So we don't know what we're watching tonight, huh?" The three others shrugged.

"Does it really matter? It's something to do, Teddy..." Sabrina scoffing under her breath as they slowly inched toward the front doors. Teddy looked at the ticket man up ahead, his eyes sunken in and hunching over the audience members like Frankenstein's Monster.

"I bet he's in character for the movie! I've heard about this in class. They used to have all the staff act all spooky and improv with the crowd to get them in the mood for the movie! I bet it's a horror movie then!" Pete's enthusiasm was not exactly reciprocated as the boys shrugged and Sabrina rolled her eyes. Teddy felt a twinge of foreboding as they approached the towering man, each handing him their tickets. He stared at the group for a moment, the four tickets just hanging loosely from his grey fingers.

"Uh, are we good to go?" Rod stared at the man, whose head slowly turned down to meet his gaze before a demented grin crawled across his decrepit face. He bowed dramatically, waving his arm to usher them into the building, not a single utterance leaving his blue lips.

"Wow, impressive acting. Let's go, boys." Sabrina pushed the three through the open brass doors, Teddy's gaze having a hard time breaking with the strange man. His grin seemed to melt away almost instantly, returning to stonefaced indifference as he attended to the group behind.

"What the fuck was that?" Teddy turned to his group, Rod the only one taking the time to even acknowledge his query.

"Listen, they're just gettin' you in the mood! Like Pete was saying! Lighten up, man. I promise we'll take you home right after this, and you don't have to come out until next week. And we're doin' karaoke baby!" Rod nudged Teddy, whose response was a coy smile as he stared at his feet. He didn't want to be there, but for the sake of his friends he was making an effort.

The lobby was bright and opulent, the Beaux-Arts architecture perfectly coordinating with the beautiful exterior. Heavy red velvet drapes hung between the marble columns, a grand staircase likely bringing folks to the mezzanine, and a modest but well stocked concessions stand stood in the middle of the room. Historic film posters hung prominently against the walls: Casablanca, Dracula, Gone with the Wind, Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte, Rebel Without A Cause, Rebecca... all with bold 'COMING SOON' stickers plastered against the glass displays.

"I guess they're doing a whole retro movies vibe! Ooh! I wanna come back to see James Dean on the Silver Screen!" Pete jumped excitedly at the prospect, running over to the poster to take a picture as Sabrina walked to concessions to get popcorn. Rod and Teddy stood there, just admiring the grandeur of the space before the chandeliers began to flicker rather ominously.

"I think that means we need to find our seats." Teddy turned to look at Rod, who was squinting at the tickets to see what seat they'd all been assigned.

"We're in something called MEZ? What the fuck does that mean?" Teddy snatched the ticket, pointing to the top of the stairs in response.

"It means mezzanine, we're upstairs." Teddy motioned to Pete to rejoin them just as Sabrina returned with a gigantic barrel of buttery popcorn, munching away. The group ascended the stone stairs, avoiding brushing against the eager spectators as they rushed to their seats.

The auditorium was equally as grand. A massive brass chandelier hung prominently above the house, boxes lining the sides of the walls above row after row of velvet seats. The group made their way to their rows: Rod and Sabrina in row 3, Pete and Teddy in row 2 immediately in front. They took their seats as the vintage concessions ad played on the massive screen. Teddy heard Rod and Sabrina bickering about roomie problems he cared nothing about, as Pete blathered on about the history of the anthropomorphic dancing popcorn box. The mood in the room was one of excitement, of anticipation, yet for Teddy... it was off. The air felt stale and stagnant, the uncanniness of the movie palace long after it's prime seemed to hang differently in his mind. It felt like a time capsule, a liminal space where time had just frozen still, waiting to swallow it's naive visitors. Perhaps it was just the social anxiety, as Rod would likely dismiss it as. Yet, for whatever reason, Teddy sat on edge and alert. The lights began to dim, and a hush fell over the auditorium as previews began to roll for the films advertised in the lobby.

"Ooooooh! Bela Lugosi was so hot. Like seriously." Pete chimed with his typically chipper demeanor, stealthily stealing a handful of Sabrina's popcorn from behind him as they whispered deep in their argument. "Like can you even blame her for falling for him? I mean come on." Teddy just nodded along, peering around him at the crowd of exceedingly normal people watching the old trailer with glee.

The trailers ended with the screams of Bette Davis and Olivia de Havilland; Hush, Hush Sweet Charotte ending it's preview as the room was flooded in blackness. Teddy swore he could faintly hear whispers emanating from all around him in the dark cavern, before the room was once again illuminated as the black and white title card brightly shone on the canvas screen. The words were in a strange font, clearly not in English.

"Durr kusss durr loost... Ahh shit is this some kind of foreign film?" Sabrina sighed and reclined back into her chair, taking solace in the handfuls of popcorn she'd been shoveling into her mouth. Teddy recognized none of the actors names as they quickly flashed before his eyes, nor could he understand any of the words in the opening credits. He didn't speak German, but he couldn't wait to rub the hiccup in Rod's face: yet another social outing turning out completely unintended. Thankfully, as the camera opened onto some old Baroque village, as dialogue began, he was relieved to see English subtitles scurrying at the bottom of the screen.

He struggled to keep up with the narrative, as the translation may have been rather poor to begin with, instead opting to focus on the increasingly strange sets these actors were traversing. From what he could tell, there was a nobleman of some sort who found a village woman he'd fallen in love with. The book was promising powers of love beyond human comprehension, and in his hubris, the nobleman tries to cast a spell of lust on the beautiful young woman.

"I mean look at the set design, it's giving Nosferatu. NO! Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.... Oooh it's so cool!" Rod nudged Pete with his shoe, shushing him as neighboring patrons shoot dirty looks in their direction. Teddy became completely enveloped in the bizarre imagery rather quickly. The film was almost dreamlike in quality, walls seemed to jut out in different directions, the lighting was dim at best and only illuminating essential props or entrances and exits for characters. The sounds of the auditorium slowly faded away into the periphery, and all that could be perceived was the muffled voices of the actors.

Time was not a consistent factor in the film, it just meandered from scene to scene, with disconcerting Dutch angles increasing dread at every turn. What felt like one minute could easily have been twenty, but fortune momentarily smiled on the encapsulated young man. Teddy felt his stomach rumble, momentarily breaking him from his trancelike state to reach behind him into their popcorn bowl. He'd fully expected a wrist slap from Sabrina, but after three or four handfuls of popcorn, that moment never came. This moment of sheer confusion pulled him out of his tunnel vision, if only to reassure Sabrina that he'd pitch in for the popcorn. As he turned around, he was met with a sight he never could have ever imagined.

Sabrina's head was turned toward Rod, and for a moment, Teddy thought they were just whispering to eachother, continuing their asinine argument over who ate the pickle chips the night before. Though as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room around him, it became clearer just what it was they were doing. Her lips were planted firmly on Rod's, his left hand slowly sliding up her thigh. Teddy quickly swiveled his head back to the screen, eyes wide with shock. Rod was a flaming queer, just as he was and just as Pete was. Sure, Sabrina was straight, but he couldn't imagine her boyfriend being thrilled at the sight of Rod necking her in a movie theatre.

"Dude! Look at their facial expressions! You don't even need subtitles, you just need to see their faces!" Pete's voice hummed distantly, being completely ignored by all around him, doing little to aid Teddy's growing discomfort. The sounds of wet, sloppy kissing began to ring out from behind him, their breaths shallow and low. Teddy's eyes darted around him, the faded outlines of the other patrons not getting any clearer, nothing but the film there to distract him. Especially as the sounds of comingling tongues abruptly came to an end, only to quickly be replaced by another more terrifying sound.

*Slurp* *Slurp* *Slurp* *Slurp* "Ahhhh yeah, baby..." It was unmistakable. That was Rod... With each stifled moan, every snarling growl and wet slurp, he could hear his friend's voice growing lower and lower. His growls becoming louder... rougher... more animalistic. Teddy stared forward, beads of sweat starting to seep out of his forehead as he listened to the two most ill-matched people get it on directly behind him. He heard their pace quicken, Sabrina's slurps turning into gags as he heard more bizarre sounds arising from behind. Creaking... The sound of shifting leather, or maybe it was tearing fabric... Or the sound of an inflating balloon... Teddy felt his breath start to quiver, as he looked down between the armrests, seeing Rod's Chuck Taylors start to wriggle and writhe. His eyes widened, seeing the black canvas fabric start to flush white, growing larger and larger. He recognized the Nike symbol starting to protrude from the sides of the sneaker, and as Rod's voice growled into an enraptured release, the Converse were now a pair of large, beat up AirForce1's, covered vulgarities written in black Sharpie. Teddy whipped his head back to the screen, Sabrina giggling as he heard the sound of a waistband snapping back to place. It was silent for a moment, Teddy too nervous to look behind him, but desperately wanting to know what happened to his friends.

"Ahhhhhhh yeah, babe." There was a thud, Teddy peering down to his right and seeing the gigantic sneaker resting on his arm rest. Taking a deep breath, he slowly turned his head. There, leaning forward with his hands on his head was Rod- or at least, someone that once was Rod. The tall, skinny little gay boy he'd befriended had been replaced with a gigantic, tattooed man. His hair cropped short, his muscles bulging, his shirt sitting on his thigh below his exposed torso now adorned with thick silver chains.

"Huhu, my bad, bro. When duty calls, am I right?" Rod grabbed onto his monstrous bulge, hiding behind the cum stained fabric of his white shorts. Teddy felt the blood rush from his head at the very sight of it. He watched as Sabrina, now equally scantily clad with tattoos, jet black hair, and devious grin mischievously slithered her hand beneath his waistband, grabbing ahold of his thick cock and slowly pumping. Rod winked at Teddy, turning again to Sabrina and kissing her once again.

Teddy whipped his head back to the screen, mortified and terrified in equal measure. He looked around him yet again, only seeing once again the dim outlines of the other patrons completely enveloped in the film before them. He turned behind him, doing his best to ignore the slimy sound of Rod's handjob to see the doors had staff members blocking each exit.

"Fuuuuuuck, bro. This shit is tight. Lemme tell you, man. I need this shit on Netflix." Teddy ignored Pete's typical unwarranted commentary, peering down over the house to see if the patrons below were also... different. Through the dark haze of the auditorium, he received his answer. The vast majority of the audience was completely enraptured with the film, not so much as flinching as they watched the nightmarish visions on screen. However, he'd started to notice the dim outlines of a couple people leaning in toward eachother. He couldn't pry his eyes away, so Teddy could only watch as he saw the patrons start to grope, kiss, and go down on eachother. A couple up front necking in the first row, two guys sliding their hands into eachother's pants in box 5, a group of what he'd assumed were bachelorettes just sliding their hands over eachother's breasts.

"Pete... Pete, we gotta get the fuck out of here." Teddy whispered to his friend, not taking his eyes off of the filth that was unraveling around them. Three seats over, one man was now bent over the railing of the balcony, three other men taking turns railing him right there in public to no outcry whatsoever. Teddy whipped his head toward Pete, still intently watching the film. "Pete! Pete, let's go!" He grabbed onto his wrist, feeling a strange rubbery texture tightly wrapped around it. He looked down, watching in terror as his friend's pristine watch slowly warped beneath his hands. Tightening until all that was left were three rubber bracelets in bright vivid colors.

Teddy's gaze slowly rose from his friend's hand as his fingernails slowly turned black. The rotund theatre gay was rapidly losing mass. His tight sweatervest growing looser and looser before his eyes. Fat seemed to shrink into nothingness as the sleeves of his shirt began to slowly rise up the length of his arms.

"Dude... I feel kinda funky, bro." The typical chipper demeanor was slowly vanishing, his eager eyes began to droop, as his short brown hair started to grow. The dark brown hairs quickly were flushed with a wash of bright blonde as it snaked out of his scalp down to the nape of his neck in sweaty, messy curls. His jawline was sharpening, his lips getting plump and thick.

"Pete... PETE!" Teddy screamed at the top of his lungs, not a single patron even flinching at the toil in his voice. "HELP! SOMETHING IS WRONG! SOMETHING IS VERY VERY WRONG!" Teddy shot up out of his seat, his ankle painfully hitting something hard. He peered down to see a heavily used skateboard resting under his friend's feet, absentmindedly rolling side to side as his loafers warped quickly into large, well worn white Vans. Teddy clamped his hand over his mouth as he followed the shifting clothes, up the khakis turning tight and ripped against lean thighs, up to the growing bulge and wet patch bulging out of his groin, up to the studded belt tightly wrapped around his lean waist.

"Heheh..." Pete's voice was growing duller, more coarse as the scent of sweat and cannabis began to waft off him. His sweatervest and shirt shrinking into a sweat stained white tee shirt, and as Teddy's gaze finally fell on Pete's face... he knew he was gone.

"Broooo this shit is sick... Oooh, man. I got a j in my pocket, man. I'll let you hit it if you let me..." Pete's fingers inched toward his belt buckle, slipping under the fabric of his jeans. "C'mon bro. Don't let Rod be the only one gettin' some dick attention tonight." He winked through the colored sunglasses hiding the red, stoned eyes behind.

"I..." Teddy nervously stood there as Pete unbuckled his pants, his twinky, sweaty hand sliding down into his underwear and wrapping around his slowly growing cock.

"Yeah, bro... Come let Petey take care of this." Teddy was lost in a moment of bliss as Pete slowly and tenderly stroked his cock in his pants, igniting the joint between his lips as he pumped.

"Whuh.... Wait... I uh... I need to go to the bathroom. Really bad. I'll be back, just give me a minute..." Pete smirked, letting his hand retract from Teddy's groin.

"Well, don't be too long, bro. My throat is waitin' for ya. Heheh." He stuck out his long tongue with a vulgar whip. Teddy wasted no time bolting toward the door, realizing only as he was chest to chest with the decrepit usher that the restrooms were merely to his right and left. The creepy man flashed the same unhinged smile, not budging an inch. Teddy burst into the men's room, leaning against the ceramic pedestal sink and peering into the mirror. He flipped the faucet, water flowing from the tap as he splashed it against his face. Then, he heard it. The creaking of leather. He looked down at his feet in horror as the New Balance sneakers he sported started to quiver and undulate.

"No... Noo... NOOO." He vigorously splashed his face with the cold water, rubbing his face like a maniac. It was only then that he started to feel the roughness around his upper lip and jaw. He couldn't bring himself to look into the mirror, as he felt hair sprout below his nose and stubble poking around his sharpening jawline. He could only peer down as he slowly began to accept his fate. The sneakers quickly stretched wide and big, a scuffed black leather replacing the grey suede as they shifted into a pair of heavy black harness boots.

His breath grew shallow and rapid, watching his sweatpants suction in tight around his inflating calves and thighs, turning slick and black. The comfortable grey Champion sweats were nearly skintight now, as if painted on atop his lengthening legs. The bottoms slipped into his boots and fastened beneath the damp fabric of his black socks, and the shiny black leather pants began to creak as his own bulge started to grow round and distended. Teddy gasped for air as he felt his shaft stretch out, a foreskin creeping over the head of his weeping cockhead, seeping into the sweat and cum inundated jockstrap now around his waist and thick ass.

"Ohhh... fuuuuuuuck." His fingernails turned black as tattoos began to sprawl from his knuckles up his swelling arms. The sweatshirt he wore felt tighter and tighter as his shoulders broadened and his torso stretched upward, taking on a lighter tone as little tears started to appear around the collar and along the seams. "Unnnnnnnnff" His voice started to dip lower and lower as the heavy sweatshirt's sleeves retracted in toward his shoulders. He felt himself sweating, wiping the sweat from his lowering brow and brushing the now frosted blonde tips of his mullet to the side. He looked at his hands, undeniably his own, yet completely unfamiliar; watching them as they slowly slipped lower toward his throbbing cock. He pulled up his weathered, well loved white tank top, the intricate ink across his rippled abs begging him to go lower and lower, his head throwing itself back as his fingers slipped into his creaking leather pants.

"Brooooooo you in here? What, didja fall in?" As he heard Petey's stoned ass voice echo off the tiled walls, he turned his head as he groped his slimy cock in his pouch. His three friends, vaguely familiar now, all sauntered in looking at him with knowing smirks. "Awww, Theo. I told ya not to get started without me."

Theo leaned on the sink, groping himself with a devilish smirk, beckoning his favorite throat goat to come gobble up his musky rod. Petey took a hit off the joint, handing it to Sabrina before getting on his knees before their bisexual bad boy. He opened his maw, Theo knowing right away what to do as he spit in Petey's eager mouth, and pulled out his throbbing dick. As the skater expertly wrapped his lips around his manhood, Theo turned to Rod and Sabrina, winking. Rod grinned.

"Yeah, boy. Gimme summa that, no homo though, bro." The 6'5 basketball stud sauntered over to his bro, planting a wet kiss onto Theo's supple, cigarette stained lips. As Sabrina took Rod's monstrous cock into her mouth, the four of them fucked in the bathroom surrounded by the stench of sex. Swapping partners at the drop of a hat, sucking face and dick with no hesitation, worshipping Theo & Rod's big smelly feet or railing Petey's tight little hole while Sabrina ate out Theo's sweaty rear. By the time the Usher came in to tell them the film was over, buckets of cum were splattered over the walls, floor, ceiling, and friends.

"Heh, c'mon guys. We can continue this back at my place." Theo wrangled his little posse of fuck buddies out of the bathroom, past the outrageous orgy slapping about in the auditorium. The four walked out of the Kings Theatre, stinking of cum and sweat in the night air, knowing fully well they'd be returning soon enough.

[teatreeoilll]

Happy Birthday! (Yuji Itadori X Reader)

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w/c - 1k content - Yuji forgets readers' birthday, implied f!reader, inspired by like every sitcom in existence, little fluff/angst towards the end for the cutie patootie @numberonenachopanda, happy birthday! I hope you like it

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“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” Megumi teases, leaning effortlessly against the doorway to Yuji’s room, “We’re going to be late.”

“Huh?” Yuji’s eyes drift away from the manga he’s holding, “Late for what?”

Megumi locks eyes with him, “You’re joking, right?”

"Are we getting sent on a mission? At this hour?" Yuji scratches his head, closing the book with a thud to place it on the dresser.

"I knew you were thick, but this is.." Megumi lets out a theatrical sigh. "Remember a few days ago when Kugisaki dragged us to that beauty store?"

Yuji furrows his brows. "I'm not stupid, Fushiguro," he retorts, "Of course I remember; we were stuck there for hours while she picked out a gift for (Name)'s birthday."

Megumi waits patiently for the epiphany to reach Yuji's unsuspecting mind.

"(Name)'s birthday," He mutters, "(Name)'s birthday!" He exclaims, hopping off the bed.

"There it is." Megumi breathed, watching the pink-haired boy struggle to hastily put on a pair of trousers.

"Fushiguro," Yuji tugs at his friend's sleeve, a hint of worry in his voice, just before leaving his room. "I was around her all day and haven't said happy birthday once. She's probably angry, right?"

"Yeah, she probably is, especially considering her old friends shut her out as soon as she moved here."

"That explains a lot of today; wait, her friends did what?"

Earlier that day

On your way to the classroom, Nobara seized a moment to slip a carefully wrapped birthday present into your hands with an excited glint in her eye. Meanwhile, Megumi offered a subtle 'Happy Birthday' as you passed each other in the hallway.

"Good morning," Yuji greets, entering the class. Just as he began to utter a small "Ha-", your own smile widened, anticipating the warm wishes about to follow. "How'd you sleep?" He quizzed.

"Fine, how about you?" You answered, still awaiting the expected birthday wishes.

"I slept great!" He beamed, "I think it has something to do with.."

Wait. He didn't forget, did he?

In the car on the way to a mission in an abandoned hospital, while Yuji went on and on about the upcoming premier of Human Worm 4, it finally dawned on you that he wasn't waiting for a special moment to congratulate you - but that the fact that it was your birthday completely slipped his mind.

"You're coming with me, right?" His cheerful inquiry was accompanied by a playful smack on the shoulder.

"I'll, uh, listen - " A tug in your heart made you hesitate, but your pride held back the words you wanted to say, "I'll think about it."

"What? But you said you wanted to see it!"

True, you did want to go, but not due to a newfound appreciation for cheap horror flicks, but because, as time passed in Jujutsu High, you managed to develop a crush on the lighthearted pink-haired boy.

"I'll let you know, okay?" Your stony expression makes him drop the subject for the remainder of the ride.

-

As you watched Yuji being swarmed by a flock of low-level curses - while quite aware that you could disperse most of them with a flick of your wrist - you found a mischievous urge that tempted you to prolong the scene.

"Ah - crap - damn, ow!" His muffled swearing reaches your ears as he grapples with the relentless assault, "Why are there so many of these things?"

As his swearing grew louder, you couldn't escape the growing sense of unease, knowing that his technique wasn't the best thing to handle the growing number of the fly-looking creatures.

With the pangs of conscience growing by the moment, you turn to help him, "Itadori!" you yelled, "Duck!"

-

Yuji flinches every time you press the alcohol-soaked cotton pad to his face, hissing lightly at the burning sensation on his skin.

"I'm sorry," you mutter, tossing it away and placing a bandaid on the graze on his cheek.

"What are you sorry for?" His puzzled expression meets yours, "It's kind of embarrassing anyway, isn't it? These fly-things were so weak but I still needed help."

"It's not embarrassing," you mutter before remembering you were supposed to be angry with him, "But I wouldn't tell Fushiguro if I were you."

That evening

"Aren't you going in, Fushiguro?" Yuji questions, his hand resting on the doorknob.

"I think I'll wait here for a moment," Megumi replied, leaning on the wall, already engrossed in his phone.

"Happy birthday!" Yuji burst into the room, an awkward smile plastered on his lips, "Please don't hate me."

Your attention shifts towards the door. Nobara makes a swift exit as soon as she sees the change in your expression; leaving you alone with Yuji and the growing unease in the room.

"I don't hate you," you utter, struggling to keep your aloof expression in the face of his remorseful look, "You can tell Kugiaski and Fushiguro to come in now."

"Are you sure?" Yuji furrows his brows; it still looks like she's angry, he thinks.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I guess we just aren't as close as I thought," The words slip out carelessly, leaving a bitter aftertaste in the air.

"What are you talking about?" He murmurs, his tone shifting to an uncharacteristic aggression, "I'm not one of those shitty friends you had in your hometown." He quickly backtracked, "I mean - I didn't mean to call your friends shitty - it's just that what they did was shitty." He stopped for a moment to take a breath, "Actually, I'm kind of a shitty friend too now, aren't I?"

"Well, it's not like it was on purpose," you sigh, "so it's fine."

"It's not fine!" He exclaims, "How about you forget my birthday? Then it'll be fair."

"It's March 20th, right?" A pink blush spreads across his cheeks at how casually you remembered the date. "A little too late for me to forget your birthday, Yuji. How about I buy you a calendar instead?"

"Y-Yeah," he stammers, "sounds good." He lets a moment pass before asking, "Do you really think we aren't that close?"

Your heartbeat deafens your ears, cheeks growing warmer by the second, "No, I just - I was just -" You babble through the embarrassment.

"Never mind, that was a silly question, wasn't it? We've only met a couple of months ago." He reaches for your palm, clasping it between his hands as he locks eyes with you. The soft gesture creates a subtle whirl in your stomach.

"I really am sorry," he whispers, "Happy birthday."

-

Meanwhile, Megumi and Nobara are guarding the door, trying to figure out when would be the right time to let you know that the rest of the Jujutsu High students and faculty they've invited are waiting outside, and the room isn't as soundproof as you think.