The White Dragon

Brother's Best Friend - Part 7

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: Yay we're finally back with our favorite BBF! This chapter was inspired by a photo of Glen at an amusement park that's been floating around recently. If anyone could convince me to step foot into a haunted house, it would be Jake.

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: Haunted house attraction with mild (fake) gore, swearing, SLOW BURN YOU'VE BEEN WARNED DON'T COME FOR ME XD

WC: 3000+

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

“I don’t do haunted houses,” you say when Jake makes the suggestion for the fourth time that afternoon.

He and Bradley have just returned from the river log ride completely soaked and stupidly giddy. Jake raises his eyebrows at you. “You’ll go on the tallest roller coaster in the park but you’re afraid of a couple of zombie clowns?”

You cringe. “What the fuck are zombie clowns?”

Jake shrugs. “Whatever they are. It’ll be fun.”

“You’re really selling it,” you respond dryly. “But I think I’ll stick to the funnel cake.” You nod toward the stand a few yards away.

“You already skipped out on the log ride,” Bradley complains.

You eye his still-dripping shorts with a grimace. “It’s barely 60 degrees,” you say, tugging up on the zipper of your hoodie for emphasis.

Jake plants himself across from you at the bistro table and leans into it to get your attention. “You don’t actually want to sit here by yourself for another hour, do you?”

You shrug, glancing around. “I don’t mind, actually,” you say, your gaze drifting with the crowd as you pick out the best looking males. “I got asked out twice while you two were gone.”

Jake makes a disgruntled sort of face like he’s getting impatient. “Who asked you out?” he says with a hint of distaste as though he already disapproves. He glances around at the crowd of passersby suspiciously.

“Well, they’re gone now.”

Jake lets out an irritable sigh and looks back at you. “Come on, you’re not a wimp, Bradshaw.”

You shake your head. “That’s not going to work.”

“Let’s just go, Jake,” Bradley says. “We can’t force her.”

Jake stares at Bradley. “Didn’t you hear her? She’s being approached by random men. We can’t just leave her here.”

Bradley snorts. “Why not?”

Jake appears uncomfortable, but only for a moment. He shifts his weight in the chair and turns back to you. “I distinctly remember all three of us at Castle Frankenstein like ten years ago.”

“Mm-hm,” you reply. “And, since then, I don’t do haunted houses.”

Jake grimaces. “Why not?”

You give him a flat look. “You don’t remember?”

Jake furrows his brows and shakes his head.

“Oh yeah!” Bradley exclaims. “Good times.”

You stare at your brother crossly and then roll your eyes.

Jake glances between the two of you inquisitively. “All I remember is getting hot dogs right after,” he says.

You sigh. “You two assholes told me it wouldn’t be scary and then, after luring me in, you took off laughing! You left me behind to do the whole thing by myself.”

Bradley is chuckling smugly, but Jake looks mildly horrified. “Wow, we were shitheads,” he says with a cringe.

“Dude, we’re still shitheads,” Bradley points out.

Jake looks up at his friend with a wince and then rubs his forehead guiltily. “Y/N,” he says. “I promise you that, if you come, we’re not gonna ditch you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Bradley says with a playful grin.

Jake gives him a stern look before glancing back at you. “I promise I won’t ditch you.”

You watch him skeptically, your arms folded over your chest.

“You trust me, don’t you?” he asks.

You purse your lips, trying not to be swayed by the slight squint of Jake’s eyes when he gives you a hopeful smile. You can’t help but daydream for a moment. You picture yourself being chased by zombie clowns with Jake by your side, holding your hand. And, if they’d get too close, maybe he would knock them out to keep you safe.

“Come on, sugar,” Jake says, interrupting your thoughts. He starts rising from him seat and holds out a hand for you. “We can use Bradley as a shield.”

You snort while Bradley shakes his head with a chuckle. “You can try,” he replies, starting for the haunted house.

You let out a sigh and take Jake’s hand, letting him drag you out of your chair. “I’m already regretting this decision,” you mutter.

Jake laughs. “This is gonna be fun!”

…

You gulp nervously as you step into the darkness. The moment the doors close behind you, your hand reaches out for one of the guys, making sure you're not alone. Somebody gives you a pat on the arm, silently reassuring as you advance. Suddenly, a loud bang to your right makes you jump, and you hear Jake's snicker right before he moves behind to lay a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Wicked,” you hear Bradley say as he travels slightly ahead of you. You follow your brother with Jake close behind, probably much closer than he would be in broad daylight, especially with Bradley just a few steps away.

“Remember,” Jake mutters from behind. “If you don’t run, they won’t chase you.”

You whimper. “Who won’t chase me?”

In the sparse, flashing lights, you see your brother take off down the hallway, setting off several animatronics as he goes. You slow your pace and Jake, who is still sopping wet, walks right into you. The sudden chill of his saturated clothes takes you by surprise and you yelp, springing away from him.

Jake leaps after you to grab your arm when you nearly trip over the cadaver that falls out of the wall and right into your path. “Having fun?” he asks facetiously as he helps you regain your balance, and you can sense the grin on his face without even seeing it.

“I hate you for making me do this,” you hiss.

Jake wraps an arm around your shoulders and gives them a squeeze. “You’re doin’ great, sweet cheeks.”

You wince at the cold seeping through your shirt and wriggle out of his grasp. “Seresin, you’re all wet!”

“Sorry,” he mutters sheepishly.

Just then, a large gust of air hits you from the side and you scream, flinging yourself right back into Jake’s arms. Jake pulls you in immediately and spins you away, blocking the air current with his back. But your relief is short-lived because, out of nowhere, two clowns with melting faces come barreling toward you with their arms outstretched.

You scream and, despite the sudden weakness in your limbs, start sprinting down the dimly lit corridor, completely forgetting Jake's instructions.

Jake catches up to you quickly and when the clowns all but overtake you, he curls his arm around your waist and practically lifts you off the ground as he runs.

When you finally round the bend and lose the clowns, Jake slows down and releases you, letting you catch your breath as he places his hands on his hips and takes a look around. “That was awesome,” he says with a huge smile.

You’re still gasping for air when you look up at him with a scowl. “You’re a lunatic if you enjoyed that.”

He claps you on the back. “Don’t worry, darlin’. We’re almost half-way through.”

“We’re not even half-way done?” you whine.

Jake chuckles. “Admit it, you’re having a blast,” he says.

You whimper quietly when he motions for you to follow him down another dark hallway. “I am never letting you talk me into this nonsense again,” you grumble, staying close behind him just in case another zombie clown pops out of the shadows.

But what you do not anticipate is the vibrating floor that makes you jerk backward, nor the fog that suddenly floods the corridor, nor the alarming screams that attack from all directions, making it impossible to communicate. You feel the floorboards shift underneath your feet and you hold out your arms to stabilize yourself. You stagger backward into a wall, and it rotates behind you, further disorienting you.

“Jake?” you cry, realizing that you’ve lost him in all the commotion. But your voice is drowned out by the continuous screaming still reverberating all around you.

In the flashes of light, you can see dozens of hands rattling a chain-link fence that looks like it won’t hold for very much longer. You try to push your way back through the wall – the way you came in – but it doesn't budge, meaning you’re stuck in this room until you find another way out.

“Jake!” you yell again, terror rooting you to the spot. The fence to your right finally rips open and gangly arms start stretching out toward you, making you jolt backward. You shriek, moving along the wall slowly because you’re too afraid to fall into another trap.

You reach the end of the chamber, which opens up to a tunnel, and whimper tragically. Going in will surely mean that you will have to complete the haunted maze without Jake, but the tunnel is probably the only way out of this room.

You only have a second to deliberate however, because at that moment, the fence behind you comes crashing down and a horde of zombies escapes. In the shadows, it looks like there might be more than half a dozen of them stumbling in your direction, tripping over one another to get to you.

If you don’t run, they won’t chase you. If you don’t run, they won’t chase you.

But the zombies are still coming, their hideous shrieks even more off-putting than their decaying faces.

You lunge into the tunnel and sprint faster and faster even as the passageway dips and winds and darkens. At a certain point, you are forced to stop running because it gets too dark to find your way without holding your hands out to feel the curve of the walls.

And then you hear his voice.

“Y/N!”

“Oh my god! Jake!” you screech.

“Y/N?” he yells back.

You start pushing on the solid wall before you because it sounds like he’s right on the other side. “Jake, where are you?” You can hear the zombies gaining on you further up the tunnel and you sob, “Jake, please get me out of here.”

Suddenly, a door creaks open to your right and you start, cowering from the blinking red light that filters into the pitch black passage. But then you see Jake’s broad-shouldered silhouette enter through the opening and, in your relief, you throw yourself right into him, burying your face into his chest as his arms close around your back. His grip tightens as you clutch onto the front of his soaked shirt, and you can feel his mouth over the top of your head. “I’ve got you,” he mutters into your hair. “I’ve got you.”

But before you can sink into the feeling of having Jake Seresin’s strong arms supporting your trembling frame, you hear the sound of footsteps as the zombies come hurtling through the tunnel. Without a word, Jake pulls you sideways, tucking you and himself behind the open door. He brings a finger to his lips when he sees that you’re about to cry out, and you hold your breath, watching the flashing lights illuminate the exhilaration in his eyes.

You close your own eyes as the zombies near, deciding that no amount of attention from Jake is worth participating in this traumatizing experience. And you promise yourself that you will never be swayed by his stupid, irresistible smile again.

That’s when you feel his body brush up against yours. You open your eyes to see his face hovering over your own, watching you intently as the zombies race by your hiding spot. His mouth curls into a smirk when it becomes apparent that his plan has worked as expected. You try your best to concentrate on the direct threat of flesh-eating zombies and not on his leg that’s pressed into your thigh, or his hand that you suddenly notice is gripping your hip, but it isn’t easy prioritizing escape when his eyes are dancing with delight only about three inches from your face.

You want him to kiss you. You want him to kiss you so badly. Right here in the darkness, concealed behind a heavy, wooden door, surrounded by a dense mist and a musty smell, with the added ambience of distant screams in the background. But, of course, you aren’t going to voice this desire. Because that would be more terrifying than getting eaten alive by a bunch of zombie clowns. So, instead, you say, “Get me the fuck out of here, Seresin.”

Jake nods, stepping away from you slowly, almost reluctantly. He holds his arm out to direct you out of the tunnel through the splintered door. He leads you past the holographic apparitions that float eerily along the walls, through the hall of warped mirrors that make your eyes hurt and your head spin, and over the various trap doors in the final stretch of your journey.

But he stops when you get to a dark, narrow split between two concrete walls. “This is the exit,” he says with a grimace. “Sorry,” he adds.

You shake your head. “I’m not going in there.”

“There’s no other way out.”

You stare at him in horror. “I’m claustrophobic.”

Jake drags a hand over his face. “That’s not good,” he says.

You feel yourself start to panic so you lash out by slapping him on the shoulder. “How could you not know that?”

Jake shrugs. “I forgot, I guess.”

Your breathing accelerates as your heart pounds painfully against your ribcage. “I hate your guts, Seresin,” you mutter. “You’re going to pay for this.”

In response, Jake gives you a very broad, very happy smile, as though you didn’t just tell him that you despise him.

“What?” you say heatedly.

Jake continues grinning. “You’re mad.”

“Yeah, I’m mad! Why are you so happy about it?”

He shakes his head. “No reason.”

You glare at him. “You should fear my wrath.”

He bites his lip, watching you affectionately. “It’s definitely the scariest part of this whole place.”

“I’m angry!” you yell, although you feel a fit of laughter start to bubble up in your chest.

Jake tries to keep a straight face. “Okay, but, could you be angry in there?” He nods at the chasm leading toward the exit, his eyes scanning the area behind you. “Because the zombies are coming.”

He ushers you into the fissure between the walls, keeping his hand on your back as you make your way forward. The only thing that makes up for this stressful conclusion to an already harrowing adventure is that his fingers seem to slip further down your back the farther you walk, trailing past the waistline of your jeans and stopping in the vicinity of your back pocket.

“See?” he says cheerily as the gap between the walls begins to narrow. “It’s not that bad.”

You try to concentrate on the light touch of his fingers as he hooks a couple of them into the back pocket of your jeans rather than the cracking walls rising up on either side of your body that seem to be closing in on you the deeper you go.

“Just so you know, there’s going to be a vibrating floor tile somewhere up ahead,” Jake says quietly, very close to your ear. “It’s coming up.”

You look over your shoulder sharply. “No,” you respond curtly, as if you could will this particular contraption away.

Jake squeezes himself in between your chest and the wall, his fingers regrettably slipping out of your pocket. The space is so tight that, no matter how much you press you backs into the walls, your bodies are still touching. “You can do this,” he says. “I’m right here.”

You frown at him, annoyed and love-sick all at once. Why did he insist on you coming? Why did he bring you along knowing he’d have to babysit you the entire time? Unless he doesn’t mind being with you. Perhaps it’s what he was hoping for.

Jake’s eyes skim worriedly over your face. “Are you okay?” he asks.

You draw in a wavering breath, content to let him fret for another several seconds over your wellbeing. Finally, you respond, “If we survive this hellhole, I’m going to murder you.”

Jake chuckles, placing his hands on your shoulders. “If we survive this hellhole, I’m getting you two funnel cakes.”

You let out a resolute sigh and nod. “Make it three. I want one of each flavor.”

Jake grins. “You got it.”

You bring your hands up to push at his chest, squirming in the compact space against his shirt. “How are you still wet?” you say irritably. “We’ve been in here for hours.”

Jake makes a face. “It’s been like six minutes, actually.”

You groan. “And this is why I don’t do haunted houses.”

…

Finally – finally ­– you step out into the cool, breezy sunshine with Jake on your heels. Bradley waves at the two of you from across the walkway, coming over to greet you.

“Took you a while,” Bradley remarks.

You grimace at him. “It’s only been like six minutes,” you retort sourly.

Jake looks like he might be trying to suppress a laugh.

“As if you took off again,” you reprimand your brother.

Bradley shrugs. “The trick is to race through these things and not stop to smell the rotting flesh.”

You shudder. “I need to sit down; my legs feel like jelly.”

“Log ride?” Bradley says to Jake. “While this one recuperates?” He nods toward you with a grin.

Jake pinches at his still soaking shirt and then wrinkles his nose. “I think I’ll sit this one out,” he says. “Promised your sister I’d get her funnel cake.”

“Three,” you remind him.

Jake graces you with an amused smirk. “I would love to see you try to get through three whole funnel cakes.”

As Bradley takes off in the direction of the log ride, you glance at Jake apprehensively. “You could go with him,” you say, cursing yourself for even suggesting it because all you want is to spend some time alone with Jake – not inside of a nuthouse.

Jake gives you a quick smile before starting for the funnel cake stand. “Don’t want to,” he responds.

You fall into step with him, wondering why he’d rather hang around you than his best friend. As he’s ordering the funnel cakes, you decide that you’re reading too much into things and he’s probably just hoping to dry off before going on the next ride, and that his decision to skip the log ride has nothing to do with you at all.

But then, as the two of you watch the mesmerizing creation of the world’s most delicious pastry through the glass window of the kitchen, Jake says this: “Heard you broke up with what’s-his-name.”

Your grip on the tray in your hands tightens but your eyes remain on the rapidly frying dough. It was a casual question, and Jake isn’t even looking at you, but his repeated interest in your dating life continues to give you hope where there probably isn’t any. He’s just making conversation. You shrug. “He was an asshole,” you say nonchalantly.

“Told you he would be,” Jake responds with an equally casual tone.

You bite your bottom lip aggressively, tired of the ambiguity behind his words. “That’s fine,” you retort. “I’ve got options.”

That’s when Jake turns to look at you with a troubled pair of eyes.

“Your words,” you remind him. “So, I took your advice.”

He narrows his eyes. “What advice would that be?”

“I told you someone asked out,” you say, setting the first of your funnel cakes down onto your tray.

“You said yes?” he gapes at you. “To a stranger?”

You watch him pensively for a moment. “You know, I think we’re going to need another tray,” you say, deciding to keep him in suspense for another minute.

Call it payback or something.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this installment of torturous pining. Don't forget to send in your ideas for these two in my ask box!

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wrong time | jjk

⏤ pairing: jungkook x female reader

⏤ genre: parent au, exes to lovers, ceo au, angst, fluff, and smut

⏤ rating: 18+

⏤ warnings: dilf!jungkook, tattooed!jungkook, swearing, mention of breakup, mention of jk being a fuckboy, broken hearts, nervousness, communication issues, mention of going through a dark period, oc wasn’t really nice, mention of sickness, mention of the hard side of parenthood, jk and oc are workalcoholics, the closure conversation, mention of sex, mention of death, mention of grief, mention of cheating,  sexual tension, dom!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, nipple play, pet names, penetrative sex, protected sex, rough sex, and creampie

⏤ words: 13,986

⏤ summary: meeting ten years later the girl he deeply fell in love with is something Jungkook never thought would happen. But here you are, standing before his eyes with a bright smile on your face as you walk through the massive lobby of his company. At that exact moment, he realizes that the two of you fell in love at the wrong time but is now the right time?  

⏤ author’s note: wrong time is finally all yours! i actually can’t believe it’s finally posted after almost a year of work! but it also makes me incredibly happy to release it. the past year has been a crazy year and this fic is a reflection of all that. most of the things mentioned in the fic are things that i experienced so this makes wrong time even more special to my heart 💞 i really want to thank my nikki @xpeachesncream​ for her support, i know i couldn’t have done it without her! 💞 enjoy the fic & let me know what you thought of it!💞 

Keep reading

A Beast (Harwin Strong imagine)

A Beast (Harwin Strong imagine)

Pairing: Harwin Strong x female Targaryen!reader 

Requested: nope

Warnings: brief mention of offing oneself, slight misogyny if you squint, spoilers for episode 1 and 3, typical westeros bs

A/N: this is much needed happiness for what happened in the show + this was basically inspired by the preview of queen charlotte’s netflix series (bridgerton prequel) PLEASE WATCH IF YOU HAVENT. literally sent a message to @astraljedi the second i finished watching that video (she sent it to me cause i had to idea this show was even happening)

-

Despite being King Viserys first born daughter, Y/N had no intention of being a queen. Although she loved the attention, the balls, the feasts, the beautiful dresses and jewelry, and all the privileges that came with being the daughter of a king, she was not interested in ruling seven kingdoms. She found it dreadful, borderline psychotic. And sitting with the small council for hours, deciding what to do in certain situations made her feel bored. 

After Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon passed, Viserys set his eyes on Y/N. He had to find a way to keep his brother Daemon from the throne, therefore he decided his daughter would be the heir and would sit on the Iron Throne after he passed. Y/N knew he was planning this. Nobody had told her, but she did notice her father giving her looks while someone brought up there were no male heirs, citing that the Realm has been in twenty-one years of uncertainty and doubt.

“Your Grace,” a Kingsguard called, looking rather pale like he was about to faint. “Princess Y/N has requested your presence.”

Viserys looked perplexed for a second before making his way out of the room. Otto Hightower, however, was deeply annoyed. He still did not understand how the princess could order her father around.

Inside her bedchamber, Y/N sat on her desk. It was filled with history books, papers, and pens scattered all around. The door opened, revealing her father. He quickly smiled when he saw what she was doing. Y/N always showed a fascination for history.

“You called?” He cheekily asked, taking a seat next to her. His eyes scanned the table, she was reading about past kings.

“Yes. I thought about going to you but I am too tired to walk,” Y/N confessed.

“So you make me walk here?” Viserys faked a surprised face, Y/N always had the same excuse.

“I just wanted to speak to you privately,” she explained.

“Well then, speak,” Viserys softly urged her.

“I do not want to be queen.”

The air felt tense immediately at her confession. The king did not know what to answer, his mouth opening to refute her terrible idea but no words came out.

“I am not fit to rule. It is simply not me. Father, I know you have had this on your mind since you exiled uncle Daemon but I cannot accept the responsibility of being your heir.”

“My sweet girl, have you always felt this way?” He asked with concern, grabbing her hand, while she nodded. “Why did you keep this to yourself?”

“I did not want to anger you… and I also did not want you to be disappointed. Even if you keep it to yourself, I know you feel disappointed that Rhaenyra and I are not boys.”

“No no, you misjudged me. I love you and your sister. Yes, me having a son would relieve you from this burden but that does not mean I feel disappointed about my daughters. You and Rhaenyra are my biggest blessings and I will always thank your mother for giving me two amazing daughters.”

Y/N sniffled, this was the first real conversation that they had since the funeral. Her father’s words felt genuine. Viserys always made sure to be present in their lives, to show them love and affection.

“However; what am I supposed to do now t-”

“Rhaenyra can be your heir,” Y/N declared.

Viserys eyebrows rose with curiosity. “Rhaenyra? Has she spoken to you about this?”

“Honestly, no, she has not. But father, she can rule the kingdoms. Even if she does not participate, she learns from being in the small council meetings. Talk to her. She deserves being on the Iron Throne.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Viserys stood up to hug her. Y/N buried her face in his chest, feeling grateful that her father understood and did not argue about her decision.

-

They had decided to do a hunt to celebrate Aegon’s second nameday.

Y/N sat with the other ladies while she ate some sweet treats. It was mindless chatter, Alicent tried to include her in the conversation but Y/N only gave short answers to whatever they were asking about. Rhaenyra was nowhere in sight, which aggravated Y/N. Where could she possibly be? 

With nothing else to do, Y/N excused herself and left the tent. The thought of going to sleep for the rest of the day sounded blissful.

“Pardon me, Princess?” A man interrupted her thoughts. “My name is Theodore Tyrell.”

Y/N smiled politely as he handed her a fruit bowl. “I gathered that from the rose on your chest. Thank you.”

“I do not think we've been properly introduced. I never found the correct opportunity to speak with you privately.”

“Oh,” Y/N awkwardly smiled. “Here I am. A pleasure to meet you, my lord.”

“Have you ever been to Highgarden?” Theodore asked.

“Twice, yet I am too young to remember,” Y/N replied, a feeling of dread filling her heart.

“You would love it. Highgarden is filled with flowers all around. Beautiful roses climbing up walls. The sights of the roseroad and the ocean road are simply breathtaking. However, we do not have a dragonpit…”

“Why, if I may ask, do you need a dragonpit?” Y/N hissed, pushing the bowl of fruits into his hands before the anger got the best of her.

“To house dragons, of course,” he replied with a condescending tone.

Y/N turned around and stormed into the tent, marching toward her father. “Oh, sweetheart, I was just about to call for you.” Viserys' smile dropped when he realized his daughter was seething with anger. “Are you alright?”

“Lord Tyrell? That is your best choice?” Y/N barked at him. “That man could be my grandfather.”

“You are of age, Y/N. Three-and-twenty, it is time for you to marry. It has been for a while.”

“That man? I would rather throw myself from the highest tower at the Red Keep before marrying him.” Viserys' eyes widened at her threat.

“Enough! I have been trying to speak about this with you since you became of age and all you have given me have been excuses. You must marry! It is your duty, especially now that your sister is the heir.” Viserys exclaimed, capturing the attention of everyone in the tent. People were staring, some of them murmuring about the conversation between the King and his daughter. “You and your sister will marry, whether you both like it or not. That is not up for discussion.”

Princess Y/N was quietly crying out of anger and frustration. Deep down in her heart, she knew her father was right, she needed to marry. Viserys went silent, mentally scolding himself for upsetting his precious daughter.

After their heated conversation, Y/N retired to her tent for the day, stating she was not to be disturbed under any circumstances. 

-

Hours later, after the king had sunk into his cups, Lord Strong decided to try his luck.

“Excuse me, Your Grace.” Lyonel stood in front of the King, at the bottom of the steps. “Can we speak for a moment?”

Viserys sighed. “Should I guess? You believe that your son, Ser Harwin “Breakbones”, the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms, is the best match for Y/N.”

Lyonel cleared his throat. “Yes sir, I believe so. My son, from what I have noticed, could be the only one that can deal with the princess. He is heir to Harrenhall, his strength and knowledge of battle will keep the princess protected. And the area is big enough to build a dragonpit.”

“Are you sure about this? Do you think my daughter will agree to this arrangement?” Viserys was unsure. Surely his daughter would not like this at all. 

“Perhaps she will try and fight it, Your Grace. They should at least meet and have a conversation, maybe that will help. We should not just send them off to wed immediately. My son would not like that either.”

Viserys hummed. “After we return to king’s Landing, I will talk to her. I suggest you do the same with your son.”

-

Days later, in the Red Keep, Y/N was actively ignoring her father. She was still hurt about how their conversation played out. She ate all her meals in her bedchamber, only leaving when she knew her father was in a small council meeting. Alicent also made attempts to get them to talk but Y/N was not interested.

During the night, she felt relaxed to go out and sneak some food from the kitchens and new books, when she was intercepted by the King.

“Y/N!” He yelled, startling her. “You cannot keep doing this. We must talk.”

She shook her head and walked faster to her chamber, but he was close behind. Y/N could not close the door before he got inside. “Father, please, leave me alone.”

“No! I am sick of this, Y/N. You will not keep avoiding me,” Viserys raged. She sighed, sitting on her bed in defeat. “You will marry, I have found you a suitor.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, only for Viserys to raise his hand to make her stop.

“This is not up for discussion. You will meet him tomorrow night.”

“Who is he?” She asked and Viserys turned around to leave. “Father! Who is he? What is his name!” 

The king had left. Y/N yelled in frustration, she hated not knowing.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the castle, Lyonel was about to speak with Harwin. “Son, do you have a moment?”

“Of course, father. What is it?” Harwin put down the paper he was reading to focus on Lyonel.

“You are to be wed.” He blurted out. Harwin felt the air being sucked out of him. “I spoke with the king during the hunt. You are to marry princess Y/N.”

“What? The king agreed to your proposal?” He was stunned. “What did princess Y/N say?”

“She, uh… she does not know you are the suitor,” Lyonel confessed. “We think it is better like this.”

“Father, that is absurd. She must be losing her mind at the uncertainty, you know that.”

Lyonel sighed. “I know, son. As I said, you will meet her tomorrow night. The king is already planning a feast in honor of this union.” 

Harwin did not know what to think. He had not met Y/N, only saw her from a distance during the hunt. He was captivated by her beauty. He could only hope Y/N was not too upset when she found out it was him.

-

The following morning, Y/N was speaking with Rhaenyra while they ate breakfast together.

“Sister, you have to forgive father eventually,” Rhaenyra reminded her while taking a bite out of an apple.

“I know,” Y/N exhaled. “I just… I just feel that he does not care about my opinion on the matter.”

“If that were the case, you would be in Highgarden right now.”

Y/N gave her a look. “I suppose you are right. Have you heard anything about this mysterious suitor?”

“No, I am afraid I have not,” Rhaenyra confessed. “Father has been very secretive since we came back from the hunt.” Y/N covered her face with her hands, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Perhaps you will like him, he could be very handsome.”

“Or he could be a beast,” Y/N contradicted.

-

Nobody in the castle talked about the suitor. The princess has not heard not even a whisper about him. It frightened her immensely. 

The hours moved quickly and it was time for them to meet. Viserys had arranged the small hall for this. Almost everything was going according to plan, but they did not know what the princess was up to in the gardens.

Y/N was currently trying to climb up a wall using flower branches. She planned to climb up, run from the castle, and come back the following morning. It sounded easy in her head, but now that it had to be executed, Y/N found it was not so simple. On the other hand, Harwin was on his way to the hall when he saw someone with silver locks trying to escape. He chuckled, walking up to stand under an arch.

“Hello, my lady. Are you in need of any assistance?” Harwin asked, holding his hands behind his back.

“I am quite fine, thank you. You can go back inside and do whatever,” she dismissed him.

“I will. But I am curious… What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” she answered.

“You are doing something,” Harwin observed.

“I am not.”

“You are.”

Y/N got down from the branch, staring at the wall. “If you must know, I am trying to ascertain the best to climb over this garden wall.” She put her hands on her hips.

“Climb? Whatever for?” Harwin wondered with an amused expression.

“I think he may be a beast.”

“A beast?” He answered in surprise. “Who are we discussing?

“That is none of your business.” The princess slightly turned to say this to him before focusing her attention on the wall, causing Harwin to take a sharp breath to calm himself. “My suitor,” he smirked. “No one will speak of him with me. He is clearly a beast.”

“Understood,” Harwin nodded.

“If I grab here, perhaps you can assist me by lifting me up,” Y/N moved her hand to get his attention, then proceeded to climb up the branches again. 

“You do not like beasts? What he looks like matters?” Harwin wondered.

“I do not care what he looks like. What I do not like is not knowing.” Harwin was right then, he told his father this. “Now, here. Just hold here, with a lift I believe I can climb up the garden wall.”

“You want me to lift you over so you may escape?” Harwin repeated what she requested, still feeling amused. “People will notice you are missing.”

“I will worry about that later. Now, please make haste.”

“I have absolutely no intention of helping you.”

Y/N got down and walked towards him. “I am a lady in distress. You refuse to help a lady in distress?”

“I refuse when that lady in distress is trying to go over a wall so she does not have to marry me.”

Y/N was stunned. “You? You are the man I am supposed to marry?” Her cheeks were red in embarrassment.

“I am deeply sorry if I look like a beast, princess,” Harwin teased. “I would have thought the same if I had not known it was you.”

“You,” she cleared her throat, “who are you?”

“Ser Harwin Strong,” he introduced himself while grabbing her hand to kiss it.

“Lord Strong’s son?” Y/N questioned with confusion.

“So you have heard about me,” Harwin smirked.

“If I am honest, only your name.” Y/N’s cheeks were even more flushed if that was possible. “I, umm… I will see you inside. Excuse me, Ser.”

Y/N almost ran, wanting to be away from him as soon as possible. Harwin, however, was faster. He grabbed her arm to make her stop and turn to him, bringing her close to his body. “Wait, princess.”

“This is not proper,” she stuttered.

“Neither is you trying to escape,” Harwin noted. Y/N failed to get out of his grip once again, his hold was tight but not enough to hurt.

“What must I do for you to let me go?” Y/N pouted.

“Just have a conversation with me before we go to the hall, so you can see I am not the beast you thought of,” he proposed. Y/N huffed in defeat, but deep down she was intrigued by him.

“Lead the way, Ser Harwin.”

//

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save me team black man. SAVE ME.

No Time To Lose

Summary: Bucky is going to confront you for why you have been avoiding him but when he comes home he finds out you have been kidnapped

Warning: Mentions of kidnapping and torture

Part 1 Part 3

Bucky couldn't bear the growing distance between you any longer. He knew he had to talk to you and stop the tension that had been building. The constant absence of your touch, your laughter, and your presence had made him realize just how much he needed you.

One evening, as he mustered up the courage to have the conversation, he decided to surprise you at home. He wanted to show you that whatever he did wrong he deeply regrets it and stop whatever had caused this sudden change in your behavior.

However, when Bucky entered the apartment, he found it eerily quiet. The atmosphere felt heavy, and his heart clenched with a sense of foreboding. He called out your name, but there was no response.

Panic surged through his veins as he quickly searched every room, hoping to find you. It was then that he noticed something off—a broken vase on the floor, shattered glass scattered across the room.

Bucky's hands trembled as he desperately dialed your number, hoping against hope that you would answer. But each ring went unanswered, intensifying his anxiety. Fear gnawed at his heart as he realized something was terribly wrong. Where were you? Why weren't you picking up?

Unable to waste any more time, Bucky quickly dialed Sam's number, his voice filled with urgency. "Sam, it's Y/N. She's in trouble. I can't reach her, and I don't know where she is. I need your help."

Sam's voice conveyed his concern as he responded, "Don't worry, Bucky. I'm on my way. We'll find her together. Just hold on."

Bucky's mind replayed every moment, every conversation, searching for any signs he might have missed. Anything that could show what had happen to you. Bucky's mind raced with worry as they searched for any sign of your whereabouts. Doubt gnawed at his thoughts, questioning every decision he had made leading up to this moment. Did I miss any signs that something was wrong? Should I have noticed your distress sooner?

But as the minutes ticked by, Bucky's conviction grew stronger. Deep down, he knew you would never willingly leave him without a word. Your love had been genuine, your connection real. It didn't make sense that you would simply disappear without a trace. His gut told him that something was terribly wrong.

That is when he saw Sam walk in with a computer in his hand. "Well I asked the landlord for the security cameras and he was happy to give it to Captain America." Sam says laughing trying to lighten the mood as he sits down, but no reaction from Bucky. "Well what did you find?" Bucky says eagerly. "I see that Y/N got captured while heading in, but its a little blurry to see the number plate." Sam says while showing Bucky "But I do know someone who can get it, wait here." Sam walks out to make a phone call.

The guilt intensified, a suffocating presence that threatened to consume him. He blamed himself for not being there, for not protecting you when you needed him the most. His mind raced with a barrage of "what ifs" and self-recrimination.

Sam comes back awhile later to inform Bucky he found where Y/N is held captive and they rush off to find you.

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Y/N's heart raced as she found herself trapped, held captive by Brock. She knew Bucky would come for her, and she held onto that hope tightly. But the more Brock tortured he, she felt as if all that hope was slipping away.

"Poor, poor Y/N I really thought your boyfriend would save you" Brocks says putting a knife near your neck. "I can't believe he would let someone as precious as you thrown away"

"I don't give a fuck what you believe" you say spitting at brock

Brock punches you and you feel blood come out of your moth. "You need to learn to not be a bitch, before we can play". You can see the look Brock gave you and it didn't make you feel good. He starts to walk away and comes back with collar and puts it on you. You try moving your neck but you feel a sudden pain of electrical shocks.

He lifts your chin up "You better hope your boyfriend comes in time, because a few more shocks and your dead" he says with a smile while he walks outs.

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A few hours later you see the door open in but the tears in your eyes make it hard for you to make out the figure. There was so many of Brock's henchman here you couldn't tell which one was Brock or not.

That is when she caught a glimpse of Bucky hiding behind some crates. Bucky gave you a soft smile while he disapeared into the dark.

However, luck seemed to elude him as a creaking floorboard betrayed his presence. The sudden sound alerted Brock's henchmen, who immediately converged on Bucky, trapping him within their grasp. Bucky's heart raced as he found himself outnumbered, but he refused to back down.

As the first henchman lunged at him, Bucky swiftly dodged the attack. He retaliated with a powerful punch, sending his assailant crashing into a nearby wall. But there was no time to savor the victory as the others closed in, their fists flying.

Amidst the chaos, Bucky caught a glimpse of Sam swooping down from above. The familiar wings of his Falcon suit glinted in the darkness.

You saw while Bucky was fighting the henchman, Sam was taking you out of the facility and to the hospital. "You okay there, were almost to the hospital, then I'll go back for buck" Sam says holding you tightly as he brings you to the hospital. But you eyes start to close slowly, you didn't want to hold on for life anymore, you didn't want to be Bucky's burden, you just wanted some peace.

@vicmc624 @cjand10 @marygoddessofmischief @matchat3a @blue-chup @floralwsloki @kentokaze @internet-infuencer @666yourmomdotcom @zzziea @maddieislost @madi-is-kinda-lame @openup-yourmind @almosttoopizza @specialsnowflake-gabbi

The Coldest Truth | Thomas Shelby

masterlist

part 1 of the odd comfort series II III

summary: being born into a mafia family wasn’t your ideal path in life. thomas shelby wants you as his wife and he will get just that

pairing: modern day! thomas shelby x fem! reader

words: 3.1k

a/n: tommy is NOT canon. i altered his character to my liking for the story, though he’s pretty much the same just more sarcastic and flirty

‘Is there anyone you like?’ Your sister Chelsea stared at the ceiling, a tense atmosphere that had built up in her room over the course of an hour.

Whilst your family was upstairs being social, making deals, or establishing new connections within the community, your sister and you needed some alone time. Every once in a while you hide your precious trophies, don’t you?

‘There’s this guy Lorenzo,’ you rolled onto your stomach as you thought about him. Your cheeks glowed a pale red just thinking about his golden locks that illuminated in the sunlight. His honey-brown eyes set with a pair of long dark lashes. ‘He’s so handsome and well-mannered,’

‘He’s not English.’ Chelsea said, her eyes moving to you. ‘Father would never allow it.’

‘I know.’ You sighed, your head falling face down into the blanket.

You, the Eyrie family, were English through and through. It was better for business and people knew where their loyalties lay in case of wars breaking out. Going after an Italian man would be a suicide mission and a death sentence for him too. Organised crime families were not much different from the royal families around the world. Royals wed royals, gang members wed gang members. Both marrying for alliances, not for love.

Some high-ranking families were invited over this evening, hence why the disco music blasted through the house walls, vibrating to the heavy bass. Your father never involved you or your sister in his business keeping is strictly ‘men only’ which you were actually glad about; Sitting and talking for hours about weapons or drug exchanges, the fright that people are out to kill you at all times? No thank you (though people still wanted to kill you for being Y/n Eyrie).

The hot pink bodycon dress you decided to wear tonight made your breasts and ass look good, a favourite of yours. Your grandmother liked to disagree, blaming it on her daughter for the way you turned out. Both of them were upstairs too. They had a slightly more important role in the family and were actually allowed to get information to ease their minds about their wellbeing.

‘I’m going back upstairs.’ You muttered more to yourself than Chelsea and pushed your body off the bed, slipping your heels back on and walking downstairs, the music in your ears compelling you to dance.

Squeezing past a making out couple and a few drunk people you made it into the living room. The blue glimmering light of the outside pool illuminated the room, different coloured lights also catching your eye. But something else caught your eye. A man with dark hair stood by the railing. A cigarette pressed between his plump lips, a glass filled with some liquid in his other. His figure wrapped in a black suit that seemed tailored, arrogance dripping off of him. The way he stood told you that he had a lot of confidence in himself. He must’ve noticed someone staring at him because his eyes scanned his surroundings until they landed upon you. That’s when you realised who he was.

Your chest tightened, your pulse racing against your skin as you stared into those dangerous blue eyes. Blue eyes that did not feel warm or safe but cold as ice, distant as the sea, and so so full of greed. He had a lot of nerve showing up at an Eyrie’s doorstep, or in this case back garden.

You locked eyes with him just for a second. Your feet carried you away and brought you to the other part of the garden. Multiple tables lined the green lawned grass as you brushed past waiters carrying various cocktails. Your father was sitting at the very back. Cigar in his mouth as you neared the table and saw that he was sitting with his business partners, Jack and Ian. The two guards that stood in front of the fenced garden took a step towards each other, blocking your way when they saw you approach.

‘Move.’ You demanded. But they did not move. They didn’t bat an eye, it was like you didn’t exist.

You were about to speak again but were interrupted by your father.

‘Let her pass.’

And like Moses spoke himself, staff in his hand, they parted; letting you enter.

Rolling your eyes you walked straight past them and stood in front of them, rolling a casual hello to both Jack and Ian before setting eyes upon the boss.

‘Either we’ve been breached or you’re out of your mind.’

‘Darling, don’t take that tone with me.’ His cigar bobs up and down, his belly rising in the three piece suit he wore that cost more than most family’s income per year.

‘I’m sorry, Father but how could I not?’

He stared at you. Waiting for the very thing that would’ve made you put up a fight with the guards, that made you disrespect him in front of his trustees.

‘Why the flipping hell,’ you lowered your town and braced yourself on the table, closing in on them to make sure no one else heard what you were about to say, ‘is there a Shelby in our house?’

This must’ve been news to your father too because he stood up faster than he normally was able to and immediately hurried past the guards, Jack and Ian following him as they made their way towards the house.

Your father’s hand slipped in his gun carrier that sat on the back of his trousers and pulled out his .4, hand disappearing once more to grab the silencer and placing it over the barrel.

Heavy tension was felt when you walked past the people that were enjoying themselves for the night. The air felt too thick to inhale as you hurried behind them. The crowd of people parted smoothly down the middle, more smoother than the guards did just moments ago.

When their footsteps did come to a stop eventually, Thomas Shelby still standing at the railing, his drink now empty, his finger playing with a lighter, a small but visible smirk as he eyed everyone close to him.

He stared at your father momentarily before his eyes moved past him and instead burned into yours. A deep impenetrable connection that was only broken when you could feel the cold metal of Jack’s gun brush past you.

‘You told on me.’ He pulled down his bottom lip, his hand moving over his jaw. Bastard. ‘And here I thought I could just enjoy a simple party; drinking good whiskey, smoking until my lungs are full and maybe take you somewhere private.’ He pointed his glass at you.

A deep wave of hatred engulfed your body as you drilled holes into him. Pure disgust was dripping down off you, hidden as sweat pearls. But his eyes were full of lust and power, and they only stared at you.

Why was he here? What could’ve possibly led him to join a get together full of people that all hated him for the blithering idiot he was? The last time a Shelby and an Eyrie stood in the same room it ended in bloodshed. Who got to control Camden Town? Who got to have more men stationed in other parts of the city? Etc. In the end it didn’t matter who died in the breakout because some jewish mafia boss named, Alfie Solomons, took over every inch of Camden. It was all for nothing…men and their cocks. Whilst they got at each other’s throats, you had the pleasure (not a pleasure) of meeting Grace Burgess. Part of Thomas’ team. Well not even that, she was just his whore he’d like to call around whenever he needed her. Everyone knew her for what she was and what she did, but she was so oblivious to these facts and genuinely thought that Thomas loved the poor girl. Thomas didn’t love. That’s what he told you anyway when you sat in his living room the day the fiasco in Camden Town went down. Thomas Shelby was a charmer; a freaking good one too. You knew him for what he was yet that day something weird slithered within you. And it disgusted you that that specific day you felt anything but pure hatred for him. You didn’t know how he did it, all that it repulsed you.

Your father pulled his gun on Thomas and in a matter of seconds several guns were in the air, clicks of the weapons filling in the silence that the DJ killed minutes ago. Thomas Shelby however did not lower his hand to his gun, he simply waved over one of the waiters and grabbed another whiskey. His plump lips wrapped around the edge of the glass—my god, Y/n! Stop it!

He was your infatuation. No matter how much you hated him, you couldn’t deny his insane attractiveness. His icy blue eyes that felt just as cold, pink lips his tongue glided over when he was amused. Broad shoulders, defined chest that you could make out under the white button shirt.

You always knew you were special eye candy for men amongst your social crime class. You were a means to an end. Men swooned over you, your eyes that sparkled with innocence yet dominance, your body that was too good to be true. In a world where darkness crept from every corner and danger only one step away, in a world not meant for you, you wanted everything you couldn’t have. Love.

‘Gilbert…I can call you that right?’ Mr. Shelby raised a sarcastic eyebrow at your father, his feet strolling around the terrace. ‘We’re close friends, are we not?’

‘What do you want, Thomas.’ Your father grit through his teeth, not loosening his grip on the gun he pulled out, having every intention of killing him but holding back to get the information out of Thomas that he was teasing him with.

‘It’s no secret that we’re the most powerful families in England, United Kingdom.’ He corrected himself. He stepped closer to you and your father, but the distance was still great. If he got to close there was no way of telling if Thomas’ neck would survive your father’s hand.

‘It’s time we put our feud behind us and instead put our power to good use…’ Thomas trailed on, ‘Bring us together.’

Both you and your father shared a concerned look at each other. At the same time Chelsea joined the showdown, her face showing the same reaction before your eyes darted to more Eyrie men securing the place.

‘To unite power and power, to create an even greater power, an underground empire if you will.’ Mr. Shelby held his index finger high.

Shove it up your arse.

‘And how do you suggest we do that?’ Your father’s voice was laced with curiosity, less harsh than it was before, more interested in the proposition.

Mr. Shelby’s face fell to an amused expression. His demeanour changed. His stance straightened, his eyes caught yours. You knew what he was going to say yet you prayed with your eyes closed that for some miracle God would be on your side.

Dear Lord, I swear I’ll start praying every day if you swoop me out of this position. I’ll also stop taking drugs and I’ll—

‘I get to marry your daughter.’

Fuck. Shit. This can’t be happening. God I just asked for your help! Fuck you. Fuck.

The garden went quiet after the synchronised gaspes escaped everyone's mouth.

‘Excuse you.’ You grit through your teeth as Chelsea muttered, what the fuck.

Thomas had by now lit up another cigarette. Dragging is slow and gentle, each drag staring at your father and then you.

Your father shifted uncomfortably.

‘No way in hell am I agreeing to that. Sorry if I don’t receive your arrangement with the same courtesy, Mr. Shelby.’ Your father smiled devilishly, his fingers rubbing his nose. ‘If you’d like to leave with all body parts intact I suggest you leave immediately, though I’m sure a lot of our guests are still hungry. Raw steak perhaps?’ He threw his hands in the air with thin lips and spun around to see people’s reaction.

‘I knew you’d say that. That’s why I stormed all of your facilities and currently have every worker under your employment held at gunpoint.’

‘So you're forcing me to give you my daughter? My most valuable pawn?’

What?

You pulled your eyebrows together at what your father said. Pawn? You were a pawn before you were his daughter?

Thomas Shelby stared at you expecting you would say something but you stayed quiet. You had nothing to say as disappointment swept across your heart. He saw that. You knew that Thomas Shelby could feel your betrayal as his eyes fixated on you and your dress that was a size too small.

Desire. That’s what Thomas Shelby felt towards you. He desired every single part of his enemy's daughter. Your smooth skin that was soft to the touch. Your curves; oh how Thomas Shelby loved the way your body was shaped. Your legs, your hair, every remote thing about you, Thomas felt infatuated with. The only way to solve that is if he got you. If you were his.

Thomas Shelby stepped closer to his enemy’s front line. Daring to get close enough for physical contact.

‘You want to give your daughter to Sabini?’ He side-eyed you, a playful smile on his lips. ‘Someone who in comparison to us has no power? No sense of authority, leadership, or knows how to run a business.’

‘I have a deal with Sabini.’

What? Why am I just finding out about this now? What the fuck is happening.

‘I will offer you access to my facilities in Nottingham and will pay you seven times the amount Sabini has promised you.’

‘Can I have a say in this?’ You stared at your father who callously ignored you and whimsed you off with a waving hand.

Mr. Shelby however took a step in front of you. So close you took a step back like you were two repelling magnets. He took another deep inhalation of the hot smoke staring up at the sky whilst the filter rested on his lips.

‘You can find me to be very persistent, little mouse.’ Your stomach churned at the nickname. He lowered his head back to its original spot before coming closer, gently brushing his lips against your ear as he whispered, ‘When I see something I want, I get it. And if I don’t get it then I get very, very upset.’

A shiver ran down your spine as you both backed up. Chelsea gave you a worried look but just like your father you brushed it off. You didn’t want to make this a bigger scene even though internally your screams were howling out, trying to make a stop of the echo that continued on.

I see something I want?

Why does he want me? Is he going to use me as bait? Will I end up wrapped up in a little box as a present for all the mistakes my father had and continues to make? Was I going to be his pawn now?

Your dad hinted to Wayne, one of the bodyguards that was standing on his far left by the gates, nodding his head to close in on Thomas Shelby.

Mr. Shelby glanced at him for just a moment before reverting his attention back to your father, that aggravating smirk still on his face. How you wanted to grab it firmly and rip it off. Ugh!

‘Come to my office.’ Your father suddenly straightened up and made way for the unwanted guest that had charmed his way into his enemy’s territory. ‘We’ll discuss further details.’

You spun around speechless as they brushed straight past you. Ignoring the very thing that was in the middle of this outbreak. The only thing that you got in return was a wink from Mr. Shelby looking back at you. You didn’t want that wink.

You were left standing surrounded by many people, the back garden felt like it was closing in on you. Like air was suddenly out of reach.

All eyes were on you but you never have felt more alone. Even when Chelsea’s palm rubbed circles on your shoulder.

I am not a fan of Thomas Shelby.

‘Congrats!’ Your father gave you the fakest, least genuine smile ever as soon as you stepped into his office.

This was a big deal because no one ever in the family was allowed to step into the room. The only exception being obviously your dad, your uncles, any man that had business with your father. Your brother Sam was even banned from the room after he smoked all your father’s cigars in one night when his sneaky link Wendy came over.

The big room with black, vintage furniture felt even more unfamiliar as you took in your surroundings. Thomas Shelby standing by the desk; his hands in his pockets, nothing but a grin on his face as he lit up another cigarette.

‘What?’ You spoke louder than normal as a rush of fear washed over you.

‘You’re getting married next week.’

‘What? To Mr. Shelby?’ You crossed your arms and puffed out your lips.

‘Of course you are. Jesus. Are you as thick as your mother?’ Your father sat back in his chair with a loud thud. ‘Go pack your things.’

‘Father, I can’t marry him.’

‘The contract was signed.’

‘I can’t cook, or clean, or—‘

‘I have a maid to do that.’ Mr. Shelby chimed in unbothered as his eyes darted from you to your father.

‘I spend a lot of money, Papa.’

‘Thank god I’m the richest man in the United Kingdom and can afford your expensive taste.’ He pointed to your dress, though you could tell he was more infatuated with your breasts.

‘Bu—‘

‘Enough!’ Your father hit his wooden desk with a fist. Imaginary steam flowing from his ear. ‘You have a duty to this family and you’ll uphold this arrangement because you are an Eyrie woman!’ He raised his voice even louder. A voice that penetrated a deep fear from within your soul.

You swallowed heavily, realising that there was no way of getting out of this, so you let your face fall and gave both men a quick look before walking out of the door slowly. Hoping that maybe for some reason your father would call you back and say that this was all a big joke. But he never did. You went to your room and tried to pack up your entire life in 30 minutes. Chelsea gave you a helping hand, whilst Sam stood at the door giving you words of encouragement (murder). And once that was done your father along with your mother, Chelsea, and Sam stood in the hallway watching Thomas Shelby grab your bags and head outside of the door where your new life would start end.

you’re my absolute favourite lando fanfic writer, i get so excited whenever you post. can you do some sort of fake dating x enemies to lovers with lando & some angst & grovelling please? i leave the rest up to you, i can’t wait to see what you come up with<3

THIS IS THE BEST MIX OF TROPES I HAVE EVER SEEN I LOVE YOU FOR THIS also thank you so much for saying I’m your fav lando writer I’m blushing ☺️

You Were Never What I Wanted, (LN4)

Summary: Lando and Y/n have never liked each other and it’s only the distaste the world has for them when McLaren forces them to “put on a show for the public”. At first, a few hand holds and light, quick kisses seem to be tolerable, yet feather light touches turn into longing stares and, suddenly, they’re falling in love. Although, hatred is a powerful emotion. Can love really trump it?

Warnings: language, sexual discussions, very mild smut, lando and yn yearning, yn calling lando a man whore not affectionately, talks of death, a crash, she’s long so grab popcorn, omfg this one hurts

Note: i love a good fake dating y’all don’t GET. IT. Also i added the reformed playboy trope to this to spice things up! It’s very mildly mentioned tho

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Lando screeches, body flying from his chair beside Y/n.

Charlotte smiles tightly at him, nodding slowly and putting her hands up, “Lando, yes. You know this is the only way to clean up the reputation you two have developed together.”

He groans, turning to pace the room when Zak interrupts, “Lando, be a fucking man and clean up the mess you’ve made.”

He turns quickly, eyes bulging as he yells, “It wasn’t fucking me! It was her!” He turns to look at Y/n, bewildered look in his eyes as he points furiously at her, “It was you! You got us into this mess! You clean it up!”

Y/n rolls her eyes at him and he almost loses his head, “You’re just as at fault, Lando. You’re the one that openly criticized my driving in a room full of reporters and cameras!”

“I was asked a fucking question, Y/n. It was my job to answer it honestly.” He shoots back.

She scoffs, “Are you fucking psychotic? Or just that fucking stupid? Our job is to lie to the press, that’s what it’s always been. Don’t fucking change it when it’s convenient for you.”

Lando’s hands claw at his eyes as they continue to bicker, “The only person who’s stupid here is you.”

“I was standing up for myself!”

“Oh, yeah?! Now, look where that’s gotten us! A fucking PR stunt!”

“Get over yourself, Lando! You’re just as at fault!”

“You’re so fucking annoying, Y/n! Can’t take any fucking accountabil-”

“Oh, please, you’re one to ta-”

“OKAY!” Charlotte claps her hands as she stops the two drivers. The image before her is one she never thought she’d see this season. Lando Norris, a McLaren driver and well known playboy, getting mad he had to kiss one of the most beautiful women to grace the sport of Formula 1, fellow driver on the grid, Y/n Y/l/n. She surely would’ve chuckled if Lando’s eyes weren’t alive with an angry fire she needed to diffuse immediately.

“You two need to just realize that whose fault this was doesn’t matter. What you need to focus on is pretending you’re in love, so the media stops breathing down McLaren’s and Red Bull’s necks. This is the only way we can make all this bad press go away.” She explains, hands moving rapidly in front of her as she tries to calm the two down.

Y/n, the more rational one, nods, accepting her fate with grace. Lando, on the other hand, stomps his foot on the ground and mutters a sentence of agreement before storming out of the room.

Y/n laughs, turning to Zak and Charlotte, the papaya employees looking as if five years had just been taken off their lives, “I don’t know how you put up with him. He’s so fucking childish.”

Charlotte, media trained, smiles, “He’s better when he isn’t angry.”

Zak, not media trained, nods, “Y/n, I’ve never agreed with you more.”

The man and woman share a look, a subtle scolding glint in Charlotte’s eye as she stares at Zak. He backs down, earning a giggle from Y/n as she begins to leave the room.

“You’ll send the NDAs and other contracts over to Red Bull, right? I’d like to get this started and over with as soon as possible.” Y/n smiles, a soft one that makes others feel warm inside.

Charlotte nods, “Of course. Consider it done.”

Y/n, keeping her smile and composure, withdraws from the room, the door closing with a loud click.

Zak and Charlotte are left to sink down into the chairs behind them. Slugging, Zak’s head lulls to her side, “This is either the best idea we’ve ever had or the worst one.”

She laughs, “They either fall in love or hate each other more.”

—

“Okay, so,” Charlotte smiles at Lando and Y/n from her side of the SUV, the two on either side of the car, sitting as far away from the other as possible, “This is going to be a short outing.”

“Thank God.” Lando mumbles under his breath, earning a scowl from the girl beside him.

Charlotte huffs, continuing, “Just a coffee run. You’ll go into the cafe, holding hands, maybe a kiss or two, get your drinks, and then leave. Very quick. However, I need you two to give it your all. This will be the first time the public sees you as something more than enemies. It needs to be convincing. Heart eyes and maybe, if you’re comfortable, roaming hands.”

Lando’s head turns in utter disgust, “If you fucking think I’m going to touch her ass or some shit, you’ve absolutely lost it.”

Y/n’s body whips around, whole torso facing him as she stares him down, “Oh, please, Lando, you get no fucking women. You haven’t touched anybody’s ass, let alone a girl’s, in fucking ages.”

“Oh, yeah? Then, explain the girl that woke up in my bed this morning!” He fires back, head tilting in a challenging way.

Y/n shoves her arms across her chest as she sits back and whispers, loud enough for him and Charlotte to hear, “Man whore.”

Charlotte’s eyebrows lift slightly, exhaling a breath, “Well! This should be fun!”

The car comes to a stop in an alleyway, hidden from prying eyes. Charlotte lets the silence pass between the two for a few moments before leaning over and opening Lando’s door, “Well, get on with it! Chop chop! Don’t have all the time in the world.”

Lando slides out of the car, shaking his head and grumbling incoherently. Y/n follows him, however, when she gets her legs hanging out the door, she is reminded of just how high the car is off the ground. She goes to turn her body around, opting to slide slowly out on her stomach in avoidance of an accident, but, before she can get positioned, Lando grabs her hips and lifts her from the car, down onto the ground.

There’s a moment where she’s so taken aback, surprised, by the movement, all she can do is grip onto his biceps and stare down at her feet, safely on the pavement. It’s only when Charlotte starts yelling, “Yes! Yes, Lando! Just like that! Look at her like that!” That she looks up. What she finds is deep green eyes completely dilated and lost in the sight of her. She reminds herself of the hatred this man has for her, brushing off the way his hands squeeze over the flesh of her hips desperately, and removes herself from his hold.

Immediately, he comes to, the snarl replacing whatever emotion had taken over his face before. She trails down the dirty, smelly passageway, hearing Lando’s feet patter behind her.

It’s as if she’s achingly aware of his presence when he reaches her, just before they turn onto the public street, and takes her hand in his. The way his cologne wraps around her body, suffocating her in the most addicting way, and the feeling of his fingers fitting perfectly in the divots of hers, soft against her skin, has Y/n reeling. She goes along with his movements, relying on him to guide her as she travels to a place where Lando’s just the man she used to think he was; insanely hot and incredibly charming.

He pulls her back, however, when he opens the door for her and quietly says her name when she doesn’t walk through.

“Y/n?” His hand tugs against hers, smiling softly at the way she stares off into space. Whether that smile is genuine, although, Y/n has no clue.

She shakes her head, murmuring a thank you to him as she scurries past the threshold. When they both enter, their presence is immediately clocked by the other customers waiting for their orders. That’s what Y/n tells herself when Lando comes up behind her, arms around her waist as he rests his head on the top of hers.

“What do you want, baby? I’m paying.” He says, low enough for it to come across as a whisper, but loud enough for the girl in front of them to turn her head slightly in curiosity.

He’s surprisingly good at this, falling into the role demanded of him in a way that has Y/n faltering. She was expecting a man who was so distant from her, the same as her past partners, she had to beg for his attention. Yet, here she was getting showered in affection by a man she was convinced didn’t have the capacity for it.

Her response is easy, covering for the feelings arising within a certain part of herself she can’t quite name, “Just a cappuccino. Thanks, Lan.”

His grin is sweet as he lays a kiss on her temple. His hands rub over her hips as he detaches himself from her body and moves in front of her, teasingly pushing her away from the register with a light laugh.

Lando spews off the order to the man behind the counter as Y/n moves to the other side of the establishment, residing where the orders are dropped off. It could’ve been strategic, it probably was she promises herself, but Lando yells across the store to her.

“Y/n! Love, do you want food? They have your favorite here,” He smiles at her, earning a few giggles from fawning girls in the corner, “Croissants!”

Did he know croissants are actually her favorite or was that just a lucky guess?

Y/n gives him an airy chuckle, head falling back slightly in a lovesick way as she shakes her head, “Nah, I’m okay. Just gives us another opportunity to come back here.”

He nods at her, shaking his head at the barista and handing him some cash.

He tips the change, a hefty amount seemingly as Y/n watches the worker hesitate and thank Lando profusely. Her heart warms, shining on the inside as he treats hardworking people, those who are usually treated horrifically, with the utmost respect.

These reactions she’s having toward him are confusing, a far off nagging in her brain that she might’ve always wished for this type of attention specifically from him.

Nevertheless, she forces her mind to end its overwhelming thoughts when he waltzes over and sidles up next to her. She’s determined to keep this transactional, however she can.

She can’t get feelings.

She won’t get feelings.

And that was that, she decided.

“Lando!” Another worker calls out, setting down two drinks on the counter in front of them. Y/n goes to pick them up, however Lando beats her, giving her a cheeky grin as he mumbles, “You’re my girlfriend, Y/n. You don’t get the drinks, I do. Don’t be barbaric.”

She stands staring at him, mouth agape at his comment as the girls sitting behind them, somehow closer now, gasp.

Y/n hits his arm, the liquid jostling in his grip, “We weren’t supposed to say anything yet!”

He shrugs in return as he pushes the door open with the side of his body, and waits for her to walk through, “I guess I just couldn’t wait, baby. Too in love.”

She shakes her head at him, taking the drink from his hand, their digits brushing against the other’s in an electrifying way, “Down the toilet goes the soft launch plan.”

As they turn the corner, the smile he had been adoring her with suddenly vanishes and the usual pain that fills his expression when he’s around her returns.

“I’m just trying to get this over with, Y/n. Waiting a whole fucking month to tell some fans we’re together is so fucking stupid and I’m not doing it.” He bites out, a hostility to him she had forgotten in the ten minutes he had just treated her like she was his everything.

She drops the coffee on the ground as they grow closer to the car, shock at his quick change in attitude forcing her body to go numb. Lando stops when she does, both of them staring down at the leaking, steaming drink.

He dryly laughs at her, “How fucking stupid! Can’t even hold her own drink! No wonder you’re a shit driver!”

He gets in the car, shutting the door harshly and leaving her to internalize his criticisms.

For some reason, after getting a glimpse at what being loved by him feels like, his words hurt more, mean more.

What a dangerous game.

—

Lando is a known party animal. He’s in love with the blinding lights, loud music, and alcohol flowing without a care in the world what hangover he’d be graced with in the morning. However, with her here, it proves to be a much more stressful experience.

She’s glued to his side, not particularly the clubbing type, and Lando feels his heart quicken when other men bend their backs to see her walk away. A month into the arrangement they structured and he’s consistently feeling as if he’s fighting off every man that floats their way.

He’s worried someone will try to take advantage of her; he’s worried someone will spike her drink; he’s worried someone will touch her weirdly; he’s worried someone will bother her.

He’s worried about her.

A thought so pressing he forces it out of his mind, away from the impending cloudiness that accompanies a topic so big; the way he feels toward her.

The way it was explained to him, by the joint teams of McLaren PR and Red Bull PR, was that, for the first few weeks, their relationship outings would consist of soft dates, quick times spent out together grabbing takeout or a few pictures here and there on both their social medias that addressed their relationship status. Once they got past that time period, they would begin to see the public more often as a union. Long dinners, a handful of charity functions, a gala, and nights out clubbing riddled his calendar now.

Something he wasn’t too opposed to he was coming to find out.

That was the phase they were entering now; the hard launch. After his stunt in the coffee shop those four weeks ago, the teams had to regroup. The girls who had been hanging around had heard his slight confession of love, plastering it on the internet for every person to see.

The consequence? Lando didn’t get to be seen with Y/n for a week as the PR teams waited for the attention around the news to subside.

He wouldn’t risk that now.

Not when he was beginning to get used to the way her hand held his bicep as his fingers tangled in her other hand below.

“Lan?” She yells in his ear, their footsteps just now reaching the VIP section as the bodyguard lets them through.

He looks down at her, their faces centimeters away, lips centimeters away, and Lando’s scared.

Scared of the things he wants to do as her plump, pink lips sit right below his.

“Yeah?” His eyes avert to Max, his best friend, the boy giving him a knowing glance as he sips on his glass.

“Get me a drink please? I would do it myself, but I don’t want to risk having to talk to a random guy and-” He interrupts her immediately when she mentions the possibility of someone else hitting on her.

“I got it.” He’s spinning around, fast walking toward the bar before she can tell him what she wants.

She turns around, wandering over to Max and plopping down beside him on the soft, black couch in the corner of the room.

Max shakes his head as he looks at her, chuckling softly before letting his head fall to his chest.

“What?” She asks, eyebrows raising at the boy she had grown close to over the time she’d spent with his friend.

“You two are so funny.” He continues giggling, his girlfriend smacking his arm with a cautious look.

Y/n’s eyebrows furrow, “What?”

“You guys say you hate each other, but then you look at each other like you can’t wait to rip the other’s clot-” He begins, but Pietra slaps her hand over his mouth.

“MAX FEWTRELL!” She screams over the music, “NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!”

Her scolding makes him cower into himself, a drunken look on his face as he searches for mercy from his girlfriend.

Y/n is about to press for more when Lando shoves her drink in front of her, holding it out for her until she cradles it in her own.

Looking down at it, her head tilts, “A vodka soda with two orange slices?”

Lando stares at her blankly, “Yeah, you’re favorite, right?”

She nods, “Yeah.”

They look at each other for a moment. Confusion on both their faces for two different reasons.

“Is that a problem?” He asks her, hand dangerously close to her thigh and heating the skin of her leg up with the need for him to splay his fingers across it.

She shakes her head slowly, “No, just- How did you know it was my favorite?”

Emotions flash through his eyes, too fast for Y/n to decipher them. He withdraws physically, cold returning to her leg when his hand retracts to his lap.

“Uh, you just told me a few times.” He stutters.

If she knew him better, she might say for certain he was nervous.

Not mentioning the fact she had never told him what her favorite alcoholic drink was, Y/n moves on. It’s not because she doesn’t want to find out how he knew what she liked or that she simply doesn’t care how he knows, it’s because a camera catches her peripheral eye. Her head discreetly moves to the side, analyzing the drunken girl who stumbles over to the railing and points her phone right at them.

Y/n falls into Lando’s side, his body laid against the back of the couch and making for a comfortable cushion. His arm automatically wraps around her shoulders as her hand plants itself on his upper thigh.

When her fingers brush teasingly close to his crotch, he looks down at her, astonished, “What are you doing?”

“Camera.” She says, his eyes looking up through his lashes before he sees what she had witnessed before.

He nods subtly, leaning down immediately to press his lips to hers shortly. It’s a kiss like the ones they’d had before, quick and dry, yet, this one, instead of pulling away right after, Lando lingers. His lips brush against hers in hesitation, as if he’s deciding whether or not he wants to lean back in for more. His eyes stare into hers, top lip hitting her bottom one as he dips his chin down. He’s close to taking what he wants, breath heavy against her face as he holds her to him. His hands eagerly claw at her dress, forcing her to stay where she is, where he wants her to be, close to him. Yet, he continues to hesitate.

Finally, for the first time, Y/n sees the emotion that hides behind the beautiful color of his eyes; confusion.

It’s only for a split second though. She sees it only for a millisecond as Lando feels the way she breaks down a wall he had built up long ago. When she realizes the war behind his head, he retreats.

His hands fall from her back and his head turns to the side, rejecting what he wanted to do. She watches him look for the girl that had been filming them, eyes roaming over the crowd before coming to the conclusion she was gone.

“No camera.” He says curtly, pushing her off him as he gets up from the couch and walks back to the bar.

She watches him order another drink, no doubt for himself.

Her eyes train on the drink that sits, sweating, on the table in front of them.

Lando’s drink that’s completely full.

🏎️

Liquid courage is a real thing. It’s what drives Lando to ask Y/n to join him on the dance floor. It’s what drives Y/n to pull him into her and sway her hips right against him. They’re on beat with the music, it thumping in their hearts as Lando grips her hips and forces her body closer to his. There’s a newfound sexual tension, rather than the usual tension that consisted of complicated feelings and lingering hurt over past insults. Her hands drape over his neck, head in his chest as he lays his against her shoulder, withholding groans when she circles her hips and accidentally caresses his dick.

His head’s somewhere else, terrifyingly so. He’s not fully thinking through his actions or the thoughts running through his head, the consequences they would have.

All he can think about is the feeling of Y/n’s boobs pressed up against his chest, her cleavage cum-worthy when he looks down and sees her potential spill-out.

The chorus of Love Tonight pumps through the speakers, communicating the feelings they’re too scared to say.

All I need is your love tonight.

All I need is your love tonight.

All I need is your love tonight.

All I need is your love tonight.

The music spurs him on, almost nudging his head downwards to meet her in the same spot they had been in just a few hours before.

His lips hovering over hers with the same thoughts as before, Lando’s brain goes haywire. She’s panting against him, hips relentless as they continue to circle against him. He’s drowning in her, no escape from the hold she has on him.

Fuck it, he thinks.

He smashes his lips against hers, the first kiss they’ve had that truly puts into perspective how much they want each other. Teeth clashing, his tongue wandering the walls of her mouth, Lando and Y/n fail to come up with an excuse for their actions.

No cameras, no fans, no press.

Just the two of them, dancing and kissing with one singular goal.

All I need is your love tonight.

—

“Here’s your check! Thank you for joining us tonight!” The waiter smiles, setting down the black booklet as Lando quickly swipes it from the table.

Whining, Y/n waves her card around, “Lando, when are you going to let me pay? I don’t think I’ve paid a single time we’ve been together.”

He smiles at her mischievously, “Exactly.”

She rolls her eyes, “Lando,”

He eyes her as he scribbles onto the receipt, “Y/n,”

She scoffs, sitting back in her chair with a huff.

When he’s done, he gives her a sympathetic look before reaching across the table and grabbing her hand, “How about next time we get coffee you pay for your own?”

She looks away from him with a failing suppressive smile, “That’s like five dollars, Lan! You’ve probably spent thousands in the time we’ve been together.”

He shakes his head, “Doesn’t matter.”

Her face scrunches up, “Yes, it does!”

He’s about to rebuttal, but the screeching of people close to them takes their soft eyes off the other.

A mixed group of girls and boys stop at their table, smiling brightly at the two drivers. One of them stands in the middle, phone clutched to her chest as she asks, “Can we get a picture?”

Lando looks to Y/n, searching for approval, but she’s not looking at him. He watches her face light up, smiling big at the fans in front of them as she gets up from her chair.

“Yeah, of course!” She laughs, a sound so light and delicate, it makes Lando’s heart clench in his chest. He never saw the way she acted around fans, having been isolated from them in the times they were together. However, now, as he stays put in his chair and stares on, he adores the way she adores them.

His hands clasped in his lap, Lando sits motionlessly. He can’t take his eyes off the woman who is very clearly making this group’s year. They all stare at her as if she held the moon in their hands, a present from her to them. There’s a simple sparkle in their eyes as she takes pictures with each of them, a simple sparkle that tells him just how much these kids look up to her.

He’s enamored by her, just like they are. For different reasons, though.

“Lan, are you going to get up?” She giggles, hitting his arm and reminding him of the task at hand.

The group stares at him, not the same way they had stared at her notably. He can tell they value him, they’re excited by him, but they aren’t starstruck by him.

He can live with that, though. He gets what it’s like to become speechless over something so beautiful.

After a few more clicks of the camera, the supposed couple sits back down in their seats, but Y/n doesn’t let the fans leave yet. He watches as they brighten at her starting conversation with them.

He loves this. He loves he-

“I have to say, I was so surprised when I found out you two were together.” One of the girls in the group interrupts his questionable internal dialogue. He’s relieved, however. He can’t be thinking that way.

He can’t be feeling that way.

He isn’t.

Y/n tilts her head up at them, “Yeah?”

The group nods and one of the boys speaks up, “Yeah, you two, like, hated each other.”

Everyone laughs, Y/n sitting back in her chair as Lando watches her take the statement easily, “Well, we didn’t hate each other. We did love each other, just didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Her eyes meet his and, for a moment, Lando wonders if she truly means it or if she’s signaling for him to add on.

He goes with adding on, “Yeah, definitely. Who could hate her?”

You could, she thinks. You do, she thinks.

The words sink her heart to her stomach. A reality so crushing, she hates to entertain it. When this is all over, he’ll go back to hurting her with jabs that attack her self-confidence and she’ll be left to hang on to the man he had been when they were “together”.

She doesn’t want to go back to hating him, yet she’s scared she will. She doesn’t want to go back to knowing who he truly is at his core, yet she’s scared she will.

She doesn’t want to go back to knowing what he truly thinks of her, yet she’s scared she will.

By the time she returns to the conversation, the fans are simultaneously thanking them for their time and kindness. Leaving them alone, Lando stands from the table and checks the bill once more. Y/n grabs her bag, “Why’re you checking it again?”

He looks up at her as his pointer finger lingers on the paper, “Oh, just calculating what you’ll owe me when this is all said and done. You know, when we go back to hating each other’s guts.”

He says it jokingly, she can tell he’s teasing as he laughs it off, holding her hand gently as he leads her out of the restaurant. But, none of that stops the way she exhales a deep breath, a sigh that carries so much pain, she wonders where it came from.

Lando used to mean nothing to her, or so she thought.

Had he always meant everything?

—

Silverstone is supposed to be a fun race for Lando. It’s one of his favorites on the calendar. Although, that joy is rapidly tanking as he races quickly around the track, smoke emitting from behind him and filling the air, filling his helmet. He coughs harshly as he rushes into his radio, “Was that a crash?! Who is it?! Are they okay?! Is it on fire?! There’s smoke.”

There’s panic in his voice, knowing regardless of who it is, he’ll be worried.

Andrea’s silent on the other line, heightening Lando’s concerns.

“Andrea! What’s going on? Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you.” Andrea responds immediately.

Lando rounds a corner before he speaks back, confusions drenching his tone, “Okay, so who was that? Are they okay?”

Andrea is monotone, “I don’t know if they’re okay right now.”

Lando’s heart drops, “Oh, no, who was it? Was it one of the Williams? A Ferrari? Maybe a Haas?”

Again, Andrea doesn’t answer him and Lando is about to press him further when he reaches the crash site once more. Eyes trained on the color of the car, the words “Red Bull” hit him hard.

Andrea waits for the anxiety to kick in on the other line, fully prepared to talk him down as he watches for any updates on the crash.

“IT’S A FUCKING RED BULL! IS IT Y/N? ANDREA, IS IT Y/N?” He screams, voice shaking as he begins to slow down, cars passing him by and making him lose positions.

Andrea watches the decline of Lando’s car in the race standings, head falling as he realizes no information about Y/n will come quick enough to make him get back in the race.

Calmly, he responds, “I am not sure who it is yet.”

He hears Lando groan aggressively, “Bullshit! Is it her?!”

His yelling can be heard throughout the entire wall, everyone giving side glances to Andrea over the man who is currently screaming.

“Lando, I promise you, if I knew who it was, I would tell you.” Andrea gives, voice pleading.

It’s quiet for a moment, the only thing heard being the sounds of Lando’s heavy breathing. Solemnly, Andrea watches a camera zoom in past the smoke and center the number of the car in the frame.

Y/n’s car.

Clicking the button, Andrea speaks to Lando, “I can confirm it is Y/n’s car. No knowledge of if she’s gotten out of the car or not.”

Again, there’s silence before Lando’s hand smacks his steering wheel and he lets out a noise filled with anguish, “Please, tell me when you find out.”

Torturously, Lando passes by her car at every turn, watching only for a second as people work to try and get her out of the car.

Andrea watches in horror as a group of men lift her from the car, her body limp and unmoving as they run her to the safety car.

“She’s out of the car.” He murmurs to Lando, praying the boy won’t ask more questions.

He does, “Good! That’s good! By herself or did she need aid?”

The sound of Andrea’s heavy sigh kills Lando, “No, not by herself. She needed help.”

“How much help?”

Silence.

Lando yelps, “ANDREA! TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON RIGHT FUCKING NOW! THIS IS MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND! HOW MUCH FUCKING HELP?”

“She’s not moving.”

Lando doesn’t say anything, his mind racing as his eyes water.

Finally, he speaks, “I need to retire the car.”

Andrea and the rest of the pit wall turn to look at each other with outraged stares, “What? No, Lando. The car’s perfectly fine. The pace is great, no dam-”

Lando interrupts Andrea with a broken voice, “The car’s not the reason we need to retire the car. It’s the driver. It’s me.”

Everyone can hear it in the way his voice cracks, he’s crying, knowing he can’t see through it. It’s a danger, it truly is, and that forces Andrea and the team to comply with Lando’s demands.

When he parks in the garage, he clampers out. Shoving engineers, Andrea, his dad, Zak, and anyone else who gets in his way or tries to talk to him, Lando sprints over to the medical center. On his way, he loses his mind over the possibility that she might not be there, already at the hospital, or she will be there, but just her lifeless body.

He’s still drenched in sweat, the amount doubling from his running, when he gets there. Lando pushes past the people who stand at the front, not giving them time to tell him he can’t come in. He hears them call out in opposition, but he’s already in and he just doesn’t care.

There’s no time to address the feelings swirling in his stomach that feel ten times what he had felt for any of his past girlfriends. There’s no time to talk about the way he cries over the image of her burning car or her unconscious body being pulled from it. There’s no time to talk about the fact that, last year, he wouldn’t have acted this crazed over her accident. There’s no time to talk about the fact that, now, he’s fully prepared to brawl with anyone that dares to stand in his way of finding her.

There’s no time because he’s reaching her door and flinging it open. There are nurses beside her conscious figure, tending to the scratches and cuts she has from the car’s debris. Even with the bloodied bandages, Lando smiles at her smiling at him.

When she sees him, her arm reaches out for him without thinking. He takes long strides to get to her even in the small room and, when he does, he grabs her hand.

Kneeling down on the floor beside her, he squeezes her hand, “You okay?”

She nods, “Will be.”

“That’s good enough for me.” He whispers, nurses glancing at each other before exiting the room at the intimacy flowing between the two.

They really were selling this.

Suddenly, Y/n’s eyebrows knit together as her gaze lifts to the clock on the wall, “Wait, Lan, the race is still going. Did you crash?”

He shakes his head, eyes averting from hers, “No, I retired the car.”

Her other hand reaches to turn his gaze back to hers, holding his jaw softly as he smiles at her, “Why?” She whispers.

“Because I needed to make sure you were okay.”

The truth hangs in the air painfully.

They can’t speak of what that means or what that alludes to. They can’t speak of the way he clutches onto her hand as if she’ll go away. They can’t speak of the way he raced over here, throwing important people to the side in a state of pure panic. They can’t speak of the way they stare at each other, yearn for each other in a way that goes against every rule they agreed to when this started.

All they can do is kiss each other sweetly and lie.

Lie to themselves about what will happen after it’s over; lie to themselves about how much they truly care for each other; lie to the PR teams and tell them nothing is developing between them, that it’s safe to continue this.

And, most of all, later, when Zak asks Lando why he has lip gloss smudged against his mouth, they must lie.

—

“Can you zip me up?” Y/n turns around in the car, her back to Lando as her dress hangs open slightly at the top.

He nods, fingers delicate against her skin as he glides against it, trailing the cool metal up. His hands finish on her shoulders, slowly rubbing softly as she begins to lean against him.

“Lan, that feels good.” She mumbles, words slurred from the way his fingers work the knots under her skin.

Her body lies fully on him, his mouth by her ear as they wait to get to their destination. He continues to massage her, whispering random things in her ear about errands they need to run or complete tomorrow.

With her eyes closed and relaxed state, Lando admires how safe she feels around him. Five months ago, Y/n wouldn’t have dared to let him touch her in the way he was, in the way he had over the past two months, however things had changed. For better or for worse, Lando still wasn’t sure.

The driver in the front eyes them questionably, having witnessed the change in their dynamic over their months together.

With her body still limp against him, the car stops in front of the gala’s entrance. Photographers scream beyond the door and flashes of cameras blind them even as they sit behind the glass.

Looking at her and taking her hand in his, Lando whispers, “Ready?”

She nods, “Always.”

A man opens their door, the volume erupting as Lando steps out, his hand clutching Y/n’s as she follows suit. Immediately, they’re pulled into multiple pictures. Lando’s arm finds its home around her waist with Y/n’s hand resting on his chest, a couple so perfect for each other. Their endeavor had been so incredibly successful, both their teams’ PR divisions were pleasantly surprised. Lando looks on at her, a radiant smile gracing her face as she speaks to one of the reporters on the carpet, and hates the feeling of knowing how close the end is.

In just a few weeks, they’ll be sitting down to write a small paragraph, one that will be posted to their Instagram stories as it tries to sum up the romance they thought they had.

At night, he tries to think of words to describe the moments he’s had with her and, every time, he comes up empty.

Her laughing at the journalist’s joke makes him come to the conclusion there will never be a time where he can gather syllables to explain how undeniably perfect she is.

How he got to the place of being able to address how wonderful she was? Lando had an inkling it was because of the way she made his heart pound and hands sweat.

🏎️

Lando and Y/n easily make their rounds throughout the room, greeting sponsors and potential ones with their hands clasped together. It’s obvious how charming they are together, obvious when random strangers are flipping open their checkbooks at the sight of them. Lando knows it’s all her with her thoughtful sentences and engaging demeanor.

He’s a side piece and he’s okay with that, only okay with it when he’s her side piece.

They’re in the midst of sharing a new drink they decided to try, giggles shared between them as they pass the glass between each other. They had started doing this ages ago, when they first grew closer to one another. In order to make these events go by quicker, they started trying all the items on the alcoholic menu they had never heard before. Some of his favorite memories of her had taken place when she tried something she didn’t like and almost spit it out at him.

“I think this one’s good! What’s it called again? Something sexual, right?” She asks as he takes another swig.

Lando shakes his head, grin on his face as he lifts the drink up to their eye level, “I forgot, but it must be cum something. Sure does look like cum.”

Her mouth falls open and she screeches, “Lando!”

He falls over onto the table beside them, laughing, “What? You don’t swallow?”

She joins him in laughter, “You wish you knew.”

Of fucking course, he thinks.

“Lando?” A voice from his past calls from behind them.

Lando’s heart drops, turning around and seeing Luisinha.

“Hey, Lu!” She moves to hug him, squeezing him lightly before letting her eyes drift to the girl quietly standing with him.

“Hi, Y/n.” She speaks, smiling softly as she hugs her.

Luisinha giggles before looking between the two, “I assume I need to be reintroduced to you. Before, you were Y/n, driver for Red Bull. Now, you’re Y/n, Lando’s girlfriend.”

Y/n nods, a gesture that looks to come so easy to her, Lando wishes it was real.

They hug again, chuckling at the situation before Luisinha directs her attention back to her ex-boyfriend, “It’s nice to see you, Lan! All those nights spent on the phone just aren’t the same as seeing you in person.”

Y/n loses her breath over Lu’s words, gaze drifting immediately to Lando and watching as he nods along.

“Yeah! Seriously, talking to you over the phone isn’t enough.”

His response, easy and light, crushes her.

Y/n steps in closer, “Sorry, um, you two still talk?”

Luisinha looks to Lando, intrigue in her eyes as she searches him. Lando, the boy stuck between his past and present, realizes his mistake.

He shakes his hands, “No, I mean- Yes, but it’s not like that, Y/n.”

Luisinha stays silent as she watches Y/n try to keep her composure, “When was the last time you talked?”

Lando can’t bring himself to answer, so Lu does for him, feeling for the girl in between them, “Last night.”

He watches Y/n’s face slowly process the information. It’s as if reality comes crashing down on her, a harsh moment that reminds her of what they are to each other at the end of the day.

Y/n nods, smiling at the two before beginning to walk back, “I need a minute, sorry.”

Lu watches Lando long for her, momentarily wishing Y/n would just understand how much he feels for her, and Luisinha, finally, gets a wave of closure. She understands now why they broke up. When he ended it, Lando had told her he loved her more as a friend, something that broke her, yet, now, she understands why she had been so confused. Originally, she thought he did love her, he just been too afraid to tell her the real reason for their separation, but, as she stares at the pooling in his eyes, she sees a look she never got.

A look of intense love.

She nudges his arm, “Don’t let her get away.”

He nods at her, running off in the direction Y/n had left, eyes searching for her in the sea of people.

🏎️

Lando catches sight of her gorgeous y/h/c hair off in a small hallway of the hotel. He jogs over, her back to him, and lays a soft hand over her shoulder.

She stiffens, refusing to turn around and meet his eyes. However, his voice coaxes her, “Y/n, look at me.”

As much as she tries not to, she does and it breaks her further.

Her watery eyes and lost head tilt are a stab to Lando’s heart, her choked up voice speaking, “So, you were talking to her the entire time we were doing this?”

He’s at a loss, knowing that’s the perfect truth, yet knowing it isn’t fully, “Yes, but it doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

Her body jerks away from him and the anger he was usually greeted with returns, “Oh?! Then, what does it mean, Lando?! Because it looks like I meant fucking nothing to you! I know it isn’t in my head! I know what’s happened between us isn’t just some people getting over the hatred they had for each other! I thought you felt that way too!”

“I do!” He yells back, frustration at her obliviousness getting to him.

Tears leak down her face, “Then, why did you spend the entirety of this talking to your ex! Why’d you agree to this if you still love your ex?!”

Lando groans, “I don’t love my ex! I don’t love Lu! I love you!”

Her tears fall harder, “Do you? How could someone love another person they used to loathe?!”

Lando shakes his head, overwhelmed at what’s going on in his brain, “It just happened, Y/n! You think I thought this would happen?! No, I didn’t!”

Y/n resigns, quiet taking over other than their heavy breathing, “I don’t believe you.”

His annoyance takes over, “Well, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

I want you to tell me why you love me, she thinks. I want to know where your hate turned to love, she thinks.

Those things go unsaid.

Instead, she huffs, “I think this has gotten too out of hand. I think we need to end this arrangement early.”

She sees the unmistakable sadness etched into his face, “How early?”

“Like, tonight.” She whispers, protecting herself from the world of hurt that would be being loved by him. She isn’t Luisinha, she isn’t a model or breathtaking woman. She’s a girl who fell in love with a “boy’s” sport, a girl who has seen the flaws within herself and tried, desperately, to change them, rewrite them. She never does, although. She always comes out the same on the other side.

The truth catches up with her and images of the beautiful women Lando has had in his bed fill her mind. How does she know this isn’t some elaborate prank to get her vulnerable and then humiliate her out of the resentment he holds against her and the situation she got him in?

Lando musters up some sort of guard, distaste returning after its five month long hiatus, “Fine. I’ll let McLaren know. This works anyway. You served your purpose, got my reputation back to where it was before you came in and fucking destroyed it. You ruin everything, you know that, Y/n?”

She nods, cries intensifying at what she had been afraid of: his hatred for her returning after getting to know a side of him so tender.

“Got it, Lando.” She whispers, slinking past him and out of the building.

He watches her walk away, confused at how he had confessed his love for her and ended it by telling her she was destructive.

She isn’t. How could he say that?

How could he tell the one woman who had built him up that she had tore him down? How could he let frustrated anger replace the love he had for her?

How could he let her get away?

A/N: TUMBLR GLITCHED OUT AND WAS CRACKING DOWN AT HOW LONG THIS WAS SO I WILL MAKE A PART TWO WITH A HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE

DRIVE THE NIGHT ★ F1 SERIES

pairing: f1 grid x multiple oc

summary: Mabilu Racing sees the checkered flag as the 11th F1 team on the 2023 grid.

warnings: there will be significant changes to the F1 2023 season; topics such as inequality, sexism, discrimination, and mental health will be discussed ( everything will have its own warnings though ! )

gerenal masterlist ★ request here — hcs, writing & extras

MEET THE DEVILS IN PINK !

“The world is talking, I am okay with that. I can hear them.” Roberts says, a smile on her lips “Ten years ago, this world booed my name when I raised my trophies, now they cheer. It’s such an unpredictable game that we just have to drive and see what they do when we, Malibu Racing, win"

MEET MALIBU RACING !

★ ABOUT THE TEAM

★ BARBARA ROBERTS

★ ALEJANDRA D’ALESSI #34

drivers profile social media profiles relationships

★ ZOLAH PERRY #8

drivers profile social media profiles relationships

THE MASTERLIST !

THE 2023 SEASON

★ BAHRAIN: new beginnings

★ SAUDI ARABIA: trophy trading

★ AUSTRALIA: chaos on track

★ AZERBAIJAN: pit stop mistakes

★  MIAMI: unexpected welcomes

★  MONACO: write some history

★  SPAIN: racing “a la española”

★  CANADA: revenge is a dish best served cold

★  AUSTRIA: how to avoid track limits 101

★  UK: mclaren did what?

more to be added…

HISTORY, WRITINGS & HCS

★ MR59 — launch and pre-season testing

★ the creation — alejandra d’alessi and zolah perry

★  catalyst — alejandra d’alessi and max verstappen

★  frenemies — zolah perry and oscar piastri

more to be added…

ARTICLES & MEDIA

★ barbara roberts: from world champion to team principal

★ the devils in pink: all you need to know about F1 new competitors, malibu racing

★ gossip-time: the 2023 F1 grid talks about malibu racing

★  what to expect from zolah perry’s long-awaited debut in F1

★  alejandra d’alessi: redbull’s lost promise is back to F1

more to be added…

EXTRAS

more to be added…

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ↴

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you've been one of the pogues since childhood, and your loyalty has always lied within your friend group, who is practically your family. when a threat by the name of rafe cameron begins to threaten the pogue's plans, they assign you to gain the trust of the dubious kook and keep an eye on what he's up to. however, now it's been six months since your friends set you up to spy on the kook prince himself, but what you didn't anticipate was to fall head over heels for the boy. your relationship had soon become inviolable shortly after your guys' first exchanges, much to your friends' dismay, and you two became practically inseperable. that was, until rafe discovers the truth.

genre: angst, smut, fluff

warnings: contains mature themes, violence, substance abuse, alcohol use, addiction, sexually explicit scenes, assault (non-sexual)

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↪ five

↪ six

↪ seven

↪ eight

↪ nine (coming soon)

© rafesapologist 2023

His Love |Aegon II Targaryen x FemReader| Master List

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen.

You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

Part Fourteen

Part Fifteen

Part Sixteen

Part Seventeen

Part Eighteen

Part Nineteen

Part Twenty

Part Twenty-One

Spotify Playlist

YouTube Playlist

All typical Game of Thrones/House of The Dragon warnings apply to this story, but I will put specific ones above each chapter.