𝐁𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞

Are we still friends? | Masterlist

Summary: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw and you have been friends since you could remember, just friends (unfortunately) but when you are called back to Top Gun everything changes.  You have to keep on the down-low that Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell is your father. Rooster, who you’d been able to read since you were young, seems unreadable to you now. Other pilots that are usually lining up for you, don’t seem that interested (much to your dismay). You are apparently now unable to keep your feeling at bay and oh, right. You have a life-and-death mission in your hands, which is the icing on the cake. Lots of angsty discussions, lots of jealousy, and even dog fights. What else can you expect from a mission on Top Gun?

bradley 'rooster' bradshaw masterlist

playlist

prologue | chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight | chapter nine* | chapter ten | chapter eleven | chapter twelve | chapter thirteen | chapter fourteen | chapter fifteen| chapter sixteen | chapter seventeen (scheduled a weeks from now- read early on my ko-fii!!!)

updates on monday, wednesday, friday

also, smut: *

˚ ༘♡. 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 ೃ࿐

a 7 part jjk drabble series based on the explicit version of ‘seven’. release tbc.

how it will work: each day of the week is assigned a different lyric from the single ‘seven’ by jjk. each drabble will feature its own environment & kink(s) that correspond to the associated lyric.

series masterlist:

1. monday: sęx in the workplace - “got you skipping work and meetings”

2. tuesday: sęx in a car - “its the way that you can ride”

3. wednesday: sęx outside - “i kiss your waist and ease your mind”

4. thursday: sęx in a hot tub / bathtub - “you know night after night, i’ll be fuckin' you right”

5. friday: sęx in a secret space - “so break me off another time”

6. saturday: sęx while gaming - “you wrap around me and you give me life”

7. sunday: sęx in the kitchen - “wind it back, i’ll take it slow, leave you with that afterglow”

pairing: seven!jungkook x f!reader (afab) genre(s)&au(s): non idol, slice of life, established relationship, smut, fluff, minor tiny angst warnings & smut warnings: all drabbles will come with their own warnings upon release w/c: all drabbles will come with their own word count upon release rating: 18+ banner: @caelesjjk

taglist [open]: - comment below! - ageless & empty blogs will not be included & minors will be blocked. update: AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE IGNORED

note1: this is something new that ive never tried before, so i do hope people will show it some love ♡ note2: thank you to my sarah for not just the banner but for also listening & sharing ideas over the last 2 days to create this series

"Through One Thousand Worlds and Ten Thousand Lifetimes" Fic Masterlist

Summary: Aemond Targaryen promised you that no matter what, he would always find you. Through a thousand worlds and ten thousand lifetimes, he would search until he found you. And you promised to wait in all of them. And yet, every time you're pulled apart by tragedy, resulting in his death.

Will you and Aemond be able to rewrite your destiny as star-crossed lovers? Or was your love doomed from the start?

Fandom(s): House of the Dragon, The Last Kingdom, World on Fire, Trigger Point, High Life

Main Pairing(s): Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Other Pairing(s): Osferth x Reader, Tom Bennett x Reader, Billy Washington x Reader, Ettore x Reader

Chapter One: The Dance of the Dragons

Chapter Two: The Princess and the Monk

Chapter Three: A Soldier's Kiss (Coming July 24th)

Chapter Four: London Calling (Coming July 31st)

Chapter Five: Into The Unknown (Coming August 7th)

Chapter Six: Last Chance (Coming August 14th) - FINAL

Hi! I'm Callista and I'm from the Philippines!!

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

I wish someone would make a Harwin Strong x reader story based on that scene where Rhaenyra comes back covered in blood

You Tell Me You Hate Me, Baby (Yeah I Bet You Do)

FORGET ME TOO PART 1

Summary: When the faithful abandon their duty…what is it that remains? When Aemond return home from yet another visit to see Alys and their son, he finds that there are consequences to his infidelity. Consequences he not only did not expect, but does not like.

Note: This one came to me fast and I just started writing it. It aint perfect, but it sure is about the vibes here.

Part 2

Word Count: 5.2k+

I spoke in quiet tones with the Queen over the table as we broke our fast. Even with the room empty, one never knew who was listening in the Red Keep. The walls themselves seemed to have ears. And it was a fact that I had grown to dread more and more as I learned that just as much as the walls had ears, they had mouths too. Mouths that created rumors and malicious whispers, then caused them to run rampant. The types of rumors and whispers that would tear you apart to the very core of your being while you just had to endure it. The pain they caused was not allowed to matter - not if you wanted to act as though the words were not true. And I could not handle it any longer. I should not have to handle it in the first place. That much I was sure of. 

“I am asking you to understand, my Queen,” I said in a sharper whisper than I had before. “I can no longer do this. And it is cruel enough to me that I have been forced to remain in such a situation this long. Word has gotten out. Why should my reputation suffer further than it already has? Why should I continue to endure this humiliation as I have been? A humiliation that only grows worse by the day. My brother is already angry enough to storm south and take me home himself, even if that required your son’s head on a pike.”

“You cannot simply leave, Y/N, you must know that,” Alicent said quietly, voice closer to begging, to pleading, than it was to demanding. “There are rumors, yes, but there is no proof. The rumors will die down. They always do when given time. All will be well once more when that happens. I will talk to my son. I will make it so. This shall not haunt you forever.”

My hands clenched into fists where they sat on my lap. “Your son does not care for me any more today than he did on the day we met,” I snapped. “It will not magically be well. It cannot be magically well again when it never was - nothing could make it so.” I took a deep breath. Closed my eyes. Opened them again. “Alicent. I am begging you to hear me. He has a lover. His lover has had his child now. A son. He is never here because he is with them. He is with your grandchild.”

Her gaze darkened, my words troubling her and making her sad. But it didn’t matter how much she liked or cared for me. I wasn’t her son. And he was what mattered to her. I knew that. I prepared myself for whatever tirade she would go on, and still, as with every other time we’d had this unending conversation, found myself surprised.

“You cannot say such reckless things,” she insisted. “There is no proof. He merely takes Vhagar on rides and patrols as he must. He is not doing something so insidious as having another family. You should be ashamed of yourself for even thinking of such! A good wife does not put weight into such unsubstantiated rumors.”

I leaned against the table, then covered my mouth with my hands feeling utterly exhausted. “Alicent. He told me so himself,” I said shortly. “He told me that Alys Rivers is the one that he loves - the only one that he could ever love. He told me he loathed me for keeping him from the only family which he found to be true. He told me that they had a son and that she was the only one he’d ever see carry his children. That she was the only one he would be a true family with. The words came from his own mouth. And if you do not trust my own word, well then the next time he sees fit to show up I recommend you ask him.” I scoffed. “Better yet, my Queen, ask your Master of Whispers. I am sure he has information on it for you should you ask for it.”

Alicent’s hands were shaking and she started picking at the skin around her nails. I sighed and immediately intercepted her, grabbing her hands and holding them to stop her. She stilled in the destruction she was doing, but her hands still had a light tremor to them. She looked upset. Genuinely so. Part of me felt bad. Part of me understood the unending stress she had endured since she was a mere girl-made-Queen. Part of me, though - the larger part, in fact - had grown to be colder than the home I’d left behind in Winterfell and just didn’t care for her pain anymore.

“Let me…please let me just be a Stark once more. I don’t…I don’t even ask you to let me go home to Winterfell. I know that you cannot grant me such a thing. But implore the Septons to annul this wedding. We didn’t have a bedding ceremony. He has not touched me. I am a woman grown. Just let me go. I have no desire to remain in this sham and have to make both our lives so needlessly fucking miserable. Alicent…please. If you ever cared about Aemond. If you ever cared about me. Just…please let this end. I will speak no ill of him to others. Of any of you. Not even to Cregan - I will keep the truth from my own brother if that is what you require, my Queen. I don’t care. I don’t even ask for revenge or retribution as you of all people would know I’d be well within my right to do. So just…please let me go,” I pled. 

The Queen looked hesitant. But, I could tell that the tide was turning and she was coming to see my side. “You…you give up too easily on this, Y/N. You cannot do such a thing,” she said firmly.

“I do not give up! I have waited over three years of marriage for your son to even pretend he can stand my presence and he cannot even grant me that much respect,” I said, unable to help the tears of both frustration and humiliation from rising in my eyes. “He will chart the fucking constellations in her eyes and I doubt he could even name the color of mine. He knows nothing of me and cares not to. And to be frank? I have long since given up a desire to care for anything related to him. How could I not? I have been patient. I have been understanding. I have been kind. I have been loyal - to him, to the Targaryens, to the fucking Hightowers! And what have I gotten out of it? Less than nothing! Separated from my family and the only home I knew! With people who do not care for me at all! I am no fool who thinks life is fair, but I would think that maybe you could understand my frustration at all of this!”

“We cannot do such a thing,” she said. Alicent’s eyes were impassive and she looked me over. Analytical. Looking for weakness. The sharp, shrewd look was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. Her mouth came into a line, veering just slightly into the territory of a frown. “We could not afford to lose the alliance with your house. I am sure you understand that, Lady Stark. I am…am sorry.”

My jaw clenched in anger. I couldn’t help it at this point. “If you are that concerned with maintaining the relationship with my family then you should listen to me, Queen Alicent,” I warned. “I mean it when I say that Cregan intends to march here himself with a thousand Northmen if that’s what it takes to free me from this. He is no fool. He receives word just as every other nobleman. I did not even need to tell him for him to know. He is furious that I have been held in such a situation this long. And I have no desire to stop any aim of his to retrieve me. Why would I?” I shook my head. “Your best bet to maintaining the alliance is by letting me go. Marry me off to your other fucking son and send me to Oldtown if your concern remains that great. I would take that - I would take anything - over the humiliation that I have already endured. We both know that the Targaryens do stranger things than switching wives.”

She blinked in shock. “Is that a threat?” she asked sharply.

I’d lost her, then. Her minor willingness to listen had evaporated into nothing. I let out a sigh and rose to my feet. “No, my Queen. It wasn’t a threat. It was a statement of fact. A statement of the future that will quite literally storm the doors of the Red Keep if allowed to happen,” I said. “I shall leave you to think in peace, Your Grace.”

Without being granted leave, I exited. I nodded to Ser Cole, standing faithfully at the door as always. My own guard, Ser Rydan Carron,  appointed to me by the King himself upon my wedding to Aemond, stepped off the wall, following me not even a full step behind me. I nodded to those who greeted me with combinations of Lady Y/N, Lady Stark, and Princess. I kept my face impassive as I moved towards my chambers, looking bored and blank rather than upset. I heard their whispers, heard the words of my husband’s actions swirling behind me. I pretended to be oblivious as was always required. It was only in the peace of my room that I openly let out the curses I had been building up.

“Gods, Y/N,” Rydan chuckled, “Based on that ladylike tirade, I take it that the conversation did not go to your liking.”

I leveled him with a glare. “Fuck you, Rydan,” I said simply. I scoffed and shook my head. “Of course it didn’t. The Queen would rather we all be fucking tortured than do what will ultimately be the best choice for everyone involved.”

Rydan hummed in acknowledgment. “Good as your stupid husband is with a blade, he remains untested in true battle. I do not. I could run him through with a sword the next time he returns and have us safely on the way to your brother before they’d even notice his body had gone cold.” A kind offer, if entirely impractical. He smirked then. “Or if that doesn’t suit your fancy, I could just kill you. Frame him for your death. Cregan will well and truly wage war upon them if I do that for you.”

I laughed at his words, the sound startled from my lips more than anything intentional. I reached out and squeezed his arm in appreciation. “Most kind of you to offer, Ser. But alas, I think that is a terrible idea so I will have to refuse. The both of them,” I said. My lips fell back into their half frown. I gestured to one of the couches in my antechamber, sitting in one myself. Rydan took the one opposite me, a look of vague amusement on his face at my lackluster refusal. “I wish I could accept it though, in truth. The first one. It would be well deserved but I…I cannot.”

He nodded, pursing his lips. “Stark honor,” he said, with faux wisdom in his voice. He gave me a goofy smile and I rolled my eyes. He reached over to the table in front of him, picking up the book he’d set there the day prior. “Shall I continue off where we were yesterday, Princess?”

“Never call me that,” I said after fake gagging. I relaxed on the couch until I was more laying than sitting. I allowed my eyes to drift up to the ceiling and tucked my feet under myself. I looked at him. “Go on then, read to me.” 

Rydan opened the book, a long tale that one of the foremost authors of Westeros had written. A rare first edition with the author’s notes. My favorite book, and a gift from the King at my wedding. A generous gift. A well-loved one. Far more generous and well-loved than his son, even. I listened as Rydan’s voice washed over me, capturing the cadence of the story expertly. I smiled and laughed at all the right parts - even more than expected with the humor and personality he managed to inject. A few chapters in, I was already more relaxed than I had been through the rest of the week. I was enjoying myself as much as I allowed myself to while in King’s Landing. Right as we reached the point where the hero was going to agree to fight our villain, I stopped him to call for a light lunch for us. We spent time eating, chatting in half-sentences about mindless topics, and then returned to the story. I was far too exhausted to give energy to anything real today. He knew that. He was kind enough to oblige. Rydan always was.

Yet, at the peak of the story, right as the hero and villain were ready to clash, there was an insistent, impatient knock on my door. I turned my head into the fabric of the couch and let out a short, cathartic scream before sitting up. I gestured to Rydan with my head. He placed the book down and snorted at my dramatics even as he rose to his feet and walked to the door. He opened it slowly and I watched as the ease on his face died. His eyes became pinched, his lips turned downward, and he looked generally annoyed if you knew what such a thing looked like on him. Regrettably, I did, which meant I knew just who it was.

“Prince Aemond,” he greeted, tone just shy of icy.

My eyes widened and I sat up more, my feet touching the ground. My brow furrowed as he walked into my chambers. He did not greet or even acknowledge Rydan. He had an annoyed look and a determined stride. That was never a good combination with my dear husband. I did not bother to keep the cringe from crossing over my face as I looked at him. 

“Dear husband,” I greeted, dull, emotionless. “What a surprise it is to see you. I had no idea you returned. What can I do for you?”

His expression fared no better, nor did his own voice. “I just got back,” he said shortly. “Come. My mother is summoning us both I’ve been told.”

I glanced over to Rydan, eyes dark in irritation. “Of course,” I said, rising to my feet. “I would not dream of keeping the Queen waiting.” I was proud of myself for keeping my icy rage out of my voice, and my sarcasm too. I gestured him to the door with my hand. “After you, husband.”

Aemond openly glared at me, forcefully taking my hand and wrapping it around his arm. “What kind of husband would I be to not escort you,” he said, voice acidic in a way that he clearly could not stop.

“Oh just yourself, you bumbling idiot,” Rydan muttered quietly in a coarse version of the trade tongue he’d taken the time to painstakingly teach me solely for the chance to insult my husband. I bit my tongue to keep from laughing. “Lead the way, my Princess.” Didn’t even acknowledge Aemond. “I go where you lead me as your faithful servant, my Lady.”

I smiled at him, acting as though he had said nothing of consequence, even as he laid it on thick. I looked over to Aemond then who was busy glaring at Rydan, suspicious of what he said. I tugged at his arm once, raising an eyebrow. Aemond glanced back at me and rolled his eyes openly before harshly tugging me down the hall forcing me to lengthen my stride to keep up with him. Both he and I ignored the greetings around us as he forced me to near-sprint down the corridors back to his mother’s chambers. I nodded to Rydan as a silent instruction to remain outside of the door next to Ser Cole who remained faithfully at his post as he always did. 

After we entered and the door closed, I released Aemond’s arm as though it burned my skin and took three steps away from him. Aemond did the same. I didn’t spare him a look. Instead, I looked to the Queen, who sat, a troubled look on her face as she gazed into the fire. There was a Septon at her side, and Larys Strong, the Master of Whispers, on her other side. My eyes widened, breath catching in my throat. Upon seeing us, the Septon and Lord both stood, bowed to us, and then left. Aemond looked puzzled, I tried my best to not appear as though I felt any particular way seeing the religious man and the Master of Whispers in the Queen’s quarters on a seemingly random day. 

“Mother, you wished to see us both. And I’ve brought…her. So here we are” Aemond asked with open animosity in the way he spat her. He dropped into the chair beside his mother in waiting. Cautiously, I perched on the couch across from them, folding my hands in my lap. “What do you need to discuss?”

“Tell me, son,” Alicent said, turning her eyes to her son, “do you enjoy making a fool of your family? Your house? Your name?” I was shocked at the venom in her voice, but Aemond looked more surprised in truth. “Tell me, where do you go when you leave your wife here alone for weeks on end as you have since you married?”

Aemond stiffened at her words, back straightening. He sat up straighter, looking still and unnatural as a shadow. “I have explained to you, mother, I must take Vhagar for regular rides. She does not enjoy being still for so long,” he said.

“That dragon is well over one hundred and fifty years old, son. I am not a fool. It is not some fledgling that needs to stretch its legs,” Alicent snapped. “Do not treat me as a fool, Aemond I warn you. So tell me the truth of these rumors I have been hearing. Do you have a…a lover in the Riverlands? Did you father a bastard with her?” Her fury was palpable. Evidently, the Master of Whispers had told her something she did not wish to hear. “Do you defile your wife’s reputation and honor? That of your mother? That of your family?”

Immediately, the Queen was no longer the only one angry. Aemond followed, and his anger was an incandescent rage that made the room stifling. “I told you that I did not wish for this, mother,” he said, as if things were that simple. As if it absolved him of his sins. “I told you that my heart belonged to another and I had no plans to be a part of this marriage. You and father are the ones who did not listen to me when I told you such. This is not my fault.”

“Not your fault?” the Queen asked, voice quiet with an anger that she was trying to conceal and was faring very poorly at doing. “Tell me, son, how your vile actions are not your own fault? You…you sleep with another woman who is not your wife. You have a child with a woman who is not your wife. These choices are yours entirely! So tell me how it is not your fault! Tell me how you’d explain it as appropriate to Y/N’s brother if he were to ask. Because oh, my son, he is. Cregan Stark is ready to march down from the north to take your head and I have half a mind to let him!” 

Aemond shot a furious glare at me. As though I had anything to do with this - which generally I did, but specifically I did not. “Mother,” he said, voice harsh. She stopped him though, unwilling to let him speak yet.

“You have shamed us. And moreover, you did not have the decency to try and conceal such things. Instead, you decided that ruining the reputation of your poor wife was the better of choices.” Alicent shook her head, furious, and began ripping at the skin around her nails again, blood coming easily with the tearing. “I am disgusted with your actions. With your lies. You thought nothing for the consequences of your actions, that much is very clear. I thought you better than that.” She glared at her son. “The kindest thing that you did was leaving poor Y/N’s virtue intact so she may yet still find a husband who will treat her well.”

At those words, I sat up straight, looking solely at Alicent. I did not care to see Aemond’s reaction to her declaration. I only needed to know for certain what it was that her words meant. “You…you mean?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

The Queen nodded once, lips turned down in a frown, tears in her beautiful, sad, exhausted eyes. “The Septon is going to figure out what he can do to make this happen as quietly and quickly as possible. For both of your sakes,” she said, nodding. She clenched her jaw. “The Hand will be writing a letter to your brother explaining such things so he will have no need to…to march on King’s Landing.” She sucked in a deep breath. “And the letter will beg forgiveness, and assure him that we had no clue what was happening.” My lips turned up in a bitter half-smirk that almost immediately disappeared. “It will ask what we may do to maintain our alliance as it should have been initially.”

“I see,” I said. Her words ripped a pressure off of my shoulders that I was aware of, but not cognizant of the extent of. I felt suddenly weightless. I could have laughed, giddy, if I weren’t entirely aware of how inappropriate it would be to do so. I let out a half laugh and leaned back into the cushion of my seat on the couch. “In all honesty, my Queen, I know exactly what Cregan will say to you. And I will tell you so. Bring Daeron home as I said, and warn him very carefully about how he must act and…conduct himself in his new role. And ensure that he listens to you.” I look away. “Starks are loyal. They’re honorable. But they are not fools.”

“What are you talking about?” Aemond snapped, his voice positively venomous. “What are the Septons working on?”

“Annulling the farce of the marriage that I foolishly allowed Y/N to stay in this long. Working to ensure that your stupidity does not ruin the peace and partnership that we are trying to forge with the Starks,” his mother replied.

Aemond scoffed. “You will take my wife?” he asked, mocking. “And what will the people say about that?”

“She will no longer be your wife, Aemond,” she said sharply. Alicent looked at her son with no attempt to conceal her anger. “The people will say more about you than they will about her. The Starks will be seen as benevolent and generous for not taking action to counter your transgressions against such a noble house. And the Starks will be noble and generous for considering marrying Y/N to Dareon and maintaining the alliance that we are trying to build. We, Aemond, will be the ones who are talked poorly about. We will be the ones that are negatively whispered of. We might only pray that Daeron is able to counter it by being gallant and noble.”

“You would marry Y/N to my brother? You think that Daeron marrying my wife will help in those rumors?” Aemond spat, clenching his fist in anger.

“Daeron is known to be a man of his word, kind, and daring. A well-suitable match for a Stark. Chivalrous and duty-bound. A man dedicated to family and to his responsibilities. There will be no doubt that he shall be a good match for her,” Alicent stated, slipping quickly into her persona of the Queen, firm and unyielding, even to her own children. “And I will hear no argument, least of all from you.” She glared at her son. “And do not think this changes anything. You will still not be allowed to marry your…your whore.”

I let out a shallow gasp at her words and the way Aemond immediately rose to his feet, fists clenched. His chest was heaving with his anger. This was the most emotion I had ever seen out of him. I wasn’t at all surprised to see that it was rage. He hardly seemed capable of experiencing positive emotion.

“Do not speak ill of Alys, mother. I love her and she is the mother of my son. I will allow none to speak ill of her,” he said dangerously. He turned then to me, a frantic look in his eye. “And what do you say to this, wife?” I turned my head, observing him. It was to the point that he could lay his hand on me right now and I wouldn’t care. So, risking it, I Iet myself bark out a laugh. This only served to make him look angrier. “You dare laugh?”

“I think, Aemond, that this is the smartest decision that the Queen and the Hand could’ve hoped to make on behalf of the King,” I said simply. “Perhaps a bit later than they should have, but, they can be credited for eventually coming around to see sense.” I raised an eyebrow. “I am confused by your anger, Aemond. You have made it clear since the moment that we met that you’d rather die than be married to me, much less touch me. I thought you’d be happy to be rid of me and be rid of the title of husband. Happy of me being rid of my title as your wife.” I let out a hum, lips pouting slightly. “I suppose you must be disappointed that it is your reputation that will suffer for this and not mine. A pity. Truly.”

“Y/N,” the Queen said shortly. A warning to not push him when he was this angry. A warning that I did not need. A warning that I had never heeded before and certainly would not need now.

“Bold words from a woman who could not please her husband,” Aemond said, taunting and unkind.

I openly laughed at his words, while Alicent gaped and tried to scold him. “Please,” I snorted, “when I am married to your brother, by all accounts feel free to ask him if I can please my husband. Until then, don’t be afraid to mind your own words or I may just have my brother come to take your head anyways.” I offered him a saccharine smile. “Even as a Prince you are no heir to the throne. And you have still offered my house - a house that you require the allegiance of - a great offense in your treatment of me. I dutifully endured it as long as I could. You are in the wrong by all accounts.”

He stepped forward, a menacing, cold smile on his face. Still, I did not break. I was far too cold myself to care for the depths or chill of his cruelty. I, in fact, rose to my own feet and smiled up at him, bright and cheery. His height advantage was no longer intimidating to me. He was no longer intimidating to me. It seemed that at that moment, he was finally recognizing the fact that I held no fear of him, no concern for him at all, really. And as he noticed, I saw a flicker of confusion and concern in his eye. I couldn’t help but smile brighter. I stepped to the side of him, one closer to the door.

“I assure you that I will write my own letter to my brother, Your Grace. All will be well,” I vowed. She looked visibly relieved at that assurance. I felt a sick sense of satisfaction at that power. “I thank you for your help in this. Thank you for listening.”

“What?” Aemond asked, reaching out and grabbing my arm, tightly. “What do you mean thank you for listening? Are you responsible for this, wife?”

My own bright smile grew colder as I wrenched my arm from his hand. “Do not put your hands on me,” I warned. “None will take to it kindly. And I am going to tell Ser Carron that if you do lay your hands on me that he may do whatever it may take to get your hands off of me.” Alicent’s breath caught in her throat. I did not care.

“You threaten a prince,” he said, jaw clenched. “Your husband.”

“I threaten a wastrel,” I corrected with a mocking smile. “And you should take that word out of your vocabulary. You shan’t be my husband for much longer, thanks to the mercy of the gods old and new, and the wisdom of our dear Queen.” I made to walk towards the door. Then, I turned back. “And yes I am responsible for this, Aemond. I had no desire to deal with you any longer than I already had. You should be glad to have so much more time freed up for your princely duties and your rides upon Vhagar! Take heart!” I offered another malicious smile. “And it is as your mother said. You left my virtue intact, the kindest thing you could have done. I do so appreciate it. And I am sure that your brother shall as well when the time comes. No one likes a person with…loose morals, do they?” I walked to the door then, leaving the pair in stunned silence. I turned back a final time. “Thank you, Your Grace. Truly. I will deliver a missive to you today. For a raven to send to my brother. This I promise you.”

“And I…I will send word for Daeron to return from Oldtown,” she said, slumping back in her seat, looking exhausted and a little bit defeated. Again, I got a sick little sense of delight from it - from the power. She looked directly at me then. “And, Y/N, thank you…for your generosity and understanding in sorting this. Yours and that of House Stark.”

“Of course, my Queen,” I said, bowing my head dutifully before pulling the door open and leaving. The shouting behind the door started almost immediately. Louder than the Queen even shouted at Aegon. I bit my cheek to keep from smiling. Ser Cole’s face was impassive. Rydan looked curious. I smiled shortly at him, innocent and fleeting, unseen by another, and pat his arm. “Come now, Ser Carron. I have a letter I must write presently. We should make haste. It will need to go out today.”

The words were innocent enough. But Rydan clearly knew what they meant. He chuckled as he stepped of the wall, gesturing forward with a hand. “Lead the way, my Lady,” he said with a wolf-like grin.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞

"we have never heard the devil's side of the story, seeing as god wrote the book"

warnings: explicit language, drinking, motorsport accidents, mentions of sex, mentions of death, mature themes

graphic by @schuvries 🫶🏻

chapter zero

edits

playlist

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

chapter seven

chapter eight

chapter nine

chapter ten

chapter eleven

chapter twelve

chapter thirteen

chapter fourteen

chapter fifteen

chapter sixteen

chapter seventeen

chapter eighteen

I'm not an Addison Rae fan but Diet Pepsi lives rent free in my head😫🤌🏻✨✨✨✨✨

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…