#all of this is said in jest ofc

[ask-hws-estonia]

If we're bringing up Kalev chocolate, what about Finland's Fazer? Do you see it as a rival?

LOL absolutely not. I love Finland, I love their sweets but it's nowhere near close to as good.

[sammys-carhartt-jacket]

IVE GOT BEEF WITH THIS 9-1-1 SHOW

all my favorite authors have abandoned their fics in my fandoms in favor of this show?? Unbelievable. Turning their backs on the og supporters. MY FIC HAS NOT BEEN UPDATED SINCE MARCH!

[arolesbianism]

Eternal gales spoiled me rotten by giving me a story where I can kill the vast majority of the cast as much as I want without them actually dying now that I'm plotting out a story where death actually does matter I have to stop myself from being trigger happy but also I <3 misery and suffering so much

[trashytracktales]

teammate!lando x reader where they had a bet and she loses…so he makes her crawl to her, hump the pillow, rub her bare clit against his clothed crotch ALL WHILE HE RECORDS HER (with consent ofc)

Lights, Camera, Action! | LN⁴

🔹️ summary ──── It was supposed to be a joke, then it became everything.

🔹️ pairing ──── Lando Norris x fem teammate!reader

🔹️ rating ──── explicit

🔹️ warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, smut, nerdy!Lando, soft!dom Lando, recording (consensual), cushion humping, manhandling, orgasm from external stimulation, swearing, unprotected sex, mutual masturbation, overstimulation, playful teasing, camera kink??

🔹️ word count ──── 6.3k

🔹️ date ──── May 6, 2025

🔹️ a/n ──── How tf do I set my intention to go for PURE SMUT NO PLOT, yet still manage to write over 6k 😀 I don’t even know what’s this, nothing makes sense and we are living on a floating rock.

Hear me out, I usually only link the song, but then I remembered about this music video and I almost had an aneurysm because of how well it fits. I recommend watching it after reading though. Anyway, ENJOY!!

THE LAST RACE before the break fucked them both. Pretty hard. What was supposed to end with another 1-2 finish for the team turned into a disaster of strategy, pace, and pure bad luck.

Since getting back to Monaco, the fallout hasn’t left them alone. It’s pretty hard when everyone is talking about it; it can get lonely, too. Luckily for them, they’ve been texting back and forth for days, laced with sarcasm, blame, and just enough flirtation to keep the tension at its peak. However, neither of them said what they really wanted to say. But it was always there, between the lines as usual, and in the way her name popped up on his screen, making his stomach flip.

Every single time.

The bar is loud enough to blur that tension and even Lando, with his no-alcohol rule, is loose and laughing. They dance and talk about anything but racing, and for a while it feels like neither of them are carrying the weight of disappointment.

Friends come and go through their circle, a few fans spot them and ask for pictures — which they take, grinning too wide and standing too close for their own good. Somewhere between the fourth round of mocktails, a familiar song starts pulsing through the speakers, and that’s when she brings up the bet, half-laughing, stepping in front of him like she did back in the garage when she dared him.

“If I finish behind you, I owe you a private dance,” she said, confidence dripping from every word. She’d qualified ahead of Lando, and was so confident she can finish ahead of him, too. But since every race is unpredictable and full of unknowns, she ended up taking the checkered flag after him.

It was a joke, anyway. But she can’t say with all her heart that she hasn’t thought about it at least a few couple of times. Besides, it’s Lando who’s been constantly reminding her throughout the past few days and, even if it was in jest, the curiosity made her spend hours staring at the ceiling of her room, imagining different scenarios.

Now, it’s late when the door to his apartment clicks shut behind them with a clean, satisfying noise. Lando tosses his keys into the ceramic bowl on the console with more force than necessary, and while the keys clatter, one nearly skids off the edge, forcing him to reach for it instinctively. She doesn’t say anything, although she can’t help but finding amusing that the inanimate objects always decide to act up only when her teammate’s patience seems so fragile.

The sudden movement makes Lando whine in exasperation as she watches him kick off his shoes and drag a hand through his curls.

The place is quiet, as if reflecting their inner agitation, silently burning within. He’s not bothering turning on more than a lamp, but it’s enough to bathe the whole living room in a pale silver glow, making everything seem even more intimate than it should be.

As they step further into the apartment, the same silence hits them both, because it’s not just the sudden absence of noise, but the weight of it. They’ve never been this quiet around each other before. Usually, they’re the chaos in the garage, either laughing too loud or teasing mid-debriefs, always bringing the kind of energy that makes their engineers roll their eyes but secretly love it. Now though, it’s the first time neither of them knows what to say. Or how to act.

“Cute place,” she says, partly to break the silence, but mostly because it really is. Spacious, stylish, not super tidy, but very Lando in that sense.

“You know you don’t have to make small talk, right?” he laughs. “It was a stupid bet to begin with, since I was always going to finish ahead of you anyway.”

Her jaw drops slightly at the cockiness in his tone. This is the Lando she knows and, in other circumstances, she would find his confidence hot, but right now it only makes her want to knock that look off his face. Or sit on it just to shut him up. Either works.

“Always eager to finish first? Got it,” the playful jab lands right where she intended without too much effort; it’s a split-second flicker in his expression, the twitch of his jaw, and the way his arms tense.

That’s the spot, she thinks. That’s where it bruises his ego, not because it’s crude, but because it’s enough to sting. Which only makes her want to push harder.

Lando’s grin flattens a bit. “Well, someone’s gotta lead the way,” he replies casually, even though he caught her double meaning phrase.

“Right. Leading the way because you can’t pace yourself,” she fires back.

He chuckles. “Sounds like an excuse from someone who couldn’t keep up.”

They’re toe-to-toe now, all bite and smirk and so much tension. She’s half a second from throwing a cushion at him just to knock that pretty smile off when she glances past his shoulder and, without another word, she steps forward, fingers brushing lightly against Lando’s arm as she urges him to move out of her way, wandering farther into his apartment like she owns the place.

“Interesting,” she mumbles. “I saw you with the camera before,” the girl continues as Lando turns to follow her silhouette. “How about you film me while I dance? Give you some new material for land0.mov?”

Lando’s expression twitches barely, but she’s still able to notice it. That small flash of disbelief, quickly masked by a half-laugh, like he’s not sure if she’s joking or just testing him.

“No way, mate,” says Lando, but it’s already too late.

She nods slowly, letting the weight of her intention settle in the air they share. His boyish smirk fades into curiosity in an instant. It’s like watching him put a helmet on: composed, dialed in, serious in a way most people rarely get to see.

To give him more space to process, she veers toward the low shelf by his TV, crouching slightly. “Let’s see. Which one’s your favorite?” she asks nonchalantly, running her fingers along the row of cameras lined up like little trophies; old film bodies, modern DSLRs, and a few point-and-shoots with scratched lenses.

Lando stares at her like she suddenly grew two more heads in the meantime. “You play too much, you know that?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Which one?” she repeats.

He blinks, opening his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out at first. After he rubs the bridge of his nose, Lando exhales slowly. “The, uh… the Leica. Second from the left. Black one,” he instructs. “I rarely use it, which makes it special, I guess.”

She lifts it delicately, turning it over in her hands. It’s heavier than she expected, sleek and cool against her skin. “Nice,” she grins. “Bet it makes everything look expensive.”

Lando hums in agreement, “Only shoots what’s directly in front of it. Look,” he says, getting so close to her that he’s now towering over her frame, while pointing at the camera. “Fixed lens, see? No lazy zooming, but the resolution is insane. The tricky part is that you have to move it yourself to get the shot you want,” he continues.

She looks up at him, noticing a slight shy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. And, just when she thought Lando couldn’t get any nerdier, she hears his voice again.

“It’s a twenty-eight millimeter lens. That’s not crazy wide,” he informs her. “If you stay in the middle, the background’s gonna fall off all soft and blurry. Makes it feel…” he trails off, clearing his throat. “Personal. It’s not even about perfect framing or whatever,” he rushes to add. “It just catches whatever’s there, no hiding.”

“Did you use it before?” she asks, curiosity pulling the words out of her mouth without having the time to think them through.

“I did,” he replies with a grin, giving her enough time to come up with her own scenarios before adding, “On my cars.”

She smiles, her eyes sparkling in the dim light of the room. “So. If I move, you have to follow, hm?”

Lando nods.

She sets the camera down gently, then leans against the wall beside the shelf with her arms crossed. She’s aware that what she’s suggesting it’s pure insanity, especially after what’s been happening between them lately.

“Okay,” she finally says, holding her hand toward him, palm open. “Can I see your phone for a sec?”

Lando frowns, trying to hide a curious smile. “Why?” he asks, sliding the phone from his pocket and unlocks it, handing it over with suspicion in his voice.

She only flashes him a smile back, thumbing through his apps until she finds the little Spotify icon. A few seconds later, the speakers come alive with a sultry bassline that wraps the room in a charged ambiance.

The teasing in her voice is easy to catch next time she asks, “You seriously have a sex playlist called sex playlist? Men are so predictable.”

He chuckles, “Yeah? What’s yours called?”

“I’ll send you the link,” she winks at him jokingly, but that still has an unexpected effect on Lando. Maybe because he’s starting to understand that his teammate is hardly ever joking, actually.

For a second that feels like a week, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches her, every muscle in his body taut like he’s holding himself back from something that’s about to come out anyway. It has to. Because everything has a limit, and theirs was crossed from the moment she entered his apartment.

With a quiet exhale, she presses herself lightly against the wall, then pushes off and crosses the living room in steady, cat-like steps, taking his hand in hers, fingers threading through his. Her touch is warm and somehow reassuring, her palm so small and silky against his. She guides Lando toward the couch with intent as if this isn’t his own home, nudging him gently until he sits.

She breaks away then, walks back across the room, and returns with the Leica in hand. “Turn it on,” she says simply, with enough clarity behind her words.

Lando stares at her, dumbfounded for a beat, before the corner of his mouth twitches upward in disbelief. “You’re insane.”

“I trust you to capture the best in me,” she admits.

He lets out a heavy breath, something between a laugh and a groan, and flips the switch at her insistence. The familiar click of the camera waking up is giving Lando chills, but when he glances up again, his hands still adjusting the ISO, she’s already pulling the shirt over her head, revealing a black bra and her toned shoulders dusted in the dim light.

She tilts her head. “Just make sure I look good, Lando.”

With that, she starts moving as slow as possible, every inch of revealed skin feeling like it’s offered, not given.

Lando’s hands are steady on the camera, but for some reason, breathing doesn’t feel automatic anymore, and he’s currently aware of every shaky breath he takes. His fingers work on instinct, dialing the aperture wider, letting in the glow of the cool lighting. His pulse is racing, heavy in his throat, because he can see everything through the lens, but is still not ready to look at her in the flesh.

For her, it’s easy to notice how focused he is, so she glances straight into the camera on purpose, with a spark of mischief in her gaze, like she knows exactly what she’s doing. To him. As a result, Lando’s knee starts bouncing, restless, his breathing too shallow to be subtle. He can’t remember the last time he felt so tightly wound, but it doesn’t even matter because what happens now will stay with him for a long time, and this is all he needs to remember from now on.

And then, it gets worse.

He stares at her while she’s arching slightly as she undoes her bra clasp, letting it slide off her shoulders and onto the floor without breaking eye contact with the camera. At that, Lando looks away out of instinct — out of that last shred of decency clawing at him. But the camera stays trained on her, and when he lifts his gaze again, it’s like a dam breaks inside him. Violently. The hunger that flashes across his face is instant, and impossible to hide. He doesn’t even try, because what fool could ever take his eyes off her?

Lando adjusts himself without thinking, moving in sync with her teasing gestures as she peels her panties down her legs from under her skirt. He tells himself to stay focused and capture the sensuality of her body with the last fragment of professionalism that he possesses. But that’s a losing game when his own body is burning with need, and every subtle curve and line of her turns into a map that he’s desperate to explore as soon as possible.

His focus lingers on the swell of her breasts, her nipples tightening in the open air. It forces him to swallow hard, a deep ache growing both inside him and his pants, knowing how badly he wants to lean forward and suck them into his mouth, to feel the heat of her skin against his tongue.

The camera dips lower as she dances to the hypnotic rhythm of his music, and Lando keeps working with her, baring the elegant slope of her waist and the strong lines of her thighs. The way she stands there, so natural and confident, feels like a direct hit to his chest that he welcomes without hesitation or any intention of dodging. She’s pure femininity, and that throws him into a black hole made only of her, where the gravity is so strong that there’s no escape.

He’s so focused on her that he almost stops breathing in order to make sure he gets the perfect shot, every shot. That makes Lando’s hand tighten around the camera, his knuckles whitening from the pressure. But his body has a mind on its own, apparently, and his thighs flex like he’s one wrong move away from standing. From closing the distance between them. Against his will, though, he sits there, shivering with the effort to stay still.

“Come on, Norris,” she says, and her voice wakes him up from the trance her shapes put him in. “I’ve seen you take tighter corners at Spa with less hesitation.”

Even though he tries to, he can’t stop the throaty laugh that comes out of him. Only for a moment, Lando lowers the camera again, and lets himself, finally, finally, see her. And this time, he doesn’t look away. He watches her shamelessly, while reaching behind him to take a cushion that he ends up tossing onto the floor near his feet, nodding toward it.

“Go on, then. Show me how desperate you are.”

There is something about the way he says it that sends a thrill straight through her. She heard that Lando is direct when it comes to his wants and needs, but to feel it on her skin hits different. Her pulse suddenly stutters with excitement as she lowers herself in front of him, straddling the cushion, her body already anticipating the liberating feeling.

The moment her hips roll forward and her mouth falls open in surprise at the faint pleasure, Lando is right there, capturing every gasp, every twitch, and every sweet reaction like it’s the only thing that matters. His mind runs wild with all the places he aches to touch — his hand curled around her throat, palms squeezing her breasts, fingers digging into her hips to hold her still while he teases her until she begs.

The temptation claws at him, full throttle. But he forces himself to handle the camera like a pro, because more than anything, he wants her to see what he sees: how devastatingly beautiful she is like this, undone and bold. Through his own lens, she’s a vision, and giving her that full picture keeps him going.

From her perspective, noticing Lando’s determination sends a fresh wave of heat throughout her body, making her rock her hips a little harder, and that puts a tension in his shoulders. A type of need he didn’t feel before.

To stop herself from making more embarrassing sounds, she meets his gaze over the camera, mouth slightly open. “Is this good?” she asks, voice breathy and half-mocking, although there’s something real underneath. A dare. A plea.

Lando looks at her again, revealing a flushed face and his blown wide pupils. “Yeah, don’t stop,” he replies hoarsely.

Her thighs squeeze around the cushion from the moment she hears the first note in voice, the soft fabric teasing against her clit with every slow roll of her hips, pulling breathy sounds from her. Behind the camera, Lando tails closely as she grinds back and forth, his jaw clenching at the small sounds slipping past her lips.

“Shit, that’s hot. Are you always this needy?” he asks out of pure curiosity, but the question is mostly rhetorical; of course she is. Judging by the way her chest heaves and how she leans forward slightly to catch as much friction as possible, the answer is obvious.

She wants to push back against the power shift, but she’s too lost in the rhythmic movement of her body. And it’s not as if Lando’s wrong. Every gentle brush gets increasingly out of control, each desperate grind into the cushion sending small waves of pleasure straight to her nerves, making her fingers curl into the couch for balance. For the control she’s rapidly losing.

Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, mouth constantly parting as the pleasure spirals inside her like a coil wound too tight.

Lando’s fingers flex over the shutter release, but he’s barely present anymore. He’s completely absorbed by what is happening on the other side of his lens, and it’s her moan that pulls him out of it, just as the pressure builds. So he reaches out, his hand entering the frame like an unexpected guest. With ease, his fingers grab the edge of the cushion beneath her, and she pauses, blinking up at him, flushed and dazed, breathing heavily like she just stepped out of the car after a last-lap push. With one strong pull, he slides it out from under her, making her gasp in surprise, her body jolting at the sudden loss.

“Lando,” she exhales irritated.

She gets her hands onto his knees to steady herself, thighs still wobbly, but he’s not looking at her anymore. He’s too busy staring at the soaked fabric instead, darkened with heat and want and everything she didn’t say out loud.

“That good?” he asks, but the arrogance in his voice diminished, giving way to his sincere curiosity.

She shakes her head, looking up at him again. “Not faking it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

The fact that she is as sincere in her statement, encourages Lando to take things to the next level, just to see how much he can push before it’s too much. He throws the cushion aside with a thud, his eyes lit up with need.

“Come here,” he orders in a gentle tone, patting his lap.

She’s stunned at his words initially, and the way they leave no room for teasing. But then she catches the way his tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip, leaving it wet and shining, and something inside her pushes her to get up. She realizes that there’s nothing she wouldn’t do if he asked.

With calculated steps, she climbs him patiently, her thighs spreading over him. They’ve been in each other’s personal space in the past, when they had to do silly challenges for McLaren to entertain the fans. Still, even though there’s a camera between them just like before, the air feels different, charged with desire, unknown, and heavy lust. Because this time, it’s just them.

When her body sinks onto his, the scabrous fabric of his jeans meets the soaked warmth between her legs, the weight making Lando groan silently, his little sound hitting her low in her stomach. His reaction encourages her to continue, shifting on top of him in order to find the best position, enough to grind against his bulge. It’s thick and hard beneath her, and the simple contact is already maddening. Yet not nearly enough, and the realization that he’s just as affected by this makes the coil in her stomach tighten further.

“Keep going,” he speaks again as he lifts her skirt up to her waist, going back to the camera and angling it to capture the way she moves against him, right where her skin meets the fabric of his pants.

Her palm comes around his bicep for suport, letting the instincts guide her further. The pressure she chased a moment ago is still there, but it’s different this time around. More intense.

Lando grunts, his free hand gripping her hip to show her the pattern to follow. She whimpers while that sweet ache comes back, her body trembling with need. In no time, she can move on her own, and because she’s such a fast learner, Lando points the camera closer, eager to capture the wetness soaking through.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he says. “You’re making such a mess,” he exhales, bringing his hand between her legs to feel it before he could even process his own action. His thumb finds her clit, rubbing it gently, keeping his eyes on her face the whole time, craving to catch every reaction.

She moans, one hand squeezing his arm harder as her body rocks forward, chasing the release that she hopes it’s not that far into the future, especially if his hips continue to twitch beneath her the way they do, so impatient and reliant on her.

Unfortunately, the time almost stops the moment their faces get close enough to kiss. She can feel the heat of his breath and the pull between them, and she’s sure he can feel it too. Her eyes flick to his mouth, and Lando’s eyes stay on her, but no one dares to close the small gap. Because somehow, that would be more intimate than all of this. Kissing would mean acknowledging what’s been burning between them for a while now. It would mean admitting this is real, and admitting will complicate everything in both their personal and professional lives.

And neither of them are ready to take that chance yet.

With that in mind, she doesn’t lean in. She just closes her eyes and grinds harder, her hips rolling against his hand and the hard line of his cock beneath her. The sensation amplifies fast, and Lando never stops working her with his thumb. Soon enough, her breath comes out in spasms and her thighs start to shake. Her pace intensifies, chasing the high that’s been teasing at the edges of her patience, feeling the mess she’s made slick against Lando’s pants with every desperate press on it. Still, his hand stays steady, rubbing perfectly against her clit, matching the rhythm of her hips like he knows exactly all the ways she wants — and craves — to be touched.

With Lando’s help, it doesn’t take long until her body finally seizes, hips jerking forward uncontrollably as pleasure crashes over her. He moves with her, a silent apology for stopping her earlier written into every precise touch, making sure this time she falls apart completely. Because of him.

Luckily, the camera captures everything: his hand on her, the wet spot she’s left on his pants, the way her skin flushes and seems to crave more with each passing second, and the way her thighs shake when the aftershocks hit. It catches the way she starts trembling, too, body overwhelmed, aching for something deeper, something only he can give her right now.

Only he gives her time to ride it out instead, feeling all the ways her walls flutter, hungry and empty, and the sound that tears from his throat is nothing but a helpless moan. The sensation alone, even without him inside her, is enough to make his head spin. It wrecks him completely, makes him ache with the violent need to know how it would feel to be buried deep inside her, to have her tight, needy pussy squeezing around him while she comes undone all over again. Because of him.

The girl barely registers the camera being placed in her hands until Lando nudges her chin. “Here. See for yourself.”

Except, she doesn’t want it. Not yet. By her own choice, she takes it gently from his hand, presses RECORD again and turns it around, placing it on the padded arm of the couch. Facing them. Remembering Lando’s voice earlier, casual and offhand when he said that the camera only captures what’s in front of it.

Her fingers move impatiently, drifting to the hem of his shirt, bunching it in her hands. “Since you let me finish first,” she rushes to explain.

With that, she pulls the shirt up, and he lifts his arms to help her, muscles tightening under skin slick with the faintest sheen of sweat. Once it’s off, she tosses it to the side, her eyes drinking him in. Lando is warm under her palms, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, and she senses the same tension in him that’s barely holding him together.

She studies his face while her hand drifts lower, trailing down the center of his stomach, pausing at the waistband of his jeans. Carefully, she slips her hand inside, where she finds him hot and so painfully hard that it makes her mouth water. Without any instructions, her fingers curl around his soft skin, and the sight alone makes his stomach flip. She starts to stroke him teasing, but before she can go quicker, Lando grabs her wrist, groaning low in his throat.

“Just a sec,” he pants, voice cracking slightly. His hands are already moving, guiding her hips back over his lap with a need that borders on desperation.

This time, there’s no fabric between them, and her soaked heat presses directly against his length, making them both shuddering at the contact; skin on skin and no more barriers, just the unfiltered reality of what they both want. His hands find home on her hips, big and heavy, his control hanging by a thread.

Agonizingly slow, her clit slides along his hardness, slick and warm, sending sharp jolts of pleasure from one body to another. He can barely contain himself at the way she finds it so easy to rock against him, faster when she feels how thirsty Lando gets in a matter of seconds. He’s leaking already, the head of his cock glistening, smearing against her folds as she moves.

Completely flushed and utterly drunk with pleasure, he shifts beneath her, his arms wrapping tight around her waist, pulling her closer, even though there’s no physical space left between them. But it’s useless. No matter how close they are, there is only one way that would truly satisfy his urge.

“Please,” he whispers next to the shell of her ear, desperate and breathless. “Can I slide in?”

She’s a lost cause by now, and her reply is reduced to a broken hum, while she sits up just enough to guide the thick head of his cock to her entrance. Lando’s patience snaps at her quick response, and he thrusts his hips up in one motion, his hands holding her hips and pulling her down onto him at the same time. The stretch is overwhelming and takes her by surprise, knocking the wind out of her and making her vision blur at the edges as she tries to take all of him.

They moan together, helpless, her hands landing on his chest as she laughs shakily. “You trying to break me in half or?”

“Didn’t think you’d be so tight,” he groans in a strained voice.

Lando tries his best to take it slow, but the way she welcomes him, so warm and perfect, nearly undoes him the moment he’s all in. A shudder runs down his spine as he grips her hips with more force, thinking maybe if he doesn’t hold her right, the world will actually end.

And it may, based on how her hands are sliding up, clawing at his shoulders with her nails digging in to anchor herself. Her breath shudders out in short bursts as she does, her body struggling to adjust, to take everything he has to offer. All of him.

To test the waters, she starts circling her hips, hoping she’ll find the angle that makes her breath hitch, and when she does, it’s like lightning strikes between them. He’s impossibly deep, touching places inside her she didn’t even know could feel this good. Her pussy hugs him so tightly that Lando has to grit his teeth to shut himself up. Then she tilts her hips forward just slightly with every grind, rocking her clit perfectly against his pelvis while he’s buried inside her.

The effect she was looking for is instant, and she hears Lando choking on another moan, finally, “Fuck, yeah. Right there,” his fingers dig into her skin, hunger battling in his wide eyes. “Do that again, it feels so fucking good.”

“Shit, Lando,” she breaths out. “So deep, I can feel you everywhere.”

She pulls him in again and again, until he is practically whining beneath her. Seeing Lando so lost inside her makes her losing the rhythm, her breathing turning ragged, thighs ready to give up as exhaustion and pleasure blur into one. It’s messy and greedy on both sides, and when she finally collapses against his chest, she sobs out a cry, her voice cracking with it.

“Need you,” she exhales. “I can’t hold it anymore.”

Lando doesn’t waste a breath. One sharp, hungry movement and he’s planting his feet against the floor for leverage, thrusting up into her with everything he’s got. She gasps at the same time he groans deep in his chest, the sound vibrating between them as he finally takes her the way they’ve both needed.

Her mouth goes dry.

His jaw tightens.

Their breath grows heavier, shared in the tight, sweaty space. Her body tenses, then squeezes around him with such perfect pressure it leaves him breathless. A high-pitched moan spills from her, unexpected and honest, and she slaps a hand over her mouth, biting at it in order to shut herself up.

Gently, Lando catches her wrist, holding it firm. “If you’re gonna bite something,” he tilts his head, offering his shoulder, “Be a good girl and bite me instead.”

Her breathing is too fast and her mind runs at the speed of an F1 car. She can’t think straight and, for a moment, she just stays there, her forehead brushing the curve of his shoulder as she tries to catch herself from falling in too deep. Then slowly, like she’s giving in to something bigger than her, she places a kiss on his skin. Her lips press gently on it, trailing along the line of his neck to the dip of his collarbone. It’s the closest thing she’ll ever give him. The closest thing to letting herself feel for him.

He’s still warm, salty with sweat, and soft under her lips. And he smells so good, like skin and heat and something clean that clings to her nose and settles in her chest like smoke.

It drugs her.

The way his scent mixes with the feel of his breath against her temple, the way his pulse flutters beneath her lips — she has to stop. It’s too much, too close, too real.

“Think we should bet every race weekend, what do you say?” asks Lando, his pace quickening, hands guiding her up and down his cock like it’s the only thing that keeps him sane. “Would die to have you like this all the time, hm?”

“Mhm,” she grinds down until his name is all she can say. “Fuck. I’m so close.”

“Yeah, baby. I feel you.”

Her voice breaks off into a moan right when she’s about to speak again, to tell him not to go there and call her that. But Lando rolls his hips, pushing deeper, filling her inch by inch until there’s no space left, which shuts her up in an instant. They fuck in a rhythm that shouldn’t work, all sweat-slicked skin and shaky breaths. The air fills up with obscene sounds of them, their bodies colliding with enough force to make her whimper and moan his name all over again, each time he thrusts.

To help himself, he spreads her wider, holding her open for him, watching the way he disappears inside her, utterly wrecked by the sight. “Taking me so fucking well,” he says between thrusts, dragging his mouth over her jaw. “Look.”

She whines while looking down at where they’re joined. Lando moves his gaze on her expression with a grin on his face, so proud when he feels every spasm in her body; it’s a total mess. Her slick is all over him, coating his cock, his thighs, soaking through the waistband of his jeans that are still shoved only halfway down his hips. Each time they meet, there’s a wet sound echoing between them, sticky and warm, ricocheting against the walls in Lando’s living room like a drumbeat pulling them closer to the edge.

“You like how wrecked you’ve got me?”

She nods frantically, squeezing him so tight it makes Lando see stars. At that, he reaches up, brushing the strands of hair from her face, tucking them behind her ears with his long fingers. His hand stays there a moment, continuing to slide lower, fingertips skimming her jaw, then wrapping gently around her throat, enough to feel her pulse. To hold her in place.

In a matter of seconds, their eyes lock again. Her chest heaves and her eyes shine, but not just from pleasure. It’s because she wants to tell him that this isn’t what she expected. It’s much, much more, and it will leave a deep mark, no matter which path they’ll choose to take tomorrow morning.

His hands move hungrily, down from her neck to her chest, cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. He holds them carefully, wanting to memorize the shape, the weight, and the way they fill his palms, to make sure he won’t forget a single detail about her body.

“Lan,” she warns.

Lando hums, “Mhm. Right there with you, beautiful,” he assures her.

Her breathing is jagged, the rhythm of their hips desperate, chasing the edge that’s been teasing them since the moment she sank down onto him. Every motion drives him deeper, sends wave after wave crashing through her, because she’s right there for quite a while now.

“Hi there,” Lando’s voice brings her back. His hand comes up to cradle the back of her head, gently pulling her to see her face. “Look at me, I want to see you. Let me see you.”

Her body tenses, and just for a split second the frantic rhythm stutters, then finds its pace again as the orgasm rips through her with a blinding force. She keeps her eyes on his the whole time, riding it out with her hands burried in the curls at the back of his head. His hips jerk beneath her as he throbs inside her, overwhelmed by the way she fights to keep him in. It drives him crazy, and he moans loudly, trying to pull out, but her thighs close tighter around him.

“Inside,” she rushes to say, unable to form sentences longer than one word.

Lando’s jaw clenches so hard he feels like his teeth might snap from the force, every muscle in his body pulled tight and shivering. He holds on by a thread for half a second longer, but then her body flutters around him again, and with a loud, guttural gasp, he lets go, spilling inside her in thick pulses that only make her hold him tighter. His hands shake where they clutch at her hips, trying to pull her down even harder, like he can’t bear even a sliver of distance between them right in this moment.

None of them knows how much time passes like that, but neither of them moves again. She’s stays slumped against his chest, her face buried in the crook of his neck, while his arms stay locked around her waist, as if letting go might break whatever just happened between them.

Lando presses his cheek on the top of her head, his heart hammering so hard he’s sure she can feel it. But it’s fine, because he can feel hers, too.

His hands drift up and down her back in aimless strokes and, while she starts to come back to herself, she notices the music still playing softly around them, the same sultry beat from earlier floating through the air.

Her brows pinch together in confusion before realization hits. “How the fuck did you time your playlist so perfectly?”

Lando lets out a breathless laugh, “Talent.”

She snorts, dropping her head back onto his shoulder with a groan. “Goodness gracious, it is so hard tolerate you.”

“Liar,” he says, “You wanna kiss me so bad.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes, but the way her cheeks heat up gives her away immediately. Lando laughs under his breath again, cocky and so annoyingly right. She opens her mouth to fire back, to tell him that no, she definitely doesn’t want to kiss his smug ass, but then her eyes catch the little red light blinking from across the couch.

The camera. Still recording.

She nudges him softly, grinning against the flush in her cheeks, and points at it. “Smile and wave, Norris,” she whispers, and Lando immediately flashes the most ridiculous smirk at the lens, making her laugh for real this time.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[moominsuki]

✎ᝰ NAGUMO YOICHI ; — 18:04. heartbreaks are best served raw. cold. wet.

࿄ ! warnings - bruh none except juicy angst. exes to ?friends /. note i have been having nagumo brain rot and it’s taking over my life. pls help. pls enjoy. ofc there will be more. no proofreads ok byeee

“you still owe me, by the way.”

sighing, you throw your keys into the straw woven coaster on top of your shoe rack. of course he was strewn all over your couch, bare feet on your cushions, head resting on the arm rest, tv flashing in jest.

you roll your eyes. “sometimes, i have half a mind to tell my elderly neighbour that no, they’re not just seeing things when they keep telling me a big, lanky idiot keeps breaking into my home after i leave.”

nagumo gasps, hand grasping his chest through his loose shirt. “idiot? words hurt, y’know.”

you kick off your shoes, jacket and blazer - in that exact order - before wandering off into the kitchen, ignoring the dramatic cries emanating from your living room.

it’s not uncommon for nagumo to just show up in your house, uninvited, eating all your food and making a mess of all your things. you remember the first time it happened, almost a year ago. he had stumbled into your bedroom window, all bloodied and bruised and your reaction time was terrible to say the least, because while you were mindlessly scrolling through your phone, his figure stepped into your peripheral and you threw the phone square at his already bruised jaw.

in apology, you had tidied him up and made him dinner… though now you wish you hadn’t shown him mercy back then, because he just kept. showing. up. you suppose he’s not just to blame. you’re ignoring the fact that you both hadn’t seen each other in over 7 years (after your messy exit of the JAA and an even more messy breakup) and now that he’s back in your life (back used in negative fashion) you just can’t seem to get rid of the him.

nor do you have the heart to tell him to get lost.

nagumo ceases his whining, yelling after you. “by the way, what’s for dinner? i saw some chicken in your fridge so…”

your eye twitches. “…so what?”

“so…i was thinking you might want to use that… to make dinner.”

you make a loud noise in disbelief, practically throwing the fridge door off of its hinges, “i’m not making you dinner?! gramps next door said he saw you come in 4 hours ago! and you didn’t think to come in and make dinner?!”

it’s quiet for a moment, but you hear the rustling of clothes and the movement of feet, so you turn to lean against the kitchen counter expectantly. the dark haired man peers his head round the corner, sheepish.

“y/n? are you mad at me?”

“no. i just think you’re stupid. oh, and i pretty sure you live to bother me.”

dark puppy eyes bore into yours as he steps into the vicinity. “the first part’s not true in the slightest but the second is pretty much on the nose. though, i’m not bothering you. you like that i’m here.”

“what’s this now?”

nagumo steps closer into your personal space, tattooed arms on either side of you as you look up and away from him.

“47 times. that’s how many times i’ve shown up here. in typical y/n fashion, you’ll complain and act like you’re annoyed, but i don’t think you’ve ever told me to go away.” nagumo ponders for a moment, finger on his chin. “now that i think about it, you haven’t. not once.”

you’re speechless. you’re not sure what to say and when you open your mouth, nothing wants to come out. truthfully, the man has read you like an open book, flicking through the pages languidly, hands bruising the spine. he’s smiling like it’s the truest thing he’s ever said - the only thing he’s been right about when it comes to how you feel.

pride is a very funny thing. if things were different, you’d grab his face and kiss him till he would shut up - well, that’s what you used to do… before, you know… you know. but this is humiliating, at least to you. even after all this time… you’ve let it get too far.

you huff, pushing his arm from beside you and you stand by a miscellaneous cupboard, turned away from nagumo, arms wrapped around yourself. “well, for starters, you’re wrong. forgive me for trying to be a good friend and helping someone out.”

“someone? that’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” the playful lilt stays lingering in his tone and it makes your heart simmer.

“… i think you should go, nagumo.”

silence sits between the two of you. nagumo looks at the back of your head. he sighs.

“if that’s what you want. see you around, y/n.”

he exits, quiet as never. he’s never quiet or silent when he lumbers around your home, sweeping and lingering. he’s probably already left your home in similar fashion. the fact makes you grab your own face and groan.

you don’t think you can be normal about him. maybe it’s for the best.

࿄ ! — all rights reserved © MOOMINSUKI 2024. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited.

[melodic-haze]

you’re cooking so hard w those fics,,, may I request some sub clorinde?

one of the scenarios in the fic can be where she wears a vibrator on her shift 🙏 (semi-public ofc)

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Clorinde x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: semi-public 🫶, use of toys (the vibe's silly and magical bc this is a magical world and I can do what I want), consensual sexual corruption

☆ — NOTES: Why is this so long anyway DUDE THANK YOU 🙏🙏🙏🙏 I try my best to hashtag serve the cuntry. I somehow brought Navia into it as well I hope you don't mind 😭😭😭 NOT in the pair though, just like a chunk of the post ig

Ohhh my god Clorinde looks SOOOO fun to toy with 🫶🫶🫶 your MIND anon

She takes her job so seriously but when she's off the clock she's so silly she's so unserious like just LOOK at her with Navia???? I love her

I think you two joke around when it's just the two of you in the comfort of your own home when the whole matter pops up. Maybe she's like prepping dinner for the two of you (if you can cook as well you probably have a rotation) as it happens

It was therapeutic, watching Clorinde practically glide around the kitchen in such an organised manner. She often said that her skills as the Champion Duelist and her skills as a home chef were synonymous together in multiple ways, though despite her meaning it as a jest her proficiency with both activities was undoubtedly unmatched. She said you were a bit biased too, but you paid no heed.

"..You look so much more relaxed here, compared to when you're out for work," you muse as you observed her.

To which she looks up at you momentarily before looking back down at the vegetables she was chopping up, her speed and efficiency not slipping up in any way despite the light distraction, "A guard cannot necessarily be seen as.. well, whimsical in order to be taken seriously."

"Yeah, but you're THE Champion Duelist. Surely that allows you some form of leeway towards having to act all serious every time."

"I'm afraid not, mon ange." She shakes her head with a small smile, "What brought this up all of a sudden?"

You shrugged, "I dunno. I guess whenever I see you around, I always see you so.. focused and stoic."

"You mean to say I'm boring when we are outside?"

"You aren't? But you could do with some loosening up."

She looks up again with an amused eyebrow raise, "Between the two of us, my body is much more limber compared to yours."

"You ass!" You scoffed, crossing your arms in mock annoyance, "Go back to cutting carrots instead of taking potshots at me."

"Taking shots is my specialty, though? And I was already done with the task."

"Clorinde!"

The electro wielder chuckled lightly before moving to pour the vegetable mix into the pan, "Still, I fail to see your point."

"My point is," you push yourself off the wall you had been leaning on and move closer to your girlfriend, "I wanna see you all cute during your job at least once."

"Am I not 'cute' enough for you?"

"You are! But I feel like I should be intimidated too. Because, you know, I don't really want to be put in the spotlight for some kinda crime."

"Uh huh. Say I do agree with you then; what do you propose I do?" She is genuinely curious at first, but when she sees you smile the way you do that's when she gets suspicious, "..I know that look, mon cœur. You want to do something risqué."

You hum as if pondering your next response while your arms wrap around her waist, though with the way she turns around with a knowing look and a swift move of turning the stove strength all the way down, you know that she doesn't believe that innocent bout of 'thinking' one bit.

"Do I? You really think so?"

"I know so." And she leans to kiss your cheek, "My skills in observation combined with my knowledge of your every habit isn't useless, you know.

"Hmm... Well, then." Your fingers snuck underneath the fabric of her shirt and traced nonsensical shapes on her skin as you spoke, "I did find something—an item—that could help you.. de-stress during work."

You know she took the hint when you looked her vibrant purple eyes. Perhaps you could've sworn them glow like the element she has command over.

But when she asks you of it—

"And what may this.. item be?"

—you both know full well that that is the only thing she has control over when you're involved.

When she finds out that you want to stuff a vibrator in her for the whole day as she works, she has to give herself time to process it. Like, really? While she's supposed to stay vigilant in case something wrong happens??? Like be serious wth is she gonna do when she's all dumb and distracted and something goes awfully wrong??????

All you say is that while you'd wanna try it out to see what happens, you won't force her to do so.........and against her better judgement, she takes it back. Not only does she want to make you happy and that she wants to prove that she isn't a coward, she.. is a little (a lot) interested in what may happen. Plus "it will prove to be somewhat of a fun challenge", she says, which yk whatever works for her

She learns to regret that come (lmao) the next day when it's actually put into practice

You found this specific vibe from a wandering seller, you see. Powered by a mix of different elements and with the usage of their reactions, it came in a pair—one that was now deep inside her and the other in your pocket, ready for you to hold onto and simply think on the intensity of the bullet's vibrations and effects

Its control range was rather far too, so it's not as if you even had to be in the city to control it. You wanted to see how she deals with such a situation though, so the most you do is carry on with your day instead of constantly following her around (but you do bump into her 'on accident' quite a few times though)

At first it starts out relatively fine for her. It's a manageable feeling, with it interchanging between a weak pace to something slightly faster—she can ignore it with her masterful discipline. Hell, she's even thinking that you might actually be taking it easy on her bc of her earlier concerns which.. how nice of you!!!

Except she's WRONG❗️❗️❗️ You're not being nice, you're biding your time. She probably should've been suspicious but she trusted you unconditionally which would be so cute and flattering at any other moment.........but right now it was so deliciously naive of her, to just let her guard down with you like that

You're slowly but surely testing the waters by playing with the intensity beyond its lowest settings; having it slowly incline nd decline, making it spike up, even manipulating the pattern of its vibrations within your mind. And you can tell that every mental command is successfully transferred when the gem you hold pulses with a faint feeling of warmth that passes after a very brief moment

You can't see her half the time whenever you're off doing something else but maybe that's what makes it better, especially when you see her and you make a point to keep out of her line of sight. She looks around for you like a frazzled animal that's trying to seem composed and yet you know she's becoming anything but from the way she subtly jolts to attention every time you change the vibe's directions, all endearingly paranoid over what you do next as you change the settings again and again and again

Despite the risk and the paranoia and everything though? As much as she wants to deny it, there is an ever increasing pool of arousal in her panties. It's not just from the vibrator, however—it's from the possible risk of getting caught partaking in the sinful act of walking around with a sex toy stuffed inside of her. She can't believe it, but the thrill of the risk and the overthinking is definitely not doing her any favours in terms of trying to keep calm

It's when she has a certain exchange that has her ABSOLUTELY ruined. She had spotted Navia during one of her breaks the same time that the other had clocked onto her too. The head of the Spina di Rosula walked up to her with a smile and a friendly greeting and in no time at all, they get to talking the minutes away

Catching up to Navia again without such dreadful tension from before was definitely a relief. It was as if they had chatted about everything and nothing at all at the same time, with the both of them laughing lightly. The exchange was certainly a welcome distraction, both from her job and the bullet-shaped vibrator that hit and teased her sensitive spots every now and again—you had definitely become braver as time went on, but you weren't going to break her composure just yet.

..Or well, really, she realised that she probably shouldn't have given it any thought when her eyes see you watching her at a distance. She trails off in the midst of her sentence as time seemed to slow to a stop when your lips curl up into an all-too-familiar expression.

Before Navia can even ask her if she's okay or try to break her out of her sudden reverie, Clorinde flinches and almost keels over at the sudden EXTREME increase of speed and force and-- is that a temperature increase too? She doesn't react quietly either—she bites back a yelp, managing a strangled gasp instead. Was this what you were aiming for the entire time? To build it all up until the most inopportune time??

Navia was undoubtedly worried, her hands immediately dropping her parasol to hold her friend steady, "Clorinde?! What happened? Are you hurt?"

The duelist shook her head in an attempt to clear her head but the ever-shifting movement inside her didn't allow that. So instead she tried her best to answer as unaffected as possible, despite her seemingly dramatic display, "Yes, I-- mm.. I'm alright. Just a sudden migraine, is all. Perhaps I've been-- working too hard."

"Whatever did I tell you about working yourself to the bone," the blonde asks, though she doesn't look fully convinced that it's just a migraine, "maybe you should retire for the day. I can tell your--"

"No! It's alright," she rushes out, "I will be fine after some time, you need not worry about me."

"But--"

"Do you not think I can handle myself?"

"I do, but if a migraine gets you such a violent reaction, then surely that's a cause for concern. Are friends not allowed to be worried for each other?"

They are, except this isn't really a migraine she's suffering from!!

(She doesn't know whether she loves or hates the fact that her not being able to say anything about her predicament to her good friend gets her going even more.)

"She probably needs a little rest, somewhere where the sun isn't hitting her eyes."

"Y/N!"

Clorinde looks to you approaching behind the blonde and making yourself known with a happy greeting and she can't help but narrow her eyes at you despite the vibrator in her cunt trying to take all her focus away from her.. or maybe it was due to exactly that, to which your smile widens just a tad further at the effect you have on her.

"Yes, that would be a good place for me to recover. In fact," she keeps her eyes on you as she speaks, "they can take it-- mnf.. take it here."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, no need to worry. I will talk to you again s-- ..soon, Navia."

Soon enough, you all part ways (you with Clorinde in tow), leaving a very confused and suspicious Navia alone where you once stood. Neither of you say anything, though as you both reach a deserted alley somewhere, sun blocked by the towering buildings around you, that's when she snaps.

And it is such a lovely thing to witness.

By snapping, I don't mean that she cums right away. I mean she's all over you, gloved hands grasping onto your body and hastily pleading for you to finally help her take the edge off

You're so absolutely mean for doing what you did!!! She says she regrets ever saying yes to this plan and entertaining you like this, to which you laugh at her face. Sure, it would've been a cruel reaction to her distress.. if she weren't so addled with lust; her eyes dark and pupils blown wide, her panties unbelievably wet

It gets worse when you whisper things to her as well such as "you definitely enjoyed it" and "do you think Navia knew? Would you have wanted her to know?" bc even when she shakes her head vehemently and denies it, you can feel her pussy pulsing as you taunt her.........

But then you pull your hand back and Clorinde's looking at you in a mix of frustration and confusion, a complete far cry from her ever-so-composed demeanour on a normal day

She asks you why. Does she need to beg even more? Do you want her to do anything else? She needs this but she's also very aware you're still outside, despite this corner of the area being practically abandoned, so it both gives her a thrill AND a sense of urgency

Your answer? Not one she expected, but should have probably saw coming from a mile away: you want her to cum with the toy and herself only. She's right, this IS still a public space.. so obviously such close proximity would be VERY suspicious, right? And nobody would be able to see the toy buzzing in her, so surely it'd be the best solution

She tries to protest, but you don't budge. Hell, threaten to turn it off for the rest of the day and she'll keel over and do exactly what you ask her to do

So you manipulate the vibrator, up close and personal this time, and you relish in the restricted moans and desperate breaths she lets out as she essentially fucks herself in the alleyway with your help. As the vibe bends to your will within her in different ways, she took her glove off one of her hands with her teeth in a desperate attempt to not dirty her visible clothing before her now-ungloved hand darts into her panties to rub her clit and pleasure herself to you

It's not long when she practically explodes as the setting goes the highest it's ever been, her orgasm SO intense that it has her seeing stars and actually dropping to the ground if it weren't for you immediately rushing over to catch her on time (and maybe you get a light shock of electro too, much to your chagrin, but really it's technically your fault so 🤷‍♀️). You use the control gem to help her with her high, slowly decreasing its intensity until the after-shock is reduced to a few twitches from her here and there

She's practically a lifeless form for a few mins and you can't help but laugh at the situation. She lifts her head up, absolutely unimpressed at your amusement, though a small smile makes her way onto her lips anyway

When she's gained enough strength to hold herself up without falling (mostly bc you whine after a while ab how she's heavy, to which she slaps you up in the head lightly and tells you it's your fault lmao), you both make sure she looks presentable enough to actually go back in public again. You asked her if she wanted to skip instead but she's so duty-bound that she doesn't gaf if she feels fucked-out, she WILL continue her duties

But like. Let's be real though. Esp when you told her she could take the toy out bc you're more than satisfied but she wanted to actually keep it in? You both know that not only will you both have a round two of sorts when you get back home, but this won't necessarily be the last time you'll use this toy after today

You could say she found a love for it 🤷‍♀️ not like she'd ever explicitly admit it when she's not all dumbed out for you in the comfort of your own home

She doesn't even really need to, not with that display earlier

[mschievousx]

now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she love her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

iv. four: you were right for me

"why would you need to go? the hawkins balloon will be tomorrow."

loraine silva finds herself at her father's study, planting her head on her hands above his table in an attempt to act endearing enough and change his mind.

she pouted, whining to him, "i am not interested with the gas laws related to balloons. i have read them enough."

"what is in this scientific convention then?" armand placed his pen down and removed his glasses, fully putting his attention to his daughter.

"chemistry and medicine!" she exclaimed with exciteness in her voice.

"hm? i thought you like engineering."

"i do, but it's not everyday you can practice chemistry and medicine." she argues. although the girl loves engineering above both subjects, the opportunity to witness these two does not come as often, "aside from the difficulty of obtaining chemicals, it also must be supervised closely."

he narrowed his eyes at her, crossing his arms strictly, "you're not helping your case. that means it would be dangerous."

raine pouted at him, her chances of attending continues to decline, "they are professionals and experts, likely recognised by the queen to be able to conduct such a grand expo."

"you have not been doing much of the work of a viscountess." he sternly added.

"papa, it is my very first season." she stood up, rounding the table to her father's side, clasping both hands as if on a prayer, "please? i will surely attend to everything after the season."

her father made no attempt to move or acknowledge whatever she said, forcing her to make more points for consideration.

"it is perhaps a part of being a viscountess. my presence in academic events will highlight our activeness in such field." still with no budge, she sighed heavily before another point entered her mind.

"it's like a ball. a lot of gentlemen will be there, and who knows? perhaps, i will meet a charming one who shares my interests." she reasoned with a dearly smile.

armand growled at the mention of charming boys. he really doubts there is anyone as such these days, "and what of the bridgerton boy?"

"i jest—it is still benedict. however," she moved to unlock his crossed arms and grasped his hands together in hers, which she cannot envelop seeing as her hands are quite smaller in comparison, and gave out a longing smile, "i could use another friend, can't i?"

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

it is safe to say that the young silva has her father wrapped around her thumb. with warm smiles here and there, she now arrives at the medical convention with unmeasurable elation.

stepping in, she did not know where to look at all. everywhere she turns, she could spend an hour looking at a single specimen—minus the bones. she does not like them at all. but, she knew they're still a sight to see, so she has decided to start with them before she spends most of her time to other subjects.

she walked and walked, simply passing the specimen with a lot of audience like the humerus, the pelvic bone, and the thoracic cavity.

raine would have really loved to observe the thoracic cavity but she thought against it. being in close proximity with a lot of people is not something she enjoys.

upon more walking, a lone skull has managed to grab her attention. she neared to look at it closely. it's crazy, isn't it? to refer to this skull as it when it once housed a brain of a moving, feeling person—one that was referred as he or she.

"the human skull is made up of twenty-two bones, accounting for ten percent of all our bones." an unfamiliar voice joined her side.

she stood up straight from her peering, adding to what the man said, "eight cranial, fourteen facial."

"a fan of the skull?"

raine turned to him at that question. she fought all her facial muscles that was aching to grimace. on another note, the man is quite handsome. of distinguished upbringing too, it seems.

she puffed out lightly as she turned back to the skull, "i dislike bones."

he chuckled at her strong statement, quite ironic that he finds her curiously looking at one, "what are you here for?"

"muscles, cardio, and neuro." she answered, walking away towards other specimen this time.

"ah, interesting choice of subjects. although, i must say, bones are as important." the man followed closely, which she did not mind but she would have loved to look around with none bothering her.

she let out a sarcastic chuckle, looking around as if disregarding his person, "i did not say otherwise."

"you dislike it."

the young lady turned to him with a crossed brows, "i do not have to like it for it to be as significant."

"you are shrugging at its importance." he stubbornly argued.

raine fired back, "i am shrugging at you."

"with the use of your scapula, which are in fact bones." he held up his right index finger, as if to highlight a point—a point she chose not to take.

"with the use of my muscles who initiate the movement sent by motor neurons." she completely turned to him, her voice quite increasing in volume.

his mouth is slightly ajar as raine waited for his retort. he settled with an astonished smile, offering a hand forward, "astley cooper, lady silva."

she let out a small scoff, her annoyance being covered by the very familiar name, "ah, and another day i do not get to introduce myself."

"you must understand. your family is celebrated," they continued to converse in a calmer manner, both accepting the arguments of each other, "and you cause an uproar everywhere you go."

the young silva lightly laughed at the mention of her antics, stopping in front of the humerus that was crowded earlier, "i like to leave my mark."

"i do not doubt it." mr. cooper affirmed.

"you are the son of sir cooper?" she inquired with indifference.

"i am." he shows no sign of surprise that the lady knows of the name. if she is indeed an academic, his father's name is always mentioned on the textbooks.

she simply hummed at that, proceeding to walk to another specimen, "well, this is your forte after all."

"conceding so easily, lady silva?" astley retorted with a hint of smugness. she turned to him, voice laced with friendly annoyance.

"i doubt you would argue with me about guns, would you?"

he laughed at her point as he replied, "never."

and for the first time of the day, she was reminded; she would have loved for him to be the one with her right now. granted, he does not know a lot about these, and granted, she prefers to look around in solitude in these events, but she would have seriously loved his presence. to him, she would never say never."

noticing her zoning out, the man coughed lightly and asked, "what part of the body do you most like?"

she turned to him, completely caught, "oh, hands."

"you surprise me. i thought you would be a lover of eyes. why the hands?"

she smiled at that, raising her hand from the arm near him, as if showing it to him, "they are fascinating; their ability to grip things."

she would have loved to mention the real reason. they can hold on to things. they can let things go. raine thought it too poetic for an academe like him to understand.

"incredible. i'm afraid mine is not as well-thought as yours."

she returned the question, certainly feeling the man's own urge to share his, "what's yours?"

"a femur. it's the hardest bone."

raine did not think twice to laugh. he was being honest after all. it was indeed not as well-thought.

they reach a hall where a live amputation is going on. most audiences were of the academy, she can tell. the daily man would have no appetite for such thing that these young men were watching closely.

she whispered to astley in a hushed voice, "how do you convince them to do it live?"

"he is from our school. he understands the importance of live discussions. sadly, he met an unfortunate accident, and here we are."

raine nodded in understanding, eyes watching the procedure attentively. it is quite harsh to look at, of course. after all, it is an amputation.

after the left mid-forearm was severed, the use of burnt wool was executed. the man has been administered with a bit of anaesthetic, but only enough for until the severing is done. a higher dose than that would prove to be risky for the patient. and so, the application of burnt wool can be felt by the man, gradually increasing in intensity.

as the procedure is ongoing, the surgeon performing it offered information and explanations here and there. the ligature, she could understand, but surely there's an alternative for burnt wool that is less painful.

"how about hydrogen peroxide, sir?" she offered, the surgeon and the students turning to her.

"what do you mean?" he asked, returning to his patient and continuing post-operative care.

"it may be able stop the bleeding more effectively than a burnt wool, which can cause more damage."

the surgeon chuckled, finding the fault on her argument, "it causes irritation to skin, actually the harmful one."

raine stepped forward, laying her case more directly, "yes, but in the right concentration, it has oxidative properties and is a reactive oxygen species. by this, it can cause vasoconstriction upon the dysfunction of the endothelial cells."

the surgeon turned to her, now understanding her train of thought, "it can close the source of the bleeding, achieving hemostasis."

"impressive. we will study such activity of the said chemical, lady?" he inquired, genuinely amazed by her case and how she has thought of it.

raine smiled inwardly, letting out the most prideful smirk she could muster, "silva. viscountess silva."

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

just as the clock hits ten before two in the afternoon, the young lady has decided she's satisfied enough of the things she were able to witness and learn. that and the fact that her stomach is now growling.

as she stepped out of the building that housed the convention, she's met with a familiar back of a person across the street.

"ben!" she called, waving overly that some people have spared her a look. the said man turned to her and immediately placed a hand on his forehead at her loudness.

she eagerly crossed the street to him, bridgerton inquiring with a confused face, "what are you doing here?"

upon reaching him, she hugged his right arm with pure excitement as they continue to walk forwards. he could do nothing but let her, "there's a medical convention near. it was awesome!"

"really? i did not know." he feigned ignorance at that, the girl not minding anything as she was overcame with exhilaration.

"you're not an avid follower. that's alright. anyways—"

she proceeded to tell him what happened to her day, from the part she was begging her father to let her go until before the amputation. she also highlighted the specimen she has seen, throwing information about them with elation. she was about to continue when benedict interposed.

"i would have went with you, you know." he said before setting his eyes back on where the pair is walking towards, now with a smaller voice, "if you just asked."

she heard it. of course, she heard it. he could whisper meters away and she would certainly hear it with ease. and, no matter how high up on cloud nine she was, she had no problem jumping off it just to hear him.

raine giggled at his offer, "it's not fun for you. you would find the contents of it boring."

"i would not," he replied at once, seeming as if he does not even need to think twice of the reason, "you were there."

she stopped walking instantly, pulling benedict back by the act without warning. he turned to her for the second time today and all he can see is her widest grin. she was not doing anything but grin, which is what making him so confused as of the moment.

and, just as raine was utterly clueless of what her words were doing to him, he was just as clueless of his words to her.

with confusion, he raised a brow at her, "what? did you have lunch?"

she simply nodded her head sidewards, grin still present, "i have not."

he nudged her as they begin walking again, "what say you for a late lunch together?"

her answer was apparent, "yes!"

they entered an eating house nearby, raine continuing her stories of the day as the food is served.

in the middle of eating, she asked out of the blue, "what part of the body do you most like, ben?"

"mine? let me think," he settled both his hands on the table, looking afar in thinking.

"hands," he replied, placing the fork on the dish to steady it as he slice, "you can tell a lot from a person's hands—the softness, the roughness, its shaking..."

raine smiled serenely at that. he would never fail to do poetic justice to the mere existence of things. and, perhaps, she should have really asked him to go with her earlier, so that the contents of the convention would feel alive once more by his words alone.

he knew her so well that his words spoke to her on their own. she could not remember clearly, but she was sure. it was a moment like this when she first realised she liked benedict. it was one of those moments where she realised that he was the right person for her.

"how about you? what were you doing around here?" she asked, turning to her own plate.

"oh, i was just walking around." he shrugged off easily, which just made her suspicious of it.

"oh my—right," she began, causing the man across her to look at her, "there is a pleasure house nearby."

he should have really noted already not to intake anything if the girl is present. but, he did not. and so, he finds himself choking once again, on food this time, at what the girl accused him of.

"what are you insinuating? how do you even know there is such a house here?!" he whisper-yelled, controlling his volume to not attract other listeners.

raine laughed at his reaction and gave a sarcastic, understanding smile, "ben, do not worry. i have known your activities since i was a child. i still like you."

"i did not go to a brothel!"

taglist: @aadu2173 @imgondeletedis @pumkiinpasties @rebleforkicks

[nautiscarader]

So here is a tiny bit of language trivia: Doof's jingle in Polish.

Not counting ONE MILLION variations of it, collected here by yt user Tomek Flynn-Fletcher (outstanding work!), the base one reads (or sings):

Oto jest spółka zło Dundersztyca!

First and foremost, yes, Doofenshmirtz is Dundersztyc, originating from dunder, or donder, meaning "thunder", as in Drusselsteinian German exclamation "Donner Wetter!" which has Polish equivalents. (pl) So he really is doctor Toheckwithit.

Secondly, the evil part. Companies in Poland can have a phrase added in their name "spółka z ograniczoną odpowiedzialnością" (do NOT try pronouncing it, no, STOP I SAID, you will break your tongue), abbreviated as "spółka z.o.o." - translating as "company limited", or "ltd".

No, the z.o.o. is not pronounced as "zoo", that would be hilarious. Instead, it is pronounced as /ˈzɔ.ɔ/, as opposed to Polish zoo, which is pronounced...exactly the same, you know, this is hilarious. Okay, you are supposed to say "z-oh-oh", pronouncing the... dots, I guess, but not all of us does.

But, back to the point - Polish word for evil is zło - /ˈzwɔ/ - very, very similar, and a brilliant case of accurate and loyal translation! So it really is Heck's Evil Company! (IPA moonrunes via Wiktionary)

And I would be remiss if I didn't mention that Doof's Polish VA, Wojciech Paszkowski, sadly passed away last August. Whoever replaces him will have enormous shoes to fill.

So that's it!

Except.. uhm, I have a question for you...

For the longest time, I've been going back-and-forth on making a sideblog with trivia like these. I love good translations, loathe lazy ones, and I sometimes just want to nerd out about them.

It wouldn't be updated very often, because I do not want to present myself as an expert in this topic, nor do I want to look like an insufferable know-it-all. And it would be open for submissions, ofc. IT would be bilingual, but again, rarely updated. @noddytheornithopod has already encouraged me, and this post is kinda a proof-of-concept/backdoor pilot for it.

Soooo... what do you think? Odpowiedzi na kartkach pocztowych, proszę :)

[the-ellia-west]

I'm Going on an Autistic Rant about PPT (Poppy Playtime) chapter 4

Ignore this if you're not interested in it

-

Doey is my favorite character, obviously, bc he's so well written and I love him and I have hot-takes that a lot of the fandom doesn't agree with

I see so many artists and Fans displaying The three kids (Matthew, Kevin, and Jackie) as two crying kids and One angry one. But I personally don't agree with that sentiment. Because the files and tapes you can find state that yes, Kevin was angry, and we can obviously see that Jackie is sad and emotionally damaged, But I don't think Matthew was like Jackie

I agree on Jackie and Kevin, but not Matthew so let me explain

He was the personality in control most of the time. I think he was the compromise. Because where Jackie just wanted to sit down and cry, and Kevin wanted to punch and destroy things, the tapes said Matthew was a sort of mediator and leader amongst the children, being older and more mature, So I say he managed to find a better outlet for Kevin's violence by telling him to save it until they had an enemy, and Helping Jackie to see that not everything was lost, carrying both of the other kids on his shoulders and showing them that no matter what happened to them they could carry on.

And In exchange for his help and the compromise, The three managed to come to an agreement that Matthew have control over them, and they all pitch in to be mature and stable.

(I personally think Jackie is yellow, Kevin is Orange, and Matthew is Red bc of this)

But when everyone in Safe Haven died, Matthew didn't know what to do, (probably a trauma response combined with grief), and Kevin was too angry to be kept back, So they had a mutual agreement until this happened, and were stable until the personalities disagreed

Jackie was shattered and just wanted to go home, Matthew was frantically searching for some way to mediate and cope with his grief, and Kevin just wanted to fight, but Matthew just couldn't hold Kevin back without Jackie's help, and We can see this in the breakdown, with the crying (Jackie), The reasoning that we didn't know (Matthew), and the blaming (ofc, Kevin)

In the bossfight too, with the: "I JEST WANT TO GO HOME!!!" (Jackie), the "ALL YOUR FAULT" (Kevin), and finally "I'm Sorry" (Being Matthew)

He was busy reigning in both Of the others his entire time as Doey, but when the grief hit him and made Jackie crumble, he got thrown out of control by Kevin

So I think Matthew's personality is much more of a caretaker and a reasonable, mature, person than the fandom portrays him as

[darcyfangirlsfrequently]

Reactions to CME 18.6

I can't believe we're more than halfway through the season

ooh Luke saying the "Previously on..." yay!! we need more of him!

oooh they go BACKKKK

Fuck Voit anihilated the family of the family anihilator???

Oooh he said the title namesss

I do not like how close tyler and Penelope are sitting and how far away it is from the rest of the group

EMILY IN GLASSESSSSSSSS

Ofc Penelope knows the Shakespeare quote. I'm honestly a little surprised it wasn't Luke, since he's the one who's caught all the literary references so far

"Scene two, round two of the network" NO ONE IS MAKING A 2ND STREET CONNECTION???

Maybe it's just me picking up crumbs but did anyone else think the way Penelope looked at Luke in this scene was kinda yearn-y?

Penelope why the FUCK are you going with him

OHHHH JEALOUS LUKE IS BACKKKKK

this scene reminds me of 911. her calling 911 from being buried alive.

Oh this poor woman 😭😭😭

"Becca" who the FUCK are you???

she's so tiny she can't even hug him 😂😂😂

"I'm parched, Becks" I fucking love them

This should really be Luke and Penelope

ugh this is season 16 pebelope and I am bah duh ba ba ba not mclovin it

I do not like this scene

Ooh Dad and Son in Law pairing uppp

Jealous Tara???

Maybe don't give him a screwdriver. i don't like how he's holding it.

When he said "there are some things you can't fake" I thought he was calling Tyler out FOR faking. But no. "Inner darnkess. Like you, Tyler." "It's a darkness you put there." DAMN.

"Smart Coffin" 🤣🤣🤣

"You had alison call me the night she died didn't you?" OOOOOOOOH

Wait Voit actually LIKED Alison?

Tyler why do you WANT to know how your sister was killed

My guess is that Claire and the other victims of this unsub are going to be surrogates for the mother of the unsub's child

YUPPPP CALLED IT

"I cried on his shoulder" "Or his pillow" TARA 🤣

"Don't be mad" Rebecca she has an ex husband AND ex fiance

Tara I fucking love you

Mm. Voit and Sydney divorce mention. While Zach and Kiele are going through an actual divorce. lovely.

hehehe Luke said the word "wife" to Penelope. Bc she's his wife. no other reason...

WOAHHH HE'S GONNA KILL HIS OWN DAUGHTER???

Ofc she named her laptop

first "no body, no crime" and now "look what you made me do." if I had a nickle for each taylor swift reference... (I jest I jest)

@lklvz @mortalscience how insane were you two going seeing Tyler and Luke pull Ava to safety

"this isn't over" yes tf it is???

Luke watching them with a smile 😭😭😭 it's actually such a shame he's not a dad. he'd be such a girl dad.

Tara's gonna eat him tf up

HA Tara was all jealous for LITERALLY NO REASONNNNNN

I LOVE TARA AND REBECCA SO MUCH

OHHH THE BOX I FORGOT ABOUT THE BOX

I also forgot that this is pt. 1 of 2 so there is definitely a cliffhanger this episode

well, I guessed a head... i guess a mask is close enough?

These are good episodes in a plot/crime sense, but I want more of the personal stuff of more of the characters. (Aka I want more Garvez.) But I also don't like how there are team members who never interact with each other in the episodes. that NEVER happened before.

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Schleppen

Chapter Sixteen

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Sam/Madison, Lee/Pam/Benny, Jesse/Cesar, Charlie/OFC, unnamed female character

Word Count: 2644

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, everyone is hungover, Dean steps in it, Sam is so done with their shit, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

Dean didn’t sleep. Or if he did, it was in the last gasps of darkness and so short, he couldn’t feel its relief. Alcohol affects the REM cycle, so whoever taught him to have a drink before bed to help with his insomnia (John) was wrong. It was just one of the many things he’d learned in therapy. Dean found he had many things yet to unlearn.

No one who had stayed over was in any better shape when he got downstairs.

Bela and Trouble had bunkered down on the couch in the den, Charlie had claimed one of the bedrooms with a woodland elf, the other spare went to Pam and Lee, but Dean was pretty sure he had heard Benny through the walls, so maybe him too. The other girl Charlie brought along was on the floor curled around Jesse fruitlessly, because Cesar, who was sitting with his back to the end of the couch, still asleep, held his partner’s head in his lap. He wondered if Sam was already up and running until Madison came down the stairs in search of caffeine with a shirtless and rumpled Sam on her heels.

“Morning,” Dean said smugly to them both.

Madison met his gaze and tried not to blush, which Dean found oddly refreshing, while Sam just flipped him off and dove in for a cup of coffee before it was even done brewing.

They moved in hushed whispers, but the Winchesters’ words were doomed to carry with their baritone. After Madison admonished them for not having more to eat in their fridge, Dean stepped up and ordered a combo of both greasy and sweet options to be delivered with an impressive tip to the driver for their discretion.

Bela helped herself to Dean’s shower and some of his clothes. And if anyone had found it odd that they hadn’t slept together, no one was ballsy enough to mention it. Or maybe they were all just too hungover to care. 

He still hadn’t seen Pam and company emerge and he wondered if he was going to have to risk walking in on some alternative hangover cures. 

Luckily for everyone, the pounding on the front door for the food was enough to rouse the stragglers and beckon them back to civilization.

“Happy 2018 everybody!” Pam croaked with a shiteating grin on her face as she took in everyone’s subdued state.

She was met with lackluster replies, grumbles and a very sarcastic cheer from Charlie. She tutted at them and sauntered her way towards the jelly donuts.

As rough as he felt, Dean lived for mornings (or early afternoons) like this. His kitchen was filled with people he loved, sharing food and just existing together, safe and warm. It’s what being in a band was all about. He started another pot of coffee when Bela slinked over and hugged him from behind, resting her face between his shoulder blades.

“I’ll just have a nap right here, thanks,” she mumbled against his shirt.

“Oh yeah?” Dean peered down at her. “You know, you can take my bed if you’re still tired, not gonna rush anybody out today.”

“‘S too far,” Bela complained. “And I already showered, no sense delaying the inevitable.”

Dean turned in her arms, letting her rest against his chest instead. He rubbed her back and looked up when he felt someone watching him. You sat folded in on yourself on one of the tall chairs, looking as if you were going to puke all over the counter.

“You okay over there?” Dean asked, more alarm slipping into his voice than the jest he intended. He cleared his throat, but didn’t let go of Bela as she turned to look at who he was talking to.

Gaping at him like a deer caught in the headlights, you nodded. 

Dean reminded himself to breathe, feeling everything you were saying by the look in your eyes. He fucked up. But in that moment there was nothing he could say that would fix it. Bela was supposed to be his girl, it would be too obvious to step away from her now.

As much as he suddenly wanted distance, he held on tighter, like she was a shield against his feelings for you. And against the look of betrayal in your eyes.

“When do you want to leave— Y/N?” Bela broke through Dean’s silent spiraling and started making plans to get home.

“Lemme drive you guys— could use some fresh air,” Dean cut in before they could order a ride.

“Are you sure? I’m a little out of the way,” you asked, worried over being a burden or being trapped in a car with him, Dean couldn’t be sure.

“Positive, just say when, and I’ll get Baby all set to go,” Dean insisted.

Bela kissed Dean on the cheek and thanked him for a wonderful time, promising to text him her schedule later. She reached over the backseat to grab your hand, smiling mischievously, “another one for the books. See you at brunch?”

“If I can eat by then,” you muttered, smirking as she slid out of the car.

“Bye!” Bela called as she disappeared through the door from the garage into the kitchen.

Dean cleared his throat and leered at you in the rearview mirror.

“You gonna come up here or am I gonna have to call you Miss Daisy?”

You rolled your eyes at him, but you didn’t open your door.

“I can wait all day. If you think you can out- stubborn me–,”

“FINE!” you snapped, throwing open the door and almost slamming it into Bela’s car’s rear end. “Asshole.”

Dean tried not to laugh outright, but you were kind of adorable when you were pissed. Once you were situated in the passenger seat, purse and coat lumped on your lap and seat belt secured, Dean continued to wait.

“What?! We can go now.”

“Easy! I’m just adjusting my mirrors, don’t want to back into anything,” Dean added with an air of responsibility.

“You so were not,” you grumbled, huffing before leering at the sideview as Dean crawled out of Bela’s driveway.

It was going to be a long drive.

Once they were out of the canyon, Dean decided he was going to have to put some of those lessons from Missouri to use. “So— you wanna talk about it?”

You glared at him like he asked if you wanted to eat your jacket.

“Come on, I know you’re pissed. Let me have it,” Dean egged you on, okay, maybe he could have said that better.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you muttered, eyes on your hands.

“Really? You gonna pretend you’re not having a bitchfit right now?”

“Dean Henry Winchester, do not make me call Charlie and tell her you called me a bitch.” And just like that you were all in. “I cannot believe you right now.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, look, you can’t just go around kissing people and then shoving your relationship in their faces. It’s called mixed signals, asshole!”

“Oh, so you can call me an asshole, but I can’t call you names?!”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

Dean sighed, he was letting himself get defensive instead of focusing on what you were really saying. It suddenly felt like a horrible idea to have this conversation when neither of you could escape.

“I don’t know what relationship you’re talking about— the fake dating thing you roped me into?! Cuz that’s not real, that’s playing nice— for you!” Dean hadn’t realized how much he resented you for this whole set up, but now that the words were out of his mouth, things made a lot more sense.

“Bullshit,” you spat.

“You want me to ignore her, huh? Pretend she’s not there, in front of everybody this could hurt if it gets out that it’s all a lie?!”

You turned on him then, taking a deep breath as Dean made sure he wasn’t too distracted to drive. “Is it a lie?”

Dean looked back at the road and licked his lips. How much did you know? How much was it safe to tell you? How much of Bela’s life was private, even from you?

“What are you talking about?! Of course it’s a lie, an act, a ruse! You were the mastermind here, remember?!”

“You know what, Dean? I think the lady doth protest too much,” you said. “I think you know it was wrong to do what you did, but now you’re trying to pin this on me. When I only did it to cover your ass!”

“That is so not fair. I own my shit. What are you really pissed at here? Me in general? Me kissing you? Me hugging Bela? Me making your job harder? WHAT?!”

You groaned. “YES! Okay? YES!”

You stopped your tirade and looked at him and Dean felt you deflate as he glanced back onto the road ahead.

You started over, trying for calm, “you are inherently annoying, I think we both know that.”

Dean huffed. “Yeah, thanks.”

“No, listen. I knew this thing wasn’t going to be easy— for any of us. But it’s the best way to turn everything around. But— if you can’t do it anymore, if there’s something you need to tell me, I’ll understand. We’ll figure it out, okay? Just— just don’t lie to me, okay? I can’t fix things if I don’t have the whole story.”

Dean felt about two inches tall. He wiped his hand down his face and growled, pissed at himself and whatever you were fishing for. Because it was still all his fault. Somehow, he had gotten you home, he pulled into the driveway and killed the engine.

“I can do it, okay? This is on me. I’ll make it right. I’ll be on my best behavior, get us out on tour without a hitch. Make the label all the money and start to earn back everybody’s respect. I owe them all that much,” Dean promised to your suspicious face.

“Dean—”

“What?”

“Is there anything I should know? Seriously. I won’t be pissed. I just— feel like, like I’m out of the loop on this.”

“You were there all night. I think you got a good idea how things are going. Uh, what more can I say, you know? I’m sorry, though, for making you worry. Okay?” Dean ducked his head, making sure you were seeing him, eyes trying to make you see what he couldn’t say, but what he most definitely felt.

Maybe he hadn’t learned anything from Missouri at all. But he was still trying.

“If you’re sure— we’ll keep it going. We've still got over a month before we’re on the road, but it’s gonna go fast now. I just need you to be on your A game,” you said firmly, cementing it into the fabric of your shared reality.

Just keep carrying on.

Dean could do that. He had to.

“Sounds like a plan. And Trouble, do me a favor?” Dean leaned over, slipping into his charming self. “You gotta loosen up, okay? Get a hobby, get laid, just find somewhere to put all this shit you carry so it’s not weighing you down. Okay?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes, tossing the door open and crawling out. “Like it’s that easy. Happy New Year, Dean, drive safe.”

“Later.”

Dean waited until you made it into the house before starting the engine back up. He didn’t go home right away, instead he took a drive along the coast, letting his mind try and untangle the knot you’d just made by having that conversation. 

Six am came way too early the following morning and with it, Sam pounding on Dean’s door to get his ass downstairs and into the gym. Right, his New Year’s resolution and his fucking brother holding him to it. 

“Gotta piss, calm down Billy Blanks,” Dean groaned, rolling out of bed.

He did his business, changed into something he could move around in, and finally found some tennis shoes at the back of his closet.

By the time he made it into the part of their basement they had turned into a gym, Sam was already sweating with a jump rope warm up. 

“What?! I’m here aren’t I? It’s not that late,” Dean grumbled at Sam’s judgey face.

They worked out with little discussion, spotting each other when they moved onto weights. They hadn’t worked out the details of this new shared routine, but slowly Dean felt it falling into place. The strain of his muscles and the swelling of his lungs all reminded him to be present and mindful. To let his body take over building when his mind wanted to use it to punish.

After they had stretched and were winding down, Dean decided to tape up his hands and spend some time on their speed bag. But, of course, that drew Sam’s attention.

Anything that hinted at Cain or Alastair always did.

“What?”

Sam looked him over. “You good?”

Dean didn’t want to have a different version of the trainwreck conversation the day before. But Sam knew everything, more or less anyway. Dean didn’t look up from his task, mesmerized by how soft his knuckles had gotten recently.

“I kissed Trouble.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Sam laughed, actually, genuinely laughed at him. “How’d that go?”

Dean considered the act itself. “Well—- she didn’t hit me.”

Sam sat down on the end of the bench, settling in for the dirt. “Were you expecting her to?

Dean looked over and saw Sam was no longer teasing. “Could you blame her? Some guy like me? A fuck up with a history of diddling her friends?”

“Dean.”

“I know, I know. Believe in myself. I am worthy of love. I know, okay. Just… she didn’t say anything. Just stood there after pulling away, staring at me in total shock.”

“Did she kiss you back?”

Dean thought about it, remembering the way your mouth let him in. “At first, yeah.”

Sam chewed that over. “Does Bela know how you feel about her?”

“Sam, I’m not even sure how I feel about her.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah you are. You just have been too stupid and self deprecating to do anything about it. Does she?”

Dean shook his head.

“Are you guys fucking?”

“Not like, committedly.”

“Okay, well, you should probably stop that. And tell Trouble how deep you’re in it. Like, I hate being alone with you two, it’s so obvious.”

Dean flipped Sam off.

“What? No, I’m serious. You guys just need to get over your shit and tell each other how you feel. And warn me, because I do not want to come home for like a week after all those years of tension is finally worked out, god.”

Dean kind of gets lost in that image for a minute. “Nah, we’d go to her place. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Sam couldn’t even tease him after how pathetic he sounded. “But first you need to tell her.”

Dean sighed. “I can’t. I promised her I’d behave and stick to the plan. I can’t risk pissing off Dick and Crowley anymore, I don’t want to jeopardize the band.”

“I’m pretty sure I told you this was a bad idea and I just want to reiterate that point,” Sam snarked.

“Yeah, well, them’s the breaks,” Dean huffed as he hauled himself up and squared off with the hanging bag.

He found a rhythm and kept on his toes.

“Dean, seriously, just tell her how you feel. Life’s too short, you know?” Sam said to Dean’s back.

Dean sighed, upping his pace. Because, yeah, life was really too short.

But there was still nothing he could do about it now.

Author's Note: LISTEN! I did not even outline the first 2/3rds of this chapter. IT just HAPPENED, so yeah, they're still both idiots.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

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Chapter Seventeen: Trill

[mysticalprincesskitten]

Aegon II Targaryen x OC // House of the Dragon fanfic

Soft!Dark!Aegon II Targaryen x OFC, kinda Yandere!Aegon

Trigger warnings: darkish themes, bondage, kidnapping, kinda yandere?? Targcest, OC is Viserys and Aemma's daughter, OC is named Daenerys, OC looks like Elizabeth Olsen in my head, also total self-insert

“Well isn’t this a pleasing sight.”

Aegon sauntered into the royal bedchambers with new confidence bestowed by his stolen crown. Bound to the king's bed, Daenerys could only turn her head away. Aegon approached, slipping his fingers beneath her jaw and tilting her face towards him.

She snapped her teeth, drawing blood. He yanked his hand away.

“So spirited,” he jested. “Have I woken the dragon, sweet sister?”

Daenerys ignored him. He wanted to hear her voice. She would not give him that comfort.

Aegon sighed. Footsteps sounded; Daenerys glimpsed Aegon’s back, clad in green velvet with golden dragons sewn into the brocade, as the usurper king - her husband - poured a goblet of wine and drank it in two long gulps. When he whirled to face her, his lips were stained red.

“You forced my hand! You tried to attack me. I had to take precautions.” He motioned to the rope binding her wrists and ankles to the ornate wooden bed. “Would you rather I throw you in the black cells beneath the Red Keep?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t mean that.”

She didn’t. It stung worst of all; how she still couldn’t help but feel whole in his presence, his fire calling to hers, the blood of the dragon. Aegon had always been by her side. First as a baby brother she had cared for like a doll (whenever she hadn’t been with Rhaenyra, both of them their last remaining link to their mother Aemma), then as her partner in mischief, then as the man she loved. They had always known they would marry. Father had betrothed Aegon and Daenerys mere moons following Aegon's birth, three years after Daenerys. Otto Hightower had encouraged the betrothal. The green leech had no doubt planned to use Daenerys as a hostage against Rhaenyra.

And she had flown straight into his trap.

Daenerys sighed. Her chest ached; she missed Grey Ghost, her most faithful companion, the wild dragon who had chosen her on the cliffs of Dragonstone when she was nine. Where was he? Had he eluded Aemond and Vhagar? The dragon could have returned to Dragonstone by now. She yearned to be with him, to feel the wind on her face as they soared above the clouds.

Her wings had been clipped. Tethered to Aegon’s bed, Daenerys was grounded, caged like Dreamfyre and the other dragons in the Dragonpit.

Aegon sensed her distress. “It doesn’t have to be like this,” he said gently. Pleading. “Please, Naerys. You can be queen. My queen.”

“Our sister is the true queen.”

“No, no! Father changed his mind, my mother told me-“

“Your mother will believe any delusion that affirms her desires!”

Aegon’s face hardened. “You do not believe in me.” Eyes watering, he poured another goblet of wine.

“I have always believed in you,” she said softly, almost whispering. “It is my weakness. I should have flown with Rhaenyra to Dragonstone when I had the chance, let your mother betroth you to Helaena…”

“Do not say that,” said Aegon sharply. He was next to her now, towering over her. She strained against the rope, trying to squirm away, even as her blood stirred. But Aegon had had enough of her resistance; his hand gripped her chin, hard enough to immobilize her jaw so she couldn’t bite him. He forced her eyes to his.

“You are mine,” he promised. “My wife. My queen. You were meant for me, and I for you. You will see. This is how it was meant to be. I will rule the Seven Kingdoms with you at my side.”

He leaned closer, whispering in her ear, “And I shall never let you leave me again.”

[assortedseaglass]

Borne & Bound - III

[Masterlist]

Aemond Targaryen X OFC, Jacaerys Velaryon x OFC (if you squint)

Summary: When Prince Aemond insults the commander of the Braedel cavalry, Viserys sends him to their kingdom so that he may learn the art of diplomacy and do battle with the commander herself, the spirited Lady Geowyth.

Content Warnings: Strong Language, Violence, Smut, Canon-typical Sexism, Mentions of Incest¸ Mentions of Sexual Assault

Word Count: 5.3K

“-as warm as Dorne and strong as steel!” Geowyth grimaced at Ser Herumbrand as Ser Harrold crashed his cup into the other’s, ale spilling unnoticed onto their gauntlets. His taste for women was near as strong as it was for the fight, though her surprise as was nothing compared to the woman beside her, who stared at the chaste Ser Harrold in horror. King Viserys’ feast had reached its zenith. That moment recognised by all when the ideal share of amusement was reached. When cups were high and stomachs were full, granting upon everyone the glow of goodness with which to look upon their peers.  

As the two goliaths laughed, Geowyth took her chance to observe the Princess of Dragonstone. There was no doubting she was Targaryen, for even if she had not the white hair of her forebears, she seemed to glow with the cold warmth that shrouded the rest of her kin. Beneath that alabaster skin, dragonblood flowed like wildfire. Geowyth was certain she could see it, and it was just that which bestowed the Princess with her aureate brilliance. The Princess laughed at something Ser Harrold said and Geowyth smiled along. Ser Herumbrand looked at his young charge, raising a knowing brow to her. The look she returned was demure, almost mischievous, and continued to watch the Princess from the corner of her eye. She was gazing up at the Lord Commander, her straight nose raised, hands crossed before her. She looked every image the queen. Geowyth glanced at the royal table. The real Queen was speaking amiably with her guests, brown eyes bright, holding the hand of a girl no more than seventeen. Geowyth supposed it was her first time at court. How kind of the Queen to calm her nerves. 

The same could not be said of the King. He sat at the head of the table, head inclined towards Otto Hightower as the Hand muttered something in his ear. His gaunt face seemed to sag before her eyes, as though the grey skin was too heavy for the frame of his face. The effect was haunting. From out of the sunken mask of his face, the King’s eyes stared with little life and the golden gleam that radiated from the rest of his family was nowhere to be found. The dragon’s blood was beginning to run cold. Geowyth shivered and thought fleetingly of her uncle. She would send him a raven tomorrow, no doubt Geodred had forgotten. 

Where was Geodred? Geowyth’s eyes scanned the myriad of people awaiting the chance to speak to the Royal Family. Like dying stars, each seemed to have a great many people orbiting them. The young Velaryon Princes were surrounded by other young noblemen. Each brother laughed freely, pointing and jesting at each other, their company of boys or else somebody in the crowd. Their betrotheds, Rhaena and Baela, were similarly speaking to a gaggle of young women. Geowyth saw the youngest Baratheon girls, some beautiful Tyrell noblewomen and even Princess Helaena, though she stood at the periphery of the group. A few of the young men were watching the young Princess and noblewomen with predatory interest. They blanched however, under the watch of the spry man looming behind them. Prince Daemon, the girls’ father. 

Geowyth was struck by how handsome he was. Like his wife, he stood tall and proud, with his white hair and broad shoulders. He seemed, however, to possess that most unattractive air of vanity. His eyes shone with amusement, a half-formed smile playing on his small lips as he watched his daughters. The emotion could have been mistaken for gaiety. It wasn’t until the man beside him spoke however, that Geowyth noticed it was quite the reverse. The Prince’s eyes crinkled as he chuckled at the joke, yet his focus remained entirely on the men surrounding his children. His joy derived not from the festivity, or the happiness of his daughters, but in making the men around them squirm. He surveyed them as if knowing something to which they were not party, and watched one by one as they filtered away. Pleased with his dominant display, the King’s brother turned his attentions to the man at his side. There he was! All smiles and joviality. He seemed not to care about the Prince’s distraction and, such was Geodred’s effect on people, the Prince seemed not to mind his company. Geowyth smiled. If only she had her brother’s ease. Having located his whereabouts, she turned back to her own party of four. That is, she tried to, but an increasingly familiar sense of unease bristled the hackles of her neck. Drawn to the sensation like a wolf to the feast, her amber eyes halted in their path.

Geowyth’s breath caught beneath her ribs. A hot flush that had nothing to do with the King’s wine prickled her cheeks. When she found the courage to inhale, it juddered from her chest with fearful anticipation. From his sentinel at the royal table, Prince Aemond’s icy eye stared with pinpoint focus upon her. What terror was held within that gaze? Perhaps it was a miracle he only had one. His body seemed strained with tension, from the leather doublet stretched over his shoulders to the waxen skin across his cheekbones. All because of her. Geowyth blushed all the stronger. She was used to holding people’s attention, but for her quick wit and proficiency on the field. Not for…whatever she had done that aggrieved the Prince so. She cast her eyes down. When she returned her gaze to the Prince, he was engaged in conversation with his grandsire.

“- and dare I say it, the young Princess is much gentler than her older sister,”

“Ser Harrold,”

“And a good deal less trouble!” Laughter peeled behind Geowyth and, at last, she rejoined the conversation of the knights and woman of Dragonstone. The Princess’ eyes were warm despite her warning. For the first time in the hours that Geowyth had known her, Rhaenyra Targaryen looked happy.

“Tell me, Ser Harrold,” Herumbrand spoke to his counterpart of the Keep. “What advice do you have for an old man in charge of a wilful young woman?”

Geowyth leaned towards the Princess as if to whisper, only to loudly state, “He just thinks he’s in charge.” Rhaenyra and Ser Harrold laughed. Ser Herumbrand winked.

“There you have it!” Harrold said, gesturing to Geowyth. “Let them believe they are in charge. There is no way to tame these tempests-” Rhaenyra rolled her eyes at Geowyth and smiled at the Lord Commander. “We just weather whatever comes with them. That, and we must listen. Though, I don’t believe you need my advice, Ser Herumbrand. The Seven know I could not get the Princess to bestow upon me half the respect you command from Lady Geowyth and Lord Geodred.”

Ser Herumbrand’s laugh boomed about the chamber. “You have been fooled, Ser. Perhaps we could swap places during our stay? Princess Helaena for this nuisance.”

“I’ll tell uncle,” Geowyth said.

“I have served him well. I am certain he’d allow me the break.” Lady Geowyth smiled sweetly at him. For all her teasing and testing of him, it was true. Herumbrand was too good to her. She looked to Rhaenyra.

“Speaking of your sister, Princess, I wondered if you might help me?” The older woman inclined her head. “She is charming and pleasant company but, and I hope I don’t speak out of turn, she seems-” Geowyth searched for the word. “Nervous. Is there anything I could do that may help her?” 

 “Oh. Well,” The Princess looked to Ser Harrold. “I, erm,” Ser Herumbrand and Geowyth stilled, graciously averting their eyes as Rhaenyra struggled for words. She sighed and unclasped her hands. “The truth is, Lady Geowyth, I do not know.” There was embarrassed agitation in her tone, and Geowyth felt deeply that she had picked the scab of a family secret. “Excuse me.” Rhaenyra bowed her head to the party, and Geowyth descended into a deep curtsy as the Princess departed. She watched her weave through the crowd towards her husband and sons. As if called to her by magic, Prince Daemon looked to his wife as she approached. A word was exchanged between them, and all three Princes cast their eyes towards Geowyth. Whereas the Velaryon princes were intrigued, the mask of Prince Daemon’s face didn’t change and, placing his hand on the small of his wife’s back, he escorted her to a seat.

“I’ll never get the hang of this family,” Geowyth said, to no-one in particular. 

“Animals.” 

Geowyth startled. “Pardon?”

“Princess Helaena adores animals,” Ser Harrold said. “The smaller the better. And I think your gesture of companionship will mean more to her than you know.”

“Thank you, Ser.” Harrold nodded with finality and turned to Herumbrand. 

“Another cup for you, Ser?”  

Herumbrand clapped him on the back. “Lead the way.” The knights bowed to Geowyth and, as they turned, Herumbrand accosted a small serving boy carrying a tray of goblets. Left to her own devices and quite alone, Geowyth clapped her hands behind her back and made to watch the dancers. Her progress was hindered however, when she span straight into the chest of a dark haired young man. She jumped back into yet another deep curtsy.

“Forgive me, Your Grace.” 

“Please, there is no need.” The hand of Jacaerys Velaryon was held out before her. “‘Twas my fault entirely.” Geowyth shook his outstretched hand and he laughed, bowing to place a chaste kiss on its back. “Baela told me you are a fan of dancing.” 

“Yes, although I am struggling to find a partner,”

“That is precisely why I am here.” Jacaerys smiled with an offer of his arm. Geowyth took it gladly and the young Prince led her towards the centre of the hall, nestling them amongst the other dancers. 

“How did Lady Baela know I like to dance?” Geowyth asked, place her hand against Jacaerys’ as they began circling each other.

“My aunt told her. Though it was hardly necessary, you have spent a good deal of the evening nowhere else.”

Geowyth blushed. “Forgive me, your aunt-?”

“Princess Helaena.” 

“Of course! I will get the hang of it one day, Your Grace, but your family tree is more of a family circle”. She stopped in her tracks, mortified. Jacaerys only smiled and took her waist in encouragement that she continue dancing.

“It’s true. My only reassurance is that sometimes even I forget.” 

“I don’t believe you!”

“Well now,” Jacaerys steered her so that they both faced the top table. “My parents and grandparents are a fairly straightforward matter. But the Rogue Prince?” He whispered lowly in Geowyth’s ear. “My step-father and great-uncle.” Geowyth laughed as he spun her round further to where his fiancée stood with her sister. “Lady Baela is my betrothed, my cousin and my step-sister. Her mother, my aunt, were she alive, would be my mother-in-law.”

“I can’t keep up,” Geowyth was giggling now.

“I told you it’s a tangled web,” he span her faster. He caught Larys Strong’s eye and faltered. “My aunt and uncles, through my grandmother Princess Rhaenys, are my cousins too.”

“Distantly,” Geowyth added.

“Yes, distantly.”  

“How lucky for you.”

At this quiet yet cutting remark, Jacaerys turned his face from Baela to the Braedel stranger. “What do you mean?”

“Only that I have spent one day in the company of your uncles and already desire to be as far away from them as possible. Lucky your mother retreated to Dragonstone.”

“I see.” The young Prince smirked. “You are not charmed by their silver hair and silver tongues?”

“Hardly,” Geowyth scoffed. “I admit that Prince Aegon, despite his obvious flaws, has a taste for humour and merriment. Prince Aemond however,” She stopped once again, embarrassment clear on her face. “I’m sorry. My uncle sent me here to learn and all I seem to do is say the wrong thing-”

“Don’t trouble yourself, my Lady.” He cast a wary eye towards his uncle. “Despite our family’s proclivity for closeness, my brother and I never saw eye to eye with our uncles.”

Geowyth laughed. “Very good!” It was Jacaerys’ turn to be confused, and Geowyth nodded her head in the direction of the haughty prince. “’Eye to eye’!” They laughed heartily, and any thought or feeling of Aemond’s angry gaze upon her faded, just as the wine and revelers did the same. That it still lingered on her, secret and scathing, mattered not.

Beyond the great hall’s walls, guardsmen silently changed posts with nods of acknowledgement. The lingering echo of a brawl from the city beyond the Keep bounced off the stone walls, and somewhere in the night a dog was barking. But for the street of silk, King’s Landing slept.

For the gentry within the confines of the castle, the night too was waning. The King had long since retired to his chambers, Otto Hightower skulking closely in his wake. Princess Rhaenyra had encouraged her husband away to their chambers with much muttering and pointed looks towards his goblet and the young noblewomen he entertained. At his absence, many a second son had swept onto the scene to stake their claim. The beautiful Tyrells had retired, as had the Lannisters (though Lord Jason took much convincing), and only those remaining were the Baratheon nobles, the young royals and the contingent of Braedel horse lords and ladies.

Lady Geowyth sat by Ser Herumbrand, still deep in conversation with Ser Harrold, her body leant slightly against the cavalry captain. The deep rumble of his voice encouraged her to sleep, and she would have succumbed were it not for the hearty laughter of her brother and Lord Borros. She opened her eyes. It seemed everything in the hall was ready to slumber. Candles, once proud at the start of the night, dripped in puddles along the tables. The plumes of flowers were starting to droop and, in the darkening light, Geowyth made out a few shadowy figures linked arm in arm, slinking towards seclusion and away from gossip.

“Astandan (come).” Through her sleep-burdened eyes, Geowyth look up. Rosy as ever, as though the night hadn’t touched him, her brother beamed down. Herumbrand nudged her from his shoulder, and she took Geodred’s outstretched hand. “I will walk you to your chambers.” Geowyth nodded sleepily, but before she could begin her way towards the great chamber doors, Geodred swung her by the arm until she faced the opposite direction. “Geowyth, weordfulnes eower (your manners).” Together, they walked towards the raised royal table. Queen Alicent was speaking quickly in her eldest son’s ear, though what she said neither could make out. Princess Helaena was slumped uncomfortably in her chair beside her husband and, like her mother, her mouth moved quickly. Geowyth guessed however, that no words left her lips. She was speaking to no one at all, her face directed towards the table, eyes wide and glazed over, as though watching something frightful in the far distance. If Geowyth were concerned by this display, she soon realised she needn’t be. It was clear this mood was common for the queen-in-waiting, for where Helaena’s hand rested on the table, Prince Aemond’s sat atop it, his thumb stroking the pale skin there. Unlike his family, whose chairs were turned towards the hall at large, Prince Aemond’s fully faced his sister. The angle of his seat near disguised him entirely, for from this direction the Beridan siblings could see nought but the black of his clothes, the shine of his hair and the rough leather of his eyepatch. Indeed, the only part of him they could see was the hand stroking his sisters, and the crescent profile of his angular face.

“Queen Alicent,” Geodred bowed before her. “I come to bid you goodnight and thank you, again and as always, for your hospitality-”

Geowyth did not hear what her brother said next, nor the young Queen’s reply. Her sole focus remained instead on the Targaryen prince before her. From the slow way his thumb soothed his sister to his concentrated gaze over her, Geowyth would have said he almost looked…tender. His mouth, curved and quick, was set not in that line Geowyth was already accustomed to, but smiled. Perhaps if he could show Helaena he was happy, she would be too.   

“Geowyth, sweostor (sister),”

At Lord Geodred’s voice, Aemond’s head snapped up. Quite unexpectedly, Lady Geowyth was looming over he and his sister, eyes curious and concerned. It wasn’t uncommon for visiting dignitaries to stare at the dreamer and the decrepit like Qartheen silk. He had become quite used to it in fact, and dare he say it, Helaena endured it too, from the heads of noble houses to foreign traders. Whether their business was politics or trade, alliance or reassurance, it was Aemond’s duty to let them stare. After all, it would not do for the second son of the King to scare away the guests. That does not a happy allegiance make. But a horse maid of little standing, from a kingdom of no consequence? Who was she to stare at them with such piteous interest? Her eye flickered from Helaena’s to his. A moment of fear flashed across her fiery irises and Aemond smirked. He’d caught her. Good. Let her learn his sister was not to be studied. But instead of blanching, of curtseying reverently and asking forgiveness for her impudence, the Braedel girl stepped forward and addressed the Queen.

“I know it is unbecoming for young women of court to express such rapturous pleasure, for fear it is mistaken as salacious and vulgar, but I so enjoyed the dancing, Your Grace.”

Aemond watched his mother smile kindly at the young woman. “Well, I am pleased we could provide many a partner for your amusement, Lady Geowyth.” At this, Geowyth curtsied.

“If I may say, Your Grace,” she turned towards Helaena. Aemond’s stomach twisted as she avoided his eye. Look at me, look at me. He willed her to do it, if only to see the scorn she’d find in his gaze. “Princess Helaena outshone any partner in skill, spirit and company.” At these words, Helaena looked up. She stared at Geowyth, and though her eyes were dark, a spark of recognition lit in their blue. Geowyth smiled. “If you would allow it, Your Grace, may I call upon you tomorrow?”

The party was silent. Alicent watched Helaena nervously from the corner of her eye, her hand reaching out to steady Aegon as he swayed a little in his seat. Behind Geowyth, Geodred smiled. His bright eyes darted between the young women, his worry the trip would not be a success decreasing with every glance at his sister. When his eye landed on Aemond, and found the stony-faced Prince staring back, Geodred winked. The Prince jolted.

“Helaena, darling?” Alicent’s voice was gentle.

“I would like that,” The Princess’ voice was but a whisper. “Very much.” The entire room seemed to exhale in relief. All, but for Aemond.

“Astandan,” Geodred whispered to his sister. “Goodnight, my Queen. Your Graces.” He bowed to the family and Geowyth followed suit. She cast her eyes over Prince Aegon (he did not notice her in his state), smiled at the Queen and grinned at Princess Helaena. When she turned to leave the chamber and saw Prince Aemond watching her, expressionless and intent, she bowed her head. They had started on the wrong foot, but surely her adoration of his sister would please him. She smiled coyly. He did not return it.

Geodred took his sister by the hand and, with one last bow, they left the chamber.

“Fulgod, ealdras (well done, princess.)”

Swete Eam, min Cyng, (Beloved uncle, my King),

I write to you in the assumption that Geodred has not. Do not fear, he has thrown himself into life at the Red Keep well, despite our being here only a few days. You should have seen them Eam, when we arrived. Targaryens struck dumb because of him, so much so that I saw upon Herumbrand’s face a glimmer of pride! The Queen was most taken by him, I believe. Do you know, with her dark hair and those beautiful eyes, she could almost be a Braedel. Is there any relation between the Beridans and the Hightowers? I have been reading Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms from the Red Keep’s library, and I can see nothing in there.

Take comfort that I have been busying myself with learning and not in the yard. I know that you are relying on me to strengthen my politic and knowledge to the level of my riding and combat. I am trying, for you. The council helped a great deal, though there was much shouting and behaviour unbecoming to men of the court. By all above and below, how must they behave when women are not present? In the chamber, it was just myself, the Queen and the Princess of Dragonstone. There is no mistaking the grief that lingers there. They’re like the dark and light side of the moon, always turning to face the other, only to never know it.

Ser Herumbrand told me that Ser Harrold told him (he’s the Lord Commander and an equal to Herumbrand in honour) that they were once great friends. You will be pleased with my progress there too, Eam. I have found myself in the confidence of Princess Helaena. Well, almost. I am going to call on her after writing this to you. She is as enchanting as she is intriguing. Last night, at the King’s nameday feast, she was introduced to me by the youngest Velaryon Prince, Lucerys. She is his aunt (I have been taking great leaps with my understanding of the Targaryen lineage. You were right, it is a nightmare). The Princess is a wonderful dancer, so full of life that she seems to shine. But when she is with her husband, her brother Prince Aegon, all life seems to shrink from her, as though someone has placed her in a cage. Ser Harrold told me she likes animals, so I thought perhaps I would introduce her to Mearl.

Her brother-husband is a miscreant and a drunk. When not buried in wine he is a pleasant enough young man, but Alma, the maid that is looking after me during my stay, said the other young maids take great pains to avoid him. I think perhaps I will leave my assessment of him there. Whatever it is he does, he hides those faults much better than his younger brother. The less said there the better. Were it not for his condescension, poor manners, scowl and general dislike of all, I’m sure Prince Aemond is perfectly amiable. If an alliance does not come from our stay here, perhaps you should burn this letter.

Speaking of Mearl, how is Mawe? I hope you are looking after him – he expects chicken straight from the table. I’ll be sure to check when we return. And how are you? They best be letting you take the air and see Galepan. I am not for this “bedrest” nonsense. You are well yet and I will see you right. I have been dreaming of Braedel since we left. Of riding Mearl across the brimlad (seaway) and mor (moor). Walking with you along Braesbur. It is my sincerest hope that we can forge this alliance and leave the city as soon as possible, just to be at home by your side.

Gerestan wist, eower wraest nefene, (Rest well, your devoted niece),

Geowyth.

She folded the parchment and sealed it with wax. Pressing the stamp into the molten red, Geowyth saw it formed the three headed dragon of the Targaryen house. Alma had equipped her with all she needed to write to Braedel, having not the foresight to predict her own home-sickness.

It was early. Intentionally so. Geowyth asked a passing steward to have her woken just before the dawn, when the kitchen maids began lighting fires and preparing the day rooms of the Keep. Alma appeared before sunrise to draw the curtains in Geowyth’s small guest chambers, complete with a pitcher of fresh water and fruit from the kitchens. After retrieving writing things, Alma was dismissed for the day; Geowyth had no need of help with her hair or clothes, for her plans for the day were simple. Send the letter to her uncle, return her books to the library and perhaps collect new ones, ride Mearl through country on the outskirts of the city, and visit the Princess.

Not one item on her list had been achieved thus far, but Geowyth was content to bask in the summer warmth streaming through her chamber windows. In the courtyard below, the Keep’s staff were awaking to tend to the royals and their guests. Food was being ferried to and fro. Fruits, ornately decorated pastries and steaming carafes of exotic tea leaf. Two young maids were beating tapestries, making the most of the sunny days to rid them of dust, and below her window, Geowyth spotted Alma washing bed linens. A lanky groom leant against the wall beside her in an attempt at ease, though even from her chambers Geowyth could see the rapt attention he gave Alma as she chatted away.

Geowyth smiled. She was unashamed to admit that her excitement at visiting King’s Landing was not just for the libraries, arts and council. No. As second in line to Braedel, and the King’s young niece, she did not want for attention from the opposite sex. The problem, rather, lay in the pool of candidates. Braedel was a small kingdom, and a secluded one at that. The eligible men of the kingdom were those that Geowyth grew up with, Geodred’s friends or else faces that had come to populate every day by becoming part of the landscape; predictable, unsurprising and ordinary. It is true, the kingdom of Braedel kept to its own affairs and tales of the mainland and its elite were few and far between. But the prospect of Lords, rogues and Princes was exciting even to Geowyth. She was a woman, after all. How disappointed she was then, to find the Princess married, betrothed or disdainful in the extreme. The Lords tired and ale-wasted. The second sons too timid, or else too bawdy. Geowyth sighed. She had overheard one of the Baratheon girls, Floris, or was it Ellyn, talk of books that granted young girls the escapism and reprieve she craved. That is, if you knew where to look. Time to begin the day.

Wrapping her patterned shawl of Braedel gold and burgundy over her shoulders, Geowyth seized the letter to her uncle, Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms and Island to Inland: The Lost Kingdoms of Westeros and flung open the great doors of her chamber. The route to the library, one of many in the Keep, where she had retrieved the books was a short one, along stone corridors decorated with the Targaryen history in tapestry. Servants smiled to Geowyth as she bid them good morning and a visiting Maester, Gerardys if she remembered rightly, stopped to enquire about the enjoyment of her stay. By the time she reached the library’s doors, carved with scrolls and scripture, Geowyth felt that maybe she had misjudged the Keep and those living within its walls. A certain Prince aside, it was a pleasant enough place. Bright, friendly and decidedly warmer than Braedel. She laughed, thinking of Mawe’s hair blowing in the coastal wind as he stood atop Eobarrow. How he would enjoy bathing on the warm stone of King’s Landing.

When opened, the doors groaned and expelled a gust of dusty air. Someone had left the window open. Even so early in the morning, with the sun’s youthful warmth, the room was dark and it took a moment for Geowyth eyes to adjust to the gloom. All about the place, books were piled by chairs and on tables. Loose papers fluttered in the breeze, held down by candlesticks whose wicks were puffing smoke. Books and letter under arm, Geowyth walked toward the small window and reached out for its handle- the floor creaked behind her and she span around.

Prince Aemond. Stood a metre or so way away, tall and foreboding, mouth parted as though he were about to speak. They appeared to have taken each other by surprise.

Geowyth hurriedly dipped into a low curtsy. “Your Grace,”

Aemond’s head bowed almost imperceptibly. “Lady Geowyth.” Neither spoke. Geowyth’s heart was hammering in her chest. She hadn’t anticipated anyone being in the library at this early hour, let alone someone with whom it appeared she couldn’t converse without offending. He was watching her, curiosity or anger missing from his face. Indeed, that hard visage was entirely unreadable. Geowyth indicated the window behind her.

“I was just going to-”

“Leave it open.”

Silence. Again. She couldn’t look away from him, unsure as she was of the Prince’s remote manner. “Ok…” When he didn’t speak, only continued to watch her, Geowyth took the books from under her arm and moved towards the bookshelf she had taken them from, at last tearing her eyes away from his.

“What have you there?” The Prince didn’t move, not even to gesture at the volumes in her hands.

“Books.”

“Yes, I know that.” Prince Aemond sighed. “Which ones?”

Geowyth laughed at herself. The Prince did not. “Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms and Island to Inland: The Lost Kingdoms of Westeros. I wanted to brush up on my Westerosi history while I was here. And see what the kingdom knew of us. It seems, very little.” Geowyth indicated the smaller volume. “We are not a “lost kingdom” after all.”

The Prince hummed. “Not quite.” Before Geowyth could rebuke him, he held out a hand. “I’ve been looking for these. Your brother expressed an interest in learning more about the histories.”

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” Geowyth bowed her head and placed the two books in his outstretched arms. As she did so, the letter addressed to her uncle fell to the ground. In a swift motion of silver, Prince Aemond bent to recover it from the floor. Between two slender fingers, he turned the parchment to read its cover.

“King Gallan-”

“My uncle, Your Grace.” The Prince did not deign to answer this, only giving her a pointed look as if to say, I know. “After returning the books, your books, I was going to send it to him, although I do not know the way to the rookery-”

“I will take it.”

Geowyth faltered. Would it find its way? Would it be checked before delivery, for fear that palace secrets or slights were within? “There is no need, Your Gra-”

“I will take it.” The door opened, and a Maester Geowyth did not know entered the library. The Prince turned his head slightly, his covered eye towards the door. It gave him the air of omniscience; though no eye was there, he didn’t need it to know who had disturbed the quiet.

“Lady Geowyth.” The Prince bowed and, without waiting for a reply, was out of the door and away, Geowyth’s letter clasped in between his fingers.

Notes: Had to get in Mr Mitchell’s delightful reference to the Targaryen “family circle”. I’m sorry this is taking a long time to write my pals – as always this is a slow build so bear with me! I can’t freaking wait to take you all to Braedel and uncover more about its society and the Beridan’s past!

Mearl = same pronunciation as Merle

Mawe = more–weh

Addition: Look at this amazing art by @cyeco13!!!!

Tags: @arcielee @mefools @bladeofdreadfort @glitterandgoldfinds @heimtathurs @ewanmitchellcrumbs @babyblue711 @wingeddeliciouscanonrebel @greenowlfactif @fantasias-creativebubble @httyd-marauders @sirenangelroyal @theoneeyedprince @fyeahhotdocs @persephonerinyes @humanpurposes @elizarbell @el-is-green @booghostii @myfandomprompts @castellomargot @trashcanrat @boundlessfantasy @aemonds-fire

[echoingbirdsofprey]

Lightning On My Lips (Every Time You Kiss Me)

8 - Dipped Her Wings In Tennessee Brown

Pairing: Tyler Owens x OFC Georgia Tennley

Rating: Explicit (MDNI!)

Warnings: Georgia's nasty, rude-ass sister being rude

A/N: Just lots of character development for Tyler and Gee.

Playlist

When Tyler pulled the truck down the driveway, it all felt so much more familiar than he thought it would. Up near the house and to the right, was the old green barn, the paint chipping off from years of weather damage, and he saw a familiar tornado shaped blaze on a black horse peering over the connected fence.

"You still have Twist too?" He asked, not realizing Georgia had fallen asleep again. He smiled as he parked the truck and cut the engine. There were no other vehicles as far as he could see so he wasn't entirely sure what to do, until he heard the squeak of the screen door opening. God, that screen door, he thought, and the nostalgia it brought up in Tyler's mind, remembering when they were on a break from rodeos, how she would come out in a pretty little sundress and hop in his truck. Out of the house now, stepped a tall man, lanky in build and more tan in skin color than Tyler with a summer tan.

"Hey, you must be Tyler. You can back the trailer right into the garage. I'll open it for ya." He said, and Tyler noticed the man had a slight accent but he couldn't make out what it was. The guy certainly wasn't from around here though and that surprised Tyler. Georgia's sister must've met him when she'd gone overseas to finish her college degree in journalism. Now she was using it to write about the Reining and Cutting horse worlds successfully enough for her and her husband to have a small operation themselves with show horses. Her husband was also apparently a mechanic, and a damn good one.These were all things Georgia had briefly touched on but Tyler hadn't had any idea of. He'd missed so much. Georgia's sister, Emmaleigh, had finally come out of the house as well.

"Aren't you a little old to be fuckin' around with my sister?" She jested and Tyler shook his head as her husband opened the garage so that he could back the trailer in. It was a joke, but it was dipped in malice. Emmaleigh never really liked Tyler, especially when the first time Georgia brought him home, she'd been away at college, so she couldn't even meet him right away, and make sure he wasn't just an asshole trying to get into her sister's pants.

"Emz, that's a little rude considering Tyler's been taking care of me for the past few days..." Tyler heard Georgia's sweet, and tired voice come from the passenger side and it made a corner of his mouth turn up in a smirk. As Georgia stepped down out of the truck, her sister ran over to her, pulling her into a tight hug. She pulled away and examined her sister.

"Well...he could've prevented the whole thing from happening instead!" She said, glaring at Tyler. He glanced down at his boots as he opened the door and glanced back at Emmaleigh's husband. He unhitched the trailer and Tyler pulled his truck forward a few feet before shutting it down again. Tyler stepped down out of the truck, removing his sunglasses as he walked over to her husband.

"Nice to meet you, Tyler, I'm Matthias." Her husband said, holding out his hand for Tyler to shake. He gave him a strong handshake and Tyler was a little taken aback by Emmaleigh's choice of husband. The last guy that Tyler remembered meeting was some short dude with a bunch of tattoos and piercings. Matthias, aside from the obvious oil stains on his shirt and pants, looked to be clean cut and very...bland...almost, and not in a bad way.

"What do you think of the truck, Matthias?" Georgia asked, her sister still hanging onto her. She can feel Emmaleigh trying to coax her into the house, albeit gently, but she can feel it.

"It's trashed, Georgia. What do you want me to say? I'll need to call in someone who can weld." He said, rubbing the back of his neck. Tyler piped up.

"That's not a problem. I can weld." He said, glancing at Georgia with a smirk.

"Well, you're not doing any of that right this second. Come in the house. I was about to make lunch." Emmaleigh said and Georgia pulled away and silently walked out of the garage, with her arms folded across her stomach. Emmaleigh glared at Tyler again before following her.

"Gigi, where are you...oh..." She began but stopped as soon as she saw that Georgia had begun the walk toward the pasture. Tyler and Matthias emerged from the barn and all three of them watched as Georgis stepped toward the fence, whistled, and both of her mares came running. Twist galloped up, stopped and had a rear and buck in place before nickering to Georgia. Wilene, the older and more stiff, trotted up and pushed her shoulder into the black mare gently as if to say "mind your elder." Both mares stood quietly while Georgia climbed through the wooden rails and stood in between the mares. She had a hand on each mare's neck, rubbing up and down and scratching them both at the same time.

"How long has it been since she's seen the girls?" Tyler asked, earning yet another rude glance from Emmaleigh.

"She hasn't been home in months. I get that her job keeps her away, but it'd be nice to have her home once in a while." Emmaleigh said as she folded her arms across her chest and headed toward the house. Once she was out of earshot, Matthias clapped Tyler on the shoulder.

"Don't take it too personal. She's just worried about Georgia." He said and Tyler's cocked a brow.

"Because of what just happened or is there something else going on that no one has told me about?" Tyler asked and Matthias shook his head.

"Best if you ask Georgia." He headed toward the house, while Tyler decided to talk to Georgia. As he got closer to her and the mares, Twist, the black one with the tornado shaped blaze pricked her ears forward, at Tyler, and gave him a greeting nicker before going back to gently pulling on the hem of Georgia's shirt.

"Hey, Twisty." He said, reaching out and running a hand over the mare's neck. This made Georgia smile, realizing that the mare remembered him. Must've been all those times he led her down the alleyway at barrel races.

"Georgia is there somethin' yur not tellin' me? Yur sister fuckin' hates me." He asked and she sighed heavily, whilst continuing to scratch both mares.

"My sister told me not to bring you here because she didn't want 'paparazzi' around the house. She thinks you're an idiot for doin' what you're doin' and she thinks I'm fuckin' stupid for participatin'. She doesn't get why I'm being 'reckless' and 'irresponsible' for some guy's attention who is just goin' to dump me when it suits." She explained and then she added, "her words not mine obviously. I told her to go fuck herself and give me her husband's number instead because family helps family."

Tyler bit his lip and grinned. "Feral, again. I like mature Georgia. She knows what she wants."

"She's just mad because momma wanted me to take over with the house, but instead, I ran off, according to Emmaleigh, so she got left with the house that she didn't even want. That's the root of all the issues. And she's mad that my old retired horses are here and that she has to care for them, even though the extent of her actually caring for my horses is throwing them grain and making sure they're not dead." Georgia said as the mares became disinterested and decided to go back out to eat more grass. Georgia climbed through the fence. Tyler's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

"That's a lot. I'm sorry. I didn't know." He said, his hand reaching for her lower back and they headed toward the house.

"No, I'm sorry you're taking the brunt of it. We don't have to stay for lunch." Georgia apologized and leaned into him as they walked.

"I think it would be worse if we didn't." He said as they made their way into the house.

🌪⛈️🌪

Georgia thought maybe it was equal in awfulness that they stayed, sitting there in silence as they ate their sandwiches. While they were great, her mother's "famous" pulled pork recipe done in the crockpot, the awkwardness was disgustingly evident. Matthias helped Emmaleigh clear everyone's dishes after and the entire time, Tyler had been deep in thought. He had some ideas on how to remedy the situation, but no real actions he could take at the moment. When they were ready to leave, Emmaleigh hugged her sister tight and just gave Tyler a stern look. Matthias shook his hand and hugged Georgia.

"I'll be back soon. I'll send you some money for the girls...and Matthias, if you get to look at the truck just let me know what I owe you, but don't make it a priority." Georgia said, as she grabbed for Tyler's hand to lead him out the door.

When they were back in Tyler's truck and heading toward the rodeo grounds to meet the rest of the Wranglers, he fished for her hand but instead found her thigh. He was gentle and just let his hand sit there, while Georgia seemed mesmerized by the countryside out the window. When they arrived at the motel by the rodeo grounds, she hadn't realized his hand had been there the whole ride. It wasn't the longest that they'd driven by far, but for him to stay in that position the whole half hour ride, got her thinking. She turned to say something but he spoke first.

"I have a remedy for your situation." He began, pulling his hand away. Georgia glanced at him as he leaned against the window. She stayed silent, allowing him time to explain. "So...if your sister doesn't want to deal with the house, why don't you? Then you have somewhere to go, you can have more horses if you wanted, and a garage to work on your truck. And I can help you..."

"Okay Tyler now tell me what you're really thinking." Georgia said with a smirk and a tilt of her head. He shook his head and glanced down, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel again. He did that when he was thinking hard about something.

"I have been thinking of trying to find a place to settle down during the quieter season...but I didn't want to go in on something alone. I thought maybe I'd go back to Dardanelle...back home...but I like it here. Dexter and Dani will both go home...Lily too. Boone...I don't know, but he and I were looking at places last year but we couldn't decide on anything. I know I'm just gettin' tired of movin' every few months..." He explained and Georgia smiled as she took a deep breath.

"Tyler. I've been living with Kasey and Cory for about a year...and it sucks. I love them, but it sucks watchin' their relationship grow and me bein' single as fuck. I want somethin' else too, but I don't know if us movin' in together is the right move." She said and he nodded. "You said I know what I want earlier...but I don't know if I know what I want..."

"Just...offerin' solutions. Somethin' to think about." Tyler said and he turned to get out of the truck. Georgia's brows furrowed, feeling as though she'd hurt his feelings. She wasn't saying no but she was trying to make him understand that they need time to see if this will even work again, Rushing into it by moving in together? Not something she wanted. She would however, gently breach the subject of the house with her sister and see what would come of it. Tyler came around to her side and opened the door, surprising her by reaching around and pulling her to the edge of the seat so her legs hung off in front of him. He gazed up at her, his hands at her hips, gentle and reassuring. "I know you wanna go slow and I am tryin'. I just know that God or whatever other force there is, is givin' us a second chance for a reason and I don't wanna let that go." He stretched up and kissed her on the cheek and then helped her down and out of the truck.

Georgia didn't say anything and just mulled over his words as he took her hand and led her up to the second floor of the motel. They stopped at a door and he knocked. To Georgia's surprise, Kate answered.

"Hey." Kate said, surprised to see anyone at all. She was really hoping that by getting a second floor room and by making sure that only Javi knew the room number, that no one would bother her, but obviously Tyler had found out.

"We just wanted to see how you were doing? We heard you had a little issue with that same tornado that rolled Georgia's truck." Tyler said, leaning against the one side of the doorframe. Georgia leaned against the other side, her arms folded across her chest. She was examining Kate, trying to figure her out. For whatever reason, Kate didn't want to be forthcoming with anyone, and she seemed more than just reserved and shy. She seemed like there was something bothering her, something that she couldn't shake off.

"It doesn't matter...I just feel bad for that town it hit after. Those people lost everything." She said, and Georgia could see tears welling in Kate's eyes.

"Well...are you hungry? Thought maybe gettin' somethin' to eat and going over to the rodeo might help?" Tyler asked and Georgia nodded with a small smile. She felt bad that Kate seemed so down.

Kate nodded. "I could eat." She said, sneaking back into the room to get her keys and wallet. They headed down the stairs and across the street to the rodeo grounds. Kate walked next to Georgia and Tyler in front of them.

"Are you okay? I heard you guys had a pretty bad go of it." Kate asked, bumping her elbow against Georgia's gently.

"I'm fine. Tyler's a good nurse." She said, being serious, but Kate laughed and Tyler shot a fake glare in their direction.

"I can hear you two makin' fun of me." He said as they made their way through the gates and down on the food aisles. Tyler stopped to get a brisket sandwich, with a side of fried okra and an iced tea. Kate opted for a corn dog, fried dough and a soda, and Georgia got a bowl of mexican street corn and a soda. They picked a place in the stands and sat down to eat and watch the roping exhibition.

"So, City Girl, you ever seen a rodeo?" Tyler asked. He'd elected to sit between the two ladies, so Georgia had to lean over to hear Kate talking.

"Y'know, you keep callin' me that...I grew up around here...Sepulpa." Kate said and Georgia leaned slightly over Tyler's lap.

"For the record. I knew you were from the south at the very least. No one from New York has that accent." She said and it made Kate laugh as she finished up her fried dough. Tyler smiled wide and glanced at Kate, then moved his arm around Georgia's waist.

"What was your first tornado?" Tyler asked and Kate redirected by asking him his. Georgia had heard the story a few times along the way as it seemed like a right of passage and a bonding moment when meeting someone else from anywhere around Tornado Alley. Tyler had been about eight and he was in the car with his aunt. A tornado lowered right in front of them on the road and Tyler realized then that he was supposed to be scared.

"What about you Georgia? What was yours?" Kate asked, and Georgia glanced out at the arena.

"First time I saw one, I was a little younger than Tyler. Maybe five or six. My Dad and I had gone to a neighbor's ranch to help with their cattle and it had started raining, thunder, lightning, the whole bit. We all looked up and as fast as it had formed, it was lowering down in the fields we'd herded the cows from, so we kept heading back to where the cows were supposed to go. That was the first time I'd ever galloped a horse and I knew I was scared as hell, but I knew that horse and those cows were even more terrified. The twister thankfully didn't stay on the ground that long, but it sure nearly took the life outta everyone on that cattle drive that day." Georgia explained and Kate watched as Tyler's gaze settled upon Georgia, as he pulled her closer, and as his fingers ran up and down her spine in a comforting gesture. Kate saw then what she hadn't before. Tyler was head over boots for Georgia, and she knew it. Yet, somehow Georgia was holding back. When Tyler reached for her hand, she took it tentatively. Kate could tell she wanted to be comfortable with Tyler but there was just something there that was holding her firm to where she was in her mind. Something that Georgia couldn't let go, and it was becoming obvious to other people too now.

[forbidding-souda]

Mod Souda!~ I have never requested fic before, this is entirely new territory so please forgive me if I misstep. ^_^; Could I please request HC's regarding Korekiyo x autistic S/O? I tried finding similar in the master list, alas I could not which is completely on me if I wasn't thorough enough.

A little afterword of gratitude also for your masterful works on Korekiyo in particular, the way you HC him is beautiful. He is my ultimate comfort character and your content is poignant for me. I also wish you the absolute best on finals and in life in general! (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)♡ I hope you are faring well. Thank you for all that you do here

Shinguuji Korekiyo with Autistic S/O

I've had this blog since quarantine so I can't even remember if I've written anything like this so I'm happy to write one for you regardless or not if it's a repeat.

Hai guys I don't have my edited sprites anymore bc I deleted them awhile ago so here's normal souda. Also if this is ass then my bad

hashtag actually autistic btw for anyone reading, i think it's right to share that when I write these ofc

okay mod souda behavior here where I say random stuff before each story but I'm watching impractical jokers rn and I don't know how some people watch this because the secondhand embarrassment is insane I literaly have to look away PLZZZ. This took an hour to write because half way through I started watching impractical joker clips on youtube (while the show is playing on the tv)

-Mod Souda

♥ He isn't a stickler about your interests. A good thing about being with him is that he won't make fun of you for anything you enjoy, no matter if he enjoys it himself or not. He'll never ask you to turn a movie off or to stop talking about something. He knows more than anybody else how isolating it can feel when somebody refuses to try and tolerate other people's passions; he would never put you down.

♥ He's naturally off-putting. If you experience people considering you off-putting then don't feel alone because Shinguuji is considered off-putting as well. He brushes off the negative things people thinks when it comes to himself, but when it comes to you and the negativity you face, it's hard for him to conceal how irritated he gets.

♥ I know some people have hyperfixations of like medieval torture methods so imagine how much he'd love that.

♥ ^ You also have the chance to teach him about really niche things, that's pretty sweet.

♥ ^ But I imagine that with some topics, he's gonna try and teach you about your own hyperfixation and it's gonna get annoying.

♥ He loves ur reactions to things. He gets so gushy-gushy and poetic. He likes finding what words make you smile, which ones make you laugh and which ones make you want to roll your eyes.

You stared back at him for a few seconds. He held an intense, filling gaze. The two of you were sitting on a park bench, facing the trees and enjoying the sounds of the birds. In between the conversation, there were moments of silence. Usually, he'd break them with small, unrelated sentences, but he's been quiet. "Korekiyo," you said quietly, a bit worried to startle him. To you, he was either in deep thought or, more humorously, sleeping with his eyes open. It took you to say it louder before he turned away. "My apologies," he smiled with a tilt of his head. His hair cascaded down his shoulder. His eyes went to the green leaves dancing in the wind. "We sit here in such a beautiful place, so lively. Most people would give their life away to view a sight like this." With no response, you just stared at him more, already knowing what he was going to say. He looked at you. "I've been all around the world and so I do not wish to waste my time looking at something I've seen before. You, however, do not come close to any of the beauties our world gives to us." "You love me so much, don't you?" You gave him a smile while his yellow eyes developed a look of interest: "You say that but do not realize that jests can be true words, too."

♥ If you need your alone time, he isn't going to stop you because he likes his, too. He knows that obviously you can be infatuated with somebody while also finding comfort in solitude.

♥ ^ And with that, he also has his own boundaries when it comes to where he goes whenever he wants solitude. He likes reading his books and analyzing his artifacts, all of which takes place in his study.

♥ ^ Yeah and don't touch his stuff because he is very protective of his collections. Therefore, he'd also never mess with something you own.

♥ If you're the type of person to have stuffed animals, and especially make them talk, he isn't going to pick up on that very quickly as means of a thing people still do. He'll give a history lesson as to 'ah yes, i've learned about this form of imagination within cultures of story telling, oral adventures'.

♥ Most of the time, he'll put your comfort over his.

♥ He'll stay up with you whenever you have trouble sleeping and are fully awake at 2am, no matter the cost. He is going to make sure that you know he is always there for you. He always has things to do.

♥ If you need help falling asleep, he'll do things like sing to you and let you watch videos in bed, whatever will make you most comfortable.

♥ He got some crazy eye contact btw I just want to put that out there.

[mschievousx]

now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she loves her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

xi. eleven: every word you say

the sunlight did not reach her face. there was no sunlight in sight at all, aside from the most external door that shows a little hint of the visible spectrum. she stirred awake on the hard floor she slept, if she had any at all. she slowly sat up, finding the colonel on the adjacent cell, staring into nothingness.

they have yet to acknowledge each other's presence, trapped in their own battles inside. it was a surreal thing—to feel that it was both the end and the beginning. they have long let go of any hopes in receiving a lighter sentence, and that act is what made it possible for them to breathe despite the stifling feeling.

they have found freedom. losing all hope was freedom.

hence, the young silva raised her gaze to the ragged man across. his rank is not apparent on his current state, stripped off of dignity and proper legacy. she pulled him to the deepest ocean floor a man has never explored to.

"i am so sorry, raphael." raine broke the silence, feeling utterly apologetic for bringing the man with her in this fate.

"there is no need." he replied, closing his eyes as he leaned on the wall.

there really was no need. although his tone may have sounded frustrated, it was not directed to the girl. coming to think of it, he believes he would have done the same. he actually did, when he admitted to the suspicions just so she could be saved. the young silva, however, was hardheaded. a small chuckle left his lips as he looked at her in thought.

"you know, your father would be proud."

"oh, silence." raine rolled her eyes in jest, "i have not slept well with how much my eyes poured last night. do not make me cry again."

"but it is true."

"i know," she turned to him with weak eyes, "he asked me one time, if he was being too forceful in making me the viscountess or also the fact that he taught me things that a proper lady would not have preferred."

she laughed at the memory of her father teaching her how to hold a dagger at four, and her mother in utter worry as she caught them both.

"he was afraid he turned me into something he wanted instead of being someone I want to be."

the lady chuckled before continuing, "i told him I do not see myself embroidering at all. he laughed like crazy."

raphael weakly laughed at the story. by the mention of the girl's teaching experiences, a memory resurfaced in his mind as well.

"did you know that your father used to say you shoot like—i apologise for the term we use in the military amongst men—a virgin?"

despite being above average compared to the general public, her shooting really did not pass her father's standards. she could shoot, yes, but it would not have been enough for war. armand concluded that it was enough at the very least for self-defense.

raphael lifted one end of his lips, "i bet he would say otherwise now."

"that is because now i am not." she said with indifference, missing the way the man sat up from his leaning, turning to her fully.

"...wait, what—you mean...?" he asked curiously, his will returning to his voice in spite of their current situation.

raine looked at him and she found it interesting how curious he was at the topic. she let out a short giggle before slowly nodding. his mouth noticeably went ajar at that as he pried more.

"the bridgerton son?" she nodded once again, raphael leaning back down in surprise, shaking his head in disbelief, "your father is going to kill you."

"no need. the crown is doing it for him."

both laughed in chorus—how they could still jest in a situation like this is lost. perhaps, it was there saving grace. little joys do really count.

"i cannot fathom what you could possibly find so amusing in a place like this."

the queen's voice announced her arrival, her face grimacing in disgust at the place. the two greeted her with respect, standing from their position. she looked around, as if assessing their surroundings before settling her eyes to the girl.

her majesty sighed resignedly, "why ever did you have to shoot him?"

"he talked too much."

"that he did." she had no problem agreeing with that statement at all. the lord had been bothering her as well before about royal familial matters.

she clasped her hands, forming the words to say, "i have spoken to have a private execution for you both. it was granted. this is the least i could do, considering everyone has voted for a beheading instead of hanging."

raine nodded thankfully at that. she did not care much. either way, they would be dead. she inquired further, "the soldiers?"

"all free from the charges."

the two released a breath of relief. that was one of their main goals—for the rest of the troop to be able to go home and spend the following years with their families.

"thank you, aunt lottie. that is all i ask." she smiled warmly to the older woman.

"it will be in an hour." the queen noted, pertaining to the execution.

it must already be five in the afternoon already. the young silva did not know how time flew by so fast. she neared the girl, pushing a hand through the bars of her cell. raine held her hand as she continued.

"make death proud to take us."

raphael and raine's ears perked at that, their brows crossing as the queen took back her hand slowly, "how do you know of it?"

charlotte offered them a smile before she turned away, "your father had been a good company."

after the queen, major gilbert and the viscount bridgerton also stopped to visit them. the former relayed the gratefulness of the soldiers by the news of their freedom, while the latter updated her on how the queen is working on for a proper investigation against the said involved people in the treason with the help of the papers that was left to him. they did not take long, of course. the prison had that effect. it was very suffocating.

yet, her breath came back at the sight of the man in front of her.

"what are you doing here?" she said in concern, her lips quivering as she scrambled on her feet.

benedict reached to her, cupping her face with a tearful smile, "i told you. i will always be here."

she shut her eyes in shame of her current state, "you should not see me like this."

he chuckled with tears in his eyes, "like painfully beautiful?"

"like dying." she corrected in all honesty as he went silent, his heavy breathing speaking for himself.

his lips formed a thin line, features traced with painstaking gaze, "you are so unfair."

"i know," she admitted, knowing exactly what he meant, "i am so sorry."

he hushed her, his palms still on her cheeks as he soothed—both tracing the tear marks that intensified their emotions.

"forget about me. let go of this grief completely." she bleakly uttered, torment clear on her voice.

benedict immediately responded a multiple series of 'no' with an intense shaking of his head in disagreement. he would do anything to not forget her, both the joy and painful memories. he would cherish everything that she was present in. he would cling onto every word she utters.

"and in case you do forget about me," she continued, cupping his face with the utmost care, "i hope you remember by my touch alone.

he nodded fervently, "i love you."

he leaned his head to hers, their breaths exchanging as if he was used to the taste of pain on a dead friday night.

"i love you too."

they wanted to be together for as long as they could, and if that's not very long, well, then that's just how it is. and so, they held each other for the last time, coming to terms that if this life will be this cruel, he would spend the rest of his life praying that the next will not be.

he wanted to badly stay with her, to stop the time and prolong this moment. but, it seemed like he had angered the gods as a guard knocked his truncheon on the door, calling for him to exit for the fifteen-minute preparation before the execution.

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

no later, guards entered the cells, taking both prisoners with no austerity in their touch. it was so strange for them to the point that it was hard to swallow. they have seized and lead criminals of darkest crimes to their end, yet they find themselves wanting to break the two out.

a viscountess and a colonel, both still children in their own way.

they have never thought there comes a day they would dread their work, and the executioner would say the same. because just as they all arrived in the execution stage, the forty-five soldiers, four members of the bridgerton family, and the queen are in attendance. as she caught sight of them, raine offered a brief, forlorn smile. these people are the ones who she is most thankful of.

executions happen at a faster pace than the young silva thought. one moment they were walking, the next they were kneeling. the executioner bowed to the both of them when they arrived, now asking for forgiveness on the duty he must do in a while. loraine granted him that.

he stood back up, announcing clearly, "you have been granted to speak your final words."

she turned to take a look at raphael, the latter nodding as a sign for her to speak for them both. raine casted her head down in thinking of the words she must say for the last time. she looked back at them all, to no one in particular, and dared to raise her eyes to her terrible fate as she began.

"when a crime goes unpunished, the world is unbalanced. when the wrong is unavenged, the heavens look down on us in shame. we too must die for this circle of vengeance to be closed. we will leave this record of our courage so the world will know who we were and what we did."

as she ended, they both tied the cloth firmly to cover their eyes. at the absence of sight, fear started to creep in. she could hear the executioner stepping away from her and to the colonel first. he declared with resolve, a means of comforting the two souls.

"death is proud to take you."

raine exhaled peacefully at that. it was a reply to their previous convictions—a way of reassuring they have done well.

and so, she did not panic, even when the sound of a drop on the floor filled the place.

raphael had been a great friend, soldier, and a person. the silva would not mind having to fight beside him once again.

the room stayed silent, with no other noise but the small whimpers of the audience. however, it was immediately overshadowed by the sound of footsteps, nearing her one step at a time. she guessed this must be it.

loraine's mind became blank. she hurried herself to think of memories—those that she would love to relive. she had a strange belief that it would not be as painful if she was feeling happy. but, it was also strangely hard to be one in the moment. all she could think of was that maybe, dying is the best option for her in this life. there was no home for her anymore.

and when she greets death, she hoped it is gentle. she hoped it is like going home. she believed a great happiness awaited her somewhere.

and for this reason, she remained calm as the axe hit her neck.

the audience found themselves letting go of the prolonged silence, breaking out to their cries. however, one person did not have any tear or voice left in himself anymore as he stared at the trail of blood that was starting to accumulate and flow away from the body.

indeed, a lot can happen in a day.

he was annoyed by her in one, taken by her in one, and loved her in one. he is grieving for her in one, and he will long for her in one.

and so, he was left with nothing but to face reality—realising that a very frightening thought is now shadowing him intimately.

when tomorrow depends to a person, what should one do? when that person is lost, does that mean tomorrow is too?

love was there. it may have not changed anything. it may have not saved anyone. but, it still matters that the love was there.

because, raine did not need to be saved. she needed to be found and appreciated for who exactly she was. her father has taught her that this world was only a preparation for the next, that all they can ask is to leave it having loved and being loved.

and benedict, until the very last moment, made that known to her and everyone else. she was found. she was appreciated. she was loved.

all by him.

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