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anantaru · 3 months

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ONE KISS IS ALL IT TAKES ... OR MORE? — SCARAMOUCHE

your boyfriend scaramouche can be so grumpy sometimes, but you know of a couple ways that will make him show his soft side, wc. 1.3k

・✶ ｡ warnings — heavily making out & tit play, fem! reader, fluff, established relationship, grumpy scaramouche

it's not difficult for you to discern whenever your boyfriend scaramouche was grumpy after a long day and you could already hear it from afar, not needing to see him— the familiar sounds of grumbling and frustrated sighs flowing from his lips to your ears even before you entered your shared apartment.

to be clear, you really don't mind your boyfriend being in one of his moods again, it was quite normal to you and in all honesty, there was nothing more inside of you than a burning impulse of wanting to help him as good as you could.

you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for what might've been the reason this particular night.

right as you walked into your bedroom, you found him lividly pacing back and forth, his brows furrowed and his lips set in a tight line of frustration, agitated to the point where he didn't even acknowledge your presence, too wrapped up in whatever was bothering him.

"hey, are you okay?" you ask him gently, stepping a bit closer before setting your jacket on the bed, not taking your gaze off him.

"hah, what? oh, yeah, totally fine, totally okay," he mutters back, awkwardly glancing at you before resuming his pacing, giving you a cold shoulder— and ah, he did this often, for scaramouche it was difficult to actually open up but also, the last thing he wanted was to somewhat drag you down with him.

"those people in the akademiya just, they're, ugh, aggravating, you know? they don't under- understand me, they don't listen, they don't leave me alone,"

"they also can't stop staring and muttering their little mouths to death."

you listen patiently, nodding contently as he vented out his frustrations while ever so often attempting to stop himself by biting into his lower lip— and well, scaramouche had a big tendency to get grumpy pretty easily, and it often took him a while to wind down but talking to you helped, even if it takes him a little to actually do it.

not to mention that you knew the secret to calming him down, always, achieving great relaxation in softening the expression on his face.

you take his hand, guiding him to the edge of the bed as he flinches he moment you touched him, "come over there," you motion towards the bed as he nods, pulling him down to sit beside you, "relax, okay? you're home now."

"i can't relax right now," he barks back, furrowing his brows although he can never resist your welcoming, more so warm embrace as you tugged him closer to your chest, "how can people be so stupid there? aren't they supposed to be geniuses or something?"

you couldn't suppress a laugh, chuckling as you tenderly run a hand through his tousled hair, "maybe you're just too smart, ever thought about that?" you add and listen to him as he exhales shakily through his mouth.

but the man grumbles and you could swear you saw a smile, a slight pucker of his lips when you called him smart, seeing it as a small victory in itself before you shift closer, your arms wrapped around his neck.

he reacts to your touch immediately, his body tense against yours as you just hugged him for a while, holding him gently and waiting until you felt him start to relax.

"breathe and— and just feel me, okay?" you utter.

he sighs but you know whenever he sighs just like that, when the tension in his soul and body eases a bit more, "you're too good to me, keeping up with this," he frowns, his voice losing some of it's earlier sharp edge as it attains a pillowy note.

"ah, i know," you tease, "—don't have to tell me that all the time," as you playfully roll your eyes, kissing his cheek, "kidding, i love all sides of you."

"feeling better already?" you ask him, "now that i'm here?" your voice barely above a whisper.

"maybe, only a little though," you're helping and he knows it, he's both in love and scared by how well you already knew him by now.

his gaze flickers to your lips and back to your eyes, "there's something that would make me feel better, great even,"

a curious expression dances over your cheekbones, a playful smile tugging at your precious lips, "oh, really now? what are you thinking about?"

and instead of answering you with words, he captures your lips in a kiss that was a cross between a need and a fleeting frustration, an eager want that quickly deepened the kiss between you. you tug at his hair, pushing him into your lips as he kissed you like a man starved of love and lust, his tongue moving over yours in a hunger well beyond desperation.

the intensity multiplied in seconds, in every touch and every swipe of tongue— scaramouche was eager, he made sure to kiss you even harder as his hands roamed freely over your chest, leaving you short of breath.

never in a million years was his touch not possessive, not almost desperate to the point where you immediately needed more— although it was easy to discern that there was an underlying reason as to why scaramouche kissed you that way, it's as if he was afraid you might slip away if he didn't hold you tight enough.

you broke the kiss only long enough to gasp for air, looking into his doughy eyes as your heart knocks and knocks against your chest, his facial expression drowsy and clouded, his lips swollen and glistening, "scara," you whine, your thighs pressing together.

"hmm?" he just hums an answer, not giving you a chance to say more before capturing your lips yet again, another kiss that was even more fervent than the last one he has given you.

he helps you get onto his lap before one hand slipped under your shirt to play with your tits, instantly targeting your erected nipples with a playful pinch and tug.

you shiver and moan his name, your body responding to his touch with a need that barely matched his own.

he shifts the both of you before pressing you into the bed, his body on top of yours and his lips searching for your neck as it elicits a hefty gasp from your throat.

scaramouche laughs with a deep groan as he continues to pinch your nipples and squeeze your pretty tits, his bangs sticking against his forehead and only showing the pace he was going for.

"scara, please— please," you whine, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you arch into his touch.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire, "please what, hmm?" he asks teasingly, like he doesn't know what he's doing to you— as if he's not fully aware on how to get you to this point.

his voice was now, consisting of a low growl that sent shivers down your spine before he grabs at his clothed cock to show you what you're doing to him, stroking the obvious bulge in his pants and hissing as he grinds his cock into his palm.

"please don't stop," you whisper and cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you before your voice trembles in need, "i need you, it feels so good,"

ah, what was the reason he was grumpy about again? because archons— scaramouche swears he forgot, he can forget just about anything when he hears you say that you need him.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #wanderer x reader #wanderer smut #scaramouche x you

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wholoveseggs · 3 months

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Small Victories

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Reader} After a tourney in which Daemon places second, he seeks solace from his loss and finds it in his little northern maid.

♡♡ Hello darlings! I'm branching out slightly and writing about a new character {Don't worry, I'm still writing Elijah} xoxo ♡♡

5.3k words - Warnings: smutt, size!kink, rough sex, dom!daemon, slight choking, virgin!reader, northern!reader, servant!reader, pre-dance Daemon, huge power imbalance...

♡♡ Hey! I didn't tag anyone because I'm unsure if you want to read Daemon content. If you wish to be tagged in future Daemon let me know ♡♡

You didn't like the Red Keep, it was too grand for your liking. Even with all of the people in it you still felt alone. At night, you could hear voices echoing throughout the halls, sometimes they were singing or laughing and other times they were screaming or moaning.

You could never tell where the sounds were coming from, it gave the place an odd feeling of being haunted. Ghosts weren't something you put your faith in, but that didn't stop the hair from standing up on the back of your neck whenever you heard a strange sound.

If it was up to you, you wouldn't live here. You would be back in the little cottage you grew up in, far into the north and as far away from King's landing as you could possibly be. It was a funny contradiction, that such a grand place in a warm environment could feel so cold, while a small house in the cold north could feel so full of warmth.

The last thing your mother said to you, was that you should be grateful. That your place in the Red Keep was the highest honor your family could ever hope to receive, and that you should do anything to stay here. To be a lady's maid to the queen, was the highest achievement a low born could achieve.

You tried to be, even though your heart yearned for the snowy landscape of your childhood. You wanted to be happy, you were thankful, but you couldn't help the way you missed the north.

So to try and capture just a bit of personal freedom, you would walk the halls at night. It was the only time you could pretend to be somewhere else, even if it was only for a moment. You would close your eyes and imagine yourself somewhere new and exciting, and when you opened them you would be reminded of where you really were.

Tonight you were in a particularly adventurous mood, there was a tourney the next day for Prince Viserys and his wife Aemma to celebrate their wedding. The Red Keep would be full of guests and it would be loud and full of life, you were sure to be very busy, and so you decided to stay up late and postpone sleep for a few more hours.

There was a room in the library that had a view of the city, one you liked to frequent often. It had a large window and a balcony that was rarely used. It was a nice place to go to clear your mind and think about home.

When you entered, nobody was around except for a cat that was perched on the windowsill. She was a lovely thing with black fur and bright green eyes, the perfect color of a dark forest at night.

"Hello, beautiful." You greeted her with a smile and a light stroke along her back. You looked out the window with her at your side, watching the moon reflect off the ocean and the waves crashing against the shore.

The sound of footsteps behind you made you look over your shoulder, your eyes landing on a man with a face that made you stand up straight and bow your head.

"Prince Daemon." You greeted him, not looking up from the floor.

"Young maidens like yourself shouldn't be out so late." He said, stepping closer to you. You didn't dare move or even breathe, his presence made you feel like you were caught doing something wrong.

"I couldn't sleep, my lord," You answered, not meeting his eyes. This was your first real meeting with the prince, but you knew the rumors that surrounded him.

He didn't respond to your answer, instead, he turned his attention towards the view. Leaning against the window, his posture was dismissive, as though you weren't there. He gave you a side glance that read, 'leave,' and so you did, not wanting to get in his way.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to intrude." You said, walking past him, heading towards the doorway.

"You are from the north," he spoke, still looking out into the water.

"Yes, my lord," You answered, stopping when he started speaking.

"How did you find yourself as a maid in the south?" He asked, looking at you, his eyes piercing through you.

The truth of the matter made you feel shameful, even though it was beyond your control. So you decided to tell him what you've been telling everyone.

"I was given as a gift for our new queen," You said, looking down at the floor.

"Is that what they call it?" Daemon laughed, his laugh was as harsh as his voice, the kind of laugh that could cut you open if you let it. "I heard you were given away as payment for a debt."

Your cheeks reddened and you looked at the ground, your throat closing up at the mention of your family's failure. Pride wasn't something you could afford anymore, but you couldn't stop the words that came out of your mouth.

"I didn't realize that princes were so fond of gossip." You said, meeting his eyes, your words were meant to cut, and they did.

He stood up straight, his expression unreadable as he closed the distance between the two of you, towering over you.

"Ahh, so they did sell you." He smirked, looking down at you. "Whoring can make you better coin… recover a debt quicker."

Your hands balled up into fists and you took a step closer, a defiant glare on your face.

He chuckled and tilted his head, he reached out and touched your chin, his hand was soft but firm as he turned your face to look at him.

"With a pretty face like yours, I'm sure you would make quite a bit of coin," His voice was a purr, a seductive growl that made your insides feel tight. "I could show you a better use for those lips."

His words were shockingly vulgar, his voice was rough and commanding and his eyes were hungry, but you didn't move away, you stayed still. You knew the dragon prince was a scandalous man, but you didn't think he would ever be so bold.

"There is no honor in a whore's coin." You answered, pushing his hand away from your face.

"Is there honor in emptying the queen's chamber pot?" He retorted, grinning slightly at how red your cheeks had become.

"Not all of us have the opportunity to choose what sort of honor we can acquire,” You said, standing your ground as best as you could.

He towered over you, his tall frame casting a shadow that almost completely covered you. He wasn't like the king or queen, who were kind and generous. There was something dark and malicious about him, as though the great beasts of his house lurked just below his skin, waiting to come out.

"You have a smart mouth, little northerner." He mused, his eyes drifting down to your lips. "It's a wonder that the queen has not put a gag in it."

"It's a poor quality I have yet to overcome." You responded, pulling away from him and putting some distance between the two of you.

He watched you move away, his eyes following your movements and the shape of your body, making you feel hot.

"I will think of you when I win the tourney tomorrow." He said, his tone smug and confident. "A sweet northern flower to bring back with me."

"You will be bringing back nothing, prince Daemon." You said, your voice a warning.

He laughed and looked at you, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"We'll see about that."

And with those final words, he left the room. You felt flustered and annoyed, a strange mixture of feelings that confused and angered you. You didn't like the prince, but he made your heart race, his voice and his eyes made you feel a strange sense of heat.

You wanted to be disgusted, and yet all you could think about was seeing him again.

It was a hectic morning, with all the knights and guests arriving, and you were late. Your tardiness had earned you a sharp reprimand from your head maid, but you were too distracted by the upcoming event to care.

The prospect of seeing the prince again was something you weren't sure you wanted, but couldn't stop thinking about.

You didn't like the way his eyes lingered on you, or how he made you feel things that shouldn't be felt. The rogue prince was indeed a fitting title, he was a scoundrel and a liar, a man of dishonor.

You thought that maybe he was the sort of person that the south created, perhaps they took people like you and turned them into someone like him. But then again, he wasn't really a southerner, no, he was a dragon.

The sound of cheers and laughter outside made your ears perk up. The queen was already seated with the other royals in their viewing box, and you were in a nearby tent, preparing more wine and food.

The tourney had just begun, and so far the knights had all performed well. You had only been paying a bit of attention, trying to do your job and keep out of the way.

The head maid was a cruel, vindictive woman, and she had been taking out her frustration on you all day. Her temper was short and her hands were rough, she was the kind of woman that would slap your hands or pull your hair if she was upset. But today she decided to simply make your life miserable with her words.

She gave you the worst jobs and the heaviest items to carry, and when she did allow you to stand and rest, she would hit your feet with her broom and tell you to get back to work.

"Once you are finished pouring wine, I want you to go to the prince's tent and serve him." She ordered, her eyes were sharp and her words were harsh.

"The prince has a squire to serve him." You protested, the idea of facing Daemon again made your cheeks turn red.

"The prince requested a woman's company,” She smiled, her eyes looking at you with an almost wicked satisfaction.

"I believe what the prince is looking for can be found on the street of silk, not among the ladies maids." You countered, hoping to change her mind.

"It's an honor to serve the prince, and he has specifically asked for a northern girl." The head maid was adamant, not willing to let this go.

You clenched your jaw and took a deep breath, biting your tongue as you looked at the floor.

"Very well, madam."

You held back tears as you climbed the stairs to the viewing box, pouring wine into the cups. Keeping your eyes low and only lifting them when absolutely necessary as you made your way down the line of royals.

Everyone began to stir and chat as the final round was announced. You turned to face the arena, watching as the prince mounted his horse, the sight of him made your heart flutter.

He was a handsome man, there was no denying that, his long blonde hair was braided and tied back, and his purple eyes were focused and determined.

His horse was a massive stallion, black as night, and he rode him as though they were one. He moved with a grace and confidence that was captivating.

The final round began, the two men charging at each other. You were nervous and excited, not knowing what to expect.

The clash of steel was the only sound in the air, it echoed throughout the entire arena. The crowd was silent, their eyes locked on the scene before them.

The two men passed each other, once, twice, three times. The tension building with each near miss, until finally the two knights clashed again.

Daemon's opponent had a slight edge over him, being bigger and stronger, but Daemon was quicker. But on the fourth pass, his opponent managed to catch him off guard, sending him flying into the dirt.

The crowd gasped, their hands covering their mouths as the prince's horse bucked and ran, leaving him in the dust.

You winced at the sight, it wasn't a good fall. He landed on his back, hard, and he lay still for a moment, his eyes squeezed shut as he caught his breath.

Only when the head maid cleared her throat did you realize you had been holding your breath.

"You are needed in the prince's tent, girl." she commanded, grabbing the jug from your hands and giving you a stern look.

You nodded, taking the tray of food and wine from the table and heading out of the box. Your heart was racing and your palms were sweaty, the thought of seeing Daemon after such a public humiliation was not something you were looking forward to.

The air was alive with the roar of the people, and the thumping of their feet sounded like thunder. They were chanting for the champion, something that would surely upset Daemon even more.

When you got to his tent, you hesitated, taking a moment to calm your nerves. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, letting the noise of the crowd fade away.

You stepped inside, finding him sitting in a chair, his shirt was off and his squire was cleaning a nasty gash on his arm.

"I'm sorry for intruding, Prince Daemon." You said, placing the tray of food on the table and pouring a cup of wine.

"Leave," he barked at his squire, his voice was gruff and his jaw was clenched.

"But my prince-" his squire protested, looking up from the wound he was treating.

"Now."

The boy left quickly, leaving you alone with the brooding prince.

"Would you like some wine, my lord?" You asked, your voice soft and timid, the last thing you wanted was to make him even more upset.

"No," he hissed, his voice sharp as a knife. "Bring me a new shirt."

You did as he asked, walking over to the large chest in the corner. It was full of clothes, the colors and fabrics were fine and beautiful. You selected a clean white shirt and brought it over to him, your eyes focused on the ground.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice was quiet, but it was a demand, not a request.

You lifted your eyes, meeting his gaze. His eyes were cold, the same shade of violet that had captivated you was now a glare.

You did very well, my lord," You tried to reassure him, your voice soft and comforting.

"Is that meant to be comforting?" He asked, his tone was harsh and his expression was a scowl.

"Fine. I have never seen a worse display than the one you put on today," you said, the words slipping from your mouth before you could stop them.

He smiled, then laughed, his shoulders shaking as his amusement grew. Only his brother the king would ever talk to him this way, and here you were, a young low born northerner, mocking him. He didn't know why he enjoyed it coming from you, perhaps it was because your words meant nothing. You were no one, and he was the prince, and yet he found himself intrigued.

"That was quite a show, wasn't it?" He chuckled, the sound was hollow, not at all humorous.

"It was humiliating," you answered, the words escaping before you could stop them.

"Careful," he warned, his eyes narrowing. "You're lucky I find your insolence amusing."

"I thought it was why you had asked for me," you retorted, setting the shirt on the table and taking a step back.

He stood up from the chair, closing the space between the two of you. The air was thick with tension, his eyes boring into yours, his face was inches from yours.

"I didn't lose the tourney," he stated, his voice a low growl.

"You didn't win either," you countered, your cheeks flushed red, your heart racing in your chest.

He smiled, the gesture was almost predatory, he reached out and grabbed your face, his hands were rough and his grip was tight.

"You are quite the mouthy little wench," his words were a harsh whisper, his breath hot against your skin.

You didn't answer, afraid of what he would do if you spoke. He seemed to be enjoying himself, his eyes dancing with amusement as he stared at you.

"On your knees," he ordered, his tone demanding.

"My lord, I-" you protested, trying to pull away.

"Kneel," his voice was louder this time, and you knew that he was not going to repeat himself.

You hesitated for a moment, but he was the prince, and you couldn't disobey him. So you lowered yourself onto your knees, looking up at him, waiting for him to tell you what to do next.

"Is it true that northern girls can take a cock better than southern ones?" He asked, his hand still holding onto your chin.

You didn't know how to respond, his words making your cheeks burn. You could only stare at him, your mind reeling as you tried to figure out what he wanted.

He smiled, and the look in his eyes made your heart race. "Open your mouth, little northerner."

You did as he commanded, your eyes never leaving his. He pushed his thumb past your lips and slowly pressed down onto your tongue, rubbing it in circles before slowly dragging it out.

Your lips parted and your breathing became heavier as he traced his wet thumb across your bottom lip, his eyes fixated on the movement.

"Beautiful." He whispered before sliding his thumb back into your mouth, pushing it all the way into your throat, causing you to gag.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and wiped the spit off on your cheek before grabbing you by the arms and lifting you up, turning you around and pushing you face first into the table.

"My lord," you gasped, struggling against his strong grip.

Daemon laughed at the look of shock on your face, his cock growing harder at the sight. "See? I knew you would make a great whore," he smirked, his words bringing a flush to your face.

He pulled your dress up, exposing your ass and legs. His hands were rough as he groped you, squeezing your thighs and your cheeks.

You pushed against him, trying to free yourself, but his grip was too strong. He pushed your thighs apart, his hand trailing up to your cunt, his fingers stroking your entrance, teasing you.

He softened at your defiance, a smirk crossing his lips. "I enjoy you, little northerner. Perhaps I should keep you," he mused.

He slid his finger into your cunt, his touch gentle and slow. You whimpered, pushing against him again.

"You would be my little northern flower," he murmured, his finger moving in and out of your cunt, the pace becoming quicker. "A blue rose in my garden."

You were ashamed of how aroused you were, the prince's touch was intoxicating, and you couldn't stop yourself from grinding your hips against his hand. You had never been with a man before and the pleasure he was giving you was beyond anything you had ever felt.

He slid another finger inside of you, his movements quick and rough. You moaned, biting your lip as you felt yourself getting closer to release.

He suddenly pulled away, the sudden absence of his touch made you whimper. He spun you around, knocking objects off the table and pinning you against it. Your hands went to his chest, pushing him back, but his grip was too strong, his eyes filled with lust.

"You're a feisty one," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands gripping your ass, lifting you up and pressing you against his hips. "I guess it's true that the fires always burn hotter in the north,"

You shivered as he sucked and bit at the skin on your neck, his teeth scraping across your sensitive flesh, leaving red marks behind. You couldn't help but moan, the feeling was so intense, and the sounds were so sinful.

"My prince... I..." You stuttered, trying to find the words, but he cut you off with a kiss.

The feel of his hands on your body, his lips on yours, his cock hard against you, was intoxicating. You had never felt this way before, this desire, this want. He made you feel like you were drowning in the fire of his touch. He was a dragon, and he would take what he wanted.

You couldn't resist, you gave in, kissing him back, letting his tongue explore your mouth. He smelled of blood, dirt and sweat, a combination that shouldn't have been appealing, but was.

You could taste his lust on your lips, and it made you hungry for more. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pressing yourself closer to him, and he moaned, the sound rumbling in his chest. He was so much larger than you, so much stronger, and you felt so small in his arms.

His hand trailed down your chest, slowly untying the strings that held up your dress, his fingers tracing over the fabric, teasing you.

"Sweet little northern girl," he teased, his voice a low growl. "Are you going to give yourself to me?"

"Yes," you whispered, your cheeks flushed pink.

He kissed you again, his lips rough and demanding, his hand pushing your dress down, exposing your breasts. "You've never touched yourself before, have you?”

"No, my Prince," you whispered, your little hands curled into his chest, your nails digging into his skin.

"That's alright, I'll show you how it's done."

His hands slid down to your thighs, his fingers trailing up, his touch light and teasing. You let out a gasp as his fingers brushed over your cunt, touching a spot that made your body tremble.

"This little spot right here," he said, rubbing his thumb against it, "is the most sensitive part of your body. The more pressure, the better."

You nodded, gasping and moaning as he pressed his thumb against it, circling it. You could feel the heat rising within you, the pleasure building.

"Feels good doesn't it?" He whispered, his voice husky, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Y-yes," you stuttered, your hips moving, grinding against his hand.

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

"Do you like being my little whore, hmm?" He asked, his lips trailing down your neck, his kisses hot and wet.

"N-no," you moaned, pushing him back, trying to fight against him.

He laughed, his teeth nipping at your collarbone. "Liar," he whispered, his tongue licking over the marks he'd made.

His hands reaching down to his waist, undoing his breeches and pulling them off, his cock springing free. You gasped, your eyes wide as you took in the size of him.

He took your hand and placed it on his cock, his eyes burning into yours. "Go on, feel it," he whispered.

Your fingers curled around his cock, your small hand barely able to fit around him. You moved your hand, sliding it down the length of his shaft, his cock thick and pulsing in your hand. His skin was so warm and smooth, his breathing deepening as you began to move your hand up and down, stroking him slowly.

You could see the scars from battle stretched across his chest and torso. Small claw-like marks around his pectoral and a deep line that stretched down the left side of his rib cage. He was a hardened warrior, and you could tell by his scars, he had been through much to get where he was now.

You squeezed his cock, moving your hand up and down, his breathing deepening and his eyes growing hazy. He watched you, his gaze following every movement you made. You were starting to get more comfortable, taking pleasure in watching him, in making him feel good. You found the nerve to press the pad of your thumb against the tip, feeling the moisture leaking from him.

"Good girl," he praised, his voice low and husky.

You felt a wave of pride, knowing that you were pleasing him, that he liked the way you were touching him. You continued to stroke him, squeezing and pulling at his cock, watching his face, seeing the pleasure on his features.

He groaned, his eyes closing and his head tilting back, his breath catching. You could feel his cock throbbing in your hand, and you knew that he was getting close.

He let out a low growl and grabbed your wrist, halting your movements. "If you keep that up, I'm going to spill my seed all over this pretty little dress of yours," he said, his eyes full of heat.

"Is that so, my lord?" You asked, unable to hide the hint of amusement in your voice.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you under him, his body caging you, trapping you beneath him. He was breathing hard, his face flushed, his cock hard and resting on your stomach. His eyes burned into yours, his gaze intense, his hands gripping your hips, holding you steady.

You weren't talking back anymore, he could see the fear in your eyes, the hesitance, and that only made him want you more. His hand went to your throat, applying gentle pressure, a silent warning.

He could feel you trembling beneath him, and he tightened his grip, a primal, possessive urge rising within him. Your small hands pushing into his chest, clutching at his heated flesh.

"Open for me," he growled, his eyes fixed on yours.

You parted your thighs, allowing him to press closer to you. He growled, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist, his cock brushing against your cunt. He felt you tighten, your eyes widening with trepidation.

He chuckled, loving how terrified and eager you were at the same time. He gave you a moment, and then he slowly pushed into you. You whimpered, your nails digging into his back, your eyes closed, your face twisted in pain.

"Breathe," he said, rubbing his thumb against your cheek, "it will hurt for a just moment and then I will make you feel good,"

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you felt his cock hit your maidenhead.

"Are you ready, little northerner?" He whispered.

You gripped his forearms and nodded.

He pushed in slowly, breaking through your barrier. You cried out, the pain was intense and immediate. He groaned, the feel of your tight cunt was intoxicating.

He stayed still, giving you time to adjust. Your nails dug into his arms, leaving deep scratches in his flesh.

"Such a pretty, tight little cunt," he growled, nipping at your neck.

You kept your eyes closed, trying to focus on his words and not the pain. He began to move with slow, deep strokes, his cock stretching you, filling you. He was bigger than he felt in your hands, and you swore you could feel him everywhere.

He moaned, his hips rocking into you, his hand still on your throat, making you feel lightheaded. You looked up at him with wide eyes, your lips parted, your cheeks flushed. You felt so full of him, stretched open, the pain and pleasure mixing into one.

He watched your reaction with a smirk, amused by your shocked, satisfied expression. He was moving slowly, enjoying your warmth and the feel of your cunt clenching around him. He knew you were enjoying it, too, your eyes half-closed, a soft moan escaping your lip. Your small frame was arched to his body, your hands holding on to his neck.

You were surprised at his gentleness. You'd heard that the dragon prince liked to rough up women, but he was being as careful as if you were made of spun sugar. You felt so small and helpless underneath him, his large body nearly engulfing yours, and yet he wasn't hurting you. His touch was delicate, reverent. The way he spoke to you, calling you pet names, made your heart skip a beat.

You arched against him, a soft cry leaving your lips as his strokes got faster, deeper, hitting a place inside you that sent a sharp, hot pleasure through you.

"Does my little northerner like her prince's cock?" He said, a laugh in his voice, he began to pick up the pace, pounding into you.

You squeaked and pushed on his chest, the sensations becoming too much. He grabbed your hips and held you still, fucking you hard and fast, his eyes full of fire.

You felt your release rising up inside you, the tension in your body winding tighter and tighter. You could feel yourself clamping down on his cock, the pleasure almost too much, the sweet pain sending you over the edge.

He groaned at the sight of you coming undone, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you shattered around him. He could feel the tension in your muscles as your climax tore through you. He slowed his movements, easing out the last waves of pleasure, drawing it out until you were a shuddering, moaning mess.

He was close behind, his thrusts erratic, his breathing harsh. He pulled out and spilled his seed across your stomach, his hips bucking. He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a contented sigh leaving his lips. At least he had one victory today.

Your face was hot with shame, your mind unable to comprehend what just happened. The prince's seed was cooling on your stomach and chest, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Your hands went to your face, covering it as tears came to your eyes, you had never felt so good and so embarrassed at once.

He moved off of you, his eyes locked on yours, a smirk crossing his lips. He looked satisfied, his gaze wandering over your body, lingering on the wetness between your legs, the mess he'd made of you. He tossed you a cloth to clean yourself with. You wiped his seed off your skin, watching him dress, his blonde hair still braided back, his purple eyes full of lust and desire. He was a warrior, a dragon, he was beauty and strength, power and masculinity. He was everything you wanted and feared, a beast who could destroy you.

He gave you a side glance, his eyes full of amusement. "You may go," he said, shooing you away with a hand.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, as you took a shaky breath. You stood up, gathering the pieces of your dress and your underclothes. Your legs were wobbly, and you felt weak, sore, and full of shame.

"Yes, my prince," you said quietly, looking at the floor, unable to meet his eyes.

He chuckled, the sound of his voice making you shiver. "Don't be so timid, little northerner. This is the beginning, not the end," he said, his words sending a jolt of fear and excitement through you.

He was right, this was only the beginning. You were his servant, and he could do with you as he pleased. He would have you come to him whenever he chose, on the warmest summer nights and the coldest winter days. He would take what he wanted, when he wanted.

He was a dragon, and his will was as strong as his blood.

And deep down, you knew you would enjoy it. He was the perfect thing to distract you from the mundanity of your life, the endless monotony of serving others.

Perhaps the Red Keep wouldn't be so terrible, not if it meant serving him.

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novaursa · 29 days

Text

The Veil of Fire (1/3)

- Summary: Your twin sister, Helaena, had her dreams, but you were gifted with something else. Something akin to a terrible purpose.

- Paring: aunt!reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is Helaena's twin sister, is bonded with Cannibal (whom she named Morgoth after she claimed him). This is a request made by @witch-of-letters. Enjoy! ❤️

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 6 000+

- Next part: 2

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

You awaken with a start, the remnants of the dream clinging to your senses like the lingering taste of copper in your mouth. It is dark in your chamber, the only light coming from the embers in the hearth, glowing faintly. But the darkness does nothing to dispel the vivid images seared into your mind. The dream—it had been more than just a dream. You had felt it in your bones, deep in your very marrow. The wind tearing at your scales as you soared through the sky, the scent of earth and sweat and blood sharp in your nostrils. The primal rush as you descended upon the stag, powerful legs pumping beneath you, muscles rippling as you gave chase.

The terror of the creature, so swift and yet so hopeless in the face of your overwhelming might, fed the fire in your belly. You could almost feel the earth quake beneath you as you landed, talons digging into the soft flesh of your prey, the crack of bones as they gave way under your weight. You remember the feel of the stag's fur against your tongue, the rich, metallic taste of blood flooding your senses as your teeth sunk deep into its flesh. It was alive in your mouth, a creature of warmth and life, and you were devouring it, piece by piece, savoring every ounce of its struggle, every pulse of its weakening heart.

The taste of victory, of dominance, of absolute power was intoxicating. As the last breath of the stag left its body, you were filled with a sense of completion, a satisfaction that was both yours and not yours, a feeling of wholeness that was almost too much to bear. It wasn’t just a dream—it was real. You had been there, felt what Morgoth—no, Cannibal, as you still sometimes thought of him—had felt. His hunger, his pleasure, his savage satisfaction as he fed. And now, even awake, you can still taste the blood in your mouth, feel the last echoes of the stag’s death rattle through you.

You shudder, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream as you sit up in bed. Your hand instinctively moves to your lips, as if to wipe away the lingering blood, though you know there is nothing there. The room is cold, and you pull the blankets tighter around yourself, your mind still reeling from the intensity of the vision.

Your twin sister, Helaena, is already awake, sitting up in her own bed, her pale eyes fixed on you. There is an odd stillness to her, a knowingness that unnerves you, even after all these years.

"I had a nightmare," you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep, and something else—something darker, more primal.

Helaena tilts her head slightly, her gaze never leaving yours. "It was not a nightmare," she says softly, her voice almost a whisper. "It was a transfer. You were not here with me."

Her words send a chill down your spine, colder than the night air. "A transfer?" you repeat, confused. "I don’t understand, Helaena. I was dreaming, nothing more. Perhaps you had your own troubles sleeping?"

Helaena’s eyes narrow slightly, her lips curving into a faint, enigmatic smile. "You were not here," she insists, her voice taking on a strange, faraway quality. "You were flying, far away, with Morgoth."

You shake your head, trying to dispel the unease that her words are stirring within you. "It was just a dream, Helaena," you say, though even as the words leave your mouth, they feel like a lie. You’ve always known your twin to be different, but this—this feels like something more. "You must have had a vision of your own."

She doesn’t respond, just continues to look at you with those unsettling eyes, as if she’s peering into the very depths of your soul. Finally, she lies back down, turning away from you, but her words linger in the air like a specter. "You were not here," she repeats, her voice a mere whisper now. "You were with him."

You lie back down as well, but sleep doesn’t come easily. Your mind is too full of the dream, of Helaena’s words, of the feeling that something has shifted, that a line has been crossed that cannot be uncrossed. You close your eyes, trying to will yourself to rest, but your thoughts keep drifting back to Jacaerys.

Jace, with his warm smile and kind eyes, always so patient with you, so different from the court’s intrigues and serpentine whispers. You’ve missed him terribly since he left with Rhaenyra, Laenor, and the boys. The court has been quieter without them, yet the air is heavier, thick with rumors and distrust. The question of Jace’s parentage has always loomed like a dark cloud, and now it has become a storm, too dangerous for him and his family to weather here.

You think of the last time you saw him, his eyes lingering on yours as they said their farewells. The way his hand lingered a moment too long on yours, the way he looked back at you just before he left, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. You had always been close, closer even than you were with your own brothers at times, and now, with him gone, there is an emptiness in your heart that nothing seems to fill.

You turn onto your side, curling into the warmth of your blankets, trying to hold onto the memory of his touch, his scent, the sound of his laughter. But it’s not enough. The dream still lingers at the edges of your mind, dark and unsettling, reminding you that something has changed, and there is no going back.

As sleep finally begins to claim you once more, your last thoughts are of Jacaerys, of the feel of his hand in yours, and of the unsettling certainty that you will see him again, sooner than you think.

The morning sun bathes the corridors of the Red Keep in a golden light as you walk beside your grandsire, Otto Hightower. The stone walls are cool to the touch, yet the warmth of the day is beginning to creep in, making the air heavy with the scent of the sea and blooming flowers from the gardens below. Your steps echo in the hall, the only sound that accompanies you and your grandsire in this moment of relative peace.

Otto’s face is a mask of calm, but you can sense the sharp mind working behind his serene expression. You know this walk well; it is not merely a stroll for him. This is his opportunity to nudge, to guide, to mold. He has always tried to draw you into the labyrinth of court politics, eager to make use of your sharp mind and keen understanding of people. But you have learned to navigate these conversations with him, dancing on the edge of engagement without ever fully stepping into the web he so carefully weaves.

"My dear," Otto begins, his voice smooth and measured, "you have a gift, one that could be put to great use in the service of the realm. You see things others do not, understand the currents beneath the surface. The court could benefit greatly from your wisdom, if only you would take a more active role."

You smile at him, the kind of smile that is both warm and guarded. "Grandsire, I am flattered by your confidence in me. But you know well that my talents are better suited to other pursuits. The court is a place where serpents nest, and I find I have no desire to dance with them."

Otto chuckles softly, though you catch the slight tightening around his eyes. "You underestimate your ability to navigate those waters, my dear. You could influence so much, bring about changes that would secure the future of our house."

"And yet," you say with a lightness that belies the weight of the conversation, "I prefer to leave the dancing to others. I fulfill my duties, attend the necessary events, but beyond that, I find little joy in the games played at court. I would rather debate philosophy with Aemond than trade barbs with courtiers."

Otto regards you for a moment, his eyes searching yours for any sign of wavering. But you meet his gaze steadily, unwavering in your resolve. He knows this is not a battle he can win today, and so he shifts tactics, as you knew he would.

"Very well," he concedes with a graceful nod, "but remember, the tides of power are ever-changing. One must be ready to act when the moment calls for it."

"Of course, grandsire," you reply with another smile, "and I shall be ready, should that moment come. But until then, I am content with the life I lead."

With that, you part ways, Otto heading off to attend to his duties, and you, seeking out a quieter corner of the Keep where the air is less thick with the weight of expectations. Your feet carry you towards the gardens, the place where you often find solace amidst the chaos of court life. As you turn a corner, you spot Aegon lounging lazily on a stone bench beneath the shade of a flowering tree, his usual air of indifference more pronounced today.

"Aegon," you call out lightly, drawing his attention. "Enjoying the morning sun, or simply avoiding whatever task you’ve been assigned?"

He looks up at you with a lazy grin, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "A bit of both, I suppose. Though I’m more inclined to say it’s the latter."

You chuckle, making your way over to him. "If Mother knew you were hiding away here, she’d have you by the ear and back to your duties in no time."

"She already did," Aegon replies with a huff, his grin fading as he turns his gaze to the ground. "And now I’m banished to the gardens, like some sulking child."

You take a seat beside him, the cool stone of the bench pressing against your legs through the fabric of your dress. "What did you do this time?"

He shrugs, the motion casual, but there’s a heaviness to it that you don’t miss. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Just being me, I suppose. That’s enough to earn her wrath these days."

You study him for a moment, the way his shoulders slump slightly, the way he avoids meeting your eyes. There’s a sadness there, one that he tries to hide behind his usual carefree facade. "Aegon," you say gently, "Mother’s harshness comes from a place of worry, not disdain. She sees the weight of the crown on Father’s head, and she fears for all of us. But she does love you, in her own way."

He scoffs, though it lacks real bite. "Love. If that’s what it is, it’s a cruel kind. Always pointing out my flaws, my failures. It’s never enough."

"It’s because she knows you’re capable of more," you counter, your tone soft but firm. "You’re not as lost as you think, Aegon. You’re intelligent, resourceful. You just have to find your own path, not the one others lay out for you."

Aegon finally looks at you, his expression softening as he lets out a long breath. "It’s hard, you know? Everyone expects so much. And I…I just want to live my life, without all the expectations and responsibilities."

You reach out and place a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. "I understand, truly. But there’s strength in you, even if you don’t see it yet. You don’t have to be what they want you to be, but you can be something even greater, something that’s truly yours."

He seems to mull over your words, his gaze drifting to the horizon. After a long silence, he nods slowly. "Maybe you’re right," he says quietly. "I don’t know what that is yet, but…I’ll try to find it."

You smile, a genuine warmth in it that you hope reaches him. "That’s all anyone can ask, Aegon. And when you do find it, I’ll be here to support you."

He offers a small smile in return, the first real one you’ve seen from him today. "Thank you," he murmurs, the words carrying more weight than usual. "It means a lot."

You sit together in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of the Keep. In this moment, it feels as though the weight of the world has lessened, if only a little, and you’re glad to have been the one to ease it for him.

The heavy gown slips from your shoulders with a soft whisper of fabric, pooling at your feet like a dark river. The rich, embroidered silks and velvets, so carefully chosen to display your status, now lie forgotten as your maids bustle around you, their hands quick and efficient as they assist in your transformation.

You step out of the pile of fabric and lift your arms as one of your maids, a young woman with deft fingers and a quiet disposition, helps you into your dragon riding attire. Unlike the gowns you wear at court, this garb is practical, made for both protection and ease of movement. The underlayer is a tightly fitted tunic of black leather, reinforced at the shoulders and elbows, molded to your form to allow freedom of movement while still offering protection. The leather is soft, well-worn from many flights, and carries the faint scent of smoke and salt.

Over the tunic, you wear a jerkin of thicker, darker leather, fastened with a series of silver clasps shaped like small dragon heads. The jerkin is adorned with subtle stitching along the edges, a nod to your Targaryen heritage without being ostentatious. It is practical, yet elegant, a reflection of the dual roles you play as both a princess and a dragonrider. Your legs are encased in fitted breeches, made of the same durable leather, allowing you to move with agility. Your boots, worn and scuffed from years of riding, reach up to your knees, their soles thick and sturdy, perfect for gripping the saddle as Morgoth soars through the skies.

The final piece is a cloak of deep, midnight blue, clasped at your throat with a small, intricate pin in the shape of a dragon. The cloak is lined with fur to guard against the biting wind at high altitudes, and it flares out behind you as you move, a dark shadow that mirrors the wings of your dragon.

As your maids finish securing your attire, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Gone is the elegant lady of the court, replaced by the fierce dragonrider you truly are. There is a spark of excitement in your eyes, a fire that matches the one that burns in Morgoth's belly. You can feel the pull of the sky, the need to be aloft, to leave behind the walls of the Red Keep and the stifling confines of court life.

"Is there anything else, my lady?" one of the maids asks, her voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You shake your head, offering her a small smile. "No, that will be all. Thank you."

The maids curtsy and quickly leave the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Your hand drifts to the small, secret pocket sewn into the lining of your cloak, where the letter from Jace is hidden. You had read it only once, the words burning themselves into your memory, but you still find comfort in its presence. The letters you exchange are a lifeline, a connection that spans the distance between you. Each one is a reminder of the bond you share, a bond that goes beyond mere affection.

Tonight, you will see him again, on that small, isolated island halfway between Dragonstone and the Red Keep. It’s a risky endeavor, but one you would undertake a thousand times over just to be near him. The thought of it sends a thrill through you, a heady mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. The world fades away when you're with Jace, and in those stolen moments, nothing else matters.

A knock on the door pulls you from your reverie. "My lady, the escort is ready," a voice calls from the other side.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, and stride to the door. The servant outside bows as you step into the hallway, and you nod in acknowledgment. The corridors of the Red Keep are quieter now, with the court winding down for the evening. Only a few guards and servants move about, most paying little attention to you as you make your way towards the exit. You’ve done this before, taking lone flights on Morgoth to clear your mind, so it raises no suspicion.

As you exit the Keep and step into the crisp evening air, you are met by a small escort of guards, their armor gleaming in the fading light. They bow respectfully as you approach. Ser Arryk, a knight who has always been loyal to your house, steps forward.

"Princess, the city is quiet tonight," he reports, his voice steady. "We should reach the gate without incident."

"Thank you, Ser Arryk," you reply, your tone composed. "Let us be on our way."

The streets of King’s Landing are already beginning to empty as the last rays of sunlight give way to dusk. The city is alive with the sounds and smells of the evening—vendors packing up their wares, the distant laughter of tavern-goers, the occasional cry of a child being called home. The guards flank you as you move through the city, their presence deterring any who might think to approach. You walk with purpose, the letter in your pocket a constant reminder of where you are headed.

Morgoth, too wild and too large to be kept within the confines of the Dragonpit, dwells outside the city walls, beyond where the common folk dare to tread. He is a creature of the wilds, as much a part of the untamed lands as the mountains and the sea. His presence near the Red Keep has always been a subject of whispered fear, his black wings casting long shadows over the city whenever he takes to the skies. But to you, he is a part of your soul, a living extension of your own fierce spirit.

As you near the city gates, the guards step aside, allowing you passage into the wild lands beyond. The air grows cooler, crisper, as you leave the city behind. The path to Morgoth's lair is one you know well, the ground beneath your feet familiar with every step. The distant roar of the sea fills your ears, the wind tugging at your cloak as you make your way to the clearing where Morgoth waits.

The last light of day fades as you approach, the sky deepening to a dark indigo, dotted with the first stars of the evening. The clearing comes into view, and there, amidst the ancient stones and gnarled trees, lies Morgoth. His massive form is a dark silhouette against the twilight sky, his eyes glowing like green embers as he senses your approach.

He is truly a beast of legend, larger and more fearsome than any other dragon, his scales the color of a moonless night, his wings vast enough to blot out the stars when fully spread. The ground trembles slightly as he shifts, his long neck arching as he watches you, a low, rumbling growl vibrating through the earth.

You step forward, your heart pounding with anticipation, the thrill of the night’s secret mission pulsing through your veins. "Morgoth," you call softly, your voice steady despite the excitement thrumming in your chest.

The dragon's head lowers, his massive eyes locking onto yours, and you feel the bond between you flare to life. It is a connection deeper than words, a shared understanding that transcends the physical. Morgoth is wild, untamed, but with you, he is something more—a partner, a companion, an extension of your very being.

With practiced ease, you approach him, your hand reaching out to touch the warm, rough scales of his snout. His breath is hot against your skin, smelling of smoke and ash, a reminder of the power he holds. You climb onto his back, settling into the saddle that you alone are permitted to fasten, your hands gripping the reins made from his own shed scales, as strong as they are rare.

The world around you falls away, the concerns of the court and the whispers of the city fading into nothingness. There is only the sky, the wind, and the thrill of the flight that awaits.

Morgoth shifts beneath you, his muscles bunching as he prepares to take to the air. You grip the saddle, your heart pounding with anticipation as you give the command. With a powerful leap, Morgoth surges forward, his wings unfurling as he takes flight, the ground dropping away beneath you.

The Red Keep, the city, all of it becomes a blur as you ascend higher and higher, the cool air rushing past you as Morgoth climbs. The exhilaration of flight fills you, and a smile breaks across your face as the stars begin to twinkle above.

Ahead of you lies the sea, vast and endless, and beyond it, the small island where Jace waits. The excitement in your chest grows, and you lean forward, urging Morgoth to fly faster, to close the distance between you and the one who holds your heart.

As Morgoth soars through the night sky, the wind whipping past you, your thoughts drift back to the dream that haunted your sleep not long ago. The memory of it is still so vivid, so real, that it feels as if it only just happened. You can still feel the weight of the stag beneath Morgoth's talons, the warm gush of blood filling your mouth as you tore into its flesh. The primal satisfaction of the hunt, the raw power, the unrestrained hunger—it had all felt too real to be merely a dream.

You tighten your grip on the reins, leaning forward slightly as you speak to Morgoth, though you know he cannot answer. "Was it real?" you murmur, your voice barely audible above the wind. "Did I truly see through your eyes? Did I feel what you felt?"

Morgoth’s only response is a deep, rumbling growl, a sound that resonates through your very bones. His wings beat powerfully against the cool night air, carrying you both further away from the Red Keep, further from the world of politics and courtly intrigue, and closer to the freedom that you both crave.

You gaze down at the world below, the dark expanse of the sea stretching out like a vast, endless void. The moonlight reflects off the water, casting silver trails across its surface, guiding you toward the small island where you know Jace is waiting. The thrill of the flight, the rush of anticipation in your veins, mingles with the lingering unease from the dream. Was it merely a manifestation of your bond with Morgoth, or was it something more? Some deeper connection that you had only begun to glimpse?

"Do you see me in your dreams, Morgoth?" you ask softly, your words carried away by the wind. "Do you dream of me as I dream of you?"

There is no answer, only the steady rhythm of Morgoth’s wings and the distant sound of the waves crashing against the shore. But you can feel his presence, strong and unyielding, as if he understands you on some level beyond speech, beyond even thought. The bond you share is ancient, primal, and it is moments like these that remind you of the power and mystery of the Targaryen blood that runs through your veins.

As the island comes into view, you spot Vermax, Jace's dragon, already perched on the rocky shore. His bronze and green scales glint in the moonlight, his eyes glowing with an inner fire. And there, standing beside him, is Jace. Even from a distance, you can see the way he searches the skies, his gaze sharp and eager as he waits for you.

Your heart swells at the sight of him, and you urge Morgoth to descend, your excitement growing with each passing second. Morgoth dips his wings, angling downward in a graceful arc as he begins his descent. The wind rushes past you, carrying with it the scent of salt and seaweed, the coolness of the night air mingling with the warmth of the dragon beneath you.

As you near the ground, Morgoth lands with a heavy thud, his powerful legs absorbing the impact with ease. The ground trembles beneath you as he settles, his wings folding against his massive body. You waste no time in dismounting, your feet barely touching the ground before you are running toward Jace.

"Jace!" you call out, your voice filled with the joy of seeing him again.

He turns at the sound of your voice, his face lighting up with a smile that warms you to your core. "You’re here," he breathes, his voice thick with emotion as he strides forward to meet you.

The moment you reach him, you throw yourself into his arms, and he catches you effortlessly, pulling you close against him. The feel of his body, warm and solid beneath your hands, sends a wave of relief and happiness coursing through you. It has been too long since you last held him, too long since you felt the safety and comfort of his embrace.

"Gods, I’ve missed you," Jace murmurs into your hair, his voice rough with longing. He holds you tightly, as if afraid that you might slip away if he lets go.

"I’ve missed you too," you reply, your voice muffled against his chest. You can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, a reassuring rhythm that calms the storm of emotions inside you.

He pulls back just enough to look down at you, his dark eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. "Are you all right? You seem…troubled."

You hesitate, the memory of the dream flickering at the edges of your mind. But in this moment, with Jace holding you, with the warmth of his gaze and the solidity of his presence, the fear seems distant, almost insignificant. "I’m all right now," you tell him softly, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "Now that I’m with you."

Jace leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a brief moment as if savoring the feel of your skin against his. Then he opens them again, and you can see the resolve in his expression, the determination to protect you, to keep you safe.

"I worried about you," he admits, his voice low and earnest. "The court, the whispers, everything happening back at King’s Landing… It’s dangerous for you there."

You shake your head, smiling up at him with a tenderness that only he can bring out in you. "I’m safe, Jace. I know how to navigate the court. And besides," you add with a playful glint in your eye, "I have Morgoth to keep me safe. No one would dare cross me with him by my side."

Jace chuckles at that, his grip on you tightening slightly as he pulls you closer. "That’s true enough. I just wish you didn’t have to be in that vipers' nest at all."

You sigh softly, resting your head against his shoulder as you let yourself relax in his arms. "We all have our roles to play, Jace. But right now, none of that matters. Right now, we’re here, together."

He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head, then your forehead, and finally, your lips. The kiss is soft at first, a gentle caress that speaks of all the longing and love you’ve both held inside for so long. But as the kiss deepens, it becomes more intense, more urgent, as if you are both trying to make up for all the time you’ve spent apart.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as you lose yourself in the feel of him, the taste of him. He responds in kind, his hands roaming your back, holding you as if he can’t bear to let you go. The world around you falls away, leaving only the two of you, locked in this moment, in this kiss, in this shared need for one another.

When you finally pull back, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting together as you catch your breath. Jace’s eyes are dark with desire, his gaze roaming over your face as if committing every detail to memory.

"Come," he whispers, his voice husky with emotion. "Let’s not waste any more time."

You nod, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you take his hand, allowing him to lead you away from the dragons and toward the secluded spot he has prepared for you. The night is yours, and in the quiet stillness of the island, away from prying eyes and the weight of duty, you find a peace and happiness that you can only share with Jace.

The secluded spot Jace leads you to is a small, hidden grove, shielded from the wind by a cluster of tall, ancient trees. The moonlight filters through the leaves, casting dappled patterns of silver on the ground. The soft rustle of the leaves in the breeze is the only sound, a gentle backdrop to the intimacy of the moment.

Jace pulls you close again, his hands warm on your waist as he gazes down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of affection and longing. "It feels like a dream," he murmurs, his voice soft as if afraid to break the spell of the night. "Every time I see you again, I wonder if it’s real or if I’ll wake up and find you gone."

"It’s real," you assure him, reaching up to brush your fingers along his cheek. His skin is warm beneath your touch, the faintest hint of stubble rough against your fingertips. "And I’m here, with you. That’s all that matters."

He leans down, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one slower, more tender. It’s a kiss that speaks of promises, of the love that binds you both together despite the distance and the dangers that surround you. You lose yourself in it, in the feel of his lips against yours, in the way his hands hold you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world.

Time seems to stretch, the moment lasting an eternity, yet passing too quickly. When the kiss finally ends, you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Jace’s arms wrap around you, holding you close, his chin resting on the top of your head.

"I wish we could stay like this," he whispers, his voice filled with a wistful longing. "I wish the world could just disappear, and it could be just us, here, now."

You smile softly, the sentiment echoing in your own heart. "Me too," you admit. "But we have our duties, our roles to play. As much as I’d like to, we can’t escape that."

Jace sighs, his breath warm against your hair. "I know. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it."

You chuckle softly, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. "Neither do I. But we’ll see each other again. We always do."

He nods, though the reluctance to let you go is clear in the way he holds you just a bit tighter. You stay like that for a while longer, savoring the warmth of his embrace, the peace of the moment.

Eventually, you pull back slightly, your gaze drifting to a small patch of moonlit grass where something catches your eye. A tiny insect, its wings shimmering with iridescent colors, flutters by. Your instincts kick in, the familiar habit born of your bond with your twin sister, Helaena. You reach out quickly, your fingers deftly capturing the insect before it can fly away.

Jace watches you curiously, a smile tugging at his lips as you carefully place the insect into a small wooden box you carry with you. "What are you doing?" he asks, amusement lacing his tone. "Collecting insects now, are we?"

You grin up at him, closing the box gently to keep the creature safe. "It’s for Helaena," you explain. "She loves them, you know. This one’s new, I think—she doesn’t have one like it yet."

Jace raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "You brought a box just for that?"

"Of course," you reply with a playful glint in your eye. "You never know when you’ll find something she doesn’t have. It’s like a game between us. I find them, and she studies them."

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. "You really are the perfect sister, aren’t you?"

You shrug, a smile still playing on your lips. "She’s my twin. We’ve always been close. It’s a small thing, but it makes her happy."

Jace’s expression softens, and he reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You’re a good person, you know that?"

You roll your eyes, though his words warm you. "I try," you say lightly, though you know he sees the sincerity behind your words.

But as the moment stretches, you both become acutely aware that your time together is slipping away. The reality of your separate lives looms ever closer, and the weight of the impending farewell presses down on you.

"I hate saying goodbye," Jace admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "Every time, it feels harder."

You nod, feeling the same ache in your chest. "I know. But we’ll see each other again, Jace. We always do. Until then, we have our letters, and our memories."

He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing your cheeks. "I’ll write to you as soon as I can," he promises. "And the next time we meet, I won’t let anything keep us apart for so long."

You smile, though it’s tinged with sadness. "I’ll hold you to that."

For a moment, you just stand there, your foreheads pressed together, breathing in the same air, holding on to the last remnants of your time together. The world around you is silent, as if it too knows the gravity of the moment.

Then, with a quiet resolve, Jace pulls you into one last, passionate kiss. It’s a kiss that sears itself into your memory, filled with all the love, longing, and unspoken words between you. His arms wrap around you, holding you as close as he can, as if trying to fuse you together so that you’ll never have to part again.

When the kiss finally breaks, you’re both breathless, your hearts pounding in unison. You rest your forehead against his, your eyes closed as you try to hold on to the feeling of his lips on yours, the warmth of his body against you.

"I’ll see you soon," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly with the effort to keep the tears at bay.

He nods, though you can see the same struggle in his eyes. "Soon," he agrees, his voice thick with emotion.

With great reluctance, you finally step back, your fingers lingering on his for just a moment longer before you let go. The distance between you feels like a chasm, but you know it’s only temporary. Even so, the ache in your chest remains as you turn and make your way back to Morgoth.

Jace watches you go, his eyes never leaving you until you’re back at your dragon’s side. As you mount Morgoth, you take one last look at him, committing his face, his expression, to memory.

With a final nod, you signal Morgoth to take flight. The powerful dragon launches into the sky, his wings beating against the air as he carries you away from the island, away from Jace.

The night sky stretches out before you, the stars shining brightly above, but your thoughts remain with the boy you left behind. You clutch the small wooden box in your hand, a token of your love for your sister, but also a reminder of the love you share with Jace, a love that will bring you back to him, no matter the distance or the dangers that lie ahead.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x female reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #jace velaryon #jace x reader #jace x you #jace x y/n #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #jacerys x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys x y/n

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inklessletter · 6 months

Text

The first time Steve hears Eddie singing that song, it's nothing but a absent-minded humming while he's doing something else. Writing something down, he thinks, for the campaign, probably.

Steve knows that song, that's why he smiled when he heard the soft, muffled tone falling out of Eddie's throat. Steve's heard Will singing it, and it's so painfully Jonathan, that song wears his signature all over. Maybe it's because it's The Smiths, and The Smiths is Jonathan.

Steve holds a smile and keeps himself busy, away from Eddie's eyes, because of course, that's what he does. No need to cause a scene, he could go on with his day without Eddie asking him "why are you smiling like an airhead?" Nah, thank you very much.

It's not his music scene, but Steve admits that it has been a favourite since it came out. It was just so goddamn relatable. He first heard it when Nancy dumped him, and sometimes, when he was working at Scoops, he could hear that song coming from the rock station Robin liked, coming from the backroom. No surprise she likes that song too.

Those were dark times for him. Summer job at Scoops, that is. It was a disappointment after another; no university, no high school anymore, no girlfriend, no status to hide after, no friends but the kids he drove all around Hawkins (and yet, three weeks away from Dustin, who was the only one who actually went to see him without asking for anything in return), the most embarrassing dry spell and having absolutely zero idea of what to do next. And that song just randomly filled the air and he indulged himself for two minutes to sulk on his own misery and he felt surprisingly less depressed right after.

So, yeah, that song holds a special meaning for him, a soothing balm for his broken heart, a good nostalgia from his darkest period.

And it comes back to him, from Eddie's voice, and it comes to stay the rest of the day. The rest of the week.

It makes him sad. A good sad, Steve guesses.

He's not really better than a couple years ago, but he's less scared, which is undeniably a victory.

He lets out a sigh and walks away from Eddie, leaves him there, happy and focused and begging.

Steve comes to notice that Eddie sings that song a lot, and he's making it his business not to ask, not to sing along, not to say or do anything that may reveal that Eddie's version of that song is becoming so fast the best he's ever heard.

The day the older side of the group go to see him play with his band, and at some point, he just sits and grabs an acoustic guitar and sings it, that one song, the world turns around. It's hard to keep a straight face, and to breathe regularly. A prayer, a begging in form of ballad, the room is in respectful silence, or if there is any background noise his brain makes the greatest job ignoring it.

Feels Robin's hand slipping through his palm and lacing fingers, but he doesn't look at her.

He can't.

His lips, disloyal and treacherous bastards, shape the last sentence of the song.

Lord knows it would be the first time.

The last chord fills the negative space and the bar noises are there again out of the sudden, and some of his friends are shouting nice things, and Eddie is graciously discarding the acoustic guitar and grabbing his sweetheart again and Steve is hoping to go unnoticed when he wipes his face in a quick movement.

He knows Robin sees it, but she says nothing, merciful and elegant.

The gig goes on for a couple of more songs and it's far too soon when Eddie is there, letting himself fall on the stool next to him, all pleased and content and full of black smudged eyeliner and Steve knows he has to say something to him, so he opts to go with, "I really like that song."

It doesn't need any more saying, because Eddie grins and fucking bites his bottom lip, and looks at the floor like it's the most interesting thing in the world, leaning on the bar next to Steve, and Steve knows, he just knows Eddie knows which one he's talking about.

"Yeah. I bet you do."

He doesn't tease, doesn't go with the rancid bUt YoU lIsTeN tO tEaRs FoR fEaRs In YoUr CaR aLl tHe tImEeE shit like the kids like to whine. He doesn't pretend not to know which one he's talking about. Steve smiles at him, buys the guy a beer.

"So, Robin told you? About, uh, about the song."

He tries a bit too hard to look unaffected, but the label of his cold beer bottle has seen better days. Steve feels Eddie going still and turning his head to face him, wielding such soft, almost pitiful expression that makes Steve's inside go still, lungs not working, muscles tense, blood frozen in his veins, and somehow scalding in his cheeks. He dares to look at Eddie, who whispers, "She did not."

The time stops, or so Steve thinks, when he turns his head to look at Eddie, not really moving an inch.

The question goes unspoken.

The answer is one second too long of both their gazes taking residence in the other guy's lips.

And the song comes alive in Steve's mind, and his lips move again.

So for once in my life

let me get what I want

Lord knows, it would be the first time

#inklessletter #ficlet #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #soft #this is very much unedited so #it's been a long time since I don't write a bit #pre steddie #steddie ficlet #please please please let me get what i want #the smiths #this song is so absurdly important to me

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yandere-sins · 6 months

Text

Underneath the Christmas Tree

You and König got into a fight when you realized what time of the year it was. He tries to make it up to you.

Characters: Yandere!König x Reader Fandom: Call of Duty Warnings: Yandere, Mentions of Violence, Building Stockholm Syndrom, Mentions of being tied up/ropes

a/n: Late as can be, but my little present to you guys! I hope that everyone got to eat yummy food and experience joy regardless of celebrations last year ♥ (Translations to the German words are below!)

"Mein Herz... are you awake?"

Sometimes, you wondered how a man of his stature could make so little noise. You were never able to notice him until he had already crept up to you. It had always been this way. You felt like you had only just closed your eyes, barely dozing off, when he startled you with his presence next to you. After all the screaming and crying, you had managed to scare him off, but it felt like only minutes had passed since he left.

The rope around your wrist tightened as you stirred, startled by his voice and the touch of his palm at your cheek, his thumb caressing you gently as you were torn out of your sleep. You felt groggy and tired, but almost instantly, the irritation with him returned to your mind, mixing with the pain as the rope cut into your skin.

However, even with your eyes wide open, your mind needed a moment to focus, the room having turned darker than it was a few minutes ago. Had it really been minutes? Or hours? Did you fall asleep for the whole day, exhausted from your outburst?

You cursed under your breath, your mouth dry like sand. More pain shot through your arms as you tried to move, your expression twisting when König's chest suddenly hovered over you, his gloved fingers dancing all over your hands and arms, too anxious to touch but too scared to keep you in pain.

"Here, let me," he mumbled, concentrating on the knot he made. Even he had to focus when undoing his own work, his methods too skilled for even his own good. But the relief, as your arms sacked to the mattress of his bed, was almost too good; your body lulled back into relaxing now that the strain subsided. Your eyes were already closing when he spoke up, alerting you to the danger you were in.

"Better?" König asked, almost sounding smug about it like he expected to hear praise from you for doing the right thing. It would have almost shown his compassion had it not been him who put you into the restraint in the first place.

"Guess," you contered, and you two fell into silence as you stared at each other. The fabric covering his face made his eyes all the more piercing in the moonlight shining in through the window. He was the first to avoid his eyes—a meaningless victory with a man who went from Colonel to shy schoolboy at the sight of your face on the regular.

"I thought about what you said, and I think you're right."

"The bit about Christmas? Ugh..."

Pulling your arms to your chest, you felt the heaviness that had settled into your muscles, which had been a few hours long enough to make them stiff as boards. You examined your bruised and swollen, at times bloody, wrists as good as you could in the moonlight, but feeling the wet smears on your fingers and the burn of pain when you inspected them, you eventually resigned to sitting up and resting them in your lap.

It wasn't long before König reached out to have a look at your wrists as well, gently turning them over a few times to take note of all the damage he had done to you, every fiber of your being blaming him and refusing to take even an ounce of it despite the fact you were the one fighting against the ropes that he put you in. Everything was his fault, and you had no problem telling him that at every chance you got.

"Yeah... about your family and traditions."

This was new.

Usually, König would try to change the subject as best as he could when it became uncomfortable for him—and all your complaints and demands, reasonable as they were, were uncomfortable. König always found ways to try and tell you how much better this situation was without really confirming or denying your feelings, even though his attempts at convincing you otherwise were fruitless. So, hearing him talk about what he desperately tried to avoid... was new. Progress.

"So you'll let me go?"

Silence. Wringing his hands in his lap after releasing yours, König stared at the floor beneath his feet, sitting on the edge of the bed like a scolded puppy. "No..." he mumbled, and you felt the surprise turn back into anger, your body finding the strength to straighten up and get ready to argue again.

"But!" he intercepted, noticing the changes in you and holding up a finger to silence you before you could explode at him again. "Schatz, hear me out before you say something, bitte!"

"Go on then..."

It was hard to keep your composure when what you really would have liked to attempt was to tear his head off in any way possible. Somewhere under the obvious shirt he was wearing, there must have been a head you could either curse at or try to break the neck off. However, you refrained, a small part of you still hoping to find a peaceful solution that would let you escape unscathed. You were at a physical disadvantage, and hurting his feelings had never been a very wise choice either. For someone who quickly became overwhelmed and shy around you, König was an expert at kidnapping and stringing you up, knocking you out, and putting his hands where they didn't belong. Even if he seemed to regret his outbursts afterward.

"I can't let you go, I just... It's not possible. It's not safe. I hope you can understand that I can't do it."

Opening your mouth was all that was needed to have König scramble, his words tumbling over each other as he tried to form his thoughts into a sentence. One that would soothe you. One that would put him into good graces with you. Sometimes you wondered if he forgot how to be the scary guy that kidnapped you. Who stood still and menacing by your side, watching you sleep without an ounce of shame or manners. But then again, you were glad that bruises and self-inflicted wounds were all you had to suffer from. Even if he tried to be gentle, you knew his hands could cause more harm than good to you. The thought of what all they could ruin was more terrifying than being kidnapped was.

"But- I- Well, I thought we- I'm your family now, so... About today— Scheiße... Christmas, I can give you that."

"Christmas?" Cocking your eyebrow, you watched him nervously crush his thumb in his palm, unable to maintain eye contact with you even though König kept glancing at you from the corners of his eyes.

"It's been a while for me, so it's probably not much. But I... I want to show you I care—about you! About us. I didn't consider that these holidays would mean so much to you, and I'm sorry."

König got up before you could think of a reply. He barely turned towards you, his body tense, hands curled into fists. Nervous. You knew all the telltale signs of his anxiety, considering there was nothing better to do in his apartment than to study him when he was around and you two weren't fighting. But this time, as secretive as he was, it made you almost curious as to why.

"If you want to, you can come to the living room. I'd be happy if you did."

With that, he left the bedroom, leaving you behind with the door wide open. You knew the layout of his small apartment, but you were contained in this room most of the time without the chance of walking through this door without König. Apprehensive, you got out of bed, feeling the cold floor underneath your feet, causing you to tense. Your soles tingled, almost burning from the cold, and you hesitated. It felt wrong to walk around freely, even though it was what you desired most. Freedom.

You had to cross the hallway to get to the living room, passing by the bath and entrance door. This all felt unreal. Like König was going to stand behind you any second now, asking where you were going and dragging you back to his bed, chaining you up and leaving you there to scream and cry. But he wasn't. You could hear him moving around in the living room—probably pacing—wondering if you were going to come.

There was much to consider. Did you need to use the toilet? Take a shower? Was the front door unlocked?

Your brain was screaming Idiot! at you for even thinking you could make a run for it. But you'd never give up the fight, you swore yourself. Even when you knew he'd easily catch up to you, knock you out, and tie you up, dragging you back to the apartment. You still reached for the door handle, pushing it down and giving it a firm tug!

...

The sturdy lock held on tight to the door, and you wondered what you were expecting.

Your hand fell to your side, and you took a step back. The disappointment and frustration were mere zaps going through your body, not even enough to sway you. What did you expect? That König would leave it open? After all that he did to you?

When you looked up at the living room door, your eyes met his, sparks of hurt hiding in the shadows over his face, disappearing the second König turned away, returning to the living room and leaving you alone again. As if he couldn't bear to watch a second more of your betrayal. There was no need to speak about what happened, about the feelings going through both of you. Neither of you talked about the taboo that the front door upheld—you, the prisoner, and he, your kidnapper and stalker. A love leading to nothing but suffering and destruction. He left the scene after making sure you were safe. That was all that mattered, even if your attempt to leave cut deep into his heart.

A quiet, surrendering sigh escaped you before you turned towards the living room once more. The bath was still an option. You could have gone there, locked the door, taken a shower, and hid from your captor until he couldn't bear it anymore and removed the door that separated you two. But fighting him this morning had worn you down, so provoking and refusing something seemingly harmless like an invitation to the living room seemed silly even to you. Certainly, it would have hurt König, and you liked that idea, but what about yourself? Could you have lived with what hurting him would have meant for you?

Deep inside yourself, you realize you were just trying to justify your curiosity. Escaping would always be your number one priority, but at the same time, you couldn't help being curious about what he had prepared. Being locked in the same room day in and day out was so boring, and even if it was a setup for disappointment, it was still better than pouting by yourself in the bath, trying to fight him for no other reason than spite and hurting both of you in the process.

But you didn't tell yourself that. You told yourself it was an order from him, and you didn't want to be punished for disobeying. That was enough to justify your actions to yourself rather than admit that you were curious about something he did. You led yourself along the wall, hesitant but complacent with König's wishes—at least for now. Just for today.

Warm lights enveloped you the moment you stepped into the doorframe. Christmas lights - green, yellow, red - twinkled from a string of lights pinned to the ceiling, while the old (although decorated with fake greenery) lamp added a cozy, warm glow. The table was decorated with a table runner, candles, little pine cones, and a big wreath with burning candles, plates and cutlery set like you'd see in a restaurant.

Most surprisingly, however, was the Christmas tree set up next to the couch. Given it was barely the size from the floor to your hips. But König had perched the tree on a little stool and hung it with baubles and little figure ornaments like a nutcracker and Santa Claus' hat. It was nowhere near tidy or uniform like you knew from home, with different colors mixing and not always going well with each other. It seemed like it had been hastily put together with whatever he could grab. But in its odd way, it was an endearing sight to behold.

Underneath it, wrapped presents in various shapes piled, their wrapping paper glistening in the lights. Some were easy to figure out, like books. But others had a generic box shape that wasn't very precise on what the present would be. Honestly, you were astounded, barely able to say anything with your mouth open in surprise. König never had a lot of decoration around his home, and standing in an all-out Christmas wonderland was almost uncomfortable after getting used to white walls and unintentional minimalism.

On the other hand, König looked so out of place, like a black hole in the middle of a Christmas market. He stopped pacing—moving, entirely so—the moment your presence came into view. There was a moment of awkward silence between you two, his hands tensing and relaxing, ever so often curling into fists as he waited for you to say something.

"So, do you like-?"

"Wow, that's-"

More awkward silence followed as you both started and stopped your sentences. But eventually, it was König who broke it, stepping aside and inviting you in with a slight wave of his hand. "I hope you like it. I didn't have much time, so it's messy. Probably not how you'd do it, but next year, we can do it how you want to. We could go shopping or—"

Cutting himself off, he seemed to be biting his own tongue. There was no guarantee that you'd have a next year. That you'd go out with him to buy decorations or you two would be close enough to celebrate like this again. Nothing was truly certain in this weird relationship you had.

But he tried. He really did.

And it almost made you cry.

"I... uhm," you quickly turned away when you heard your own voice shake, wiping at your eyes and praying that this strange feeling of happiness that overcame you would pass, returning your anger and defiance to you instead. "It's... alright. It's fine."

That was a lie. It was not fine; not alright. It was wrong. Downright awful and manipulative. You should have been hating on it, cursing him out for trying to take advantage of your longing to make himself look better. It was cruel and heartless, and you liked the feeling of normalcy so much that you wished it would stay forever. At that moment, you wished he was your boyfriend that you loved, and you were just a couple celebrating the holidays. A moment of normalcy was worth more than your defiance. And it made you hate the person you felt yourself becoming in that stupid Christmas room.

König's shoulders lost some of their tension, his equivalent of a smile. This time, when he waved you closer, focusing on the tree he had put up, he seemed excited. "Komm!" he said, and you felt your heart leap with the same excitement that swung in his voice, his happiness contagious. Saying "it's fine" seemed to have been enough for him, König being ever so undemanding when it came to your affection.

König knelt next to the tree, still just as tall as it despite being brought down a notch, patting the couch beside him. You tiptoed your way around the man, half expecting him to jump up and attack you as you passed by his back, but he didn't. Taking a seat, you curiously stretched your neck to see what he was doing. After briefly combing through the presents, König picked out one wrapped in green, glittery paper, handing it to you before sitting down on the floor at your feet, watching you expectantly.

You could feel the book's hardcover without seeing it, glancing at König briefly before unwrapping it. Forthcame the cover of the last book you had been reading before your life went downhill. It wasn't the same copy, still smelling new, and its spine wasn't broken from being read in awkward positions. For a moment, it felt unreal that he would know how much you had longed to learn how it ended, thinking about it a lot in the most boring of afternoons. But then it reminded you of how he tore you out of your life and destroyed it with his actions. How was this a small compensation for all the bad things?

But you'd still read it.

Pressing it to your chest, you swallowed back the tears, giving a fake yet confident nod of approval. Your body language was good enough for König, even if he noticed the hints of tears in your eyes, and he handed you the next present with an encouraging hum. You went through many more wrapped presents like this—more books, movies, sweets, a back warmer and a teddy bear, and so many more things you enjoyed. You eventually ended up on the ground next to König, your knees touching while you were occupied with opening and awing at all your presents.

It was just you two, and the apartment was quiet but peaceful, unlike the constant screaming and pain that usually resided in it. The bitter truth was that despite being unusual, things could almost look normal.

So when he slipped his hand over yours, and you didn't flinch away, the silence felt more awkward than it felt right. It was like two lovers exchanging a moment of gentle togetherness in a world that was so cruel to them—a world you weren't in voluntarily but a world that König wanted this way. You couldn't bear it. Bear the thought of this being acceptable.

So you pulled away, hugging the teddy bear in your lap and looking at the pile of gifts. "I've got nothing for you," you commiserated, politeness being the only thing you could procure to avoid destroying the peace you two had for once.

"I've got all I need," König replied gently, and you forced yourself to look back at him. His gaze was soft, lights sparkling in his eyes as they moved from you to his hand, reaching out to you once more. He was getting greedy, pushing your boundaries for just one more touch. "Just you and me, right here. Under the Christmas tree. I'll not ask for more than that from you."

It would have been the perfect moment to rebuke him, to hurt him and stab the figurative knife into his heart by telling him you didn't feel this way. It would have been enough to tell him how you felt truthfully that you still hated him. But for some reason, you remained silent, allowing him this moment of disillusionment that you two were finally warming up to each other.

It was simply too painful to admit to yourself that you were.

"Are you hungry?"

König snapped out of it faster than you. Unusual as he could be quite stuck in his lovey-dovey ways. "I got us takeout; just have to reheat it. I hope you like Christmas food because I got us everything."

Heaving his body forward, he got back on his knees but hesitated for a moment before standing up. You didn't look at him or say anything, tensing when you heard his breath next to your ear. His actions made you want to fight him again, every fiber of your being rejecting him and his ideas of love. But not on that day. Maybe you didn't want to ruin it, no matter how disgusted you were with him and yourself.

The kiss that fell on top of your head lingered for seconds too long. It was as if he was trying to get on your nerves, though more realistically, he was merely basking in the opportunities you granted him. His lips felt gross despite your hair and his mask being in the way. Yet you let him.

"Frohe Weihnachten, mein Schatz," he uttered into the kiss before finally pulling away, standing up and heading straight for the kitchen. Soon, the room was filled with the smells of a roast in the oven and sides cooking on the stove while you remained where you were, sitting there like an unopened present waiting for him to return.

Your face burned as your heart swelled with affection for the man you hated the most. The man who gave you what you wanted despite having to scramble to pull off a Christmas like no other. Who loved you unconditionally. Loved you so much despite all the bad things you said to him. Who would move the world to make you happy, even though he refused to do it under normal circumstances. The only person you had left who cared so much about you, stalking you to the point of knowing the kinds of books you liked, movies, treats, and your favorite things, presenting them all to you for just a moment by your side in return.

You were disgusted and appalled by everything and yourself. But without realizing it, you started to question your feelings for König as you hid your face in the soft, plush body of his gift.

And what more could he ask for as a present than you—in doubt and foolishly falling in love with the idea of him in your head—underneath his Christmas tree?

Mein Herz - My heart Schatz - Treasure (Equivalent to nicknames like Dear/Darling/Love) Bitte - Please Scheiße - Shit Komm - Come (in this context like “Come here”) Frohe Weihnachten, mein Schatz - Merry Christmas, my Love

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vanesycho · 15 days

Note

Can you do Cold bf jeno who only acts close to his gf please🙏

ofc i can!!! thank you for your request🤍🤍

im sorry but nerd jeno...thoughts in my mind right now- ANYWAY

Cold boyfriend Jeno who only acts close to his girlfriend.

𐐪ɞJeno always shows his more playful and childish side when he’s with you. His more competitive side comes out when you play video games together or walk around the park.

A quiet, small park. You were sitting on a bench with Jeno. You closed your eyes for a moment as the light breeze caressed your skin.

"I missed days like these. It's so peaceful here."

"Yeah, it's nice to just relax sometimes."

A brief silence fell between you. You felt Jeno’s eyes on you and turned to him. He was looking at you with a playful grin. You asked with suspicion.

"What are you thinking about?"

"What? I’m not thinking about anything."

Before you could even speak, Jeno quickly got up from the bench and grabbed your wrist, pulling you off as well.

"Jeno, what are you doing?" Jeno just smiled at you.

"Race you to that tree over there! Loser buys ice cream!"

Without giving you a chance to object, Jeno started sprinting toward a large oak tree. You taken by surprise, laughs and starts running after him.

"Hey! That's not fair, you got a head start!"

Jeno turning his head back with a playful smile. "You snooze, you lose!"

You speed up and tried to catch up with him. Just as you about to pass him, Jeno playfully swerved in front of you, blocked your path.

"No cheating, Jeno!"

Jeno laughed but let you pass, slowed down on purpose. You reached the tree first, breathless but victorious.

"Ha! I won! You owe me ice cream now."

"Alright, alright. A deal's a deal. But only because you’re cute when you’re competitive."

You got embarrassed, playfully shoving his shoulder. Jeno smiled, his usual cold demeanor melted away as he watched your happy expression.

"Come on, let’s go get that ice cream. I know a place nearby."

𐐪ɞJeno deals with you in a softer and more caring way when you're feeling down or having a hard day. Although he's not usually good with words, he'll do his best to comfort you; he'll stroke your hair, hug you tightly, and let you express yourself.

It’s a rainy evening, and the sound of raindrops tapping against the window fills the room. You were sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the TV that’s playing softly in the background. Seem lost in thought, your eyes were tired and your were posture slumped. Jeno entered the room, noticed your quiet demeanor. His usual calm expression softened with concern.

"Hey, you okay?"

You didn’t respond immediately. You've been feeling overwhelmed lately but didn’t talked about it. You forced a small smile.

"Yeah, I’m fine… just tired, I guess." Jeno isn’t convinced. He knows you too well to believe that. He walked over, sit beside you, and without a word, he wraped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him.

"You don’t have to pretend with me, you know."

You sighed deeply, leaned your head on his shoulder, your eyes started to well up.

"It’s just…Everything feels so overwhelming lately. I don’t even know where to start."

Jeno held you closer, his thumb gently strokes your arm in a comforting motion. He doesn’t rush you to speak; he just let you take your time.

"You don’t have to go through it alone. I’m here, okay? Always."

There’s a moment of silence as you take in his words. You felt a tear escape and fall onto his shirt. Quickly tried to wipe it away, embarrassed.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to cry all over you."

Jeno gave you a small smile, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding.

"I don’t mind. If crying helps, then cry as much as you need. I’ve got you."

He shifted slightly, pulled you into a more secure embrace, rested his chin on top of your head. You closed your eyes, felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. For the first time in days, you felt a sense of calm.

"Thank you, Jeno."

Jeno pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead, his voice a quiet whisper.

"I love you."

𐐪ɞJeno prefers to give you special and meaningful gifts instead of ordinary ones. For example, he will make a playlist of your favorite songs and write a note next to it saying what that song reminds him of.

“Check your email.”

Curious, you opened your laptop and clicked on your inbox. There was a new email from Jeno with the subject line “For You.” you smiled softly, tiredness momentarily forgotten. You opened the email and found a link to a playlist. Underneath the link, there was a short note from Jeno.

'I made this playlist for you. Each song reminds me of a moment with you or something about you that I love. I hope it makes you smile.'

-Jeno

Your heart fluttered. Clicked on the playlist link, and as the first song begins to play, you noticed a few more lines in the email, descriptions from Jeno about why he chose each song.

Jeno’s Descriptions:

“Song 1: This song makes me think of that time we got caught in the rain. I remember how you laughed and danced, even though we were soaked.”

“Song 2: The lyrics here remind me of how strong you are, even when things get tough. You always find a way to smile, and that’s something I admire.”

“Song 3: This one just makes me think of you. I can’t explain why, but it feels like you in a melody.”

𐐪ɞJeno loves spending quiet moments together. Value moments like reading a book, listening to music, or just sitting together and thinking. Jeno doesn't find this silence disturbing, on the contrary, he finds peace in your presence and feels at home next to you.

𐐪ɞHe is very distant towards other women. He always keeps this distance to show his loyalty to you. Other people may misunderstand this attitude sometimes, but for Jeno, the only thing that matters is that his girlfriend feels special.

"Hey, Jeno. Have you seen that new movie that just came out? It definitely sounds like your thing, maybe we could go together?"

Jeno’s expression doesn’t change, it was cold and distant. His eyes flicker to you for a moment. In response to her offer, he responded politely but briefly, “No. Thanks.”

But the girl didn't give up and approached Jeno and lightly touched his shoulder.

"Ah you sure? I think you should watch it, maybe this weekend I..."

He immediately broke contact by pulling his shoulder back. His tone was serious and cold. “I said no, thank you.”

He quickly grabbed your hand and didn’t let go for the rest of the day, giving you his full attention and doing everything he could to not let the incident affect you.

#nct imagines #nct reactions #nct dream reactions #nct dream imagines #nct dream #nct dream fluff #nct dream x reader #jeno x reader #nct jeno #jeno imagines #lee jeno #jeno fluff #nct dream jeno #jeno #jeno x you #jeno x y/n

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gyorouis · 2 months

Text

𐙚 VOODOO DOLL.

— "he was so good at everything—sports, academics, and most of the time making you feel sick."

genre: crack, (suggestive?), enemies to lovers (bcs we love ETL trope on taehyun)

pairing: rival!taehyun x afab!reader

warning: kiss :>> and some moments you might find tyun annoying pfft

wordcount: 4.3k

now playing: 5sos — voodoo doll ୨ৎ

you never hated anyone in your life as much as you hated kang taehyun. it wasn’t just the way he walked around campus with the effortlessly cold demeanor, or the way he seemed to have a knack for excelling at everything. it was the sheer arrogance with which he did it all, like the world was a stage and he was the star.

you’d always been the smart one, the dedicated one, the one who put in the extra hours and sacrificed weekends to stay ahead. that was until taehyun came into the picture. taehyun, with his easy smile and natural talent, seemed to glide through life effortlessly. he became class president in high school without breaking a sweat and now, in college, he held the same position, while you were stuck as his secretary. it wasn’t by choice. fate seemed to enjoy this cruel joke, making sure you were always tethered to him, your academic rival, the bane of your existence.

the rivalry started early in high school. taehyun had transferred in sophomore year, and from the moment he stepped into the classroom, he had an air of confidence that rubbed you the wrong way. he was good at everything—sports, academics, socializing. it was as if he was designed to be perfect, and that perfection only fueled your growing resentment. every time he received praise from teachers or admiration from classmates, it felt like a personal slight against you.

one day, during history class, mr. kim praised taehyun for his insightful comments. “excellent observation, taehyun. your understanding of the topic is truly impressive.”

taehyun flashed that infuriatingly perfect smile. “thanks, sir. i just try to keep up with the material.”

you rolled your eyes, unable to stay silent. “must be nice to make it all look so easy,” you muttered, loud enough for him to hear.

taehyun turned to you with a smirk. “oh, did you say something?”

“just admiring how effortlessly you seem to excel at everything,” you shot back, trying to keep your tone steady.

he chuckled, clearly enjoying your irritation. “it’s all about staying focused and putting in the effort. maybe you should try it sometime.”

that was just the beginning. during lunch, taehyun easily charmed his way into conversations with the popular crowd, while you sat at your usual table, glaring at him from across the cafeteria. when the coach praised him for scoring the winning goal in the soccer match, you overheard taehyun laughing and saying, “it’s all part of the game. gotta keep up the good work.”

you leaned over to your friend and whispered, “it’s like he’s living in a different world where everything is handed to him on a silver platter.”

“don’t let him get to you,” your friend advised, but it was too late. taehyun’s relentless perfection was already engrained in your mind, fueling your growing resentment.

every time taehyun received praise from teachers or admiration from classmates, it felt like a personal slight against you. it wasn’t just about the accolades; it was about the constant reminder of how he seemed to effortlessly surpass you, making every small victory of yours seem insignificant.

but the hatred wasn’t just one-sided. taehyun seemed to enjoy pushing your buttons, always making sly comments and throwing around that smug grin. his friends, beomgyu and kai, were always by his side, adding to the annoyance with their own brand of casual arrogance.

during one particularly grueling student council meeting, taehyun leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “you know, we could always use a bit more enthusiasm from our secretary. wouldn’t want you falling asleep on the job, right?”

beomgyu snickered, nudging kai. “looks like someone’s got a real knack for being a buzzkill.”

kai added with a grin, “seriously, though, do you ever get tired of being so... intense?”

you glared at taehyun, trying to ignore the laughter from his friends. “it’s called being responsible. not everyone finds it necessary to coast through life.”

taehyun’s smile widened. “oh, come on. don’t be such a sourpuss. we’re all just having a bit of fun.”

“fun?” you shot back. “more like another opportunity for you to remind everyone how perfect you think you are.”

“well, if the shoe fits,” taehyun said with a shrug, clearly enjoying the way his comments riled you up.

the meetings always ended in this same exhausting cycle. after one such meeting, you found yourself in the hallway, trying to calm down. beomgyu and kai caught up to taehyun, their laughter echoing off the walls.

“you really got under her skin today,” beomgyu said, shaking his head.

“it’s too easy,” taehyun replied with a smirk. “besides, it’s kind of fun watching her try so hard to keep up.”

kai laughed. “well, keep it up. it’s definitely entertaining.”

you walked past them, your face burning with frustration. it was exhausting to constantly compete for the top spot in every class, every extracurricular activity, every student council meeting. but you couldn’t let him win. you wouldn’t let him win.

now, in college, nothing had changed. if anything, the rivalry had intensified. both of you had chosen to major in literature, and once again, fate had cast taehyun as the president and you as his reluctant secretary. the daily meetings, the shared projects, the constant presence of each other—it was like being trapped in a never-ending nightmare.

the library, usually a sanctuary of quiet study, had become the battleground for your latest clash with taehyun. it was mid-afternoon, and the space was filled with the soft rustle of pages and the occasional murmur of students. you were deeply immersed in research for a major paper when taehyun walked in, beomgyu and kai trailing behind him, their presence a constant reminder of his entourage.

taehyun spotted you and made a beeline for your table, his expression a mix of mischief and irritation. you braced yourself for the inevitable confrontation.

“working on something important?” taehyun asked, leaning over your shoulder, his breath warm against your ear.

“just trying to get ahead on this paper,” you replied, keeping your eyes on your notes.

“well, don’t let me interrupt,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “just wanted to remind you that the group presentation is next week. i hope you’re ready.”

you looked up, meeting his gaze with a steely glare. “we’ll see. i’m sure you’ll be ready to take all the credit, as usual.”

taehyun’s smirk widened. “oh, don’t be like that. we’re all in this together, right?”

“sure,” you replied, the irritation clear in your voice. “together. as long as you don’t try to steal the spotlight.”

as he walked away with his friends, you couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes lingering on you. the rivalry seemed to intensify every time you crossed paths, each encounter a reminder of the unresolved tension between you.

another morning, like any other mornings, the classroom buzzed with the low hum of students settling in for another lecture. you sat at your desk, papers scattered around you, trying to ignore the way taehyun's voice carried over the room like a taunting melody.

“don’t forget,” taehyun’s voice cut through the noise, “the deadline for the council project is next week. let’s make sure we keep on top of it.”

you bit your lip to keep from snapping back. “got it, president. i’ll make sure everything’s in order.”

he gave you that infuriatingly perfect smile, the kind that seemed to say he knew exactly how much he was getting under your skin. it wasn’t just his smile, though—it was his entire presence. how he could be smart, good at sports, charming with the ladies, and still manage to hold the class president position year after year. it was like he had some kind of cosmic cheat code that ensured everything went his way.

the bell rang, signaling the end of the class. students began to gather their things, and taehyun, as usual, took a moment to thank everyone with that same insincere tone that grated on your nerves. you quickly packed up, ready to face another round of his demands, trying to suppress the growing frustration that simmered beneath your surface.

as you glanced over at taehyun, standing tall and looking every bit the part of the perfect president, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this rivalry was far from over. if anything, it was only getting started.

you remember the exact moment the rivalry started. it was during a surprise quiz in history class. mr. kim had just handed out the papers when taehyun raised his hand, asking for an extension. his charming smile and polite tone seemed to melt mr. kim’s resolve, and the extension was granted. the entire class watched in awe as taehyun breezed through the quiz, finishing it in record time.

“did he seriously just get an extension on a quiz?” you muttered to your friend, your frustration evident.

“i know, right? it’s like he’s got some special deal with the teachers,” your friend replied, shaking her head.

as the weeks went on, it became clear that taehyun wasn’t just a threat; he was a walking, talking embodiment of everything you resented. he excelled in every subject, won every sports match, and somehow managed to charm his way into everyone’s good graces.

the breaking point came during the annual debate competition. you’d been working hard for weeks, preparing your arguments and rehearsing every night. but when the day arrived, taehyun showed up with his usual air of nonchalance. despite your best efforts, he stole the spotlight with his effortless charisma and razor-sharp wit. the judges’ praises for him were like daggers to your heart.

“you were fantastic out there, taehyun,” one of the judges said, patting him on the back.

“thanks, sir. just had to wing it a bit,” taehyun replied with that infuriating grin.

you clenched your fists, your face flushing with frustration. “wing it? you made it look like you didn’t even break a sweat.”

taehyun turned to you, his smile never fading. “oh, didn’t you hear? sometimes less is more.”

you barely managed to hold back your scowl as you walked away, the echoes of his laughter ringing in your ears.

as the semester in college progressed, the rivalry between you and taehyun continued to simmer, but there was something new in the air. taehyun’s behavior began to shift in ways that left you both confused and frustrated. it wasn’t the overtly arrogant taehyun you were used to; instead, there were moments when he seemed almost... considerate.

it started with small things. one day, as you struggled with a mountain of paperwork, taehyun appeared beside your desk, carrying a stack of your files.

“you look like you’ve got your hands full,” he said, placing the files down with a casual smile. “thought i’d help out.”

you looked up, stunned. “why would you do that?”

taehyun shrugged, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “just figured you could use a hand. no big deal.”

you tried to ignore the way his smile made your heart skip a beat. “thanks, but i’ve got it covered.”

but the mixed signals didn’t stop there. he would randomly comment on your progress, offering advice that was surprisingly helpful. during class discussions, he’d even seek out your opinion, as if genuinely interested in what you had to say.

“i was thinking about your point on the symbolism in the novel,” taehyun said one day. “it’s actually pretty insightful.”

you raised an eyebrow, wary. “is this some sort of trick?”

taehyun’s expression was unreadable. “no trick. just thought it was worth mentioning.”

these moments were disorienting, especially when contrasted with his usual smug demeanor. you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was playing some kind of game, but you couldn’t figure out the rules.

“how does he manage to be so perfect?” you muttered to yourself one evening, staring at your pile of essays.

your friend, who was sitting across from you, glanced up from her own work. “maybe he’s just really good at hiding his flaws.”

“or maybe he’s just not human,” you replied bitterly. “it’s like he’s got this cosmic cheat code that makes everything easier.”

despite your best efforts to stay annoyed, there were moments when taehyun’s unexpected kindness made it hard to maintain the facade of hatred. his small acts of consideration seemed genuine, but they were always accompanied by that signature grin that left you questioning his true intentions.

one day, you found yourself alone in the library, lost in your notes. taehyun appeared out of nowhere, carrying two coffee cups.

“thought you might need this,” he said, handing you one of the cups. “it’s been a long day.”

you took the cup, your fingers brushing against his. “you really don’t have to do this.”

taehyun’s smile softened. “just thought it’d be nice. no strings attached.”

as he walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was shifting. the rivalry, which had always been fueled by pure animosity, was beginning to blur at the edges.

you watched him leave, your mind racing. the tension between you was still there nonetheless, but it was laced with a new complexity that you weren’t sure how to read. the more taehyun tried to be considerate, the more you struggled to maintain your resentment.

the line between hatred and something else entirely was growing increasingly thin, and you couldn’t help but wonder if this rivalry was evolving into something much more complicated than you had ever anticipated.

as the semester wore on, the stakes in your academic rivalry heightened. the university announced a major academic competition, a team project that required both strategic planning and a deep understanding of the subject matter. fate, in its twisted sense of humor, paired you with taehyun.

initially, you were horrified. the idea of working with him felt like a punishment, a cruel twist that ensured you’d be constantly reminded of your rivalry. but there was no escaping it—you were now partners.

the first meeting was fraught with tension. you sat across from taehyun in the library, papers and textbooks spread out between you.

“we need to divide the tasks,” taehyun said, his tone unusually professional. “i was thinking you could handle the research while i focus on the presentation.”

you glared at him. “oh, so you get to do the part where you look impressive while i’m stuck doing all the grunt work?”

taehyun raised an eyebrow. “it’s about playing to our strengths. i thought you’d be fine with the research.”

“fine, whatever,” you snapped, trying to ignore the way his calm demeanor only made you more irate.

as the project progressed, moments of conflict were inevitable. during one particularly heated discussion, taehyun’s voice rose in frustration.

“i’m just saying that if we focus more on the data analysis, it’ll strengthen our argument,” he argued.

“and i’m saying that we need to present it in a way that’s engaging!” you shot back. “no one cares about the data if it’s boring!”

the argument continued, voices raised, until beomgyu and kai, who had been studying nearby, looked over with concern.

“you two okay over there?” beomgyu asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

“we’re fine,” taehyun replied tersely. “just working through some differences.”

kai exchanged a glance with beomgyu. “it sounds more like you’re on the verge of tearing each other apart.”

“we’re just passionate about the project,” you said, trying to sound more composed than you felt.

despite the frequent clashes, there were moments when you and taehyun inadvertently supported each other. during a particularly grueling night of work, you found yourself in the library, exhausted and frustrated.

“this is so much harder than i thought,” you muttered, staring at the pile of notes.

taehyun, who had been working in silence across the table, glanced up. “hey, do you want some help with that? i know it’s a lot.”

you looked at him, surprised by the offer. “you’re actually willing to help?”

“well, yeah..” he said with a faint smile. “it’s not just about winning. we need to do well for our own sake.”

the days following the big competition felt oddly anticlimactic. while you and taehyun had shared a moment of unexpected friendship, if you can even call it that way, it was quickly overshadowed by the return to your usual academic rivalry. the possibility of being friends seemed to evaporate as quickly as it had appeared.

the tension between you two flared up again, intensified by a debate that had become the talk of campus. it was the kind of event where both your reputations were on the line, and the stakes felt higher than ever. when the day of the debate arrived, you and taehyun were once again pitted against each other, this time in a public forum.

the debate room was packed, the audience buzzing with anticipation. taehyun stood on one side of the stage, his usual confident smile in place. you faced him from the other side, equally determined and poised. the topic was one you had prepared meticulously, and you felt a surge of adrenaline as the debate began.

as the debate progressed, it became clear that you had the upper hand. your arguments were sharp, your points well-articulated. taehyun’s frustration was evident, his responses growing more strained with each passing minute.

finally, the debate concluded, and the judges announced your victory. the applause from the audience was a sweet victory, but taehyun’s scowl as he walked off the stage was a stark reminder of the rivalry that still simmered beneath the surface.

the next day, taehyun’s frustration reached new heights. he spotted you across the campus, sitting in the cafeteria with yeonjun, a guy from one of your minor subjects. you and yeonjun seemed deep in conversation, laughing and sharing food. it wasn’t just that you were with someone else; it was the way you seemed so at ease, so indifferent to the intense rivalry that had dominated your interactions for so long.

taehyun's jaw tightened as he watched from a distance. the sight of you enjoying lunch with yeonjun, seemingly carefree, was like a bitter pill he couldn’t swallow. he didn’t understand why it bothered him so much, but it did. the casual ease between you and yeonjun, the way you looked so relaxed, felt like a personal affront.

as he walked past the cafeteria, he couldn’t shake the irritation gnawing at him. it was as if you had completely erased the existence of his presence, your attention now diverted elsewhere. the nagging feeling of being replaced, of not being a priority anymore, simmered beneath his calm exterior.

later that day, taehyun confronted you in the library. the place was quiet, with only the occasional rustling of pages and the hum of distant conversations breaking the silence. you were at a table, buried in books and notes, preparing for the next round of exams.

taehyun approached, his expression a mix of frustration and something harder to define.

“can we talk?” he asked, his voice clipped.

you looked up from your notes, surprised by the sudden intensity in his tone. “what’s wrong now, taehyun?”

“what’s wrong?” he repeated, his frustration spilling over. “you’re acting like the debate didn’t even happen. like it’s just business as usual. and now you’re all chummy with yeonjun?”

you narrowed your eyes. “i don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“it is my business when you act like everything we’ve been through means nothing!” taehyun’s voice rose, drawing a few curious glances from nearby students.

“you think everything revolves around you?” you snapped back, your patience wearing thin. “i won a debate. life goes on. and so do I.”

taehyun’s face flushed with a mixture of anger and confusion. “you’re unbelievable. it’s like you don’t even care anymore.”

“maybe i don’t,” you said, your voice cold. “you’re not the center of my universe, taehyun. i have other things to focus on.”

there was a tense silence between you two, the air thick with unspoken feelings. taehyun’s frustration was palpable, but so was the underlying hurt. he was at a loss for why your casual interactions with someone else were affecting him so deeply.

before you could say anything more, taehyun closed the distance between you, his hand grabbing your arm and pulling you closer. in a sudden, impulsive move, he kissed you. it was a kiss filled with a mix of frustration, anger, and a desperation that neither of you had anticipated.

when he pulled away, both of you were breathless, staring at each other in shock. the library seemed to close in around you, the tension of the moment heavy in the stillness.

“what was that?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

taehyun’s eyes were wide, his expression a mix of regret and confusion. “i... i don’t know. i just...”

“you can’t just—” you began, but your words faltered as his lips found yours again.

the kiss had changed everything. since that moment, your interactions with taehyun were charged with a new, electric tension. in public, you maintained your usual bickering and rivalry, but in private, the dynamic shifted dramatically. every chance encounter in the library or the student council office became fraught with the unresolved emotions of that kiss.

in public, the rivalry seemed as intense as ever. you and taehyun continued to spar in the classroom, arguing over every small detail as if nothing had happened. his smirks, once infuriating, now felt almost playful, like he was trying to provoke a reaction from you.

“still haven’t learned to keep up, have you?” taehyun would tease during class, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“you just love talking, don’t you?” you’d shoot back, pretending to ignore the way his gaze lingered on you.

you found yourself glaring at him across the cafeteria, where you deliberately chose a table as far from him as possible. taehyun, however, seemed unfazed, his attention flicking over to you now and then as if he was waiting for you to make the first move.

in private, however, the tension was electric. the library corner, once a haven for studying, now held the weight of your unspoken feelings. one afternoon, you were alone at a table, deeply engrossed in your notes, when taehyun appeared at the edge of your vision. he approached with a purposeful stride, his expression unreadable.

“need any help?” he asked, his voice low.

“no, thanks. i’m fine,” you replied, not looking up.

taehyun moved closer, leaning over your shoulder. the proximity sent shivers down your spine. “you sure about that? because it looks like you’re struggling.”

the closeness was unbearable, and before you could react, taehyun’s lips were on yours, his kiss urgent and hungry. the library seemed to close in around you, the only sounds being the rustling of papers and the rapid beating of your hearts. his hands were on your hips, pulling you closer as if he wanted to erase any distance between you.

when he finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, eyes locked. “that’s what i thought,” he murmured, his voice rough.

the student council office, too, became a site of charged encounters. one evening, after a particularly heated meeting, you were alone in the office, organizing paperwork. taehyun entered, his expression a mix of frustration and something softer.

“we need to talk,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“about what?” you asked, keeping your back to him as you continued to sort through files.

“about us,” taehyun said, moving closer. his voice was barely a whisper. “about what is happening between us.”

you turned to face him, but before you could respond, taehyun’s hands were on your shoulders, pulling you into a fierce kiss. the office, with its mundane surroundings of desks and files, became a backdrop for the intensity of the moment. his lips moved against yours with a passion that left you gasping.

after a long, heated moment, you broke the kiss, your breathing ragged. “this doesn’t change anything, taehyun,” you said, your voice trembling.

“doesn’t it?” he asked, his eyes searching yours. “because it feels like it changes everything.”

the days continued in this new, complicated dynamic. in public, the rivalry was as fierce as ever, but in private, the moments of passion and intensity deepened the connection between you. every touch, every stolen kiss in quiet corners, only served to blur the lines between animosity and affection. the rivalry that had once been so defining now felt like a fragile mask for something deeper, more profound, and undeniably complicated.

one afternoon, as you were leaving a particularly contentious student council meeting, taehyun caught up with you, his usual smirk softened by something more genuine.

“we should grab lunch sometime,” he said, his voice more tentative than usual.

“oh? trying to make amends?” you teased, but there was a warmth in your tone that belied your words.

“maybe,” taehyun replied, his eyes meeting yours with an earnest look. “or maybe i just want to spend time with you outside of all this.”

your moments together had become more frequent and more tender. one evening, after a long day, you and taehyun found yourselves back in the student council office. the room was quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the air conditioning.

“you know,” taehyun said, leaning against the desk, “i’ve been thinking about us.”

“that’s dangerous,” you replied with a playful grin, but your heart wasn’t in the banter this time.

“why?” he asked, stepping closer. “because it’s complicated?”

“yeah,” you said softly, looking down. “it’s a lot to figure out.”

taehyun reached out, gently tilting your chin up so you met his gaze. “we don’t have to figure it all out right now. but I want to be with you, even if it means getting through this mess.”

you felt a surge of warmth at his words, and before you could respond, taehyun’s lips were on yours in a tender, lingering kiss. it was a kiss filled with promise and hope, the kind that spoke of a future where you both were willing to face whatever came next together.

gyo's note: never knew i needed enemies to lover trope taehyun, i tried my best to write the way i think he would be for this kind of trope so i hope did great ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა. like and reblog if you liked this! if you made it to this part, thank you so much for reading! you will be loved. xoxo!

228 notes · View notes

hitomisuzuya · 10 months

Note

Imagine : Scaramouche with a reader that's like really quite in bed. Like the reader would only sometimes let out quite, barely audible whines and whimpers and scara is not happy about it at all and would try to find ways for them to scream his name.

Yeah, I'm leaving now😃

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Nipple play. Praise. Scaramouche with piercings cause he could sure make me scream with them 😳 Smut written not exactly sober.

It irked Scaramouche to no end that you were quiet in bed. He knew he was making you feel good, he could hear you swallowing back the urge to be loud. Sure, the blush on your face was cute, but he wanted you to be loud. Why not just let it all out?

He was busy licking and sucking on the sensitive parts of your neck, his ears keenly trained for any soft noise from you. He sucked a fold of skin into his mouth, hearing the softest whimper reach his ears.

Scaramouche took his mouth off of your neck, narrowing his eyes in a frustrated way as he looked down at you. "Why won't you moan for me?" He asked bluntly.

You let out a shy squeak, hiding your face in his shoulder. You were shy. And he knew that. He put a hand on the back of your head, holding it against his shoulder as he stroked the back of your head. "Don't you worry, my sweet girl. I'll make you scream," His cock throbbed even more just thinking about how you would look writhing and screaming underneath him.

Scaramouche quickly snatched your wrists up, pinning then above your head as his mouth found your nipple. He heard you let out a quiet whimper of pleasure when he teased the ball off of his tongue piercing around it. He smirked because it was a little louder than the previous noise.

He immediately latched his lips around the hardening bud, receiving the most delicious reaction. You struggled against his grasp on your wrists, letting out a very audible moan.

He swirled his tongue around the now sensitive nub, sucking as he shivered in victory. His tongue piercing sent jolts of pleasure through you that made your back arch off the bed.

Scaramouche let your wrists go to dip his hand between your legs as he moved his mouth to your other nipple. As much as he liked the control, he also enjoyed when you clung to him while he is fucking you. He parted the lips of your wet cunt, sweeping his fingers across your clit.

His tongue piercing worked it's magic on your nipple. You couldn't help the noises that were starting to spill out of your mouth. The added stimulation of his fingers pinching and rubbing your clit made you grind needily into his fingers.

You wrapped your arms around him, clinging to him in the way he always craved.

"Good girl," He purred, groaning when he felt your cunt clench around the head of his cock as he pushed it against your entrance, "I'm still not satisfied until you scream," He pushed his cock inside of you, stretching you apart all at once and nudging it firmly into your sweet spot.

This tore a loud gasp from your throat, a burst of pleasure making your mind fuzzy. Scaramouche chuckled, putting his weight down on you. He pulled out before slowly thrusting back in, snapping his hips halfway to hit your sweet spot again.

You gasped again, moaning louder still. "That's my good girl, my sweet girl, just a little more," He groaned, his moans mingling with yours as he slowly pounded into you.

His mouth found one of your nipples again, sucking and swirling his tongue like a rabid dog jumping on a weakness. Your walls clenched tight and perfect around his cock, his body shuddering in bliss.

"I--I'm cumming," You whimpered loudly, feeling your orgasm burst intense over you. The moment your release gushed around his cock he finally heard you scream.

"Scaramouche!" You body shook with pleasure as he fucked you through your orgasm. The very sound of you screaming his name made his cock spurt ribbons of cum inside of you.

He craned his head down to give you a passionate kiss. "You can scream for me more, can't you," He bit your lower lip, his fingers finding your clit again.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #modern au #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you

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loves0phelia · 5 months

Note

Please write about Rafe who believes in love and a reader who doesn't! I love your first fic btw

Love

Summery: the request

Words: 1k

Warnings: small injury, grammar mistakes (feel free to correct me)

A/N: thank you so much for this request! xxx

Ever since you and Rafe met, he has been head over heels for you. He would follow you around like a lost puppy, he would get you anything you could possibly want, and always make sure you were okay.

In a way you loved how much he cared, but sometimes the feelings he left you with, made you confused.

In your head love was nothing but a useless feeling. The lovey dovey movies were fake and unrealistic, the people holding hands or kissing in the streets were disgusting and anyone who tried to prove you wrong was definitely not sane.

So why was Rafe Cameron making you feel this way?

“Good morning pretty, got you your favorite like always” He says the second you open the door to his black pick up truck, and hand you the chocolate chips cookie from that bakery you adore.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you don't have to get me something every time?” Even though you wish you kept your lips in a straight line, a small smile took place on your lips.

“But if i stop bringing you snacks how else will i see this pretty smile of yours?” immediately your cheeks became red, so you turned your head to look out the passenger window as he finally started driving away.

After what felt like hours, you got the courage to speak up and asked him where he was taking you.

“Well I figured you wouldn't like the movies because you claim its “too romantic” so I decided on going up to the hill with some food and a book, we could spend the afternoon together until sunset. Also I brought my laptop in case you changed your mind about rom coms…” he uttered the last words anticipating your reaction to them.

“Are you serious? that's like the most rom com thing ever!” you threw your hands above your head and looked at him in disbelief.

“Come on Y/n just give it a shot please” you looked at him with a glare not breaking against his attempt at begging.

“for me?” your fake anger vanished the second the words left his mouth. His soft blue eyes and pouty lips had you in a choke hold. You could never refuse him even if you tried.

“fine” Rafe shouts in victory before grabbing your hand and shaking it while still holding the steering wheel.

“You're not going to regret it baby, i swear” his happiness calmed and now you could only hear the soft music playing on the radio and the harsh sound of his engine.

What you hadn't noticed though was how his hand was still holding yours on top of your thigh for the rest of the ride.

When the car finally came to a stop, Rafe jumped out and rushed to your side to open your door. While holding the small bag with the cookie you haven't eaten yet in your left hand your right one grabbed his so he could help you climb out. This gesture was almost too familiar now.

You stood a few feet away as he grabbed the cooler filled to the brim with various beverages and snacks. Your breath hitch when you noticed his arms flex beneath his gray shirt.

“You ready?” you snapped your eyes away from his muscles as fast as light and quickly nodded, unable to speak any word.

In silence you both climbed the small trail up to the hill. While you could've been watching the blooming flowers, your mind was on rafe, you were daydreaming not paying attention to anything.

“shit” were your last words before tripping over a small branch on your path. your exclamation immediately made Rafe turn on his heels, he dropped the cooler to the ground and ran to you, examining the damage.

“im fine Rafe i just wasn't paying attention” you tried to comfort him but his gaze was fixated on the small cuts over one of your knees.

“Do you want to go back? we can do this another day” he asked concerned and almost already getting ready to turn back the way you came from.

“No rafe. Really I'm ok it's just a small scrap and I don't want our day to be ruined because of me” you almost pleaded.

“Are you sure you can walk? cause i can carry you” he suggested.

“don't be ridiculous, you're already carrying all that” you laughed and optimistically went back on the way.

the entire pathRafe and a small furrow in his brown and he stayed close to you in case of another accident, he was ready to catch you,

When you two were finally settled on a blanket led on top of the grass he began unpacking.

“So a movie or a book? also I'm warning you, if you choose a book you need to read to me.” he smiled innocently.

“book please” you answered shyly before taking the book from his hand. instantly rafe led his head on top of your lap and snuggled while grinning, knowing what he was doing,

but surprisingly you did not comment, nor move away, you stayed like that even when you began to read the words out loud.

he was so peaceful he almost looked asleep but the soft and smooth movement of his thumb over your small injury proved you he was definitely awake.

“Whats up” your brows furrowed wondering why he was asking.

“you stopped reading.” You hadn't even realized you had stopped and you definitely didn't realize he was looking up at you, admiring you for almost 2 minutes before saying something.

“i was just thinking how much i appreciate this,i never realized before now how much i enjoyed it”

“yea?” He sat up with the brightest smile.

“mhm” you hummed and you felt like a magnet was pulling you to him so without a thought you crashed your lips on his.

he made a noise of surprise before rapidly returning the gesture while sliding his fingers in your hair and holding you to him.

passionately you and Rafe kissed until you couldn't breath and that's how you realized love was actually the best thing to ever feel.

#rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x reader #obx rafe cameron #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader

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chibsandchill · 2 months

Text

It all starts with a smile

Fandom: HOTD (House of the dragon)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x AFAB!reader (no use of Y/N or pronouns)

Summary: Aemond must learn how to move on from the past and lead his people into a time of peace. Only, he has forgotten how to live without war.

Warnings: Grammar and spelling errors (english is not my native language), short (1322 words), some angst if you squint

Masterlist

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

The smell of lavender fills the room as you fuss with his hair. It is shorter than it has ever been – reaching just above his shoulders. It feels freeing, in a strange way. His long hair had been a shield, but he is done hiding. It is only right that you be the one to cut it for you had been there to witness his victory.

“And what do you want?”

“A smile, Aemond, ‘tis all I ask for.”

His lips quirk ever so slightly. He hasn't smiled in what felt like centuries – hasn't had a reason to. It doesn't fit him anymore (he doesn't know how).

A mere twitch is all he can manage.

“Perhaps my lady should wish for something more… attainable. A king has as much need for a smile as a-”

A frown appears on your face and he wonders where he misstepped. His father had smiled. Plenty. Though not at him or his siblings. And he had almost led their house to ruin. A smile did little when faced with dragonfire.

“It is time for peace now. And a king of peace has as much use of a kind smile as he does his right hand. The people need soothing – reassurance that all will be well again. That they will not have to send their sons to die or their daughters to pillow houses.” You move closer and Aemond holds his breath. He does not fear your touch, but his skin crawls at the thought of it. He can almost feel the water of that damned lake filling his throat again.

“Your grandfather taught you much, Aemond, but this? The art of keeping the power he took and pleasing the smallfolk, that evaded him. In the end he was too much like the dragons he surrounded himself with.”

He wants to defend Otto, the words burn in his throat. “He was a great man.”

“Yes, he was.” You nod. “But not a good one.”

“No, but few men are.”

His eyes glance at the door, almost expecting his grandsire to storm through it shouting at him. His body prepares for a strike, but it never comes, just as the door remains shut. Otto is dead, but his mind still screams at him to defend his blood. His skin crawls at the neglect, at the words of weakness he let slip.

Your hand cups his face. You’re on his weak side. He refuses to turn.

“A soft touch.” You say. “The realm has been ruled by an iron fist for so long that even the ground has forgotten what it is like.”

So you had noticed him stiffening. Another crack in his crumbling mask. Vulnerability seeps out like blood from a wound. Somewhere under it lay a scared boy, Aemond is sure. He still feels like he’s in the halls of Driftmark sometimes, with his eye in his hand and his father with his back turned. All alone. Scared. Scarred.

He has no more allies. None bound by blood. And blood was all one could trust, Aemond had learnt that the hard way. And even then it is not guaranteed. His family cut him deeper than any.

“A smile. A soft touch,” he repeats. Aemond grasps your hand in his and gently pulls it off his skin, “will not bring stability to a realm of chaos. A smile will not sway the hands of the thieves, or the rapists lurking in the dark. A soft touch will not bring back the sons or husbands of the thousands of widows. It will not bring back sisters, brothers, dragons.”

“No.” You agree. A frown pulls at your lips. Aemond almost puts your hand back on his face. “But it will not take any more. You cannot be a man of war in a time of peace, Aemond. Your life did not end in the battle above the Gods Eye.”

But Vhagar’s did. Vhagar fell. He is one half of a broken whole cursed to sit a throne that mocks him at every turn. His brother’s laughter haunts him when he sits on it, his grandfather’s leers scrutinizing his every decision from the place of the Hand, the smell of his mother’s blood followed by phantom pain when he misstepped.

“No. It did not.”

Your hand is back on his face, grasping at his jaw to guide him to you, to force him to meet your eyes. He allows it. Aemond doesn’t like the sharpness to your eyes as you look at him. What in him do you see that displeases you so?

“You were shaped by bitter hands and hatred, but you are free of it now. We are free. Free to make mistakes. Free to… love.”

Your eyes soften.

“It is okay to grieve them just as it is okay to love them despite their faults, but you cannot let the memory of them keep you chained to the past. The future is yours for the taking, you need only grasp it.”

“I do not know how.” He confesses. The words were heavy on his tongue, and yet they are even heavier between you.

“A smile, My King. It begins with a smile.”

Again he tries, and again he fails. His lips twitch but it is more like a grimace than a smile. He knows anger, he knows sadness and he knows disgust. He doesn’t know this – doesn’t know the softness you spoke of, doesn’t understand the peace in your heart or the lightness to your steps. Rhaenyra never forgot. She smiled even in the end as Sunfyre devoured her whole.

“Do you remember the night you claimed Vhagar?”

His scar itches.

“Of course I do.”

You move closer again, though you do not reach for him. You kneel by his feet, your hands flat on your thighs. Your voice is as soft as the Maiden’s when you speak again. “What did you feel when you took to the skies as one for the first time?”

The words tumble from him before he can stop them. “Whole. Worthy. Happy.”

“Will you tell me about it?”

Aemond inclines his head, confused by the request. Unable to deny you, he thinks back on that night, before it all went wrong. And so he tells you of how he met Vhagar. Of how his legs shook terribly when he walked across the sand, how his heart stopped beating when her eyes met his and the bond was formed. Of how her scales felt against his calloused hands, her warmth against his skin, and her breath on his face. He tells you the color of her eyes, the scars on her legs, chest, the horns on her head, the shape of her scales and the stories her body carried. Aemond describes the climb up to her saddle and how he had to tie the heavy chains several times around his waist, barely managing to finish the last knot before Vhagar started moving. Vhagar was so large and heavy that each step shook the earth and he had never felt as small and yet so large as when he sat upon her.

Somewhere in the story, Aemond loses himself, and the words keep coming but he no longer hears what he is saying. He’s back there – back on Vhagar. He feels her muscles moving under thick skin, feels her every inhale, every exhale and every grumble as she moves. Hears the thundering crack of her wings in the air, the wind through his hair. His heart feels full again, whole.

The story ends, but the feeling stays. His chest feels lighter than it has in years.

“See, Aemond,” you say, “it – healing – starts with a smile.”

His fingers tremble as he raises them to his face.

And there,

stretching his lips in a motion so wholly unfamiliar that his face begins to ache,

is a smile.

Maybe there is hope for him after all.

#hotd aemond #hotd imagine #hotd #aemond x you #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon

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darkeyessdarkheart · 26 days

Text

Good Luck, Babe

warnings: language, implied smut, 18+

pairing: rhea ripley x fem!reader

word count: 3,291

Alright y’all. Bare with me lmao. I haven’t written in years and I’ve been working 12 hr shifts so I can’t promise it’s my best. But here you are for the 8 people who wanted this! lmao. Any feedback or requests would be great! :)

It was a successful post-Wrestlemania celebration in Philly that night. You and some fellow superstars had heard of a local club and decided to continue your celebrations there after the press conference. Music blared throughout the club causing you to feel as if even your feet were vibrating through your heels. You and Bayley were on the dance floor laughing at your sad attempts at dancing. You’d only had a couple of drinks and were just a little tipsy. “Y/N what are you doing?! You look like you’re seizing!” Bayley leaned in to try to exclaim in your ear.

“It’s not my fault! The only dancing I’m good at involves grinding!” You chuckle back at her. She shakes her head taking another swig of her cocktail before looking back at you, eyes glazed over. “I mean, by all means, if it makes it better than that you can dance on me all you want.”

Bayley and you joked back and forth like this sometimes but your relationship was always platonic. You decided to take her up on her offer, taking your free hand and grabbing her free one as well. Pulling her hand up into the air you spun yourself around and began to seductively sway to the music pushing your back closer to her. “Whoo! Yeah girl, damn I didn’t know you could get down like that!” She exclaims as you rock your hips back and forth while also slowly moving down her body and then back up, making sure to push your butt into her. You both laugh as you continue before suddenly seeing a figure coming to loom over you.

“Hey! Mind if I steal your partner there for a bit?!” You hear the voice and recognize it as the New World Heavyweight Champion. You had known for a bit that Damian had a little crush on you. You’d catch him staring at you during rehearsals and at morning gym sessions. He’d always try to spark conversation with you and would even occasionally join in on your workouts if you were working the same area. Somehow he’d always end up “showing you a better way” or form to do an exercise in what felt like an excuse just to touch you. As if you weren’t a professional athlete with years of experience working out. But you didn’t mind, Damian was a nice and attractive guy after all. “She’s all yours champ!” Bayley said before walking away, being sure to look back at you and suggestively raise her eyebrows.

“You did awesome tonight! How’s it feel to finally be champion?” You leaned in to ask him. “Feels almost as great as you look.” He flirts letting his eyes roam up and down your body in your tight-fitting dress. You reach out to playfully push him laughing, “You’re stupid. Thanks though, you look good too.” You smile up at him. Amid your conversation, you can’t help but look over to the bar behind you and see two piercing blue eyes staring right at you. Rhea.

You and Rhea joined NXT around the same time and immediately clicked. You bonded over your nerdy video game tastes, love of horror movies and animals, and her vast intent on exposing you to heavy metal music. You two became best friends and an even better tag team. You even held the former NXT Women’s Tag Team Championships together for a run. However, it all changed one night after Rhea won her first North American NXT Women’s Championship.

You were in your dressing room screaming at the TV like a maniac. “Come on Rhea!” You yelled watching Rhea getting hit on the top rope. In the last second, she reversed the move hitting Shayna with the riptide from the second turnbuckle and pinning her for the title. You bolted from your dressing room to the gorilla, and down to the ring. You threw your arms around her squeezing her tighter than ever before as the announcer declared her victory. “You did it! I’m so proud of you!!” You pulled back smiling at her and practically jumping up and down. You went to hold her arm up in the air but instead, she scooped you up with her one free arm, causing you to wrap your legs around her waist. You laughed in surprise but just smiled right back at her, staring into her baby blue eyes. The crowd erupted as she held the title up in the air with her other arm all while holding you to her.

You made it back to the gorilla waiting for your chance for another hug once the crowd of individuals that had gathered to congratulate her had dispersed. “I still can’t believe it.” She stated almost breathlessly, still slightly panting as she stared at the gold on her arm. “Thank you for coming out to the ring. You know I love celebrating with you.” She smiled at you. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, I love you so much.” You threw your arms around her neck and pulled her into an embrace. Only this time when you pulled apart, you couldn’t help but stop at a certain point. Your arms remained locked behind her neck and her hands remained steady at the small of your back and waist. You didn’t know what came over you, you leaned in and kissed her.

She must’ve been as surprised as you were judging by her slight jump. The second you felt it you immediately wanted to pull away and apologize, not even understanding why you did what you’d done. The thoughts were squashed instantaneously by the feeling of her kissing you back. It was like no other, the way your lips molded together, the way you moved in perfect synchrony with each other, how soft and perfect her lips felt. The first tender kiss slowly turned into more as you felt her tongue piercing run softly across your lower lip as she tried to gain access to your mouth. You couldn’t help but accept, allowing the kiss to become deeper and passionate. Your tongues slipped in and out of each other’s mouths with every movement. The moment came to an end all too soon when you both heard footsteps approaching and jumped apart.

Rhea was quickly busy with another superstar coming up to congratulate her. You used this as your excuse to bolt back to your dressing room. You slammed the door leaning your back against it, panting from pure adrenaline. What did you just do?! Rhea was your best friend for fuck’s sake. You had only ever been in relationships with men your entire life. You thought you’d had good experiences with guys, but that kiss. That was incomparable. You’d never felt such passion and dare you admit it, desire in just a kiss. Had you not been interrupted you were unsure how far you would’ve been willing to take that situation. You shook your head putting your head in your hands, not knowing what was wrong with you. Of course, you loved Rhea, how could you not? She’s gorgeous, funny, caring, and you have so many memories together. But did you love her? Or were you just caught up in the moment?

Surely, after all this time you would’ve known if you were into her, right? Your brain was running 100 miles a minute, completely unsure of what to think or do next. The only clear thought you had was you had to get away. You changed out of your ring gear faster than ever, changed into a baggy hoodie and sweats, pulling your hood over your head in an attempt to hide yourself. You grabbed your bag and headed out to your car and drove home.

Rhea blew up your phone that night trying to call you, text you, facetime you, hell she was even emailing you. You couldn’t bear to hear her voice and own up to what you had done. You were deleting her first at least 100 texts quickly, trying to not even read them. Only seeing glimpses of certain ones as you did so.

Rhea🖤: Y/N, what the hell?

Rhea🖤: Where are you??

Rhea🖤: We need to talk!

Rhea🖤: Call me back now.

Rhea🖤: This isn’t funny Y/N.

Rhea🖤: Answer the damn phone!

Rhea🖤: If you don’t answer, I swear to god I’m gonna bloody lose it Y/N.

You couldn’t even comprehend the idea of speaking to her in any shape or form in this state. Eventually, you decided to block her phone number. You told yourself it would be temporary, just until you were able to clear your mind. To understand why you did this and what your feelings truly were for your best friend. However days passed, you managed to successfully avoid her at shows despite hearing the gossip of her adamantly looking for you backstage at every single one.

Your call up from Smackdown couldn’t have come at a better time. You decided this promotion was the perfect opportunity to extend your sabbatical with Ripley. You’d figure it out eventually, you told yourself.

Present

You and Rhea hadn’t properly spoken in a very long time. In what seemed like divine intervention to you, you always ended up on the opposing show. Only having to be around one another at certain pay per views throughout the years. However, thanks to avoidance and always making sure at least one other superstar was in the room with you, you never managed to be fully alone with Rhea. You were polite of course, casual, but you never allowed the conversation to get too intense before ditching. In the instances you were around one another you’d feel her doing what she was doing now. Eyeing you down, as if she was trying to read you. Trying to understand why you were so willing to throw away everything you had together. All just because you refused to admit your true feelings.

You felt your breath catch your throat but tried to instantly regain your composure, looking back up at Priest. “You wanted to dance, let’s dance!” You squeal at him causing him to chuckle at you. You begin to dance together but all the while all you can feel is what feels like lasers beaming right at your face. Rhea was at the bar with Bianca and Jade, ordering another round and talking amongst themselves. However, Rhea wasn't remotely interested. She was captivated by you.

You can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth

You forced yourself to turn around not wanting to feel her eyes directly on your face. Continuing to sway to the music you push your back around Priest, seductively grinding on him. Closing your eyes you tried to distract yourself from the thoughts of wishing you were dancing like this on the woman across the room. You knew at this point what you wanted but it felt as if it had been too long. Not to mention the thought still petrified you. The idea of further ruining the perfect friendship you’d tossed aside. All because you were a coward.

And guess I’m the fool

Finally, you turn back around, planning on telling Damian you were too drunk and should head back to your hotel. Even though you knew you were fine. As you did so you noticed her beginning to head into the crowd, beeling straight to you and Priest. Oh God. Your heart began to race and your stomach felt as if it had dropped to your ass. Your mind was running through every possible scenario to try to get out of this oncoming shit storm. You did the first comprehensive thing that came to your mind, standing up on your tiptoes in your heels, grabbing the back of his neck and bringing his lips down onto yours. Damian immediately accepted, holding your face in his large hands as you moved your lips together.

The black haired Australian stopped in her tracks as she saw what you were doing.

You can kiss 100 boys in bars

Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling

You were trying to put your all into the kiss. Anything to try to show Rhea you weren’t interested in her. It felt as if you were trying to put on some elaborate performance but you couldn’t stop yourself. You had your hands on top of his then began to grab his shirt, pulling him as close to you as possible. Priest put his hands on top of yours pulling back, “Woah Y/N, I think you’ve had a bit too much muñeca. I’d love to, but not like this.”

All while Damian is gently “letting you down” she finally reaches you, breaking out into a toothy grin. “Hey mate, Y/N, you doing okay? You don’t look so great.” She feigns concern looking you up and down but you know each other too well. You’d spent more than a couple nights out together and she knew your tolerance was way higher than you were portraying. “I’m fine.” You answer quickly, almost too quickly. Damian looks at both of you assessing the situation, clearly unsure of what to do. No matter what else you tried to look at around the room you kept somehow locking eyes with her again. Those light blue orbs taking your breath away every time. “Rhea, you mind helping get Y/N back? You don’t mind right, Y/N?”

Before you can even protest, she interrupts. “Of course mate. I’ll text you when I get her in. Have fun tonight champ!” She grabs your wrist and starts leading you out of the club, shouting at Priest over her shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing?!” You’re trying to pull out of her grip but are unsuccessful each time. She didn’t answer, keeping her eyes pointed towards the exit of the club.

At the last second, she turns, leading you towards the hallway where the bathrooms were. “Rhea, seriously let me go! What are you doing?!” You attempt to exclaim once but she continues to ignore you, just dragging you along.

You reach the bathroom and she opens the door dragging you inside. You look around expecting a multi-stall facility but instead find yourself in a very tight space with the woman you’ve avoided for so long.

“The better question is, what are you doing Y/N?” She turns around finally making eye contact with you again. Your eyes dart once again trying to avoid the intensity. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say as your eyes finally settle on a particular piece of graffiti on the wall in front of you. “Yes, you do. You’ve dodged me for years. You don’t want to be around me, fine. But really? You’re gonna try to act like you’re something you’re not?” She shakes her head, her eyes squinting as she looks you up and down as if she was trying to piece you back together in her mind.

“You’re being ridiculous. If Priest wants to pursue me, why shouldn’t I let him?” You cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to subconsciously put a barrier between you and her.

You can say it’s just the way you are

Make another excuse, another stupid reason

“This isn’t what you want, Y/N.” Rhea grabs your chin forcing you to look at her. Your heart is pounding so hard it feels as if it could burst out of you at any moment. You felt a lump in your throat as hard as a stone. The cold feeling of her rings touching your skin would normally make you jump but they felt amazing against your now blazing red skin.

“You may tell yourself that kiss never happened. Bloody hell, you probably have to tell yourself that every day. I bet you think about it all the time.” You felt as if she was rubbing your biggest mistake in your face. You go to smack her hand away, “Stop it, Rhea, it was years ago. I was in the moment and I overstepped. It meant noth-“

She cuts you off, taking you by surprise by pushing herself up against you against the wall, her hands next to both sides of your head. You can’t help the audible small gasp that leaves your mouth. “Tell me you don’t want this.” She whispers as she inches her face towards yours. You gulp.

Good luck, babe.

Well, good luck, babe.

She takes one of her hands and grips your jaw forcing you to look at her. “Tell me you don’t want me.”

You’d have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

You inhale deeply through your nose. Your body was covered in goosebumps yet somehow still felt like it was on fire. Feeling her strong body up against yours was causing your mind to blank. You couldn’t think of anything besides the feeling of her chest moving against yours with each deep breath you took.

In that moment you felt your once strong front begin to dissipate. “Rhea, I-“ You try to start but the ball in your throat causes your voice to catch. You look up at the ceiling feeling tears prickling at your eyes. “I do want you. I want you more than anything.” The tears begin to fall down your cheeks as you continue.

“I’m such a fucking idiot.” You whisper to yourself. Seeing your tears Rhea backed up slightly, taking one hand and gently wiping at some of the tears. “You’re not an idiot baby.” She softly spoke, leaving her hand to rest on your cheek.

“I didn’t want to ruin our friendship but I-“ You open your mouth inhaling deeply then exhaling, trying to stop crying. “I did.”

“Why couldn’t you tell me Y/N? We’d been close for so long. Nothing could and would ever ruin what we have. As friends or, as more.” She enunciates the last part, her Aussie accent thick.

You shake your head, wishing you had a reasonable answer for her. “I don’t know.”

She sighs, pulling you to her in a tight embrace. You exhale, wrapping your arms around her. She holds the back of your head stroking your hair softly. Of course, she’d remember. That was always something she’d do for you whenever you were stressed or upset.

“I missed you so fucking much.” You whisper, squeezing her as tight as you possibly could inhaling her familiar scent.

You’re the first to pull away but remain still, keeping her close. Rhea looks down at you wiping the last remaining tears away. Only now do you notice the tear stains where makeup once was on her face.

Despite the messy makeup, disheveled hair, and groggy voices from crying you couldn’t help but think about how gorgeous she looked.

“Rhea?” You ask softly. “Y/N?” She responds looking into your eyes.

“You’re right. I haven’t stopped thinking about this.” You sigh, shaking your head slightly then grabbing her face in your hands and smashing your lips together. It was as if no time had passed.

The same fire and passion from the first kiss immediately reignited. She reached around your body, holding your lower back and gripping your ass with the other. You moaned softly at the feeling allowing her to slip her tongue into your mouth.

You reached your hands out grabbing every part of her that you could reach. From her long black hair, to her waist using her metal chain belt to pull her even closer.

She pulls away and you almost whine. “Come on you, we’re going to the hotel. I’m gonna show what else I’ve been thinking about since that kiss.”

#rhea ripley x you #rhea ripley oneshot #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley fanfic #rhea

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sweetestcaptainhughes · 3 months

Text

say whatever you feel,

be wherever you are

Word Count - 3k roughly

Author's Note - I felt this need to write some Jack fluff since I'm been writing a lot of Jack being a complete idiot asshole lately. Thank you always for reading

Warnings - I truly can't think any

Summary - Y/N was a very social butterfly, she was blunt and witty. Not a single person that knows her would describe her as shy. But when it came to her expressing her emotions, she was definitely more reserved. Or three times Jack shows her that it isn't scary to show how happy he is, and the one time she shows him her own happiness.

Masterlist

Growing up you were never one of those people that felt as if they could show the world their every thought on their face. Maybe it was your personality in general or how you grew up, but you never showed how you felt to the entire world around you.Some people would describe you as shy for this, but you weren’t shy you were in fact a very blunt, witty person. It’s just for whatever reason you never let anyone know how a situation unfolding in front of you made you feel. It’s almost like you were always watching everyone else somehow seeing how they were responding and then reacting. Especially when it came to showing pure happiness, this feeling of carefree happiness and being lost in the moment of it. That entire idea was foreign to you.

Jack didn’t mind that you were closed off in showing your feelings to the world. He knew that you kept that part of yourself hidden from the world. A part of him actually found it like a small victory when he was able to have you act dumb with him even if it was within the private walls of your apartment. Jack wasn’t as dumb when it came to emotions as people in the media viewed him. Everyone thought of him as someone who was just a cocky little asshole who was nothing more than a hot head on and off the ice. But that was furthest from the truth, Jack was the first boy that showed you that the little moments in life could truly be some of your happiest fondest moments. Jack learned from you that sometimes not displaying all of your cards was actually better because when you were completely emotionally raw with someone it meant so much more. Jack knew you loved him with everything you had, and he loved that he was one of the only people on Earth to truly witness you being your truly carefree self. He loved how through each time you joined him in being completely carefree and happy. He felt like he was able to learn this whole new side to you even though you’ve been dating for months at this point. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t matter where we are I’m happy with you:

Jack loved spending time with you, he actually was obsessed with spending every available second you both had free together. But due to the roadies schedule this year being insane he was about to go away for almost two weeks exactly. Since you guys started talking three months ago you haven’t spent that much time apart. The only problem was that you had a list of probably 10 ‘absolutely can’t procaste anything or my life will actually fall apart errands’ that had to get done today before your work week started tomorrow. But Jack left tomorrow morning and wouldn’t be back for two weeks.

Jack knew that if you weren’t able to do your errands that you would probably spiral all week due to feeling behind. He also knew even though you would never admit it out loud, that you were already having anxiety about how attached Jacks’ presence you were already and how hard this first roadie would be. Thus how he came up with what he felt was his most brilliant idea in months. Luke and Quinn didn’t agree in the groupchat and called him a simp and asked how Jack became whipped so badly and quickly. Jack decided to ignore his brother’s and facetime with you to tell you his idea. You answered immediately even though you were in the middle of making sure you didn’t forget anything before leaving your place to hop in your car.

“Hi bubs, what's up? I’m in the middle of something right now.” Jack can hear the anxiety rising in your voice and can hear you being distant on the phone due to it.

“Hi baby… I have an idea.'' It's hard for Jack to hide the excitement in his voice. His smile drops a little as he hears you sigh deeply, knowing that you're probably snatching your voice a little annoyed.

“Jack, I told you I need to get all these errands done so that I’m ready for next week. Which I would have already done if you hadn’t spent the last 3 days at my place insisting we don’t need to leave the bedroom except for snacks and gatorade.” Jack can hear you continue to shuffle around in the background, probably slipping on some shoes and throwing a jacket on.

“Yes.. which was fun but we don’t need to talk about that. Anyway, that’s actually why I’m calling you, let's have a car date.” you can practically hear the smile you know is radiating off his face right now announcing his idea to you.

“A car date?” you shyly ask.

“Yes, a car date. We can get fast food, blast the best music, and I can drive you around and we will complete all your errands. But we also get to spend time together.” Jak rumbles off his plan and you can tell that he isn’t as confident as he once was.

“okay.” you say shyly smiling at the idea.

“Perfect. Pick you up in 10.” he rushes out as he hangs up.

That Sunday you spend eating way too much snacks from gas stations, fast food and having your own little karotake sessions. As Jack drives you around town one hand on the wheel the other switching between your thigh and hand. He can’t help the warm feeling in his chest as he leans over and sees a small smile on your face.

“It doesn’t matter what we're doing, I’m happy when I’m with you.” he breaths out, and you can’t help but turn back to him as you let his words sink in. Jack knew that you probably wouldn’t respond. But when he felt you give his hand a squeeze he brought it up to his mouth to give it a soft kiss. Neither of you say anything else about it, moving on to scream singing to the next song that belts out from the speakers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am happiest when your attention is on me:

Jack and you were on an impromptu date night in Manhattan, deciding that it would be nice to go to the city for the night. As you are leaving the restaurant knowing that the night is coming to an end but not wanting it to. Jack offers to go on a walk for a little bit and maybe find some dessert. Spending time walking hand in hand, you couldn’t help but have a small smile on your face. But then you felt the never ending buzz of your phone knowing that someone was obviously trying to get in contact with you. Reductively, you reach into your back pocket to grab your phone, finding about fifthteen texts in the last 3 minutes from your cousin. Apparently, she was freaking out about something that happened in the family groupchat. Naturally, you slowed your walking pace to try and read all the messages. At first Jack was fine with you being a little distracting but then when you completely stopped walking. But once you got distracted and stopped walking completely Jack tried his hardest to be patient. But Jack isn’t really known for being the most patient guy or being good at staying still for long. “Who’s on the phone baby?” at the sound of his voice, you glance up.

“Oh it’s my cousin they’re telling me about what happened the family groupchat.” Once you see Jack nod, you return your attention to your phone. After a few more minutes Jack’s done waiting and wants to continue their walk.Due to his quick reflexes he quickly picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder and grabbing your phone in the process.

Immediately you start laughing, hitting his back. In the most demanding voice you can muster in the middle of your laughing fit you scream. “JACK let me down! Give me back my phone!” He knew you weren’t mad at him so he decided to push the limit with how far he could go with this as he started walking down the sidewalk.

“Nope, not till I’m done texting them telling them that you're busy with your amazing hot boyfriend. And that your boyfriend demands your attention because another minute longer he might cry.” Jack shifts your weight slightly and you can tell that he really is typing on your phone.

“Jack stop! I’ll give you my full attention, I promise.” as you continue to laugh while you hear Jack hum in agreement.

“Okay sent. Now I can let you down.” You can feel Jack’s arms tighten as he lightly lets you down, both of your breathing speeding up due to how close your faces are when your feet finally touch the ground.

“You said you're always happy with me.” you mumbled.

“I am but I’m only happiest when I have your attention.” he whispers, his eyes flicking between lips and your eyes. As if he was asking if he could kiss you in the moment, you slowly snake your arms around his neck and reach up to kiss him softly.

As you pull away you can’t help your smartass response “you're such an attention whore Jackey. But I love you for it.” As you stay in his embrace a little longer, completely forgetting about your cousin and whatever family drama it was. Simply just allowing yourself to be lost in this moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am happy with you because when I’m with I can block everything out:

Jack truly wasn’t afraid of his mind being quick witted, being loud or being too sarcastic. He wasn’t someone who was known for being shy about his personality. Especially when he would go out with you somewhere and it would be like his body transformed into someone new. Someone who wasn’t afraid to scream at the top of their lungs just how happy they were that you were his and he was yours. Someone who truly felt happiest with you in their arms,

Tonight was no different for Jack at the lakehouse. He was so happy that you were able to get a long weekend off and come visit him in Michigan. As per usual for the summer house, there were people everywhere, From Luke’s old Michigan teammates, to some of Quinn’s teammates, to friends they grew up with on the lake, to Jack’s friends from when he played on the USA Hockey team. If Jack had to guess there were probably about thirty people right now inside his house or outside at the bonfire. After spending the day with friends he was able to retreat to a lawn chair close enough to the fire to feel the warmth but far away enough that it's not insanely loud. Jack and you weren’t able to spend much of the party together sadly, due to the girlfriends of the boys pulling you away. It was nice to be welcomed but you were definitely missing Jack after having to meet so many people, you were feeling your social battery dying. As you exited the house, looking for Jack you were thrilled to see Jack not surrounded by people and just talking to Cole in some lawn chairs closer to the lake.

Quickly you felt yourself heading towards your boyfriend, very much just wanting to be in his arms away from everyone else. He quickly caught your eyes as you walked up and you could feel yourself blush as his smile grew seeing you. “Hi baby!” Once you were in arms reach, making grabby hands at you pulling yourself down into his lap. Your back was leaning against one of the arm rests of the chair. One leg between Jack’s legs, the other swinging over the other arm rest. Your arms quickly circling around Jack’s neck trying to pull him closer to you. Usually you don’t show this level of PDA in front of people you don’t know and you literally met Cole four hours prior to this. Jack tightened his arms around you, nervous something was wrong. “Heyy babyy.. you okay?” he whispers as your face digs deeper into his neck. You shook your head yes and Jack took that as an answer, and continued to talk to Cole. Lightly rubbing your one his hands up and down your calf that was hanging over the chair. His other tightly holding your hip to make sure you won’t fall. His thumb under your hoodie slowly creases the top of your hip. He continued talking to Cole like nothing happened and Cole knew Jack well enough to know not to chirp either of you in the moment or he would have to look for a new place to sleep tonight.

After a while Cole mentioned something about needing a refill and made his way back to the rest of the party. Jack knew that when you were ready to rejoin the world and be ready to talk to him you would. In the meantime he watched drunk people dancing to some soft country music softly singing along only loud enough for you to hear. You lightly smiled as you whispered “your lucky you didn’t go into the music industry because you are way off tone Jackey.” as you slowly move your head from his neck to his chest.

“What I’m offended! I am a great singer.” you could hear the sarcasm clear as day on his voice. It still didn’t stop your small laugh as one of your hands went to play with the stings of his hoodie. He couldn’t help but ask if you were okay again though “did something happen or are you just tired pretty girl?” His hand on your calf went to your hand that wasn’t playing with his hoodie and held your hand in your lap.

“Social battery.” you mumble sort of embarrassed that as an extraverted your social battery seemed to run out quicker than others. It didn’t slip past you that Jack’s hand gave you a squeeze as a form of comfort. “I just wanted to be held.” you let out the words before you even realize. Jack can’t help but lean down and kiss your forehead, knowing that you wanted to change the subject and he let you. After a half hour you can’t help but feel Jack’s head shake to the rhythm of the music. “You want to dance don’t you?” but Jack could tell by your voice that you weren’t feeling up to being around so many drunk people who were too drunk to know personal space boundaries.

“We don’t have to baby, it’s okay.” He says making eye contact with you so you know how serious he’s being.

“No it’s okay we can if you, I know how happy dancing makes you” as you start to shift to get off his lap, his hands tighten their grip on you.

“No Y/N.” As he reaches to cup your face with his hand, “I don’t want to dance. I like how happy I am right here with you, cause you block out all the noise. I am being here with you in my arms” As he leans in to kiss you deeply. “Okay?” he asks in a questioning tone making sure you understand what he’s saying.

“Okay Rowdy.” as you lean further into his embrace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I can be the real you with me:

Suddenly you were back in your apartment, the season was in full swing. It was hard at times but you were slowly getting used to your apartment door becoming a revolving door due to Jack’s schedule. Jack started spending more nights at your place then his only because he said he missed being with you as much due to all the back to back roadies the Devils’ have had this month. At some point tonight Jack was supposed to come home and you physically felt your body shaking of energy at the thought. Craving something sweet you decided to make some brownies and figured that you could have them with dinner. Since you knew Jack was coming over you decided to make them gluten free so he didn’t feel terrible about eating them and breaking his diet a little.

Your text to Jack has still been left unanswered about what time he’s coming home today but you knew he was busy finishing up with the media team. As you entered the kitchen you turned on spotify and connected it to your bluetooth speaker, randomly shuffling your playlist. After washing your hands you got everything out and started making the brownies. As you were standing there making brownies listening to Revival by Zach Brynn came on. Slowly you felt yourself softly singing to the song, giggling as you remembered Jack singing this song to you all those months ago at the lakehouse. Slowly you felt your voice sing louder and as the song got louder and Zach kept singing about how he feels reborn. Slowly you started jumping and twirling around to the lyrics. You're not sure if the music is too loud or just being stuck in your own world. Next thing you know you feel arms sneak around you, and slowly move against you. At first your body froze, scared, until you felt Jack’s voice. “Hi babygirl, i missed you.” Slowly you let yourself continue to get lost in the song. Both allowing yourselves to get lost in the song and kitchen dancing. After the song slowly came to an end, you felt yourself slowly stop dancing but neither of you pulled away yet.

“Hi Jackey, welcome home” you whisper looking up at him, as the next song slowly starts playing in the background.

“Hey” he softly mumbles as he leans down and softly kisses your lips, no rush at all for anything more just pure love in the moment.

“I’m surprised you didn’t stop dancing when I came up behind you.” he admits softly.

You shrug your shoulders “I don’t know, I guess I can be my real self around you, I’m not scared of showing you my emotions.” As you hear yourself admit this out loud you realize just how big of a deal this really is not only for yourself ,but for Jack and your relationship.

“God I love you, but I really love when you let yourself be happy baby.” he admits, dipping his head down to steal another kiss.

#jack hughes fic #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes imagine #hughes imagine #new jersey devils fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl x reader #schwritingsjh86

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malarign · 1 year

Text

shoulder nap

(when you’re playing games and fall asleep on his shoulder)

contains: crush!Riki x fem!reader | genre: fluff | tw! mentions of food, like one peck? i think that’s it | wc: 0,6k

reblogs, likes and comments are highly appreciated!!!

author’s note: i don’t really like this one but hey! finally wrote something for our baby puma! enjoy!! also,, am i posting everything i have in my drafts from frustration? maybe :)) anygays enjoy!!

author’s note2: just added the second part! you can read it here :))

“Open!” you shouted from your kitchen at the sound of the chaotic knocks left on your front door.

Soon they opened wide, revealing your best friend, Riki. Well, the term “best friend” doesn’t exactly express how you truly felt when it came to him. At first, you viewed him as an annoying brother, yet it all changed when both of you grew up. You realized how he changed and matured in many ways, while still being cheerful and playful with his friends. Trying to deny your feelings for as long as you could you finally gathered your courage to confess only for him to make his dreams of becoming an idol come true. It was hard, trying to be happy for him and suppressing your feeling for the sake of his career and your friendship.

“Ready to get your ass beaten, Y/nah?” Riki asked teasingly while going next to you to pour himself a soda.

“You wish,” you teased back and made him help you prepare the snacks for your weekly game night.

Back in the day, you used to hang out almost every day, but now it had to be limited to once a week, sometimes even once a month. He always tried to not let you see how drained he truly was, but knowing him this long you knew how hard he worked.

Both of you sat down on your couch and started playing. As always your living room filled up with giggles, screams of victories, and groans of losses.

Soon your eyelids started to feel heavy and you noticed how your head started falling. When it happened for a nth time you heard a small giggle to your left. You sent a death glare in Riki’s direction only for him to laugh louder at your attempt to intimidate him. You smiled seeing how his eyes turned into small crescents and cheeks lifted in a wide smile.

You continued to play but your tiredness grew with every round you played. Not realizing it, your head landed straight on his shoulder. As soon as you felt the fabric of his T-shirt you raised your head swiftly.

“I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed nervously, hoping your blush wouldn’t be too visible in the dimmed light of one single lamp.

“It’s okay, Y/nie,” he spoke softly, this time a gentle smile creeping to his lips.

You felt how your cheeks burned, not sure if the cause of that state was your skin-to-skin contact or the way he called you.

But to your dismay, any attempts of suppressing annoying yawns and overflowing fatigue were pointless. Your head once again landed on his shoulder. For a while, he thought you were going to wake up soon, but it ended up with him disconnecting your controller and finishing the round alone. Once he won he almost screamed out of joy but stopped at the last second not wanting to wake you up. He looked down at your peaceful state, noticing a cute pout that formed on your lips. He smiled to himself and carefully tucked a lone strand of your hair behind your ear.

How he wished he could see you like this more. He held back the urge to lock you safely in his arms and leave a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“Do I have anything to lose?” he asked himself and did what he just tried to contain within his mind only.

His hands slowly moved your body so that now you lay in between his legs, head now placed on his chest. He prayed you couldn’t feel how his heart was racing, yet he mustered up the courage to leave a shy peck on the crown of your head.

“Sweet dreams, Y/nie.”

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

permanent taglist: (send an ask to be added) @nicholasluvbot, @en-chantedtomeetyou, @kpopstanmeg, @skzenhalove, @nfrgirl, @edensgardenn (in bold can’t be tagged)

#kflixnet #enhanet #enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen imagine #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x you #enhypen niki #niki fic #niki imagines #niki fluff #niki x reader #niki x y/n #niki x you #nishimura riki #nishimura riki x reader

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stellar-skyy · 6 months

Note

hello!! could i order an iced honey and vanilla tea for aventurine?

“order up! i have a drink here for aventurine, an iced honey and vanilla tea!”

☆ — if you're craving a drink, make sure to stop by the teashop!

i. SUMMARY: sometimes, all you need is to feel loved. and, as his closest friend, he will make sure you know you are. ii. CWS & NOTES: reader is insecure. platonic aventurine x gn!reader. hurt/comfort & fluff. 0.8k words. iii. A/N: i was so excited to see someone rq the platonic version of this prompt! also. please know this is my first time writing aventurine and i haven't played most of the penacony questline (i have been spoiled for the entire thing though-) so if the characterization is off i am sorry.

“Why are you friends with me?”

It caught Aventurine off guard, truth be told. For a moment he could only blink, staring at them dumbly while the question fully registered in his head. After a few seconds of processing, he managed a single word: “What?”

“Why are you friends with me?” They repeated, a tinge of frustration coating their words. The question settled in his mind, but still, he was at a loss for words.

How could he possibly answer that, when the two of them had been acquainted for so long that his life and theirs seemed fully intertwined? The question only planted the seed for more to sprout in his mind as he pondered it; whys melting into hows and what ifs. He struggled to imagine a life where he’d never met them all those years ago, a life where he never found someone to dull his sharpened edges and fill some fraction of the emptiness he felt inside.

They were a match that fit too perfectly; two lonely people, who’d tasted a life without solitude and couldn’t quite bring themselves to leave it behind again.

Yet, their friendship was a double-edged sword, one seemed to cut Aventurine from both sides. It took every ounce of self-control in his body to stop himself from digging his claws in and clinging tightly enough to them to make sure they wouldn’t leave. Simultaneously, another part yearned to push them so far away that he would never be able break them like he did with every other bright thing in his life. The thought of being alone again felt suffocating, even if the back of his mind still whispered that it was only his deserved fate.

On good nights, when they were at the tables with him, he insisted they were seated right beside him—his “good luck charm,” as he put it. He chased every moment, the flash of a smile on their lips when the dice roll just right, a barely stifled laugh at his jokes. No victory could outshine the few moments of pure, untainted contentment he felt when they were by his side.

It was almost laughable that they were questioning why he’d chosen them, when he was the one who didn’t deserve someone half as incredible as they were. He should be asking why they had settled for someone cracked and missing as many pieces as he did, not the other way around.

“What about you?” He asked, in lieu of an answer. “Why are you friends with me?”

“I already asked you.” They protested. Aventurine, being the good friend he was, ignored them.

“You’ve known me long enough to be acutely aware of my flaws, and yet you still stick around. Why is that?”

“Uh…” They hesitated for a beat. “You’re not—”

“Don’t deny it. Just answer the question.”

“Well, I guess…” They draw out the first few words, thinking. Aventurine kept his face neutral, despite the pounding of his heart. “Flaws are just flaws, aren’t they? I don’t think you could find a single one here that’s without their fair share. You’re still a good person despite them, and I enjoy your company regardless.”

The back of his throat had grown dry. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to quell the wave of emotions that almost swept him off his feet, forcing them back into the furthest reaches of his mind to unpack later.

“See!” He said, throwing his hands up in the air. “Exactly my point, why would you be any different?”

“That’s not what I was saying.” They murmured, shaking their head.

“What is it then?”

“It’s just… I’m not that important, am I?” They asked, not meeting his eyes. “I mean—You have other friends, don’t you? And if you had the choice, I’m sure you’d rather hang out with them than me, wouldn’t you?”

“You want to make that a bet?” Aventurine raised an eyebrow. “Because, my dear friend, that is a gamble you will lose. For starters, who I find important isn’t up to you; it’s up to me. And me has decided you are an incredibly important friend that I value very deeply. You can stew in your self-pity as much as you want, but that won’t change how much I care about you.”

“You really mean that?” They asked, in an almost inaudible whisper.

“Of course. Can I?” He asked, opening his arms out. They looked up briefly, and gave him a small nod, so he pulled them forward against his chest. He hugged them tightly, as if they would vanish into nothing if he let go. Their hand clutched the back of his jacket, their cheek pressing against his shirt.

Neither of them were without their cracks, it seemed, but maybe that was why they had connected in the first place.

“I’m friends with you because I want to be friends with you,” Aventurine said softly. “You mean the world to me, and it kills me that you don’t realize it.”

He knew he was little more than a hollow shell, but with them, he almost felt whole. It was almost enough for him; he could only hope it would be enough for them too.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

#✒️ — writing #ty mhie for beta reading this!#[ interstellar teashop ☆ﾟ. ]#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#—stellaronhvnters.#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #star rail x reader #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #platonic hsr x reader #platonic honkai star rail x reader #platonic aventurine x reader

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whoopsyeahokay · 6 months

Text

October Sun

summary: when Maddie had mentioned to Wally her plan to follow Simon when he confronted you, Wally had supported her one hundred and ten percent. after all, he'd always been sure there was more to you than met the eye.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.3

Wally had had his suspicions about you since your sophomore year.

Not that he'd admitted it to anyone, not after forty years of disappointment when looks that had seemed deliberate had just been coincidence.

He'd been entering the assembly hall, alone, no one ahead of or behind him, as you were leaving. The presence of the freshman and sophomore gym instructors suggested some kind of group activity had just taken place, corroborated by the ruddiness of your cheeks and the damp ends of your hair.

You'd been fingering through the pile of loose papers you'd held, a look of deep concentration on your face, and had just been about to walk into through Wally when—

"S'cuse me."

You'd sidestepped him on your way out without looking up. It'd taken him so off-guard that he'd failed to react. By the time he'd thought to go after you, it'd been too late. You'd caught up to your friends and had turned the corner just as Mr. Martin had called out to him, gesturing Wally over to join the others for that afternoon's session.

The following day, he'd tracked you down; hovered over you during first period, slid into the unoccupied space at your lunch table, and even sat with you when you'd stayed behind after school to work in the library. He'd done everything he could think of to garner a reaction from you, from monologuing through your Math quiz—he'd felt guilty about your C- for a week afterward—to jumping out from the shadows when you weren't looking and yelling in your ear.

Nothing. No missteps or wide eyes or held breaths, n o t h i n g. Not even a twitch.

He would've let the whole thing go and never thought about you again had it not been for the rare—albeit could be serendipitous—responses you sometimes let slip.

Like the time he'd scooted his chair right into your space, knee pressed against yours under the table in the library. Wally had draped an arm along the back of your seat, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the plastic (Frida's I Know There's Something Going On, sped up to match the tempo of Wally's restlessness). You'd been hunched over Slaughterhouse-Five, Wally reading over your shoulder, when he'd noticed your hand.

Specifically, an angry-looking scar that crawled along the bone beneath your pinky, from knuckle to wrist. Too pale to be recent, but too visible to have happened in the distant past. He'd acted without thinking, traced the fingers of his free hand down the length of the scar, and muttered, "What happened to you, pretty girl?"

When he'd glanced at your face, you'd been staring at your hand, expression tight as if reliving the moment you'd incurred the wound.

It didn't have to mean anything, Wally could've chalked it up to right question, right time, except that you'd suddenly shoved your chair back, the angry scrape of metal against linoleum drawing the librarian's attention, and had gathered your things in a hurry.

You'd been upset. And though Wally couldn't be sure, he'd felt that it'd been his fault. You'd pivoted toward him, stopped, changed your mind halfway through the motion, and repositioned yourself to slip around your chair the other way. An action Wally had been too apologetic to count as a victory.

He'd stumbled after you, watched you seek out your friend—Xavier, Wally recalled—in the music room and ask for a lift home.

"No questions asked." You'd told Xavier, like some sort of code that, given how the other people around him reacted, only Xavier could decipher.

"Wait, I'm sorry, I won't bring it up again!" Wally had been so close to...to something. Maybe not a full admission or a conversation or a just-for-him smile, but something. Something real. He'd just wanted to experience someone who hadn't been encouraged to write their own obituary, fuck, had he really screwed up that bad?

You'd climbed into Xavier's truck and leaned your head against the window. Eyes, watery and filled with sorrow, fixed purposefully above Wally's head in what Wally had interpreted as a final plea to be left alone.

So, wrought with guilt and confusion and a splintered sense of loss, that had been the last time Wally had sought you out in pursuit of uncovering whatever magic you might've possessed...

...Until yesterday. He'd intercepted Maddie when she'd been marching toward the cafeteria, clearly on a mission as she'd bobbed and weaved through the lunch rush of students to keep up with her guy friend.

"What's going on?" Wally had asked, following Maddie's gaze as she'd surveyed guy-friend leaning over to talk to someone. When guy-friend had moved aside to let that someone stand, Wally had been pleasantly surprised to see it'd been you.

"Simon's going to talk to her." Maddie had explained, "I...overheard him telling Nicole."

Wally hadn't known who Nicole was. Regardless, "Cool. You think it's about how you died?"

"Yeah. Sure." Maddie had moved to trail you and Simon, spun around at the last second to face Wally, and said, "I don't know yet. It could be nothing." She'd started to walk backward, waved stiffly, "I'll. See you later."

It'd been a clear dismissal, a silent request for privacy, which Wally had been happy to oblige. Mostly. He'd stepped outside after counting to ten Mississippi and found a spot near the bike racks, curious about what you'd do when Maddie appeared in the bus shelter Simon had hustled you into.

Truthfully, Wally had expected that it wouldn't be much, given how you'd failed to react to him in the past, and he'd been right. You'd listened to Simon, appeared suitably confused, and then—

No way.

You'd looked directly at him. Had paused in skimming the area to look at him. There hadn't been anyone close enough to Wally for it to have been another fluke.

"She can see me." He'd gasped, shoving his hands in his pockets, and, fuck it, Maddie hadn't outright asked Wally not to get too close; a loophole Wally had been willing to exploit in favor of finally getting the truth out of you. He'd strode to the bus shelter, witnessed your demeanor visibly stiffen when he'd peered through the glass.

You could see him.

In his excitement, Wally had missed how Maddie had curled into herself on the bench like a wilted flower, and how Simon hadn't pressed any buttons on his phone to accept a call; Wally had been too preoccupied, practically floating after you as you'd returned to the school.

"Do what you want," He'd said, "but I'm not going anywhere until you admit it." It'd been a promise to himself that he'd voiced out loud. Belatedly, the words had hit his ears and he'd almost stuttered an apology at how threatening it'd sounded.

Almost. Because you'd been struggling with your lock, cheeks pinking, pillowy lower lip caught between your teeth; flustered and frustrated and oh so pretty. He hadn't been able to help himself, hand moving of its own volition, metal to a magnet, and he'd skimmed his fingers up the gentle curve of your spine, from your lower back to between your shoulder blades.

Your breath had hitched, perfect and sweet, and when had he leaned in? Your mouth closening as you'd slowly turned your head toward him. Wally had lifted his other hand to rest against your throat, thumb smoothing the soft underside of your jaw, heart pounding, warmth coiling low in his belly, twisting, needing—

💥BANG💥

Wally had jolted out of whatever trance he'd fallen into and stepped back, regarding your interaction with your curvy goth friend in a daze. That'd been weird. Well, the weirdest thing in a sea of weird things that Wally had encountered since his debut in the metaphysical world. It'd been hypnotic, his actions guided by invisible strings, brain taking a backseat while instinct took the wheel.

He'd never felt that kind of pull toward anyone, alive or dead.

What the hell?

Answers had had to wait, Wally unable to think up a good enough excuse to skip Group. Until he knew exactly what was going on, he didn't want to shine a stage light on you. So, he'd attended, participated as much as he'd thought would keep Mr. Martin and the others from suspecting anything, and had had to refrain from bolting like a bat out of hell as soon as Mr. Martin had released them.

He'd had to find you, figure this out, touch you, kiss you, taste you—but you'd been smart and, according to your curvy goth friend, you'd bailed on your last class, "To pick up shit for her mom. Seriously, she needs to reinforce her boundaries before I do it for her."

If that's how you wanted to play this, Alright, baby, we'll do this your way, Wally thought the next morning, stretching the sleep from his limbs. Whatever had happened when he'd touched you yesterday had affected you both, of that Wally was sure.

And if you'd felt even a third of what he had, he knew it wouldn't be long before you two were drawn together once again.

💀___________________________

PART TWO - PART FOUR

also available on AO3!

MATERLIST

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits #October Sun

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