#But as for who is what piece I have no thoughts on yet. Maybe I'll figure that one out

[writersblockedx]

Winters Protection

Pairing - Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Summary - When Alexander Piece's daughter begins to rebel, he assigns The Winter Solider as her personal bodyguard.  Warnings - Mentions of violence and death

A/n - I haven't uploaded to tumblr for a long while, but I hope you still enjoy this, I'm likely to make a part two as well! Also happy new year all!

Masterlist

It had become a game. One of which you were known to win far too often. Slipping away from the security detail when they were too busy smoking a cigarette outside, running across the bustling streets of nighttime Brooklyn as you and your friends headed to some niche bar they wouldn't find you. Maybe you had been stupid to think you could continue to get away with it without your father finding out.

It almost should have been expected that night. The early morning sun cast across your rustic, downtown apartment as your intoxicated self stumbled with the key. When you pushed the door open, dark figures stared back at you. Only personalised when you switched at the light and found your father sitting with a class of neat whisky at the breakfast bar. Stood behind him was a broad-shouldered man. One of which you had to assume was another bodyguard. Until your gaze flickered down to the metallic shine of his left arm: The Winter Solider.

Your focus turned to your father first. "Dad?" His name left your tongue with uncertainty as you drew closer into your own home. "What is this?"

He was slow, unusually calm considering the situation. You had been through this enough to know that meant he was truly mad. A part of you wondered if he was about to let his pet loose on you, teach you a lesson you wouldn't forget. "You we're out, all night, no bodyguards, doing god knows what with who knows. I come to learn this is-" He takes a sharp inhale as to calm his furious tone. "This is happening every single weekend. How stupid are you, little girl?"

You kept quiet as he stepped from his seat, downing the rest of the whisky from the expensive glass. "You can't be trusted, do you understand?"

"Look, Dad, I just wanted-"

A harsh throw. Then a clash. Glass flying left, right and center. Your breath caught in your throat before you could even feel the blood dripping from your cheek. But you weren't worried about your torn skin, but rather the thousand-pound glass he had let shatter without a second thought. 

"You are in no position to speak back, right now." You kept your lips sealed and your eyes dry despite the tears which fought to escape. "It's become evident to me you have no desire for your own safety. You are naive enough to flaunt around this city in your short little skirts with no concern for our enemies. If you weren't family, you would be dead." Such a phrase echoed across your mind, sure to keep you awake.

"So, now, you have him." He wandered around to where the Winter Solider had yet to move from, his eyes dark and brooding. "24/7, ensure you don't do anything stupid again."

You rushed up, panic in your eyes. 24/7. No more nights that swept into the morning. No more privacy. Nothing. "Please, I'll stop, I'll be more careful. I'll stop ditching the security detail. But I don't need your science project to look after me."

He stared down. For a moment you thought he might throw something else at the wall. Luckily, he wasn't holding onto anything anymore. "It's too late for that." His gaze turned to the man. "Clean it up."

In an instant, the soldier was moving. Gathering the glass in his bare hands from the floor. A hand fell on your bleeding cheek, forcing you to face your father. "I do this because I love you." Though, you found such hard to believe.

A breath of relief fell from your lips which his touch left your skin. Your eyes not moving to the floor as you listened to the door open and then shut, leaving you under the protection of the Winter Solider. It was in that moment, your body gave in. Tears flooded from your eyes, your knees shook and you forced your body onto the sofa. The distant sound of glass in the background not stopping your hands from meeting your face.

You hadn't been sure how long had passed. Only that when you uncovered your face from your hands, the soldier was facing you with a first aid kit. You watched him carefully as he took out a wipe and some stitches. The wipe hit your wound with a sting that lingered. Enough to cause your hand to grip his wrist, forcing him to a stop. "I've got it." You grumbled, taking the supplies for yourself.

He was still silent. A nod of recognition before he continued to clean the floor. You were left to your tears, cleaning the wound and forcing your body through the pain. You had no care for the man, barely such, that you left in your kitchen that night. From the stories you had heard, you should have been more concerned about the monster cleaning up broken glass. Yet, he now served to protect you - as much as it pissed you off.

You somehow found yourself soundly sleeping off the argument, the intoxication and the pain. No worries for the man, no hospitality. You hadn't even wandered where he slept. However, you had questioned whether he did need sleep. The Winter Solider seemed almost robotic. He obeyed orders from the highest command. Even if that meant being stuck in Alexander Pierce's eldest daughter's apartment, ensuring she wasn't going to sneak out.

It confused your senses when you awoke to the smell of food. The distant sound of the cooker crackling. It pulled you out of bed, in nothing but an oversized t-shirt to find the soldier cooking breakfast rather than pulling men in half. "What- erm" You wiped your tired eyes. "What are you doing?"

He didn't even look away when he answered, "Orders."

 "And they are?"

He severed up the simple plate of scrambled eggs on toast before turning to you, plate in hand. "Care for you, ensure your safety, whatever means necessary."

With a furrowed brow, you took the plate. You couldn't deny the smell was inviting. "And that includes cooking me breakfast?"

"A night of intoxication. Carbs help." He informed.

Despite your confusion, you sat at the breakfast bar and began eating, trying to ignore the murderer who stood across from you. Only a moment passed before he spoke up, "Where is the bathroom?"

You pointed up, "First door on the left." And you watched, even more confused as the man's back turned to you, disappearing up the stairs. It only took a minute before the sound of the shower could be heard; guess your father wasn't lying about the 24/7 bodyguard.

It had yet to hit you how much your life truly was about to change until later on. As was usual, you were ready to head into town. Not for a bar-hopping trip, or a late-night date, just coffee with a friend. Something simple, something that your father once deemed safe. Yet as you headed for your front door, walking right passed the soldier, he stood. His voice forcing you to look from your phone screen, "Where are you going?"

You had been so close to slipping away. "Out." Your words were followed with a shrug. "I'll not be long."

In between the time of responding to the message and looking back again, the winter solider had acquired a leather jacket and a pair of gloves. "You don't have to come with me. I'm just meeting a friend." You almost laughed at the thought of needing a bodyguard for coffee.

"It's orders." He repeated.

You should have expected this from my dad. "Really? I'll be safe, alright?"

"If you want to request me to not join, you're going to have to call pierc- your father."

You dreaded nothing more in that moment. You knew what his answer would be. Some long, metaphoric lecture, and you'd still be faced with the answer of no. "Fine, just erm-" You looked him over. "Be subtle, please."

He nodded before trailing behind you as you headed out onto the streets of Brooklyn. A few eyes followed you and the brooding man who didn't leave your side, didn't speak, yet seemed like he was awaiting something. Ready to pounce at any sign of danger. He wasn't like any of your past bodyguards. He wasn't scrolling through hinge in the meantime, nor was he yearning for a cigarette. He was here for a job and it seemed as if nothing was going to stop him. 

By the time you reached the quaint coffee shop, you spotted your friend already sipping a brewing drink in the window. A smile grazed your lips as you looked back at the soldier. "You're not coming in are you?"

The expression you faced suggested you had no choice, "It's-"

"Order. Yeah, I get it." You finished for the man before a sigh fell from your lips as you pulled at the door. "Just, maybe sit a few tables away from us, please?" You begged and such was responded with nothing but a silent nod.

"Finally!" Called your friend as she stood from the wooden table, her eyes still lingering over the muscular man at your side. "And who is this?" She was seconds away from laying her hands around his biceps.

"New security detail." You answered with nothing but a stern expression.

Her brow raised, "To watch over you while we get coffee and talk shit?" Even she seemed to find it laughable. She was used to joining their nights out with unknown men looking out for you. But this was different, it was a whole lot more intense. And, quite frankly, getting on your nerves. 

"Let's just say my dad got tired of me ditching my bodyguards, he's trying to teach me a lesson, it won't last long." Or so you liked to tell yourself. Your head snapped back round to the soldier as you continued, "But he's not going to sit with us." It was as if he needed a reminder.

The soldier stared only at yourself. A stern nod before he wandered towards a distant table, still with a good view of yourself. However, it was good enough for you as you followed your friend towards the spot she had been keeping warm. "He seems...quiet." Your friend put politely.

You looked over your shoulder, already meeting his gaze as if it was glued to your figure. It faulted your smile as you gazed back to your friend, "He's one of my dad's projects." And projects was putting it nicely. You didn't know everything, but you knew enough. The man who was sworn to protect you, was a killer, blood red hands, and a list of victims to follow.

"Not one you can ditch then?" There was a hit of mischief in her eyes. It seemed to have become a tradition that any club nights had to have the thrill of running away. Now, it seemed less as a thrill and more of a danger.

"No, not really." You answered with a sigh to her disappointment.

And so as the conversation swiftly returned to the mundane gossip, you couldn't help but feel the need to look over your shoulder. You thought with the presence of a bodyguard that need would dissipate. Instead, you couldn't help but worry about what your new bodyguard was truly capable of. And how much you were going to see while he was assigned to your safety. 

[explosivequill]

One of my favorite analogies about Pirate101 is its relationship to chess. With the Armada, you've got Kane (king), Queen (queen), Bishop and Rooke (bishop and rook respectively), and then Deacon and Phule, who I personally believe to be Knights due to the way they show up in unexpected places.

For the longest time, I used to think that the Pirate was akin to the king piece, but after putting some thought into it, I realized the Pirate fits the queen a lot better. The Pirate is constantly moving left, right and center across the chess board, or in this case, the Spiral. The other thing that gives me the idea that the Pirate is akin to the queen piece is that even if the pirate dies in combat, the battle will still continue as long as other companions are alive.

I believe the real king piece is Captain ✨️Horace✨️ Avery, in part because the El Dorado operation was his idea, and he wants a pirate-run state. And also, let's be real: without Avery, the Pirate wouldn't really know where to go for the other pieces of the map. He's the brains behind the whole operation. Kane is also the brains of the whole operation behind Armada lines. I feel like they're parallels for that reason, and because of it, I think would also make sense that Avery is akin to the king piece on the Pirate's side of the chess board.

[ckret2]

So a while ago some friends were talking about fans who claim the Same Coin theory is canon. And I made the mistake of saying:

Do you know who also has tons in common with Bill? Mabel. Yet nobody claims Bill reincarnated as Mabel. …wait now I want a "same coin but it's Mabel" AU. Funniest Bill reincarnation option. The all-seeing arsonist is making macaroni glitter art. The omnipotent tyrant is crying because a unicorn called her a bad person.

And then I overthought it for two months.

So—AU where after death, Bill's soul shoots 13 years into the past and reincarnates as Mabel. I'll call it ✨ Sparkly Coin AU ✨

Don't leave yet. Lemme show you why it works. Behold the eerie amount of parallels in their personalities, dialogue, behavior, mannerisms, tastes...

I could have kept going but my attention span ran out. All right, we all on board now? Convinced we could segue from one personality into the other? Great. Now here's why you should be interested: the juicy post-Weirdmageddon angst potential.

As long as a small fringe of the fandom still thinks Weirdmageddon is Mabel's fault, why not amp that up x100 and have some fun with it?

Is everyone sold now? Great. Let's get into the details. I've got 8 more pieces of art under the read more.

So the AU starts the instant Bill dies. Thanks to invoking his deal with the Axolotl—one way to absolve his crime, a different form, a different time—the Axolotl gives him a new shape and shoots him thirteen years into the past. Apparently, the Axolotl thought it would be very funny to stick Bill in the family that defeated him.

Which probably made for a jarring transition.

(It's fine, she's like 10 minutes old, she probably can't even tell who she's looking at. Not being able to tell who she was looking at is what got her into this situation ayyyy)

When Dipper & Mabel come back from Gravity Falls complaining about this triangular jerk Bill, their parents mention that Dipper's name was nearly Bill. See, after they knew they were going to have a boy, one night their mom dreamed about a visitor—some kind of magic pink salamander??—calling her child "BILL." Then at the next sonogram they found out they were having twins, the girl must've been hidden at a weird angle the first time, and they wanted matching names, so they thought, Bill and Bell. But they didn't really like Bell; but eventually they stumbled on Mabel, so to keep the names matching they switched from Bill to Mason. Isn't that the darnedest thing?

(Of course, Mabel and Dipper assume Bill harassed their parents to try to trick them into naming a kid after him. To be a jerk.)

When Bill meets Mabel, he's unaware that she's his future self—Bill's notably bad at doing things like, say, double-checking to see whether he's going to die anytime soon—but like... he can tell something's up.

Naturally, before visiting Gravity Falls, there were echoes of who Mabel used to be—but nothing anyone would be able to identify without context. All her Bill-ish quirks either smoothed out with time (see: how between second grade and fourth grade Mabel went from being the "freak" to the popular girl in class), or else they were accepted by her family as Mabel-ish quirks.

After they meet (and kill) Bill, they have the context to understand some of Mabel's behaviors... and unfortunately, some of Mabel's latent Bill-ness starts surfacing after she's been directly exposed to her prior incarnation.

The part of the Pines family familiar with Bill thinks the worst case scenario is that maybe Bill's survived and is slowly possessing Mabel; but far more likely, they think this is just some weird way of trying to subconsciously process last summer. Mabel doesn't think she's being weird, you guys are being weird, stop giving her weird looks. They get attacked by one triangle and now she can't wear yellow or pick up macrame as a hobby??

(It's not all red flags and uncomfortable triangle imagery, though. When Stan asks her what she'd like as a gift for some important event, she shyly admits that she thinks she's starting to outgrow her plastic gem jewelry and maybe she's old enough to get her first piece of real gold jewelry, if that's not too expensive? And Stan's never been so proud of her. Thirteen years old and already thinking about buying gold!)

But of course, the real fun starts when Mabel finds out.

That's the face of a girl who's just discovered that she tortured her great uncle. Now imagine running into the brother she possessed.

But I've already spent a million words and thirteen images on this post. If enough folks are interested in the AU maybe I'll expand on it later. Let me know what y'all think.

[orionremastered]

could you do a batfam x oblivious reader who’s so close to finding out they’re a vigilante, but she doesn’t even know if that makes sense? like nightwing crawling in through the window when he thought she was asleep, only for her to be awake and go “wrong house?” not realizing it’s her boyfriend.. who thought she was asleep

this made me laugh. very good thinking brains y'all have

Masterlist

Oblivious

Dick Grayson

The sound of your window sliding open prompts you to look up from where you lie your head on the pillow. You can't seem to get to sleep and maybe it's a good thing— you grab for the lamp on the bedside table and raise it high over your head.

Climbing through the window, however, is not a common thief. It's Nightwing.

"What are you doing here?"

The vigilante freezes, slowly looking up to meet your eyes. "I was told there was domestic abuse occurring in this apartment," he says smoothly. "You have a boyfriend?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Where is he?"

You look over to Dick's spot on the bed and only just now do you realise it's empty. There's a note written on paper that reads, OUT TO GET FOOD.

"He's grocery shopping."

"Ah, wrong apartment, then. Sorry to bother you." The vigilante then ducks outside.

Jason Todd

A loud crash prompts you to wake up— far earlier than you're used to. The sun isn't even up yet. Glancing to the side of your bed, you forget Jason's out on a business trip, what ever his business is.

You carefully climb out of bed, creeping to the bedroom door and slowly pushing it open. In your living stands Red Hood himself, dismantling an assault rifle.

"What are you doing in my house?"

The vigilante whips his head around, frozen like a deer in headlights. There's a long few minutes of silence where the two of you stare at each other.

"Gun's not working. I'll be out in a minute, just need to fix it. My apologies."

"Oh," you say, shrugging your shoulders. "Stay safe, then."

Red Hood nods, watching you return to your bed with a quiet sigh.

Tim Drake

Waking up at your usual time and kissing Tim gently on the forehead, almost as a reward for sleeping.

After eating breakfast as quickly as you could, you were surprised to see Tim still asleep and give him another gentle kiss, this time on the nose.

You've only got half an hour until you have to go to work, so you rush to the bathroom to get ready.

The Red Robin suit is draped over the shower wall, unmistakeable.

In your bathroom.

"Tim?" You shout, forgetting your boyfriend's need to sleep. "Tim!"

"What?" he replies groggily, slowly getting out of bed.

"The Red Robin suit is in my bathroom."

"Oh, uh, he asked me to clean it for him. We're sort of like, friends. I guess. It's weird."

"You never told me that," you say.

"It's a recent thing. Sorry."

You shrug and get ready for work, ignoring the suit at is it hangs in your bathroom.

Damian Wayne

"Emergency at work," your boyfriend had said. He gets a lot of those, you think. "Be back in the morning. Maybe later."

Now, going to sleep late— towards midnight, where Damian would have already dragged you into bed— you realised you didn't have on of his shirts to sleep in.

When he wasn't with you to sleep, you always sleep in one of his shirts.

You begin scrummaging through his wardrobe— which you never do— only for a shirt. You find one, your favourite black one, and pull it out.

Underneath the shirt, revealed as you yank it from the drawer, is a katanna.

"Oh. Oh."

It's late. You're tired. You've got the shirt.

It's probably just an antique piece anyway. Rich people have all sorts of things.

[lovelybluebirdie]

What is yours

Astarion x gn!Reader

Summary: A stroll through the market evokes an unpleasant sensation in Astarion.

Word Count: 3,1k

hurt/comfort, jealousy, fluff

[ AO3 ]

The warm rays of the midday sun bathed the markets’ goods in a marvellous light. The place was bustling, a scent of spices lingering in the air and hurried voices brimming. 

If someone had told Astarion that one day he’d be able to move around Baldur’s Gate so freely again, he’d probably huffed merely a dry laugh – and yet here he was, following you through the narrow streets of his city, admiring how much colour the world had to offer.

Of course it was you who had dragged him along for the mundane task to gather some food for your companions back at camp. Astarion couldn't care less to fill up their bellies, as his own appetite was perfectly stilled from your generosity when it came to offer him your blood, but one blink from your doe eyes had been enough to convince him to accompany you.

Well, that, and perhaps that warm feeling that refused to leave his chest when he was with you. 

It was obvious that you loved to stroll around the market, savouring the colourful impressions while taking a break from all the fighting and gore your journey to rid yourself from the tadpoles held for you. 

Astarion had never watched you spending your coin so lightly before. You probably thought it was time to treat yourself once in a while, and who was he to deny you this little pleasure? He had to admit that he actually adored seeing your face light up over the different trinkets you bought, eagerly filling your bags and pouches with your newest additions.

“Let's get some fruit for the others while we’re at it,” you suggested, pointing towards a merchant presenting an inviting range of fresh goods. “Something nutritious seems much needed after we fed mostly on leftovers for the past weeks.”

Your shoulders were loaded with the various goods you had already bought – dyes, herbs, some new toys for Scratch and the owlbear cub and a bunch of flasks to fill with potions.

“As you wish,” Astarion replied, when a display of weapons caught his eye. His last pair of daggers had become rather blunt from the Goblin throats he’d cut, so maybe it was time to treat himself as well, he thought and gently grabbed your wrist.  

“On second thought, why don't you go ahead while I'll have another look around here, my love?” he asked and came to a stop. “I haven't much expertise to add when it comes to your culinary needs, and those daggers look rather appealing.”

“Sounds fine with me, but try not to spend all of our gold at once,” you teased and squeezed his shoulder.

“Hah, you're one to talk. Please remind me, who was it again that just bought five new toys for Scratch, so he had a set of different colours to choose from?”

“He needs some variety,” you muttered, trying to keep up a serious expression. “But nevermind, see you in a minute then.” 

You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and waved, already on your way to spend some more of your coin.

Astarion couldn’t help but smile over your excitement for the market, before he picked up a dagger from the display in front of him. The handle appeared to be of higher quality than his current ones, and the blade looked sharp enough to inflict some hurt.

As he gazed further through the wares, pondering which one would fit him best, he spared a glance to check on you. 

He spotted you a few stalls away at the fruit stand you had mentioned. The vendor you were talking to gesticulated wildly while presenting his wares, leading you to laugh.

Astarion frowned and put the dagger away to take a closer look.

The vendor was young, an elf with blond curls, and Astarion noticed that he wasn’t an unpleasant sight. 

He was immediately bothered by the smile you gave the other man, the way he touched your hands as he started to offer you bite-sized pieces of fruit to taste.

His fingers lingered too long against yours for Astarion’s liking.

As he continued to watch you from afar, something inside his belly started to seethe – hot and ugly.

A feeling he experienced before when it came to you, but couldn't quite grasp.

Well, whatever this was, Astarion certainly wasn’t jealous. Not of some random street vendor at least – and why should he be? Because you had smiled so sweetly at him? Or because you were laughing again as you took another piece of fruit from his filthy hands? 

What in the nine hells could be so entertaining about buying fruit anyway? 

It was ridiculous, really, and yet Astarion imagined how it would feel to rip the vendor's throat as punishment for daring to touch you. 

Would he bleed out quickly? Would he scream?

Astarion shook his head, shoving the violent image aside.

He remembered the previous occasions when that unpleasant burning inside his stomach had appeared. It was the moment Gale decided it was appropriate to show you his so-called magical weave, or the other day when Wyll proposed a dance to you. You had kindly rejected both of them, but Astarion was still not particularly impressed by their interest in you. 

He knew what others would seek from you. Why they wanted you. For the same reasons he enjoyed being with you: your compassion, the kindness you spread. Your special talent to make him feel seen. 

There was also your wit, the way you would crack a joke even in the most maddening situations, making him feel light. And not to mention, you were a beautiful vision if Astarion had ever seen one.

Of course there would be others who saw those qualities as well, aiming to claim you.

A sudden wave of anxiety flooded his mind, moulding an appaling image in his skull.

He wondered if one day you would prefer someone else over him.

Someone who would match your kindness – acting all selfless and heroic, indulging in activities he found little pleasure in.

Providing you with something Astarion might be unable to give you, ever, no matter how much he cared about you.

Hells, what if you were already seeking someone like that?

His stomach dropped.

The dreadful notion spread its relentless claws past his ribs, tearing holes in his dead heart.

Blood rushed to his ears.

Before he even realised, his feet were already dragging him towards you.

He needed to be close to you – doing anything to make this feeling stop.

When he arrived next to you, he placed a hand on the small of your back and grasped your tunic, a little tighter than he'd intended.

He tried his best to keep his composure.

“Are we all done here, my love?” he asked, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh, Astarion!” You smiled when you noticed him, unaware of his musings. Your pouch was filled to the brink with fresh fruits. “Yes, I guess that would be all.”

Astarion felt the need to pull you away, but before he came up with an excuse to leave immediately, the merchant was already addressing you again. 

“Think about it, will you?” A smug grin plastered that man’s face as he spoke to you, casually bending over his counter.

Astarion gave you a confused look.

Think about what? 

“Unfortunately there’s no time to join the tavern tonight, but thank you for the offer. Maybe next time,” you said amicably and packed up your wares.

What was that? 

Astarion thought he must have misheard.

“What a shame. Perhaps you can give it a second thought.” The vendor was still beaming at you, before he turned to Astarion. “Your friend can come too, of course.”

“Oh, that sounds splendid. We will think about it, will we, darling?”

Astarion bit his tongue, swallowing the impulse to spit a cutting remark on top of his obvious sarcasm.

What in the nine hells was this mongrel thinking, inviting you to the tavern? And how he was speaking to him – as if he was some irrelevant bystander.

“Let's see what we can do,” you said politely, already on your way to move on. “Have a nice day. And thank you again.”

“You as well,” replied the salesman and waved. 

Astarion gritted his teeth as he followed you through the busy alleyways, still processing what just happened.

The vendor's words appeared in his mind.

That man had obviously desired to fuck you, and wasn’t even trying to hide his advances.

How could he have dared.

Astarion regretted that he had acted so passive in that moment. Usually he wasn’t one to hesitate, always a sharp comment dancing on his tongue, and yet… the thought of losing you to someone else had shifted something in him, turning him small.

His fury grew.

Oh, how he would love to grab that despicable pig by his throat, banishing that filthy grin of his face. Making him bleed. But he knew that unlike him, you would gladly refrain from a public bloodbath, so he shoved away those violent fantasies, even if the fire continued to seeth in him – unpleasant and hot.

He tried to fathom what posed the worst about this whole ordeal: The way in which the man had aimed to claim you, or his fear that you enjoyed those cheap advances – possibly were fond of it even.

Astarion's mood couldn't have been more sour as you arrived at a secluded area, away from the markets bustling.

“Can you believe it? That seller insisted on giving me a discount,” you broke the silence and pointed proudly at the wares you had gathered. “And they say there are no kind people left in Baldur's Gate.”

And just as the words had left your throat, Astarion finally snapped.

“Is that so?” he hissed, baring his fangs. “How generous. What a nice, handsome gentleman he is, also inviting you to the tavern with him.” He spoke harsh – his tone cold and venomous. 

You came to an abrupt stop, resting the groceries on the ground and fixating your gaze on his, a furrow between your eyebrows. 

“What are you implying?” You sounded puzzled.

“Oh, don't act so naive, darling, you know what I'm implying. That man wanted to bed you, everyone could see it from the way he treated you. And by the laughs you offered him, you seemed to enjoy his attention as well, did you not? What a flirt you are.”

His accusations left a taste of ash in his mouth. Moments before his anger seemed directed at the man’s advances, and now his bottled-up wrath was boiling onto you.

The bewildered look on your face turned into something else, something sad, your eyes losing their shine. He sensed that he must’ve hurt you, and it tugged at his heartstrings.

“So, you’re jealous of that man, is that what this is about?”

“Me? Being jealous of some filthy street vendor?” Astarion scoffed, immediately falling back to his dramatics, gesticulating defensively with his hands. “Don't insult me, darling. I find it amusing that he thinks he can have you, and I didn’t fail to miss your interest in him,” he bit, almost choking on the dry chuckle that spilled from his lips.

“There was no interest from my side, other than purchasing some of his wares,” you explained. Then you opened your mouth again, sharply sucking air between your teeth, before your gaze softened. Your voice was calm, without spite or anger. “He recognized me, Astarion. From the article in the gazette. Slayer of the evil Ketheric Thorm and all that fuss. Does that ring a bell?” 

Of course he remembered. It was him that had to sneak past those giant steel watchers back at the gazette’s building, convincing the magical press to print an article in your favour. An article that wouldn’t taint your reputation, unlike the one Gortash had commissioned to derogate you. 

Astarion couldn’t deny that after the praising piece was published, you were indeed met with an unusual kindness from the people of Baldur's Gate. 

“Well, how could I forget?” Astarion's face twisted. “But that doesn't mean he didn't have something else in mind with you. Some people certainly would love to bury their blade inside a true hero for once, I can imagine.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Even if he did want to bed me, what does it matter?”

An icy grip twisted Astarion's chest. The image of you with someone else stung in his eyes, making him sick. 

Before he could growl another reply, you rested your hand on his arm, catching his fuming. “Hey – look at me, you silly goose.” 

Your tender touch was enough to quell the blazing flame in his belly. 

You spoke so warmly to him. So... loving.

Astarion rested his eyes on you and was met with an affectionate smile that disarmed him completely.

“Astarion, don’t you realise that I couldn't care less if thousands of people felt the sudden need to bed me?”

He bit his cheek, remaining silent.

“You’re the only one I want, you jealous fool. No one else – not now, not ever, and certainly not some random street vendor that throws a discount at me because he thinks of me as some kind of hero.”

Astarion’s features involuntarily softened as he took in your words. The fury that was about to overwhelm him dissolved into a flutter, engulfing his chest, washing away the seething that hooked at his ribcage.

“Really?” Only one word left his mouth, before he cleared his throat. “I mean – I'm not surprised of course, as you seem to literally cling to my side these days.” A poor attempt to cover his insecurity, but the best he could muster.

“Really,” you assured and gently tapped on his temple, “I vow on the tadpole flooding inside our brains.” You chuckled as you rested your hands on the back of his neck and shifted closer to him. 

“Well, but those might be gone someday,” Astarion mumbled.

“And even then, I will remain at your side. Only if you want me to, of course.”

Astarion didn’t have to think of his answer, the words spilling from his lips like a reflex.

“Yes, I would want that,” he whispered sincerely, his flamboyant mask crumbling. “Look, it's not that I don't trust you. It’s just… Well, I guess I'm used to losing what I hold dear. And the thought of losing you to someone else… I don’t know, apparently it woke something in me.” 

He felt almost ashamed over his sudden lack of eloquence, being so raw with you, but there was a sense of relief in opening up. To his surprise, it was even more soothing than losing himself in violence.

You looked at him with affection and cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin. He closed his eyes and sunk against your palm. 

“It's alright, Astarion, you don't have to explain. I promise you, you won’t lose me to someone else. As you said, I tend to cling to your side these days, and truth be told, I have no intention to stop.”

“I hope you won’t,” Astarion replied and took your hand in his to press a kiss to your fingertips. “But honestly, I have to apologise for doubting your intentions with me. With us.”

“I forgive you, lover,” you replied tenderly. “I didn't take you for the overly jealous type, though,” you added with a smirk.

Astarion offered you a wry smile. “Let's not dwell on it, shall we?”

Then he reached for your face, softly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger and rested his lips on your forehead, followed by a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You wrapped your arms around his waist to pull him into a close embrace. He could sense your heartbeat against his cold body, your pulse drumming in a comforting rhythm.

For a moment you were just holding each other, your head against his chest, Astarion relishing your warmth and kissing your hair. Your touch was relieving. Assuring.

You were with him, and had promised not to leave. 

Your affirmations repeated in his mind: You wanted him. Only him alone.

This was all new territory and Astarion sensed it would take some time for him to fully adjust, yes, but right now… this was all he could wish for.

“Somehow I don't want to let go of you, little love,” he hummed to your ear.

“Then don't,” you breathed and kissed along his neck, brushing his bite marks with your lips, sending a shiver down his spine. A particularly sensible spot, but you were allowed to touch him there.

Gods, how deeply he had fallen for you.

Astarion drew you even closer and sighed, your hands grasping the fabric of his shirt. 

When he gently peeled away from your hug, you looked up to him and bit your lip.

“Can I be completely honest with you?” you asked sheepishly.

“What is it, my sweet?”

“Well... I think that merchant truly wanted to bed me.”

Astarion laughed – deep, coming from his belly – surprised by his own lightness. The idea of fuming over your obvious admirer seemed almost ridiculous all of a sudden. 

“I told you so. But now that you see it too, I guess you wouldn't mind if we turn back for a quick chat? I would love to take care of that dear fellow,” he replied mischievously. While his fury was gone, he still wouldn’t mind some misdemeanour.

“Astarion!” you scolded, but joined his laughter. “Please spare that innocent man.”

“Relax darling, I will. For now at least. And only because you asked so nicely.” His fangs poked from the grin that adorned his lips.

“Good boy,” you teased and brushed one of his white curls behind his ear, his grin widening from your touch.

As you walked back to camp, hands softly entwined, Astarion noticed that probably for the first time in his life someone truly belonged to him – willingly, out of love.

You belonged to him. 

The thought grew in his chest, wandered up to his eyes, spreading affection through his entire body, and for the remaining way back to camp he didn’t let go of your hand.

Masterlist

[pinkanonwrites]

"Oh! That's What That Does?!"

All art by @archie-sunshine

G1 Rumble/ Mechanic Reader - 2400+ Words NSFW, Valveplug, Plug 'N Play, Mild Sparkplay, Accidental Stimulation, Edging, Human Reader, GN Pronouns

Ahh, the inherent eroticism of repairing your machine.~ I've had this one cooking for a while, so I hope you all enjoy! I've also gotten pretty attached to this mechanic Reader, so they'll likely pop up again with other cassettes (and maybe even some other Decepticons!)

NSFW WRITING AND IMAGERY BELOW THE CUT!

“Ey… EY! Careful wit’ dat! It’s touchy!”

“Rumble,” You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You're making this way more difficult than it needs to be.”

“I wouldn't be complainin’ if you'd stop touchin’ all up on bits that don't gotta be touched! Rootin’ around in there like I'm one’a your crappy organic machines!”

Removing your hands from Rumble’s open chest, you tossed them roughly into the air. “Y'know what? Fine. Do it yourself. Better yet, get Frenzy to pull the shrapnel out of your chest. That'll go great.”

You would have slid off of Rumble’s lap and stormed off, if not for his massive servos closing around your wrists with an unexpected delicacy. Your efforts to remove your hands only reinforced his grip, using just enough force to keep you from leaving without crushing your wrists entirely.

“H-Hey, no need ta be so hasty! Look, I’m just steamed cause'a the battle, dat’s all. Frenz’ can't do dis, it's gotta be someone more… dainty. Y’know. Little human hands and all dat.” The harsh glow of his visor had dulled slightly as his gaze cast down to your hands. You rolled your eyes, wrists finally slipping from his grip as you settled back in. 

Dangling wires and sparking shrapnel dotted his open chest cavity, illuminated by the light of his spark chamber. Rumble had staggered off-balance into your workshop whining about the prodding pieces of broken metal keeping him from transforming properly, yet you’d barely managed to get two wires back in place before he started squirming and whingeing and slinging verbal abuse at you.

 Not that you weren't used to it, any interactions with Rumble and Frenzy usually involved some level of bullying. Fortunately, the two cassettes are also incredibly predictable. As soon as you would threaten to take away or withhold what they're asking for, they’d start falling all over themselves with apologies and placations. After all, you may not have been the only mechanic in the area, but you were certainly their favorite.

“Are you going to actually let me work? Or are you going to start yelling at me again?”

“Yellin’? Who's yellin’? Yer the mechanic here, my spark is in your squishy little hands. Do your magic, doc.” He sat back again, servos clutching the edges of your workbench in a show of effort, a genuine attempt to keep them still (or however genuine any show of rule-following from Rumble could be.)

“That's what I thought. Now let me actually fix a few things before you start whining again.” Your gloved hands dipped back into his chest cavity, skirting the edges of his spark chamber to pick away at the bits of loose shrapnel stuck in some of the wires. His frame shuddered, a hiss of steam escaping through his dentae as your knuckles brushed the underside of the spark casing.

“C-Careful,” He said again, with significantly less bite to his tone.

“Does it hurt?”

“Somethin’ like dat.”

“I'll be careful, so let me know if it gets to be too much.” You smoothed a palm down the armor covering his stomach, flinching back when you heard another sharp hiss of steam.

“I’m fine! It's fine! Just… do ya gotta be all on top’a me like dis?”

“I can't reach properly if you're laying down. If you're standing you might keel over on me, and I really don't feel like being squished to death today.” He let out a low grumble as you jacked another cable back into its proper port. “I'll try to be quick, that way you won't have to worry about my ‘human germs’ and you can get outta here. Deal?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just-”

“Be careful. I know.”

And with that you went to work, separating and organizing cables, taping off leaky tubing and removing pieces of scrap metal as gently as you could. Every once in a while Rumble would jerk or twitch beneath your touch, letting out a muffled curse or huff but sparing you from his usual complaints. It was… uncharacteristically quiet, for sure. This was the most extensive repair you'd ever done on him, though, so maybe he was just having surgery jitters.

“Okay, I've gotten most of the shrapnel out. But there's a piece right behind your spark casing.”

“Well? Get it outta there!”

“I'm going to, but I need to get my whole hand in there. I'm warning you now because it's going to be bumping up against your spark casing a lot. I'm going to do my best but you have to tell me if it hurts too much.”

Rumble let out a long, pathetic groan. “Actually doc, maybe you can just leave dat one in there? F-For funsies?”

“Eh?! Rumble, I’m not gonna just ‘leave it in there’! It's gotta come out.”

“Something's gonna come out if you keep proddin’ around in there like dat…”

“What was that?”

“Gh! Nothin’! Don't worry ‘bout it!”

“...Okay. I’m gonna start now. Are you ready?” Rumble only responded with gritted dentae and a tense nod. Working your gloved hand under his spark chamber, you could feel the ambient energy making the hairs on your arm stand on end as you felt for the jagged edge of broken metal. Your glove blocked your view entirely, so you were left blindly groping your way up the metal surface, feeling for anything bent or out of place. When your fingers could no longer reach any further while still avoiding the casing, you slid forward and ducked slightly into Rumble’s open chest, the back of your hand pressing up against the underside of his spark chamber.

CLANG!

You jumped, and if it weren't for Rumble’s arm wrapping around you and almost crushing you into his open chest you may have jostled the sensitive chamber even further. You slid your hand back again, easing off of the reinforced glass, and his grip receded.

“What the hell was that? And what was that clang?”

“I said don't worry ‘bout it!” He hissed, voice glitchy with static. “Everythin’s totally normal, I dunno why you're getting all jumpy ‘bout- MMNGH?!” You moved your hand up again into the same position, and Rumble let out an embarrassingly high whimper. You glanced up at his face, a flush of pink behind the usual grey and beading with coolant… and something clicked.

“Oh my God are you getting off on this?”

“N-No!”

Behind you you heard a sharp snikt, and the sound of pressurizing hydraulics.

“...Maybe?”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“H-Hey, don't go gettin’ a big head or nothin’! A bot’s spark chamber is sensitive! Don't go thinkin’ this is cause of your squishy frame or your soft little digits or nothin’!” He seemed to almost shrink in on himself, face plate practically glowing as his shoulders pulled up around his helm. You'd never say it to his face, but he looked surprisingly… small, at this moment. You heaved an exhausted sigh.

“Okay. Okay. I'm going to get this last piece out, alright? It's the last one. And whatever happens while I'm doing that..? It just happens. We won't bring it up again, no need to be embarrassed. Deal?”

“‘Deal?!?’” He squawked, positively scandalized. “How do I know yer not gonna gossip with Frenz’ the next time he's in for a tune-up?”

“Well Frenzy usually never lets me get a word in edgewise, first of all.” You huffed. This was way more than you'd signed up for. “I'm not going to make fun of you, Rumble. Let’s just get you patched up, then you can head home. Okay?”

His mouth was pulled into a tight, wobbly frown as he glanced down at you, choking out a single word. “...Promise?”

“I promise.”

“...Slag. alright, let's get dis over with.” He lolled his head back against the table with a clank, resigning himself to his fate. This time, when your knuckles brushed his spark casing, he couldn’t stifle his soft moan. Your fingers felt further and further up, until almost your entire hand was behind the glass bubble containing his pulsing spark. Finally, you could feel the jagged piece of metal. You wrapped your fingers around it and gave it an experimental tug. It stuck fast, and your hand bumping against Rumble's spark only pulled another surprised moan from him.

“W-Watch it!” He yelped, sounding too fucked-out to come across as actually threatening.

“It's really stuck in there. I'm going to start working it out, so let me know if you need me to stop.”

“Wh… workin’ it out? Whadda ya- ohhh…~” 

With your thumb and forefinger gripping the edge of the broken metal, you began to wiggle it gently back and forth to ease it from the plating and wires around it. Each time you moved the back of your hand rubbed up against the far side of his spark chamber, warmth radiating through your glove as Rumble started to vent more harshly.

“Slag… slag! Don't think it's ever been touched back there before. Feels… feels crazy.” He moaned. The metal of your work table shrieked and crumpled like cardboard under his iron grip, desperate to keep his servos off of himself or, Primus forbid, you. The piece stuck firm, and as you braced your other hand against the outside paneling of his chest to readjust your balance he let out a sharp, staticky yelp. “S-STOP!”

You froze immediately. “Are you okay? What's wrong?”

A few shuddering vents were your only response for a moment, Rumble’s visor lights flickering frantically as he tried to steady himself. “Whooo… Almost blew my top for a second there.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey! Yer the one that told me to tell ya if I need ya to stop! I'll be slagged to the Pit before I let some ‘squishy’ run my charge like dat.”

“...Can I start again? I’m making some progress here.”

“...Y-Yeah. Yeah. Yer good.”

You let out another soft sigh, trying to focus on the rhythmic sktch sktch sktch of metal on metal rather than Rumble’s shivering whines. His vocalizer pitched and warbled with static, attempts to stifle his own words slowly giving way to a deluge of fucked-out babbles.

“Ah! Gh! Ohh, mmnh, stupid little hands feelin’ all- nnh!~ Jus’ get it outta there! Please?”

I’m working on it. You’re doing good, just hang in there.” Your placations only resulted in another desperate moan. After what couldn’t have been more than another thirty seconds or so, he blurted out again.

“Ah! Stop!”

You retracted your hand for a moment, letting Rumble gasp for breath above you in a futile attempt to cool his core. You rubbed at his chest paneling as he shivered beneath you hard enough that you thought bolts were going to start coming undone. Even the paneling you were seated upon was burning up, heat seeping through the fabric of your coveralls. His glowing face plate was slick with coolant. Without thinking, you reached up and swept away a bead of it with your thumb, making him jump.

“H-Hey, quit dat…” He groaned, all bite lost from his tone.

“Rumble… The more you keep stopping me the longer this is going to take.”

“You think I don’t know dat?!” One of his arms draped dramatically over his face. “I’m tryin’! But you just keep pokin’ around in there and it’s all touchy and it’s makin’ me feel like my spike’s gonna burst and I can’t take it anymore!” He sniffled. Could Cybertronians even sniffle? You weren’t sure, but he sounded close to tears.

“Rumble… Have you ever actually edged yourself before?”

“Whu- Whuh? How’s dat any of yer business?”

“I’m just thinking…” You ran a placating hand down his shivering plating. “If you haven’t it can be really overwhelming, and-”

“I can handle it! I-I can!”

“Let me finish. It can be really overwhelming, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself further. Just… take a deep breath for me, okay?” You took a slow, steadying breath, and after a second he mimicked it. “Good. Just think about letting go, okay? I’m not going to judge you. Just think about it.”

He let out a low, pitying grumble, peeking at you from behind his arm plating. “...You can start again.”

Once again, your hands dipped into his chest cavity. Only this time you slid both hands up behind his spark casing, gripping as much of the broken metal as you could reach. As you rocked it back and forth Rumble’s moans returned with a fervor, one servo finally flying to cup your lower back.

“Ah! Ah! Slag, oh slag please! Please don’t stop I’m so fraggin’ close.” He fisted the back of your uniform, crumpling the cheap fabric between his digits. “C’mon, c’mon c’mon c’mon I need it!”

“Shh, I’ve got you baby. Just let it happen.”

With a metallic shriek and a gush of brackish oil the shrapnel popped free, the force enough to send you sprawling if not for Rumble’s servo in the small of your back. Of course, said unexpected force also slammed the backs of both your hands right into the underside of his spark chamber, and Rumble’s voice box screeched into a wail of radio static. Something hot and sticky splattered up the back of your coveralls; said something you decidedly were not going to look at until later. His frame rattled and shivered beneath you, steam venting and joints glitching and spark pulsating a near-blinding glow.  Finally, after a burst of noise and sparks and twitching, he went slack beneath you, helm clanking against the workbench as his optics flickered.

As delicately as you could, you removed the oil-slick shrapnel and let it clatter onto the floor before shedding your gloves and dabbing at his face plate with the cuff of your sleeve. With the whir of an old monitor blipping back to life, his visor blinked back up to its standard brightness.

“Whuh… Wheh?” He garbled.

“How you feeling, hun?”

“Like I got struck by lightnin’... but in like a nasty way.”

You choked back a snort. “Well, I’ve got all the worst of it over with. Feel free to rest for a while if you need it. I’m gonna go change my jumpsuit.” 

He let you slide off his lap without a fight, not even commenting until you’d turned around to make your way over to your office. Only then did he let out a low, salacious whistle when he’d finally caught sight of the back of your uniform.

“Comm me next time yer free, doc. Then I can repay da favor.”

[ki-yomii]

like i do | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader

➥ word count | 3.2k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, mild praise kink, squirting, standing missionary, finger fucking, thigh riding, established relationship, angst w/ a happy ending, possessive!jk, jealous!jk, mentions of infidelity, trust issues

➥ summary | request - Jk being a jealous husband, angst and smuttttt 🥹💘

➥ notes | for lovely anon. hope you enjoy 💚 un-edited, i'll come back and fix any mistakes later. also poor jimin. i love him but i always seem to make him suffer lol.

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Eavesdropping.

Whether it was a stray conversation in a shop, or lurking around corners to see what others really thought of you, everyone’s done it at some point.

Now, it’s a habit Jungkook tries not to encourage - much preferring upfront interactions and direct conversations - but that isn’t to say he’s never eavesdropped before.

But the problem with listening in on conversations you’re not supposed to be is you run the risk of hearing something you wish you didn’t.

And while it wasn’t intentional by any means - he respects you too much to spy, even if the urge is there - he learns this lesson the hard way.

The first time it happens, he’s in the kitchen refilling his cup of iced coffee. There’s a squeal of surprise followed by a lighthearted giggle, the sound of shuffling limbs and a low grunt.

Everything in him freezes at the sound of your delight, gut churning.

He always works so damn hard to pull the laughter from the depths of your throat. And it stings that Jimin - his friend, his brother’s attempts are effortless.

It’s something so simple, and yet the effect it’s having on him is undeniable as Jungkook white-knuckles the handle of his mug and grits his teeth.

His jaw nearly cracks in two when he hears the softly murmured greeting, “It’s good to see you, baby.”

And Jungkook knows, okay.

He knows there’s nothing romantic between the two of you.

If anything, you’re too alike. Twin flames of the platonic variety. Not only would it never work out, but you both feel nothing but familial towards one another.

For fuck’s sake, Jimin was there when Jungkook proposed. Was the one to encourage it, in fact. Has been nothing but supportive about your relationship even when others disagreed.

However, knowing something doesn’t dampen the spark of jealousy.

Nor does it soothe the sharp flash of hurt threatening to steal the breath from his lungs.

Jimin has always been affectionate with you, and he’s always a touch too flirtatious. It’s a part of who he is, and it’s one Jungkook would never ask him to dim. Jimin spent far too long hiding, pretending, stifling himself for other’s comfort.

And Jungkook loves him as he is, encourages him to be his beautiful, authentic self no matter what. Expect maybe when it comes to his wife… for reasons he’s unwilling to examine.

All schoolyard flirtations aside, what bothers Jungkook most are the pet names. He can put aside his petty jealousy because he knows its unfounded.

What’s harder is dismissing the use of that little four-letter word: baby. 

It’s supposed to be his way of telling you how much he loves you. Special, intimate. A stand-in for the four-word phrase he whispers into the silk of your skin, tattoos into your heart with his lips.

The realization he’s sharing a part of you he thought all his own sits bitter on the back of his tongue, an acid burn eating through his throat until he can’t find the words.

When you respond in kind with a soft, tender call a piece of him shrivels.

Standing in the kitchen adrift and lovelorn, Jungkook’s left with an empty longing he can’t name and no where to place it.

You weren’t together for more than six months before he proposed, knowing you were the one for him by the second date.

Maybe he moved too fast, was too receptive?

Growing up, he’d always been eager to move onto the next big thing, ready to jump head first. Some said that would come back to bite him in the ass. Was this the day?

Perhaps you regret saying yes so soon. Jungkook knows he’s not like other people. They need time to settle into their feelings like a house settling old wooden bones.

The last thing he wants is to make you feel trapped, suffocated under the weight of all his clingy, needy problems.

So he smothers the discomfort and walks into the living room. He shoots you a smile and inclines his head towards Jimin.

Thoroughly ignores the pulse of pain when he sees how cozy the two of you look cuddled up on the couch, legs tangled together with Bam at your feet.

That should be me.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

He can’t lose you.

It’s there he silently vows to be less intense, less attached. Does his best to keep his hands to himself even though he wants to reach across the space between your bodies, and tug you into the cradle of his chest.

Bam picks his head up, cocking his ear to the side when Jungkook winces as Jimin reaches out to tug a lock of your hair, smirking around another purred baby.

Thankfully no one else but the dog notices his moment of weakness or the tension cutting through his shoulders.

Staring at his reflection, Jungkook tucks a lock of hair behind his ear and fiddles with his tie. The three-piece fits like a glove yet he’s never felt more uncomfortable.

He longs for soft cotton and baggy loungewear but tonight is important.

It’s your first year anniversary.

He’s had this night planned out months in advance; pulled all the strings needed to secure a reservation at one of the best five-stars in Gangnam.

You’ve been looking forward to it all week, and your excitement is infectious.

Only Jungkook’s mood sours as soon as he turns the corner to find you on the couch with company, dolled up and radiant. Jimin’s beside you, one leg crossed over the other and swirling a half-empty wine glass.

He says something too low for Jungkook to hear.

“Jimin!” You titter behind your hand, the flash of the jewels on your nails catching the light. “Sto-op! You nasty little freak.”

“What’re you doing here?”

Jungkook doesn’t mean to snap but the inner turmoil spills over before he can shove it down.

Your eyes lose some of their softness, the happiness fizzling from your expression like champagne bubbles. Mouth pinching in at the corners, you narrow your eyes.

A lump grows in his throat.

“What’s got you so pissy, Kook?” you ask.

Jimin clears his throat, averting his gaze to the side as he mindlessly plays with the stem of the glass.

The frosty look Jungkook shoots him withers under your pointed glare. Shoulders sagging, he runs his fingers through his hair, unable to care about how much he’s fucking up the style. 

“Sorry Jimin, I… ahem. Anyway, are you gonna be ready to go soon?”

“Mhm, just let me finish up here,” you trail off, motioning to the last few sips of your own wine. “We’ve still got some time before we have to leave anyway.”

Before Jungkook can respond, Jimin cuts in while twining an arm over your bare shoulders, cheek pressed sweetly to yours, “You can’t rush perfection, Kookie. Isn’t that right, pretty baby?”

It’s no surprise your anniversary ends in disaster; a fight so vicious it has you fleeing with an overnight bag, refusing to look at Jungkook let alone speak to him no matter how much he begs you to stay.

Leaving him alone in an apartment ringing with your absence, terrified this is the beginning of the end and thoroughly convinced he’s the worst fucking husband ever.

It’s been several days of radio silence.

No amount of texting or calling gets you to answer. And it’s starting to get to him, going out of his mind with worry, with guilt. If only he hadn’t said this, that, and the other.

If only you’d stayed.

Now, everywhere he turns, Jungkook’s forced to face the jealousy growning like a weed in his heart. And every day it gets worse; a stone crushing his lungs, a bottomless pit curdling his stomach.

He doesn’t know where you are exactly, but his suspicions are proven correct when he nearly busts down the door to Jimin’s apartment only to have you invite him inside, stony-faced and silent.

The quiet doesn’t last, broken by the awkward clearing of his throat as he avoids your stare.

“What are we even doing?” he asks.

Your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline.

There are bags under your eyes and heavy lines around your mouth. You look like you haven’t slept well. Jungkook’s gut clenches, bile bubbling up the back of his throat.

It’s all my fault.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Kook.”

“Please.” He refuses to acknowledge the plea for what it is. “I can’t - I can’t do this anymore.” His voice breaks, cracks in two, tears stopping up his tongue. “I need to know.”

Your eyes flash with confusion. “Baby?” You step closer, hand outstretched and shoulders relaxing. “What are you talking about?”

His intentions are pure, honest.

But months of simmering anger, of doubting everything about himself (again), of resenting the fact he resents you, resents Jimin at all, bubbles to the surface.

He’s not proud of it, but Jungkook explodes; a match set to gunpowder.

“I’m talking about you and Jimin!”

“Me,” you ask, blinking owlishly, “-- and Jimin?”

Jungkook smiles, sharp and unpleasant. Bitter and disappointed. Grief makes him mean, nasty. “Yeah, you and Jimin. Do you think I’m stupid - were you just gonna keep fucking around behind my back?” 

“Woah, pump the breaks! What the hell are--”

“Don’t even try to deny it.”

His eyes glint like shards of black ice, cool and assessing as he stares at you. Numb to the concern in your gaze, the purse of your lips. He’s slipping - he knows he’s slipping. Can feel the grief stricken rage pressing in at the corners of his mind.

The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, and yet he’s helpless to stop the words pouring from his mouth. “Did you like watching me make a fool of myself?”

You sneer, arms crossed over your chest so hard it looks like it hurts, “You’re doing that all on your own, Jungkook. I think you need to leave.”

“No, no, come on. I want to know. Why did you marry me if you don’t even want me, huh?”

Stalking closer, Jungkook corners you against the counter.

The smooth glide of his body is reminiscent of a large jungle cat, purely predatory. The uncomfortable thrill of it reflects through your gaze, the clench of your thighs.

Dark satisfaction curls low in his belly.

He asks, “Did he fuck you better, make you scream his name?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but you’re being a fucking pig,” you say, shoving his shoulder towards the door. “Now I really think it’s time for you to leave. Come back when you’re not being stupid.”

Strong fingers clamp down around your wrist, and Jungkook tugs you into his chest. His free arm curls around your waist, pinning you to his front. The heat of your body can’t drive away the sudden cold washing over him.

“Let go-”

“No.” He watches as any retort dies on your tongue, your eyes meeting his head on for the first time. Whatever you see hooks in, refusing to let go. “I’m not letting you go.”

Shivering, you try to tug your arm free, “Jungkook, please. You’re starting to scare me.”

In lieu of a response, Jungkook dips his head, and inhales the scent of your hair. Dragging his nose down the length of your neck as the familiar perfume floods his lungs. Soothes the prowling beast caged in his chest.

A rumble of satisfaction vibrates through him into you, your nipples stiffening against him.

Jungkook sighs, “You always smell so good, baby.”

The tension threaded through your frame releases, your edges softening until you rest against him fully. Shivers race down his spine when your breath tickles his ear.

You call to him softly.

He hums, nuzzling into the side of your head, “Mhm?”

“Can you let me go now? Promise I won’t go anywhere.”

Jungkook pulls back to look at you for several long seconds. Unlatching his fingers, he watches as you flex your wrist. Then reaches up to tenderly curl the digits around your throat, transfixed by the sight.

A hook of arousal sinks into his stomach.

Yanks hard when you gasp at the push of his thick thigh against your pussy, your whine when he flexes the muscle. With a soft cry, you sag into his body while your hands fly up to plant themselves on his biceps.

“K-Kook!”

“Mm, that’s it.”

The bubble of emotions boiling under the surface of his skin is at odds with the satisfaction coiling in his belly, the interested twitch of his cock.

Jungkook rolls his thigh and works you along the length of it. The heat of you burns through the cotton of his lounge pants, so warm and soft and wet.

"Don't--" your protest trails off, smothered by your teeth as your eyes flutter in pleasure. "Hn!"

Shit, he wants to bury himself so deep inside you’ll never forget the stretch. Ruin you so good with his cock you won’t dream of anyone else ever again. He’d make you his and his alone.

Fingers tightening around your neck, Jungkook murmurs, “Let me hear you, baby.”

Unsuccessfully trying to ignore how good the friction is, you shake your head in denial. But there’s no hiding how turned on you’re getting, panties sticky and thighs clamping around his.

You’re absolutely soaked, evidenced by the growing dark patch on his leg as he grinds you into a sloppy mess.

“W-We can’t, Jimin’s h-home.”

Mentioning the other man is a mistake, and you know that.

Jungkook sees the realization light up in your eyes seconds after he tenses, rutting up against you harshly. The bulge of his cock digs into the dip of your hip, throbbing in time with the labored heaves of his chest. 

His kneecap catches, the sharp ridge smashing into your swollen clit. Your mouth drops open, and Jungkook slaps a hand over your face before the wail escapes.

He knows he’s being rough, but the tears in your eyes soothe some of the hurt. And honestly, he can’t bring himself to care overmuch, especially when your hips jerk against his.

“Better be quiet. We don’t want Jimin to hear us,” Jungkook snarls, “after all, what would he think if he saw how bad you’re gagging for your husband’s dick?”

Your indignant response is cut off by another muffled whine, his teeth sinking into the corner of your jaw.

A weak spot of yours - Jungkook abuses it to his advantage. Swiping his tongue through the layer of sweat that clings to your skin, the salt bursting across his tongue.

He groans.

“I don’t give a fuck what you or Jimin think.” His breath puffs warm and moist over your ear, voice whiskey rough when Jungkook says, “You married me. You’re mine, baby, and I don’t share.”

Relocating, his hand releases your throat and finds your hips. He slips under the mid-thigh hem of your oversized nightshirt, and snaps the waistband of your panties with a firm tug.

Pulling the fabric free from between your legs, he tucks the ruined fabric into his back pocket as a souvenir. 

“K-Kook,” you say, voice warbling.

He hums, eyes glittering dangerously as his fingers brush over the top of your slit. Your clit jumps beneath the pad of his finger, swollen and throbbing.

When you hiss low between your teeth, he smirks, and bullies the little nub with rough circles until your hips shift from side to side.

“Ah, shit, baby. Can you hear how sloppy your pussy is?”

Jungkook dips his fingers between your folds, playing with your gummy walls as he gathers your slick, teasing the rim of your entrance. The filthy squelches echo out into the otherwise silent apartment.

He preens, chest puffing up with pride, and says, “He can’t make you feel the way I do. Can he?”

Without warning, he slides two fingers deep inside to the third knuckle. Chuckles when you burrow your face into his shoulder, your nails dragging raised lines of heat down his arms as your walls give, fluttering around his thick digits as you adjust to the stretch.

“Mm, you always take me so well, baby.”

You clench at the praise, and Jungkook pumps his fingers in reward, curling up to massage at the spongy patch of your g-spot. You whine, head tossed back and thighs shaking around his hand.

Pain shoots through the base of Jungkook’s spine, and biting back a curse, he reaches down to adjust his cock from where its trapped against you, swollen and leaking.

“Yeah, you’re such a good girl.”

“Please,” you whine before mumbling something else.

Jungkook’s not sure what it is, but figures it’s not all that important when your eyes roll back into your head and your hips twitch.

You start to bear down on his fingers, walls tensing and releasing.

“Gonna cum?” Jungkook nips at your bottom lip, panting into your mouth and sharing breath as his eyes bore into yours. “Fuck! Do it. Wanna feel you cum all over my hand.”

God, you look so good like this; eyes teary and brows crinkled, sweat-slick and mouth slack. A sight he never wants to be without. His sweet girl, his baby, his wife.

“Yeah, that’s it.” His fingers curl and pulse, pet and stretch. “Now open those pretty eyes.”

A hand curls around your jaw, tugs at your chin.

“Look at me,” Jungkook breathes.

Please.

He watches, greedy, as your lashes flutter, the lids weighted down by pleasure. Eventually, you manage to crack them open, and he ruts forward in response. His groan vibrates his lips as they smash into yours in a violent kiss. 

You pull away with a gasp, slick dripping down your shaky knees. “I can’t - hnggg - fuck, Kook!”

“Tell me who you belong to.”

He’s unforgiving in his demands, a cold fire burning in the depths of his eyes. His cock throbs, his hips trembling with restraint as he stops himself from rutting to completion against you.

His heart hammers against his ribs, and his stomach swoops.

The answer will either make or break him.

Anticipation floods the room with tension; hovering in the air like a word about to be spoken.

“Tell me.”

“I -- you, Kook, I’ve always belonged to you,” you say, clenching down around him. “Please.”

Capturing you with his gaze, Jungkook hooks a thumb into the corner of your mouth. All the hurt, all the doubts, all the rage bleed out of him like water tossed over the embers of a campfire.

Leaving behind the single-minded desire to give you what you want. What you deserve. Because you’re his and the only thing he wants to do is take care of you.

Love you like you deserve to be.

Like only he knows how to.

The taste of your skin is sharp and bright when his tongue flicks against yours, and he hisses into the plush of your mouth, “Cum.”

Keening, your pussy throbs once, twice. Your belly contracts. And then you’re gushing wetly, a warm flood of slick soaking the palm of Jungkook’s hand, dripping down to puddle on the kitchen tile. Your walls ripple, muscles spasming as you shake apart in his arms.

Jungkook holds you through it, soothing the aftershocks as you slump into him - a marionette with its strings cut. You’re cotton soft, cloudy. Head lolling on his shoulder when you look up at his profile with hazy eyes.

“Show off,” you slur when you catch the sight of his satisfied smirk, the puff of his chest as he stares at something behind you. “Can’t believe you made me cum all over Jimin’s kitchen floor.”

The sound of a choked-off, slightly hysterical laugh comes from the entryway, “Oh, I can. Just glad to see you guys finally made up. Now I’m gonna go wash my eyes with bleach.”

[oh-no-its-bird]

Team 7 gets zapped into the warring states era but it's like, team 7 either mid or directly after wave-arc.

They're babies!! They're untrained little babies!!! None of them have gotten that good good character development yet!! Kakashi is still actively desperately wanting to not teach them!! (tho he may have just gotten his "ahh fuck. I actually have to teach them, huh." Moment)

Sasuke looks like a carbon copy of a younger Izuna and it's going to cause problems

Naruto thankfully doesn't look much like an Uzumaki, but his tendency to very loudly introduce himself is going to get him into trouble

Going w my usual flavor of "the Hatake are a very small but very famous clan known for being fucking insane", people are seeing Kakashi and going "oh god oh fuck what are one of THOSE guys doing here oh sage preserve us please don't eat me" as Kakashi just kinda stands there like 🧍‍♂️

Sakura is the only one safe from not being fucked up and over her clan, good for her!

-> back to the Hatake thing.

The kids still know virtually nothing about their sensei so they're learning all this stuff about his clan and believing every word of it, from the believable rumors to the insane.

Sakura, in a hushed, worried voice: "Sensei,, is it true ur clan eats people??"

Kakashi, who's father died before he could tell him almost anything about their clan and genuinely doesn't know but at this point is starting to get a little worried about it:

Kakashi, who also never passes up the opportunity to fuck with someone: "only stupid little students who ask stupid little questions <3"

Sakura and Sasuke: *worriedly look at a confused Naruto*

For convoluted reasons they run into the Hatake of the era and after introductions they look at the kids and are like,

"Oh!!! Ok, so this is your kid, right? :)" pointing at Sakura.

And Kakashi is like. ",,no."

"Ohhh, ok. So this one is your kid then?" *points at Naruto*

",,,,,,,,no."

They look at him confused then nod at Sasuke. "So then that one's your kid, right?"

"None of them are my children."

*visibly disapproving / disbelieving side eye*

One big difference between this and the team ro time travel one is how much less trustworthy Kakashi comes off to literally everyone who looks at him.

He's a trained adult shinobi, probable bloodline thief (with no way to prove his innocence), and he has 3 children from 3 different clans (2 of which are indirectly enemies bc the Uzumaki is a Senju ally) (1 of which might have a direct relation to the Uchiha main house) and comes from an infamously volatile "wild clan" from another country entirely (Iron country)

He is NOT getting out of this with talk no jutsu bullshit. He has a target on his back from day 1 and it will take a minor miracle to get even a single person hear him out

Anyways uhh—

Saying Tajima and Butsuma are still alive but due to die in some months (till team 7 accidentally interfere and somehow accidentally save Tajima, maybe also Butsuma but I'm more biased towards Tajima so I'm thinking just him actually)

Kakashi sees baby Kagami and feels like he's been hit by a truck bc he looks just like a miniature Shisui and he has hang-ups about his "suicide"

Half-Hatake Tobirama is catching HEAT from Kakashi's antics. Why does one of ur cousins have a sharingan. Where did he get those children. Do you know anything about this. Is it your duty to help hunt him down bc hes your blood. If not yours then it's definatley the Hatake's, call them immediately and tell them to clean up their mess.

Bloodline theft is like THE ultimate no-no for all shinobi, especially in this era. To the point that even ancient enemies will sometimes temporarily set aside grudges to kill bloodline theives. Kakashi is so fucked, someone get him out of there

Mmmm there are like still bits and pieces of thoughts floating around in my head for this but I can feel myself getting distracted and want to get back to art fight so I'll leave it here for now

[silverskye13]

Etho looks down quietly at his basket, making sure everything he needs is inside. He knows it is best to only make one trip down to the water. The water is treacherous. He is strong enough to withstand it, but of course, everyone who ever drowned thinks they're strong enough until their lungs are bursting. So. He double checks. He makes sure.

He has a week's worth of laundry. Some dishes he needs sand from the river to scour. A bucket, so he won't have to make this trip for another few days. There are a few pieces of leather armor in need of a quick rinse before they're polished. Also, he's thirsty. He tries not to drink his rain water. He needs it to last.

Finally, Etho belts on his sword, hefts the basket over one shoulder, and the empty bucket with his free hand. He looks to the short path that leads down to the dock. The water is blue as the diamond sky above, edged in gold from the slowly gathering sunset. Birds are singing. Breeze whispers through the willow branches and cattails. Across the river, a small herd of deer is moving through the rushes. One breaks apart from the others to drink. Etho sighs out a long breath, steels himself, and walks down the trail.

The water is cursed. Very few people still come to the river for chores. Most only dare to run down for a few buckets of water when the well is running dry.

_____

When Tango saw him gathering his things earlier, he'd shaken his head and made a warding gesture with his hand. Protection. For himself. For Etho. Or just to ward away the idea of evil.

"Scream, I guess," Tango had told him. "I doubt we'll make it in time, but yanno, we'll know what happened."

Etho had only offered a tense smile behind his mask. Everyone would know what happened, scream or not.

"I'll be fine," Etho said. "I've been fine before."

He said it a lot more confidently than he felt, and Tango wasn't reassured. Tango had a good nose for things like that. He sniffed the air, and made the chagrined expression of someone who could smell a coming thunderstorm.

"Yeah. Sure." Tango sniffed again, and then tapped the side of his nose with a knowing finger. "On second thought, maybe save your breath."

_____

Etho walks out onto the dock, his footsteps silent as he can make them. He took his boots off by the dock's edge. They're heavy when they're wet. He sets the basket down gently on the aged wood. He fills the bucket first. In the neat and tidy plan of his habits, he thinks the bucket is the one he least wants to be left last with. It's heavy and cumbersome, and requires leaning over the water's edge. So he fills it, trying to disturb the water as little as possible, and pads back to his boots to set it down gently beside them. Then he's back to his basket, and getting to the louder work, what he know will attract attention.

He grabs a shirt and dunks it into the water, wringing it out a few times before scrubbing it against the dock's edge. Someone nailed a washboard here, probably to make it easier for everyone else who needed to scrub up -- one less cumbersome thing to drag to the riverside. Beside it, Etho can see long scratches in the wood, vanishing off the side. He has large hands, so they don't line up to him, but the unmistakable look of nails scratching, clinging, is recognizable even still. He wonders idly who made them. Probably someone playing, before the water was cursed. Or an animal that swam across the bank and needed help scurrying out.

He is tempted to think it's something more sinister, but he knows better.

The water turns from diamond blue to sunflower yellow, then to blazing orange with rusted and bleeding edges. The herd of deer on the other side of the water wanders off, sated. A fox calls in the wood somewhere, an uncanny, very human scream. The bird calls twitter into silence, replaced by chirping frogsong. Etho wrings out the last of his clothes and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. He checks how far the sun has dipped in the sky, and decides he has an our yet before dark settles in.

With his clothes washed, he sets them back in the basket, neatly folded. They'll wrinkle probably, but when he puts them out on the line, the wind will straighten them out. His knees are sore from kneeling, his back from leaning. His armor will be easier to clean if he can settle in, brace it on his crossed legs.

Etho looks around the water, at the deceptive stillness. It's a slow, lazy river, hardly pushing the water fast enough to put ripples on it. There is one place near the opposite bank where a long shadow stretches from a stone, broken by the reflection of red sunset. It's the kind of image he would expect to see on a lake on a windless day. He's heard before that quiet rivers make for deadly waters, that there is a current in holes in the riverbed that will devour someone.

But Etho isn't in the water. He's on the dock, and the dock is safe. Nothing will drag him off it. Nothing in the water is strong enough. It doesn't have to be. There is some comfort in that, in knowing he can't be devoured against his will. It is why he still comes to the river. It is why he dares. Etho sits back and crosses his legs, bracing his leathers against his knees. He scoops a palm full of water onto them and scrubs, trying to get blood out of the small cracks where it will settle and rot. His chainmail is back at the fort up the hill, where its heaviness can't encumber him. It cleans itself reasonably well, all the links clattering together, just so long as he doesn't roll in any mud.

There is shuffling on the dock behind him, the creaking of old wood. Etho tilts his head, breathes in deeply through his nose. His pulse doesn't quicken. After a momentary pause, he resumes his work.

"Hey BDubs," he says conversationally. "Trying to sneak up on me?"

"Wh-- no. Of course not." There is mischief in BDub's answer, a grin in his voice. "The great Etho? Never. You probably heard me coming from a mile away."

"Maybe not a mile," Etho chuckles humbly. "You going to join me?"

"Well, I don't know," BDubs laughs, leaning over Etho's shoulder. "Is it safe?"

"I don't know why it wouldn't be."

"Water's cursed," BDubs reminds him. "There could be boogiemen about."

"You trying to tell me something BDubs?" Etho asks slyly, peering up at his friend.

"What? No of course not," BDubs laughs. He sits beside Etho, plunging his bare feet into the water beside the dock. "Even if I was, you know me Etho. You? Kill you? You'd kill me first."

"I don't know about that," Etho hums, splashing another palm full of water on a buckle clasp and scrubbing at a rusted stain with his thumb. "You made pretty efficient work of Grian."

"Grian had it coming," BDubs shrugs. "Got too caught up listening to the music."

Etho chuckles. "The music was very good."

BDubs kicks his feet in the water, humming the tune momentarily under his breath. It's a haunting sound, not really meant to be sung. Not by anything human. Etho shudders in spite of himself.

"Man, don't do that."

"Sorry! Haha! Sorry. Couldn't help it," BDubs grins a gap-tooth smile in Etho's direction, his eyes bright and gilded by the setting sun. "It's probably one of the coolest kills I've ever gotten."

"I'll make sure Tango knows you said that."

"Oh, Tango's fine." Bdubs waves a hand dismissively. "He's just upset 'cause I scared him."

"You did more than just scare him."

Dark room. Dark water. Tango screaming and running, scrabbling at the walls with his nails. If they ever went back to that little cave, Etho wondered if there would be marks on the walls like the docks, played, desperate fingers, digging.

"Well he's alive, isn't he?"

"I guess he is."

"Then he should get over it!"

Etho shakes his head, laughing. BDubs' voice is over-loud on the quiet lake, but its a good sound. Full of intensity and joy, and revelry. It made the silence between his words stark and empty, and Etho was always loathe to fill it.

Bdubs suddenly wraps an arm around Etho's shoulders, pulling him into a conspiratorial embrace. "Hey, I've been meaning to talk to you, by the way."

Etho suddenly has goosebumps on his neck, his spine, his arms. BDubs' arm is cold against his shoulders. He smells of bracken and standing water, and his eyes are bright as sunset. Etho takes a long, slow breath in and holds it for a moment.

"Uh... Yeah, BDubs?"

"I've got a plan, you know, for the others," Bdubs continues, his voice dropping to something near a whisper. There is something on the edge of his tone like the ringing of bells. Excitement. Thrill. Hunger. "But I'll need some help. I mean, I'm good at redstone, you know 'ol BDubs knows his stuff. But I need an expert. Someone good at traps."

"You know you've always got me Bdubs," Etho laughs, and it is hard to keep the nervousness from his voice. He's not sure he succeeds. "I'm happy to help. Just uh--" He shrugs his shoulders, and BDubs' arm falls away. "You know. Keep your distance."

"You're not scared of me, are you Etho?" Bdubs laughs, and it's loud and boisterous, and perfect. It echoes off the water like glass. Bells and ringing. He gives Etho a prideful, knowing look. "No, you're not scared of little 'ol BDubs. I know what you're scared of."

BDubs suddenly turns and slips into the water. Not all the way. His hands are still clinging to the wood, his elbows resting on the dock like it was a pool side. But the splash hits Etho's side and makes him shudder so hard, he drops the armor he'd been polishing. In a flash he's on his feet, backing away two, three steps. His movements feel too slow and heavy, and there's an instant of panic in him.

"Woah man!" Etho snaps, startled. He reaches for something, anything-- "I said keep your--!"

But BDubs is laughing, kicking his feet, stirring up the mud at the bottom of the river. "Oh come on Etho. It's water."

Etho takes three long breaths, filling his lungs to bursting before pushing the air out again heavy through his nose.

"You're fine you big baby," BDubs grins, resting his head on his crossed arms. His legs stop kicking, stop stirring up the mud, and Etho can see the water is shallow enough that he's standing on the bottom. He'd thought-- he'd thought-- "You'd think I tried to drown you, jeez."

He thought it was deeper.

Etho held his breath for a moment, counted slowly. He wanted to reach his hand to his neck, to check his pulse. To see how fast his heart was beating. He moved his hand to, and at a mocking glance from his friend, decides instead to stoop to pick up his dropped armor. He walks carefully to his basket and places it inside.

"Why'd you come down here, anyway?" BDubs asks. "If you're so scared, I mean."

"You know me, BDubs. I always come back," Etho answers, almost a reflex. A rehearsed answer. "Who else would I go to?"

"Tango and Skizz?"

"They won't keep me safe like you will." Etho points out. He shudders again, the cold from BDub's touch had seeped into him more than he thought it had. He's acclimating though, like jumping into a pool. It's a cold that seeps out of him, warms as it settles. "It's me and you to the end, right buddy?"

"Of course Etho. I'd never betray you."

Etho looks through his things one last time, then frowns. He turns the basket with his foot. He glances at BDubs, who still watches him from the water's edge. Then he takes a chance and crouches down beside his basket, rifling through with both hands.

"Lose something?" BDubs asks, standing on his tiptoes to get a better look.

Etho looks around, checking first the dock, and then the water beyond. In the deeper water over the side, he sees the flash of a buckle in the dying rays of the sun.

"Oh, huh," BDubs hums disinterestedly. "Guess you'll have to get that."

"BDubs," Etho scowls.

"Fine! Fine. I get it. You don't wanna get wet." BDubs puts up his hands, as though surrendering. "The water really isn't all that bad." He offers Etho a quick little salute. "Be right back."

He takes an exaggerated breath and splashes beneath the dock, stirring up mud and river plants. He breaks the water's surface shortly after, holding up the fallen armor piece triumphantly. "Ta-da! Hold your applause. I know I'm great."

Etho, in spite of himself, chuckles. He shivers again -- the evening is getting cold -- and reaches a hand out. BDubs places the buckle in his hand, then reaches his other hand up to clasp Etho's gently. It's awkward and off-balance, Etho leaning precariously over the side of the dock, and BDubs on his tip-toes, holding him in place. It isn't a hard grasp. At any moment, Etho can take his hand away. He has always been stronger than BDubs.

"Hey, Etho, I really have missed you, man," BDubs says, smiling fondly, his voice soft. It isn't a whisper. It simply isn't loud and brash like he normally is. Heartfelt. The kind of tone that beckons, that wants to be listened to. "I mean-- I've missed us doing things together. It reminds me of the good 'ol days, you know? NHO and Mindcrack. We make a good team."

"We do," Etho agrees. He takes a long, slow breath. He shivers.

He frowns.

Etho pulls his hand out of BDubs, and BDubs offers no resistance. Etho looks down at his hand, at the wrinkled, waterlogged skin. He rubs his thumb across his forefingers, feeling the odd texture, grounding himself on it. Etho takes a deep breath in, lets it out again slowly.

"How long have I been in the water, BDubs?" Etho whispers.

Etho is still holding the belt buckle in one hand, still looking down at the wrinkled fingers of his other. BDubs is still in front of him, only his head and shoulders above the water. Etho looks back over his shoulder. The dock is startlingly far away, the basket sitting on the very edge. Beyond it, his boots and water bucket are sitting in the grass beside rushes and willow branches.

"Does it matter?" BDubs asks, smiling gently.

Etho takes a long, deep breath through his nose.

"Oh, don't be scared," BDubs says, moving silently closer. He reaches out his hands and grasps Etho's arms, a gentle touch, reassuring. A friend trying to assuage fear. His eyes are blazing red and orange with the setting sun, but the sky is black and salted with stars. "I didn't drag you down here, Etho. You came to me, remember?"

"BDubs--"

"You know I'd never betray you," BDubs continues, taking a slow step backwards. He pulls Etho with him, and Etho, by habit and familiarity, takes a step forward. The allure of BDubs' voice tilts his vision. He's on the dock, holding the buckle that fell in the water, and BDubs is clasping his hands, and the sun is setting. The water is up to his chest, and the world is dark star-filled, and BDubs is taking another step backwards, and Etho is following. "I could have betrayed you day one, and I didn't. I'm just asking for your help, Etho. You and me together, right?"

"BDubs--"

"It's the deep water, isn't it?" BDubs croons, like he's speaking to a child. "The deep water scares you? It's okay. You're fine."

Etho is fine. His breathing is slow, his heartbeat even. He wants to be scared. He should be scared. But BDubs is his friend.

BDubs reaches up to Etho's neck, not to strangle or to threaten, but to gently cup his hands around him. He pulls gently on Etho, not to drag Etho down, but to raise himself up, so they're nearly eye to eye. Etho feels water around his shoulders, and shivers.

"It's okay," BDubs says. "I would never hurt you, I promise. We don't have to go any deeper." His voice even and calm, inexorable. Etho's pulse doesn't quicken when he says, "You know how many people drown in shallow water? It's easy. I'll be with you the whole time."

The water is around Etho's neck, and BDubs is above him just slightly. One hand raises slowly to the back of Etho's head, fingers gently tangling in his hair. It is the caress of someone who cares for him deeply, someone who wants him to stay. The feeling is wholly dissonant from the words being spoken. Water? Drowning? How could someone who loves him so much drown him?

"You want to stay with me, right?" BDubs asks. "You and me together, we'd be unstoppable, Etho. The best duo the Life Series has ever seen."

BDub's hand on Etho's neck moves just slightly, the thumb pulling around to rest on his adam's apple. The hand in his hair clenches just a little. A warning. "You're not thinking about betraying me, are you?"

Etho shivers again. He wants to be afraid.

"You know, Grian said some things before he drowned," BDubs's hand on his neck tightened just a little. Etho could feel his pulse against BDub's thumb, finally, finally beginning to quicken. "He said you were a survivor. He said you'd leave me -- heh -- high and dry. You wouldn't do that, would you, Etho?"

Etho's pulse quickened more. There was a cold numbness in his limbs that he hadn't even noticed gathering, and his sluggishly awakening panic pushed it from him.

"BDubs," Etho said, his voice small and hoarse in his throat, "let me go."

"Etho..." BDubs said warningly.

"Let me go!" Etho shouted, planting his hands on BDub's chest and shoving backwards away. What he felt, in that brief second, was neither skin nor flesh, nor the softness of fabric. He felt tangled river weeds, and fish scales, slimy and cold against his skin. The cursed thing that looked like BDubs but wasn't, released Etho spitefully. His claws tore from Etho's neck, scraped along the back of his head to come free with pale strands of his hair. Suddenly there were arms around him, and Etho screamed and thrashed as he was dragged.

"I've got you dude! I've got you!"

It was Skizz, his voice a thunderous bellow in Etho's ear, his arms feverishly hot against him where they clamped like vices around his waist. Skizz dragged Etho from the water like he weighed nothing. Etho got his feet underneath himself and clung to Skizz, staggering out of the water as quick as he could. He heard feet pounding on the dock, and glanced over to watch Tango sprint across the wood. He stooped, grabbed up Etho's basket, and sprinted back with it, the reaching, clawed hand of the thing that looked like BDubs snapping for his ankles and missing.

"I got him!" Skizz shouted to Tango, scrambling onto the grass, refusing to let Etho go until they were well up the path. "Did you see how close he was?!"

"Yeah I saw!" Tango snapped, choking on his own fear, gulping in air and coughing it back out again. "It tried to drag me in!"

"Oh my god, are you okay dude?" Skizz demanded, and, when Tango nodded, he turned back to Etho. "Are you okay? I didn't see you go under. Can you breathe?"

Etho, who had collapsed into the grass the moment Skizz released him, lay there gasping like a hooked fish. He shivered, pale and cold from how long he spent in the water-- how long had he been in the water. He could still feel the thing's burning claws in streaks across his neck, and a tickling of blood at the back of his head.

"Etho?"

"I'm okay," Etho gasped, "I'm sorry I just-- I needed-- I wanted--"

"I know what you wanted!" Tango snapped angrily, the anger of someone who had risked his life. The anger of someone who thought a friend of his was dead, or dying. "But it's not him, Etho."

"It sounds like him," Etho whispered. He threw an arm over his eyes and shivered again. "It sounds like him, though."

"I know it does buddy, I know," Skizz said, his voice full of sympathy and pity. He waited with mountainous patience as Etho pulled himself together, and then helped Etho stand.

Together, they walked back to the fort.

Behind them, something cursed and hungry in the dark water, sang, and its voice was sweet and familiar.

[leahsgf]

FUSSY EATER - leah williamson

leah williamson x child!reader | bubba masterlist

"come on bubba. can you try some broccoli for mumma?" leah cooed, desperately trying to slip the little plastic spoon past your lips which had of course remained glued shut in refusal.

you simply turned your head away in response, like you had done every single other time she had tried - settling for staring at beth and alessia from across the canteen, a much more interesting option in your opinion.

you were leah's mini, in every single way - and always had been, but the older you got the more this had began to show, mimicking everything she did from simply kicking a ball, to her signature frown, and even babbling certain words in that dreaded roadman accent that sometimes slipped out of the blonde's mouth for no apparent reason. even when you wouldn’t stop referring to everyone as ‘darlin’ for weeks on end, your want to be just like her was something that your mother adored beyond words, usually.

your recent thing however? she wasn't such a fan of.

you were finally at the stage where you could confidently eat solid foods and start having meals like leah, and she hadn't put any thought into just how fussy she herself was until she had you mirroring everything she did - including devouring absolutely anything that was beige and not giving anything else as much as a look.

which is what had landed you both in this situation, you sat in a highchair and leah sat across from you, spoon still loaded with the dreaded green stuff that you had yet to be convinced to try.

you were quite content with the bits of bread and plain pasta that were sat on your tray, and were suspicious of the piece of broccoli held in front of you, not knowing why you were being expected to try it when you had never seen your mumma eat it.

"come on sweetheart. if you try this little bit for me i'll get you some chocolate, yeah? just one little bit. i know you love chocolate"

"bribing the baby now are we williamson?" tooney cackled, walking past with her own food - not before snapping a picture of the sight before her to update her very amused followers, who had over time become invested in leah’s ‘dead’ meals.

“shut up man, she’s so stubborn i can’t! i have so much more respect for my mum now but surely even i wasn’t this bad”

“of course you were lee! you still are, are you forgetting that you called chicken slices ‘white ham’ until we were 23 cause you were convinced you hated chicken!” keira giggled, joining in on the conversation and lightly shoving her best friend as she slipped into the seat next to her.

“oi! not helping!” leah grumbled, the frown lines on her forehead that may as well be permanent only deepening as your refusal continued.

“maybe you should eat some and show her, she copies everything you do.” georgia chimed in this time, grinning as she already know what the answer would be.

“but i hate broccoli”

-

just a small little thing i’ve had in my drafts that makes so much sense in my head, bubba is 100% a picky eater like leah is

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine Kamisato Ayato who was in a good term with his former/ex significant other. Sure you were mad at him at first because why, why couldn't you be enough for him? Why can't he choose you over his family? You used to be so mad at him. Used to.

Imagine accepting the fact that the two of you were not meant to be together. Sure you were each others half, a perfect piece of puzzle that just suit each other but you were not what he needed and probably never. But he does needed you, it was just he was selfless. He needed you but they needed him too, his family needed him too. You were just aren't the best choice for his family. You used to hate him. Used to.

Imagine having to come up with the fact that he still loves you. Even after all the heartbreak and tears, he still care about you. But not as openly as he does anymore.

"You know. You don't have to do this anymore." You hate him. Looking at him kneeling in front of you trying to inspect your perfect fine ankle after accidentally tripping when you saw him in front of you. "I know." He replied, not looking up at you. "Then why-" "It doesn't mean that we're done that I stopped caring. I still does." He cut off before standing up. "I think it's all fine." "I told you it was nothing..." You trail off as he gave you a smile, a small sad smile while his eyes looked at you with love. So muh love that disappear in a blink of an eye like it was never there. "I'll get going now. It was nice seeing you again." You hate that even without asking, you forgive him. "Hey commisioner." He stop mid walk but never turn around. "Feel free to drop by the cafe if you need a break." Before he could turn around, you turn your back at him.

Imagine Kamisato Ayato who was in a good term with his ex. The way the two of you slowly went back to what the two of you were before. Friends. Acting like none of the heartbreak, tears, happiness and love happened. Things were much better of this way. Sure it still hurt when you saw him with his fiance that would surely bring back their clan to their former glory but. It was fine. It felt weird that it was fine. Not too long after he got married, you does too.

Imagine often coming to the estate with your kids. Life is okay. You are happy on how things played out, you are contented with the life you have. But sometimes, you would often catch gaze of Ayato looking fondly of your children. "Strange." You spoke out of the blue that caught his attention. "Now none of your children looks like you." You chuckle. "It would nice." Is that an insul- "A child that looks like you would be nice." "My spouse said that alot, maybe we should have one last try." "You should." Fool. You thought as you look away, stop looking like that while saying that. "But hey! Maybe you and-" "No. Once is enough." "... You have a twin though.."

Imagine once in a while, a small get together would happened between just the two of you in the first place the two of you met. In that old cafe you and your spouse now manage. "Are you happy?" It was a question that came out of the blue with a very serious tone that makes you look into him as you gently set your drink down. Following his gaze, you saw a familiar teenage blue hair guy and one of your children a few years younger than his son. A chuckle left your lips. That made him turn to look at you. "We're not getting any younger aren't we." You smile and continue to look at the teens from afar, fingers playing with your wedding ring. "I've been living the happiest moment of my life ever since, Ayato." "I see." Once again, there was a small sad yet genuine smile on his lips. "Are you, happy?" You asked back. You then watch him look outside, "I'm fine."

Imagine as you bid him goodbye, staring at his back. Its strange how the man who seemed to have everything looked so lonely as he walk away from you. But then once again, you just turn your back at him like he did. Walking inside your home were your family is waiting for you.

There was a saying that if who people remained friends after ending their relationship. There is a possibility that they never loved each other and the other being one of them still hold a lingerie feeling for the other. But who knows. Maybe in another life. He wouldn't have to chose anything else before you.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024° ;)

:start na ng ojt ko the day after tom. I am so fucking nervous being a front desk trainee, wish me luck on the VIP desk.

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈

╰┈➤ ❝ caleb x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : pwp (with plot (?) this is more fluff-centric with a lil smut towards the end <3), lighthearted, comfort, dancing in the kitchen, teasing, slight bickering, kissing, couch cuddling, sort of a netflix-and-chill moment?, heavy petting, fingering, riding, vaginal sex, creampie, praise, dirty talk, use of pet names "pipsqueak" "baby" "princess". lmk if i missed any tags ! ((unedited))

wc : 3.8k

an : *roxie on the dash* zayne comfort !!! *roxie in the drafts* :D caleb comfort !!!! WHFKJSHDGKJH it's not sunday but i've been writing this through the week between work because i miss him ... and i figured screw it. there are rumors going around. so. if they turn out to be not real. I'LL CONSOLE MYSELF WITH THE FACT THAT HE ISN'T HERE (yet)

taglist : under the cut! (SIGN UP HERE)

KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

Sometimes, slow days with him are all you need to feel a little better.

The fact of the matter was this:

Blankets were comfortable.

Your hands and legs stretched out as you turned, the warmth of the sunlight falling upon your face. You were delighted at the colder sensation on the side of the pillow you hadn't been lying on until now, and a smile spread across your lips—this was nice. Your fingers curled around the duvet, bringing it back up to your neck, and your eyes blinked slowly open. Your position allowed you to glance at the clock on the wall. And though you had fully expected it to be noon, you were pleasantly surprised to find that it was not quite as late as you'd assumed.

You had been known to sleep in a little.

Work was demanding; sleep was as much comfort as you could find in your spare time. Weekends, on the other hand, were heavenly for it. So it wasn't a surprise to you that you'd woken up this time with the entire bed to yourself, all warm and comfy in your blankets…

♪ Sunday morning, rain is falling… ♪

Your eyebrows raised as the tune filled your head, wafting into the bedroom along with a more-than-welcome scent of… something.

You couldn't quite make out what it was.

But you were very aware of who was singing, and the smile on your face grew significantly.

This time you sat up and stretched, before swinging your legs off the bed and finding the soft fluff of your bedroom carpet. Your hands moved to rub the lingering sleep from your eyes as you stood up—soft trudges into your slippers, a hand on your doorknob, and the muffled voice became clearer to you.

♪ Clouds are shroudin' us in moments unforgettable~ ♪

It was so silly.

You had to keep yourself from laughing as you peeked around the corner and into the kitchen, and there he was.

The original track was playing lightly in the background, likely to keep him company, but the whole scene was just so typically Caleb. To throw out a couple of tunes without a care in the world, lazily flipping the piece of toast he was frying in such a smooth motion that you almost thought your eyes were playing tricks on you... He had his back turned to you, focused on the stove, but his head moved casually to the rhythm of the song. And it wasn't that you'd say he was bad; in fact, quite the opposite, more like. Not stellar, definitely, but there was a little roughness to his tone that made it feel endearing to listen to. You were grateful for the fact—his voice was much louder than the actual song, and if you weren't enjoying yourself, you might as well have thrown something right at him.

But this time the giggle that was fighting its way out of you felt harder to suppress, and you stepped into the kitchen. Your back leaned against the entrance. "So, it's not Sunday, first of all," you grinned.

He turned at the sound of your voice and threw you a wink. "Ha ha, maybe not, but it sure feels just like it with ya~"

It was swift, the way he pulled at the pan and with a flick of his wrist, and the plates he'd set out a few feet away from him flew perfectly into his waiting hand. The toasts slid right onto them, contents of the pan rather quickly replaced with a set of freshly-cracked eggs.

Impeccable control as always.

Setting the stove back on low heat, he neatly placed the plates back onto the table, and offered a bow. "Mornin', sleepyhead!"

"Show-off," you rolled your eyes playfully.

Yet as he held out his arms for a hug, you were quick to approach. Arms wrapped snugly around his waist as you fell against his chest, a familiar warmth and a familiar feeling of… home.

"Mm…" you sighed. "Yeah, g'morning."

"Sleep well?"

"Mhm! Warm and comfy!" You pulled back a little bit to look up at him, and sighed contentedly. "I mean, partly thanks to you, no less. I didn't put this on last night before we went to bed… You put your sweater on me before you went out. Thanks, Caleb."

"Oh, so we're gonna talk about last night… now?"

A smirk began to form on his face—the teasing lilt in his voice was back, and you shoved him away with a huff.

"No way! I was just thanking you for—"

He promptly scooped you right back into his arms before you could finish your sentence, twirling you around before planting a quick little kiss over your lips.

"Kidding," he whispered.

You could have melted.

Your feet touched the ground once more as he gently set you down, hand sliding away from your waist to go back to the eggs in the pan—you wouldn't have known if it was intentional; you found that you'd learned many new things about him over the past couple of months you'd started a relationship of a more romantic nature. Yet he'd do these things, be all cute and soft with you, and you'd almost feel as if you were in a daze.

You watched, quiet, listening to the music, and his humming… no different from before. He moved around the kitchen, grabbing a couple of things from the side: the onions, some garlic, some tomatoes… You hadn't had omelettes from him in a while, but you already found yourself anticipating how it would taste. After all, he knew exactly how to cook all your favorite dishes. Even the simplest of them.

And the reality that you were always so well-cared-for with him settled in.

It made you smile a little more.

The comfortable silence between you broke as you walked over, peeking from behind him and resting your head against his shoulder. "Sooo… You didn't think to ask me how I like my eggs in the morning?" you teased.

A laugh; another kiss into your hair.

"Me? Nah, don't need to, baby. Already know just how you like them."

With the omelettes settled perfectly in the next minute, he offered a bite for you to try. "Here. Wanna try?" He had his head tilted to the side, almost as if surveying your reaction, but the twinkle in his eyes told you he was confident you'd like it anyway.

He would be right, of course.

You happily obliged as you wrapped your lips around the spoon, and you knew he had to laugh at the way your eyes lit up.

"See?" he poked your forehead with a playful roll of his eyes. "Don't you doubt me!"

"Oh, no no no, I win this. You totally fell for my ploy to sneak an early bite," you grinned. "I didn't doubt you at all!"

"Whatever you say, pipsqueak."

The food found its home on the two plates he'd previously placed the buttered toast on, and this time, it was you who leaned in to steal a kiss.

Soft and quick, not unlike the kiss he'd given you just earlier—

And then another.

And another.

And then within seconds he was laughing, pulling you against him with his hands resting at your waist, your own hands placed upon his shoulders. Your foreheads rest together as he sways you gently to the music—another more of those older tunes he seemed to be fond of these days, a little smooth, jazzy melody to them that surely did have you moving your feet to it.

Not that you looked away from him.

His hair fell over his face, a little bit longer than you were used to—it had been a while since he'd trimmed it, and you had half a mind to think that maybe he'd been a little bit too preoccupied with you to notice.

But it did little to distract you from the pull that his eyes had always had on you.

Still that beautiful, beautiful hue of sunset purple and tangerine skies… You had to let out a soft sigh—

At least, one that nearly turned to a squeak as he took your hand to spin you around. Having caught you off-guard, you could see him nearly double over in laughter at the few missteps in your movements, but he was quick to catch you in a little dip before you could really trip over yourself.

"Heyyyy!" You whined a little, reaching up to flick at his forehead, but he only winked.

The audacity.

His eyes were narrowed playfully, a glimmer of amusement clear on his face. "Alright sorry," he chuckled, "but don't you wanna tell my what's brought this on, at least?"

The song still continued to play through the little speaker, enough to spur him to lead you through to finish it—but his eyebrow remained raised.

"Nothing!" you laughed honestly as he spun you around a second time, successfully this time, before catching your waist and guiding you to glide across the kitchen tiles. "I was just thinking that it's pretty neat to have such a nice, caring boyfriend around…"

"Just pretty neat?"

"Yeah! Just pretty neat."

The last couple notes filled the air as he pulled you back against him, settling into the position you'd started in moments ago.

His forehead pressed against yours.

"I was hoping I'd get something a little more, I dunno… starts with an I, ends with a you, maybe some four-letter-word in the middle…"

You scoffed, and he nuzzled your nose affectionately.

"What? I'm waiting!"

This time, you grinned. "You silly goose," you clicked your tongue, feigning annoyance. But you closed the distance for another quick kiss, and your expression softened. "I love you."

"There we go. I love you too, princess."

Another little kiss, this time to your forehead, before he pushed you back, and gestured towards the table with his eyebrows raised. "So I promise it'll just be a lazy day with the both of us, so you can think up whatever more of those silly antics that I'm totally gonna be on-board with, but eat. It's nearly just noontime, pipsqueak, and I worked on the food, y'know!"

Once again a laugh fell from your lips, and you promptly sat down on the seat he'd pulled for you. But a bite on your spoon reached out towards him; "Okay, but. The chef gets first honors. Say aah~"

And, breakfast—brunch, rather—aside… Caleb kept his promise well.

He knew you usually only had today, and tomorrow, to relax in ways you wouldn't have been able to for the rest of the week. And for the rest of the day, he had simply been adamant on ensuring that you did.

It most definitely was a lazy Saturday.

And now, you had yourself snuggled comfortably on the couch, legs resting over his lap as he surfed through the list of movies on the screen.

"Geez, there's been nothin' interesting out in the past couple months…" He was mumbling under his breath, a tiny furrow of his brows evident to the mix of concentration and frustration.

Yet his free hand had time to run over your exposed thighs, lazily drawing shapes into your skin—so much so that you had nothing left in you to care about anything else he was saying.

"So let's just re-watch something!" you huffed a little, trying to make it seem as if you were keen on making conversation.

"You really wanna?"

A mistake.

He turned from the screen to your face, conveniently catching the way your eyes had been watching the way he caressed your skin, almost subconsciously gliding higher up your legs without really noticing what he'd been doing.

Until now, that is.

"Baby, the screen is here, not there," he teased with a squeeze to your thigh. The action made you gasp, but if you thought he'd tease you further, you were surprised by the gentle tone his voice took on next. "Don't wanna watch a movie anymore, or somethin"?"

Your eyes flitted back up to him. The answer you wanted to speak didn't come out immediately.

"Hey, this day's about you, alright?" He shifted closer this time, one hand reaching out to poke at your forehead. "We don't have to watch. I mean, if you'd rather do somethin' else…"

This time he wiggled his eyebrows a little, daring to slide his hand up a little higher—

You squeaked, clearly the desired effect, as he let out a laugh immediately after.

"Your call, princess."

Swallow your pride, was a phrase you'd often have to repeat to yourself when you were with him.

He used to be a little more lenient with you, but these days he seemed almost insistent to hear the words out of your mouth instead—for good reason, you figured. You knew that he knew you well enough, but you couldn't blame him for wanting you to speak.

So you shifted your position to settle over him, noting the curious gaze in his eyes as you snuggled against his chest.

"Baby?"

"Don't really wanna do much," you mumbled. "But… I want to be close to you. I mean… We can watch something if you want to, but, mmh…. I'm okay with just this. With you."

"Yeah?"

"…Yeah."

He rubbed soothingly into your back. "Alright, alright, I can work with that... But, hm. 1-10 on the cozy scale?"

You lifted your head, resting your chin on his chest to look at him with a little pout. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you looked pretty riled up a second ago, princess, so you tell me if you want me to do anything, right?"

Another glimmer of amusement.

Part of it was frustrating—but, again. Swallow your pride. You were sure that as much as he adored pushing your buttons, he wasn't quite doing this on purpose.

So a soft laugh through your nose.

"Okay, not the level of rough from last night, if anything," you joked. "But… Yeah. Yeah, okay. I'd… like it if you touch me."

Nothing quite changed in the way his hands were moving over your back in the same consistent, soothing motions, but he smiled—satisfied with your honesty, and more than willing to oblige.

"God, I love it when you're honest," he chuckled. He deftly slipped his hands beneath your sweater—his sweater—and sighed.

And perhaps it was this moment of intimacy, but you felt yourself leaning up, hands cupping his face, pressing your lips against his.

It wasn't rushed, nor heated.

He smiled into the kiss, and your lips moved almost lazily against each other. Eyes closed, enjoying the casual comfort of the moment, your thumb gently rubbing over his cheek as his hands explored every dip and curve of your skin.

Blankets were comfortable, and dancing in the kitchen was fun, but, this—this was really all that you needed.

"Mmmh…"

You sighed as you pulled back for air, but quite frankly, neither of you very much wanted to part.

It only took a few moments before he was kissing you, and you were kissing him, and your fingers had nestled into his hair as his trailed down to slip beneath the band of your underwear.

"So wet, baby," he murmured against your lips, a trace of a laugh in the way he spoke.

You smiled, and tilted your head, allowing the kiss to grow from soft, and lazy, to a little bit deeper.

"Mhm. S'for you," you whispered.

And a low groan tore from your throat as his fingers sunk into your heat, the feeling oh-so-familiar, and oh-so-welcome. And with how many times you'd done this, the stretch felt nothing more than you were used to—but it was delicious.

Your legs spread in an immediate response to the intrusion, allowing him to move a little easier. Separating from the kiss for a mere moment, your head turned back, just in time to see him pull out and discard your panties completely, just in time to watch the way he thrust back slowly into your walls, the squelch of your wetness so deafening in your ears.

"Holy shit," you whispered—and it was almost ridiculous how you sounded, you'd think, so much so that you had to let out a breathless laugh as you turned back to him.

He raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Yeah? Feels good, huh?"

"Real fucking good."

It was his turn to laugh a little. "Yep. I totally love when you're honest."

Before you could lean back in to kiss him, however, he helped you sit up with him, moving both his hands back over your waist to grab a handful of the flesh of your ass.

"Easier this way," he murmured.

And he kept a hand behind you while the other moved to your front, resuming steady thrusts that had you slowly grinding into his palm.

"Nnnh.. If you keep teasing me like that, m'not going to wait any longer for more than just your fingers," you rolled your eyes.

But he was right; it was easier like this. He had his other hand running up and over your entire body, slipping back beneath the sweater before dipping down over your ass—it was easier for you, too, finding the momentum to guide the movements of his fingers in your cunt, urging him to rub against your sweet spot.

Even as your lips found each other within moments yet again, busy with all these sensations and the wet noises that you felt were echoing in the living room, your hips continued to move—a little up-and-down motions, riding his fingers, very evidently craving more.

"Thaaaat's it," he groaned against your lips, finding time to speak praises of approval in-between kisses and gasps for air. "Get off on my fingers, baby. Y'feel good? Hm?"

You no longer had the mind to reply to him.

Kisses turned to whispers of dirty words into your hair, your face buried into the crook of your shoulder. Muffled moans, movements more frantic…

And then you said it.

"Need you," you gasped, feeling him hit that spongy spot once more. "Need—hngh—need you, Caleb, need more—"

Another kiss over your head. "Shh, shhh. I'll give it to you, baby. Just a little more…"

"Mnh, but! I don't— don't want to—haah—like this—"

"Relaaxx, princess. Breathe, alright?"

He was so deep. So good. So—

"Not this, I wanna cum on your cock…"

You felt him smirk.

It was almost as if he'd been waiting, again, to hear it—to push you enough to have you snap, have you disregard that little tiny bit of pride you still have left.

"Yeah?" he grinned, and he pulled his fingers out of you with a little schlick.

You nearly whined at the sudden emptiness, so much so that even without his fingers to ride, you couldn't help but grind over his bulge.

"Baby," he laughed. "Are you that excited?"

Your movements made it difficult for him to deal with the tie of his sweatpants.

"Just… just hurryyyy!"

"Geez. I've spoiled you, huh, princess? Got you craving my dick this much?"

With a huff from you, he lifted you up just enough to push down his pants and take out his cock. A couple of pumps over his length and you sat yourself down, taking him in with a long, drawn-out moan.

"Oh, fuck, baby."

He was no different.

"Who's—haah—who's the cocky one now, huh?" You managed to smirk at him, despite the way you were panting, despite the way you could feel him, warm and pulsing, reaching deep into your pussy.

You were so full.

"Shit, baby, just move—" He choked on a moan, almost instinctively thrusting up into you.

You fell forward into his chest with a startled cry, but it was enough.

The feeling was not one you were keen on letting fade, and your hips began to move. Slowly, at first, almost as if getting a feel for it again, before moving faster. And he was groaning, and hissing, cursing into your ear, trying to keep his voice down, restlessly roaming his hands over your body. It didn't take long before he was pressing you tightly against him, your bodies moving in a synchronized push-and-pull.

Your hips moved up and down, hands gripping his arms to steady yourself. "Caleb—!" Your moans mixed with broken words, broken syllables of his name, higher-pitched than usual as you worked yourself over his cock.

You could see another one of those shit-eating grins making its way to his face, all flushed and heedy with lust, but you couldn't be bothered to care about it anymore.

"You should see yourself, princess," he panted, moving his hands to grip your cheeks tightly and earning a delicious gasp from your lips. "Shit—fuck—can't ever get enough of you, baby, you're so fucking perfect f'me."

"Mhm? Feels good? Feels… Feels…! Nngh—Caleb! F-feels so good—"

Your movements began to turn frantic.

Grunts and groans mixed in with the slap of skin against skin as you bounced yourself over him, his own thrusts meeting yours with a fervor. There was the heady scent of sex in the air, and you could barely even remember what you'd planned to do here in the first place.

"M-mmhn—! G-gonna cum!" you whined, breathless.

You were panting, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders, trying with every ounce of your strength to keep yourself consistent despite the building tingling in your stomach, despite the tensing in your limbs.

"Cum for me, baby."

He leaned in to nip at your earlobe before trailing his lips over to yours, swallowing that loud cry of his name into a deep, filling kiss.

It was messy.

Your body slumped against his as the pleasure crashed over you in waves, body trembling almost helplessly in his arms. Your chest heaved; you could feel the warmth spreading inside you as he spilled his cum inside within seconds of your orgasm, and you whimpered—you felt so sensitive.

"Shit… Fuck… I know, baby, I know, I know, you did so well…" He cradled you in his arms, voice low and hoarse. In that same comforting manner, he had himself rubbing your back soothingly, giving you a little bit of a squeeze. "Shh, it's okay. Breathe, princess, breathe."

And it would be like this.

You stayed still in that same position for a moment, Caleb whispering soft little words of reassurance, sweet words of praise as he peppered kisses all over your face.

"Satisfied, on a scale of 1-10?" he chuckled a little, stealing a kiss from your lips as you looked back up at him.

Your eyes softened.

"You're kidding, right?" you murmured. "A 10. With you? Always a 10."

"I mean, yeah, I'll bet. You were practically crying about how good my—"

"Caleb!"

You'd reached to grab a nearby pillow and promptly shove it at his face, but it did little to stop the laughter from bubbling from his throat.

"Okay, okay! But! C'mon. Nice start to your weekend, right?"

And this time, you grinned.

"…You know what? Yeah, you're right. Always feels like a Sunday with you."

taglist!!  @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @cordidy @raiyuxa @xai-mery @radiantbrilliance @pikachuzhc @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[stevie-petey]

blurb idea? stug isn't having sex yet obviously but maybe dustin walks into bug's room while they're lying really close on her bed reading together and he flips his shit like OH MY EYES and they're like ...boy we're literally just sitting here. and steve's over for dinner and dustin refuses to look at him and claudia's like ok what's up and you're like literally nothing he's so dumb

i love dramatic dustin with stug so YES !!

enjoy <3

"so jo just rejects laurie? like, flat out, brutally rejects his marriage proposal after years of being best friends and basically already in love?"

"i mean, there are some nuances youre missing, but yeah. basically."

"what kind of sick book is this?" steve shoves the book away from him in disdain. his nose is scrunched up, offended, and you refrain from kissing it all better.

you fix a piece of hair thats fallen in his face as he lays next to you on your bed. "jo and laurie are tragic, i'll admit." your words are rough from reading for hours. steve always insists that you read the books for him, he claims youre better at it, but you know its because he loves the sound of your voice. "but its what makes the book so wonderful, dont you think?"

steve rolls his eyes at you. "your obsession with tragic romances concerns me. what, are you going to reject my proposal next? make me beg on my hands and knees for you?"

"technically you already did beg on your hands and knees for me-"

"wait, you didnt say youd accept my proposal."

with a sly laugh you clear your throat and bring the book back up to your face, continuing to read. steve stares at you as you read the heartbreaking words aloud, his eyes travel the length of your neck and the slope of your nose. the scene youre reading breaks his heart more than hed care to admit. youve been reading little women to steve for a few weeks now. he really thought itd be jo and laurie in the end.

lost in the way you voice lilts between jos soft rejection and lauries broken pleads, neither you nor steve hear dustin calling for you until its too late.

the boy barges into your room and nearly shrieks his head off when he realizes steve is in bed with you. "my eyes!" he cowers to close the door, covering his face with his grubby little hands.

"dustin!" you shout at him, throwing a pillow at him to shut up him. hes being dramatic, you and steve werent even doing anything. your boyfriend is lying next to you while you read him a long and horrendous breakup scene from a classic book. if anything, the two of you should be doing literally anything else.

steve rolls off your bed and lands on his feet in one fluid motion before running over to your brother. grabbing dustins shoulders, he shakes him to try and stop the screaming. "hey! alright, can you quit it?"

"no! you were-you-my eyes!" dustin scrubs at his face with utter turmoil. he hadnt even known that steve was in his house. normally the asshole makes his presence known, stops by dustins room to say hi. its why he barged in in the first place.

had dustin known hed walk into steve in your bed, he wouldve brought a goddamn flame thrower with him instead.

"we were reading, you moron!" youre next to steve now, desperately trying to quiet your brother before your mom asks whats going on. hes already bad enough, but if your mother finds out steve had been in your bed as well, thered be permanent hearing loss.

"read at your desk! thats what those damn things are built for!"

steve shoves his hand through his hair, agitated. "oh, and who are you? the desk police?"

"'desk police'?" you stare at the teen, disappointed. "thats the best you could come up with?"

"im under a lot of pressure right now. cut me some slack."

"i want you dead."

both you and steve turn to dustin, shocked and disturbed by his words.

"okay, thank you for sharing your feelings, dustin." awkwardly you pat his shoulder. at least hes being honest and open with you. "not necessarily what i wanted to hear, but im proud of you for sharing-"

"he wants me dead and youre commending him?"

"not now," jamming an elbow into steves side, you shut him up and focus on your brother again. "now, is there a reason you barged in or can we go back to reading?"

dustins grimace on his face seems permanent now. his nose is slightly upturned, his eyes distrusting. narrowing them at you, he takes slow, calculated steps back out of your room. "dinner is ready," he says tersely before leaving entirely.

"well, this will be fun." steve sighs, and you nod grimly.

dinner is not fun.

dustin doesnt look steve in the eye the entire time. he sits as far away as possible from the teen. when asked to pass the bread, dustin pointedly ignores steves request and throws a roll to you. the bread nearly knocks your mothers water over and shes finally had enough.

"goodness, dusty! what has gotten into you tonight?" she exclaims, settling the glass that threatens to spill.

mouth full of mashed potatoes, his eyes light up evilly. before he can even think about opening his obnoxious mouth, you kick him underneath the table. your foot connects with his shin and dustin wheezes mashed potatoes all over his meal.

"dusty!" your mother gasps, alarmed. she looks at you in concern while steve snorts into his glass of water. "what is going on with you three?"

"nothing, mom." grabbing the bread that was thrown at you, you pick it apart with your fingers and make a delighted sound. "dinner is lovely tonight, by the way."

"i love what youve done with the mashed potatoes, mrs. henderson." steve is quick to add, jumping in. he makes a whole show of scooping up the mashed food and shoving it into his mouth, moaning in pleasure. "is there garlic in this?"

your mother, always easily distracted, claps her hands with joy. "why, yes! i wanted to try something different. do you really like it?"

"i adore it."

later that night you find yurtle the turtles mealworms underneath your pillow.

[orionremastered]

I’m actually so obsessed with the way you write the boys like🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

why thank you anon this made me smile

and because im nice (school hasn't started yet)

Masterlist

911 Texting the Batboys

Dick Grayson

Exactly one minute after you send him the text, the living room window shatters into a million pieces across the floor. Nightwing calls your name, voice raw with concern, before surveying the state of your apartment.

"Oh," you say quietly by the kitchen, staring at the broken pieces of glass across the floor and then at your boyfriend who stares at you, chest heaving as he looks at you, confused.

"You're not hurt?"

"Well— I— the pan caught fire. I put it out though. I'm not burnt, I promise."

He looks at you doubtfully, storming over before pulling you into a tight embrace. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"Don't be. It's okay. Don't be scared to text me if you're in any trouble. Promise you'll let me know if you're in danger?"

"I promise."

"Good," he mutters, though more as a reassurance for himself, resting his head on yours and breathing deeply.

"You can let me go now," you point out gently.

"Two more minutes."

Jason Todd

When your boyfriend takes longer to show up than expected, you start to get confused. And cold— it's the middle of winter and your hoodie was stolen while you were out with your friends.

And that wouldn't be a problem if you're car wasn't starting either.

The familiar roar of a motorcycle engine catches your attention, dark shape speeding down the street towards you. It skids to a stop, the tires screeching in order to slow.

"Hey," you say with a wave and a smile. "Car broke down and—"

Red Hood rushes off his motorbike, carefully grabbing you to look you over in the empty street. When he finds nothing, he sighs. "Thought you'd been kidnapped. Couldn't find you at your apartment."

Without waiting for your reply, he shrugs his brown leather jacket off his shoulders and places it around yours, helping you put your arms into the sleeves despite you protesting that you can do it yourself.

"Let's get you home," he says gruffly, aching to hold you in his embrace when no one can see. "I'll call in a favour to get your car fixed."

Tim Drake

You don't think you'd ever been more embarrassed in your life when you realised you forgot your phone, which has your card in the case, at home.

Tim rushes into the store, having tracked your location immediately and driving well over the speed limit, still in his pristine CEO outfit.

"What's wrong? Is someone bothering you?" his eyes dart around the store, taking everyone's face and putting it to memory.

"No... I forgot my phone and card. And I have a full cart of groceries. Tim, I can't put this all back, that's weird."

"Why didn't you ask me to pay before?"

"I— hmm. I'll do that next time."

You lead him to the counter were the high school aged cashier gapes at the richest man in Gotham who pays for the food without even glancing at the price.

Damian Wayne

When you texted 911 to your boyfriend, you certainly weren't expecting this. Somehow, in the five minutes of the text being sent, he managed to gather ten League of Assassins members that now stand in your suddenly very cramped apartment, sharp katanas at their side.

"Are you alright?" Damian himself has two katanas, glinting in the terrible lights. "What's wrong?"

It seems so stupid now with ten assassins behind him. Maybe you shouldn't have texted after all. "Look, it's really—"

"I don't care how little it is," he states, "You texted me for a reason."

"I... I thought I could hear someone talking and moving in the walls."

All eleven of them tense, exchanging glances. Damian gives them one sharp nod and the assassins begin locating any hollow spaces in the walls, tapping their knuckles and listening closely to the sounds.

"وجدت ذلك," one says after a few seconds.

"Don't worry about it habibi, we'll tear the building apart and find them," Damian assures you, pulling you into his arms.

[aemondloverr]

𝐀 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐭. 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒 • 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 • 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: At breakfast, an important event is announced, and you and cregan spend time in Wintertown, just outside the wall.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: A bit of gossip, bratty brother, denial of feelings, and a jealous man.

𝐰𝐜: 6.9k💀

𝐀/𝐍: I think I'll take a bit of a break after this just because I need to lock in for school :( NGL this is a boring ahhh filler chapter but it’s necessary for pacing☝️🥸 I PROMISE. Or else it would be going way too fast. Trust me. I want it to get freaky already too. There ARE some cute things in there tho.

This may come as a surprise or not a surprise but I feel like I should’ve said this earlier 😭…This series is a Medium-burn. Not SLOW but to get to the best parts, you gotta make it to the end😔

This was originally going to be a one shot and then I thought up a backstory. Then it was 3 parts. And that was a GREATLY underestimated number. Now it’s going to be 6 or 7 parts now so uh…😃 yea…

p.s I did NOT proof read

❆ • ❆ • ❆ • ❆

𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐩:

You don't want to fall back into old patterns, let alone complicate your current situation. It hurt you to hurt him the way you did but you have to be strong...and yet, deep down, something inside you yearns for the familiarity of his presence, the warmth of his smile, the feel of his touch…

You lift the lid of the food he brought and your eyes land on a small piece of paper tucked among the food. It's a note, penned in a neat and familiar handwriting. The ink is dark, the words written with a strong and decisive hand.

As you read the words, you can almost hear Cregan's voice in your mind, the deep timbre of his tone echoing in your ears.

It reads:

"I hope the food is to your liking. Sleep well, Princess..."

C.

A note so kind yet you were so cruel.

Tonight was not a night you slept soundly, but rather, a night you pondered your words.

❆ • ❆ • ❆ • ❆

 The next morning…

Cregan rises from bed and quickly begins readying himself for the day, thinking of the promise you made to spend the day with him. After some time, he finishes preparing and makes his way through the castle, heading towards your chambers, his heart thumping in his chest. A part of him feels wary of what mood you’d be in today.

Dismissive? Angry maybe? Would you make snide remarks or would you be on the more kind and tolerating side?

There is a knocking heavily on your door and you’re awoken. All you can do is groan in bed.

“Who is at my door this early?… its just past first light...”

Cregan’s smile widens at your groggy grumble from within the room and he responds, his voice holding a hint of amusement.

"Who do you think?"

“Just…wait outside. I’m not yet decent.”

He steps back from the door, leaning against the wall as he responds.

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

He can hear the faint sounds of movement coming from within the room- sheets being thrown aside, bed creaking lazily, your tired groans and mutterings. You walk over to your wardrobe and take off your shift, quickly replacing it with a dress. It’s the thickest you have, though not near thick enough to shield from the biting cold of your room after the fire in the hearth is burnt down to just embers.

After you put on your dress, you attempt to put on your corset by yourself, but to no avail. As Cregan waits outside, his ears perk up, hearing the sound of you struggling with your corset. His expression turns to one of slight amusement, a hint of a smile on his lips as he imagines you cursing and mumbling, trying and failing to lace it yourself.

“I don't know why I bother with this stupid, silly thing..." you mutter.

His amusement only grows, and he has to bite back an actual chuckle.

"Cregan?! Could you grab someone to help me, quickly!”

Cregan’s ears perk up again as he hears you call from within the room, and he pushes off from the wall and walks up to the door, responding in a quiet voice.

“Sure, but can’t I just-”

He was thinking of coming in and helping you lace it up himself but he cuts himself off as he realizes how improper that would sound, color rising to his cheeks. He clears his throat and responds again, trying to sound casual and nonchalant.

“Never mind that. I’ll- I’ll go get someone.”

He quickly locates a handmaiden or a maid in the nearby corridors and explains the situation and she nods and follows him back to your room, her own mind undoubtedly wondering what's going on.

As Sara, the handmaiden, walks in, she finds you standing there in your half-laced corset, a look of relief on your face. She can't help the small smirk that graces her own lips as she looks at you, no doubt imagining all the things that could have led to this situation - a hasty morning tryst, possibly a stolen night of passion… but none of those are the case of course.

"Thank you Sara…"

She smiles at you as she takes over the task of lacing up your corset, pulling the strings taught, cinching it tightly.

"My pleasure, Princess. Anything else you need this morning?"

"Could you brush my hair...? Style it perhaps, the Northern way?"

You want to dress the traditional style of their people if you want them to have a reason to favor you. Sara grins and nods quickly, already reaching for the brush on the nearby table.

"Of course, Princess. I'd be honored to style your hair. Just have a seat, and I'll have you looking Northern in no time!"

You take a seat on the chair in front of the vanity, and Sara moves behind you. She gently runs the brush through your hair, as she gathers sections, braiding and twisting it in a traditional style, the ones great ladies of house Stark wore.

Sara hums gently as she works, her fingers moving with practiced ease. Every now and then, she glances up to study her work in the mirror, making sure the braids and knots are in their rightful places.

"You have very lovely hair, Princess. It's a pleasure to style it."

"Thank you it looks lovely."

She finishes the last braid and gives it a final twist, securing it in place with a small pin. She steps back, a satisfied smile on her face as she admires her work, eyes sweeping over you from head to toe and taking in your now-styled hair and laced corset.

"There. All done, Princess. You look like a proper Northerner now!"

You stand from the seat, pleased with the finished product, smiling ear to ear.

"Absolutely gorgeous," she murmurs, her tone filled with approval and appreciation.

She can't help but smile back at your radiant expression, feeling very satisfied with her contribution to your appearance. However, a knowing sparkle in her eye betrays the fact that she's just dying to ask...

"May I ask who it is you're getting all dolled up for, Princess?" Of course she's caught right on.

"Dolled up? Why this is quite casual, is it not?" You get up, crossing the room to put on the pelts too large, given to you by Cregan the previous night.

Sara giggles and rolls her eyes, unable to hide her knowing smile. She follows you across the room as you move to don the pelts, eyebrow raised in slight suspicion.

"Oh, of course. I can definitely see how getting your hair braided and fussing over a corset can be 'quite casual', how silly of me Princess!"

"Oh quiet about him. I'd just like to be presentable, in case townspeople see me..."

It's quite an obvious lie. And Sara is clearly not convinced by your flimsy excuse, but decides to tease you a bit more anyway.

"And does this have anything to do with the fact that Cregan is waiting outside, looking oh so impatient to see you?"

Right on the money.

"No...A Princess should look the part at all times, is all..."

"Of course, Princess..."

"Id planned this outfit before I came North. So yes it's pure coincidence."

No royal ever packs all of their own bags for long trips so clearly, another lie. She looks you up and down one more time, taking in the complete picture of you in your Northern-style hair, corset, and pelts.

"Well, I'll admit, Princess, you look absolutely stunning. I don't think Cregan will be able to keep his eyes off you." She winks playfully, laughing at the heat creeping onto your cheeks.

"Sara Shh!! He's right outside the door!!"

Sara laughs and puts a hand over her mouth, trying to muffle her giggles and responding in a hushed whisper.

"You're right. Wouldn't want the poor Northern Lord to overhear us speaking of his obvious affections, now would we?"

"Are you trying to give me away? Quiet!”

Sara laughs again, unable to contain her amusement at your flustered state. She nods and responds in a mock-serious tone.

"As you wish, Princess. My lips are sealed. I'll refrain from mentioning the Lord of Winterfell's pining heart. At least when he's close by."

Sara watches you leave, and she can't help but feel a pang of sympathy and amusement at your flustered state and denial, knowing full well the truth. You like him just as he likes you, though, you hide it better than he does.

"Have a lovely day, Princess," she calls out after you, tone dripping with sarcastic sweetness.

 You just roll your eyes as, you often do.

Sara laughs heartily at your eye-roll, enjoying that she's managed to ruffle your feathers a bit. She gives you one last wink and watches as you walk out of the oom, eyes following you all the way to the door.

Cregan is leaned against the wall, waiting patiently for you to finish getting ready. He hears the sound of the door opening, and he looks up, his eyes widening when he sees you emerge from the room. His gaze slowly trails over you, taking in the sight of your braided Northern-style hair and the fit of the corset beneath the pelts that seem to swallow you whole.

“Shall we go to breakfast?”

He nods, unable to tear his gaze away.

"Yes...yes, of course. Then to the market after." he manages to choke out, voice slightly hoarse. He walks next to you in silence, his eyes fixed straight ahead. His heart is pounding in his chest, his stomach tied in knots. He can't really bring himself to speak, mind still filled with thoughts from the previous day. 

He glances at you from the corner of his eye, but  your expression is neutral, tension in your shoulders. The silence hangs heavily between the two of you, an unsettling reminder of the argument from yesterday.

The silence is awkward and neither of you want to talk.

Cregan steals glances at you as you walk, and unbeknownst to you, he's still fixed on the way youv'e readied yourself this morning.

Thats how she'd be dressed of she was the lady of-

He stops the thought in its path before he could even finish it, taking a deep breath as to not get flustered.

As you descend the stairs of the great keep and step out into the yard, eyes turn towards the two of you. A few Stark guardsmen standing nearby do a double-take at your appearance. Some of them whisper to each other.

Cregan notices the looks and glares, a hint of possessiveness flaring in his eyes as he guides you towards the entrance of the great hall.

He keeps one hand on your lower back, fingers splayed over the pelts. The noise and activity of the room die down somewhat as the people inside catch sight of you, many of them whispering and murmuring amongst themselves.

“Remove your hand please…” You whisper.

He looks a little hurt, a tinge of disappointment in his voice when he responds, trying his best to act unbothered.

"Sorry. I...sorry. I forgot myself for a moment…"

To your surprise, everyone in the hall stands in your presence.

“No no please, be seated.”

The Lord opposite you hurriedly stands to pull out your chair, practically tripping over himself to do so. The rest of the Lords and Ladies take their seats once more. He's clearly a little flustered by your appearance, eyes roaming over your face with a look in his eye that you cant quite place.

Cregan watches the lord, his jaw clenching ever so slightly. He can feel his possessive nature flaring up again, not liking the way the he's shamelessly ogling you right before his eyes.

Not that cregan hadn't been ogling you himself as well.

"Thank you. you are too kind!”

The Lord blushes slightly at your words, his eyes still taking in the sight of you in pelts and braids. He stutters, his voice hoarser than before as he responds..

"It's- it's nothing, my lady. It's an honor, truly, to host a guest as fine as yourself here at Winterfell."

“It’s my honor entirely. Winterfell is very beautiful!”

The Lord practically beams with pride at your compliment. The few other lords and ladies gathered at the table also nod in agreement, clearly flattered that a Southron princess is complimenting their home.

Cregan can't help but roll his eyes at the lord's reaction, silently amused and somewhat annoyed at the man's obvious attempts at currying your favor.

Sounds of forks and cutlery clattering against plate fills the hall as everyone eats.

Maybe you could use this to get back at Cregan…

The idea forms quickly in your mind, a small smile slowly spreading across your lips. You play into the lord's ego, leaning in slightly and giving him an appreciative smile, your eyes sparkling with charming sweetness.

"You flatter me, my Lord," you murmur, your voice lower and velvety-soft.

"Could I ask you something, princess?"

"Yes?”

He leans in slightly closer, as if sharing a secret, his voice lowered to a whisper.

"I do hope you won't think me too forward in asking, but...do you have plans for this evening?  

You take a moment to pretend to gather your thoughts, letting the Lord bask in his excitement and anticipation. You glance across the table, meeting Cregan's eyes for a split second before looking away again.

“I do not. Why do you ask?”

The Lord is clearly flustered by your closeness and your sweet demeanor as he responds.

"Hunting parties today, my princess. We- we have a few set to head out to the Wolfswood a few hours before noon."

“For what purpose? Is there an event or something of the sort?” 

"Yes, there is a feast this evening in your honor. It's tradition here to hunt when there is a...guest of importance on an extended stay at Winterfell. It is considered good fortune and-"

Cregan cuts in, unable to refrain from interrupting once more, his eyes fixed on yours as he adds,

"And an opportunity to display one's skills to our guest. To prove one's worth, as it were."

Just the response you wanted. Jealousy.

“That’s a similar tradition we do in the South also, except it’s for the King usually.”

The Lord nods in agreement, his heart practically beating out of his chest, bursting at your apparent interest in him.

"Quite true, my lady. It is a custom that goes back centuries here in the North. And we take great pride in honoring our guests appropriately."

“Well let us make this a bit more interesting for the people, shall we?”

The room falls silent as you stand up and tap your glass gently, all eyes turning to you, including Cregan's. The lords and ladies at the table watch you expectantly, wondering what you're about to say.

“Good morning, lords and ladies. I’ve been made aware of the feast to come this evening in mine and my brother's honor,”

Nods and murmurs of acknowledgement come from the other lords and ladies around the table. They all seem eager to know more about the upcoming feast, clearly looking forward to the celebration.

“I’d like to pose a challenge for those participating later at noon…Whoever brings me the largest game shall win my hand at the dance this evening!!”

There are gasps and low murmurs of surprise from the lords and ladies around the table at your declaration. Many of them are clearly taken aback, and a few look even envious at the prospect of being your partner at the dance.

Now that’s something worth raising a glass too.

A few of the lords and ladies around the table immediately raise their cups, clearly excited and motivated by your offer. They all toast to the challenge, already making silent plans on how they can outdo the others and win your favor.

You take your seat again as the lords and ladies around the table continue their conversations, most of them now talking about the upcoming challenge and the possibility of winning your favor at tonight's feast. Cregan sits across from you, his eyes fixed on your face, a mixture of irritation and disappointment in his gaze.

You question him, feigning obliviousness.

“What’s wrong?”

Cregan's eyes narrow slightly as he looks at you across the table, his jaw clenched.

"You know exactly what's wrong. You're offering your hand as a prize to the first hunter to bring you a big stag. What game are you playing at?"

“It’s just a bit of fun, lighten up!”

Cregan's eyes flash with irritation as he grits his teeth, clearly not amused by your nonchalance.

"Just a bit of fun, is it? Offering yourself up like a prize to be won? Can't you see how dangerous and foolish you're being?"

“Do not argue at your own table with your guest. It is impolite and rude, Lord Stark”

Cregan's jaw clenches tightly at your rebuke, a flicker of anger in his eyes. But he holds his tongue, reluctantly swallowing back the retort that nearly spills from his lips. He knows you're right, but it doesn't make him any less angry about the situation.

He forces a tight smile.

"Yes, of course, my princess. Forgive me for my lapse in courtesy."

You begin to talk to the lord beside you again. Cregan watches from across the table as he continues to talk your ear off, his eyes fixed on you. It takes every ounce of self-control he has to bite back the words that threaten to spill from his mouth, resisting the urge to snap at the man for hogging your attention.

He stabs at the food on his plate like an angry child.

“I did not catch your name. Lord…?”

The Lord blushes slightly at your question, clearly flattered that you're showing an interest in him.

"Oh, forgive me, my princess. How foolish of me to forget such an important detail. I am Lord Harwin Flint, the son and heir to Lord Wylis Flint of Widow's Watch."

“Quite a long way you are from Widows Watch.”

"Indeed, my lady. Winterfell is not the closest place to my home, but the Starks are an ancient and respected family, and I’d feel honored to be in attendance at such a splendid feast."

“Of course,” you smile before taking another bite of your food.

*****

Soon after, breakfast concludes.

The lords and ladies around the table begin to stand up, signaling the end of the morning meal. A few of them cast glances in your direction, clearly still thinking about the challenge you proposed earlier.

Cregan stands up as well, his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on you as you rise from your seat to leave the great hall. He walks beside you in silence for a few moments, eyes occasionally stealing glances in your direction. The air between you is thick with tension, though he makes no attempt to break it yet.

“What is it?"

Cregan glances at you, surprise briefly flitting across his face that you seem to have noticed his subtle glances. He considers you for a moment before speaking, choosing his words carefully.

"That young Lord Cedric. He seemed rather... taken with you."

His tone is neutral, but there's a hint of jealousy or possessiveness in his words.

"Well I am a Princess so..."

His jaw clenches slightly at your words, his jealousy evident in his expression. His eyes flash with a hint of anger as he responds.

"True, but the way he was looking at you... it was more than simple admiration."

He pauses, his voice dropping lower as he continues.

"He didn't just see a princess. He saw a woman to admire and possibly court."

"Oh nonsense-"

"No, I'm serious. I saw the way he kept glancing at you, the way he blushed like a boy when you thanked him. He was smitten, Princess."

He stops walking, turning to face you directly, his expression dark and intense.

"You can't tell me you didn't notice."

“Were you not staring at me too…?” I tease “for quite a long time might I add…”

"I was merely observing... as any lord does when a royal guest is in his domain."

He takes a step closer towards you, his gaze locking onto yours.

"And you're deflecting. We're talking about Lord Cedric, not me."

“Observing…I see…” I say sarcastically.

Cregan's smirk widens at your sarcastic tone, obviously amused. He takes another step closer to you, reducing the distance between you even further. His eyes never leave yours as he speaks, his voice now a low rumble.

"Oh, yes, 'observing'. I was observing your every movement, your every expression, your every reaction to Lord Cedric's attention."

He leans in slightly.

"And I didn't like what I saw."

"My conversation with Lord Cedric is not for you to like or dislike. Matters of the Princess of the realm are no matters for that of the Warden of the North"

"You're right. You are the Princess of the realm, and I am the Warden of the North. However, that does not mean I cannot have opinions or feelings regarding your interactions with my men."

He pauses, his gaze flickering over you for a moment before he continues.

"Lord Cedric is young and inexperienced. He doesn't appreciate the significance of your presence here- "

"We will speak of this no more. I did not come here to listen about how you don’t like when lords fancy me.”

Cregan's expression tenses at your firm tone, his jaw working with suppressed frustration. His eyes linger on you for a moment before he responds, his voice taut and strained.

"As you wish, Princess. But just remember, the North is a place of bluntness and honesty. Here, we say what we mean and mean what we say."

He takes another step towards you, his eyes not leaving yours as he continues, his voice low and intense.

"And I mean it when I say that I'm not fond of seeing you with other men."

You sigh, annoyed and walk away.

Cregan watches as you walk ahead, hands balling into fists as he tries to control his emotions.

He quickens his pace to catch up with you, strides long and purposeful, closing the distance between you in just a few steps. When he reaches your side, he reaches out and gently grasps your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

You turn abruptly.

Cregan's grip on your arm tightens for a moment before he releases you, his eyes locking onto yours. His expression is a mix of anger and something else – something you can't quite place, but it makes your heart beat a little faster.

"You can't just walk away from me like that."

“Then walk faster.” You pull your arm away.

For a moment, he looks as though he's about to grab your arm again and pull you back, but he restrains himself, letting out a frustrated huff instead.

"So, you're going to act like a petulant child now?" He asks, his voice laden with sarcasm.

"I am simply protecting my sanity and I will not allow you to destroy it. Not again."

Cregan's expression darkens at your words, his jaw tensing as he recalls the history between you. His eyes narrow, the memory of past hurts and disagreements stirring up his anger.

"I destroyed your sanity? Pray tell, how I managed to do that?" he retorts, his voice sharp and filled with bitter sarcasm.

“Can we not talk about this right now? It’s far too early in the morning.”

Cregan lets out a frustrated huff, his patience clearly wearing thin. He takes another step towards you, closing the gap between you even further. His gaze is intense and unwavering as he responds, his voice low and filled with an underlying hint of anger.

"You can't just bring up such a serious accusation and then refuse to elaborate. You're acting like a child."

You stop in your tracks suddenly. “You will do well to remember who you are speaking to. I’m here because I have to be, not because I want to. So save your interrogation for a later date.”

Cregan stops walking as well, his eyes narrowing at your response. His jaw clenches as he bristles at your words, his anger flaring up once again.

"And you would do well to remember who I am as well," he retorts, his voice filled with a hint of condescension.

"I am the Lord of the North and the Warden of this castle. You may be a princess, but you are a guest here. It would do you well to remember that, and show me the respect I am due."

“I don’t owe you anything-“

Cregan's anger spikes at your impudent response.

"You don't owe me anything, huh? You come into my castle, eat my food, expect me to house and protect you, and you don't think you owe me anything?"

“I didn’t ask you to-“

"I offered you my hospitality, and in return, all I ask is a little respect."

You take a breath, sighing because you know he’s sort of right. He is providing you. But it wasn’t your choice to come here in the first place.

“Fine then if you’re so desperate for it” you mutter, just to shut him up.

He crosses his arms over his chest, his stance still tense as he responds, his voice now calmer but still laced with a hint of sarcasm.

"Oh, gracious of you. I didn't know asking for basic decency was such a challenge for a Princess such as yourself."

You simply roll your eyes as you always do.

As you continue walking through the streets of the Wintertown, the people pause in their activities, their heads turning to watch you as you pass. Some stare openly, their curiosity and surprise evident on their faces as they whisper to each other. Others bow their heads reverently, their gazes filled with awe and admiration.

Cregan walks beside you, his gaze constantly flickering from you to the people around you, watching their reactions with a mixture of pride and possessiveness.

There was no time to keep glowering when you’re supposed to be looking the part so you quickly change your expression.

You give a polite smile and the people respond to your smile with smiles of their own, some even offering timid waves or friendly greetings as you pass by.

Your friendly waves and acknowledgments only seem to deepen the impact you have on the people around you. A few of the women even whisper amongst themselves, their eyes flicking towards you with a mixture of envy and admiration. Men watch you with respectful gazes, clearly noticing your beauty and regality.

The aroma of various stalls fills the air – the scents of freshly baked bread, exotic spices, and roasting meats.

Your irritation slowly starts to subside as you take in the vibrant atmosphere around you. Children laugh and play nearby, their youthful energy filling the air. The smell of street food beckons your taste buds, and the scent of fresh herbs and spices hangs heavily in the air.

Cregan glances over at you, noticing the way your face softens as you watch the children play. Though he tries to hide it by quickly redirecting his gaze.

Pussy.

Merchants and vendors take notice of you and Cregan and offer you various goods and trinkets, hoping to win your favor. Some present intricate jewelry, others, beautifuly crafted knives, and some offer the finest produce from local farms. They seem eager to please you and you cant help but take their gifts and buy their many things.

And Cregan, well he cant help but find your kindness towards his people a desirable trait, So much so, he almost forgets the reason for his foul mood.

Your mood has brightened with your now-many things in your hands, and you stumble upon a dress. Its made of fine materials, intricate details and its black and rich red color catching your attention. Cregan follows behind you as you approach it,

"Ma'am, who made this magnificent gown? It's just lovely! and these gloves as well? The shoes even? Theres a whole set?!"

The shopkeeper, ancolder woman witha friendly smiles, steps forward to greet you. She beans at your compliments, face lighting up with pride.

"Thank you Princess," she says. "My husband and I are the seamster and seamstress who crafted this dress. The finest kmaterials money can buy. The gloves and shoes are his work also!"

"How much for the whole set?" You see another fabulous dress "Oh and that one there too,"

The shopkeeper moves quickly to fetch the dresses and present them to you, holding them up so you can see the front and the back. "Excelent choice milady," she says witha smile "Teh set of the first dress, with the gloves and shoes will be...lets see...Thats 215silver stags." She tunrs her attention to the second dress. "As for the second dress, that one will be 150 silver stags."

You think on it for a second before deciding. You practically throw your bags onto Cregan to take out your coin purse. "Oh would it really kill to buy a few more dresses? I think not. I'll take the other two dresses there and the necklance and the-" At this point, youre buying out they entire stock.

He eyes widen and she quickly fetches the other dresses, the necklace and a few more acessories, presenting them to you. "Anything else you'd like...?

"One last thing! The-" Cregan gently puts a hand on you arm, interrupting you sentence. He casts a glance at the growing pile of bags and items you are to purchase on the shop's counter, obviously overwhelmed.

"No more," He groans with a hint of annoyance in his voice. Hes already suffering enough from the many bags hes having to carry. "Youv'e already got enough to fill a small carriage-"

"Here hold this."

Cregan lets out an exasperated sigh as you hand him yet another item to carry, casting a tired glance at you, eyes silently questioning why you need so many thing.

You turn back to the Shopkeeper. "Im afraid this is all I can get...for now. If it were upto me id buy your entire stall, but i must heed the advice of your Lord before he collapses."

He smile faulters when Cregan shoots her a stern glare, warning her not to test his limits any further, sighing as he adjusts the bags in his arms once again.

"Lets go already," He orders firmly, gestering for you to walk ahead.

You give 4 gold dragons "For you and your husband. May You make the most beautiful dresses."

The shopkeepers eyes widen in disbelief, mouth agape as she looks at the hefty payment in her hand. She looks up at you, eyes brimming with tears and gratitude. "Thank you, milady," she stammers, ver voice trembling slightly. "You are too generous. i will pass this along to my hisband, and we will surely amke many more beautiful dresses in your honr."

"I do hope so. Good day to you miss." You take the box and teh small bag with the jewelry meanwhile Cregan is still annoyed about being relegated to the status of your personal pack horse.

Except you don't ride him like one. I mean, maybe you will-

He hadn't realised that something as mundane as shopping to brighten your mood so much. But he can't deny the genuine happiness on your face and he find himself unable to stay anooyed for too long. He casts a sidelong glance at you, observing your joyous expression as you carry the dresses and other items.

By the time you reached the gate, cregan almost couldnt hold it any longer. He looked positively frazzled and his breath comes in short puffs, face flushed with exertion.

You still stride ahead and he follows after you, steping heavily, silently pleading for compassion an undrstanding. You seem oblivious to his struggle. That or, you simply dont care. People give amused glances, finding the sight of him lugging your items aound quite comical.

The guards at the hate cant help but let out quiet chuckles, amused by the sight of Cregan struggling and he asks them for help. He feels a pang of embarassment at having to ask for their assistance.

"Of course can give you a hand." He hoists them over his shoulder and his friend still fights to keep a straight face, the supressed laughter threatening to burst out at any moment.

Creganhands over a couple of bags and boxes, grateful for the assistance, but still feeling a bit humiliated at the specticle hes become.

Reaching the keep, you hold open the door. "Up to my chambers, thank you."

Cregan nods mutely, body aching and cheeks flushed from exhertion, and he looks completely drained. He struggles up the stairs, following you to your chambers.

"Just a little more ways away."

The guards enter your chambers aswell, still trying not to laugh. You let out a little chuckle yourself and its not helping at all.

Cregan casts a resentfull look as you do so. He sets down the bags and packages, back aching. He lets out a sigh of relief and rolls his shoulders in attempts to loosen the tension in his mucles.

He collapses into the chair beside your bed to relax his body

"Uh, excuse you."

"What?" he asks with a tinge of irritation

"You can relax in your own room."

He rises from the comfortable chair, departing to retire to his own chambers. He had hoped for a moment respite after carrying all of your things, but he cant blame you for wanting him gone.

you walk towars the door, opening it for him. Hes muttering under his breath, dicontent quite obvious in his tone. Something about "Women" and "Too many bags" as he walks past you.

After he laves, you begin to undress in order to try on your newly purchased ones.

That same moment Cregan leaves your room, Jace emerges from his. He observes his disheveled state, out of breath and hair ruffled. Jace then unexpectedly pushes open the door without knocking, anger evident on his face.

You almost yelp, covering your body with your dress. He takes in your half state of undress and it only makes him angrier.

"What the FUCK Jace?"

"What the fuck to you too, what were you doing with Cregan??" he asks, voice coming out in a low, heated tone.

"What are you talking about?? You cant just barge in here like that!"

His expression hardens, shoulders tese and jaw clenched. "I saw him leaving your room. You wanna tell me what the hell is going on between you and him?"

"Lower your tone, nothing is going on, he only-"

Jace scoffs, disbelief evident on his face. "Only what? Why was he in here in the first place?"

"First of all, dont speak to me like that young man. You speak with respect or your turn your ass right back around and leave. Secondly, He'd carried all of my bags from the market for me. and turn around"

He just rolls his eyes, and faces towards the door so you can put your dress back on "He carried your stuff from the market? And that warrented him being in your room?"

"I asked him to bring it to my room so yes."

He found your explanation unsatisfactory and crosses his arms. "And that required being in your room while your'e undressing? Really??" he turns back around

"Do you even hear yourself right now? Why would I have undressed while he was in the room-" The realization of what he was implying suddenly dawns on you.

"I thought..." he trails off awkwardly.

Oh gods he think we really- "I didnt fuck him if thats what you're asking, alright? Gods..." your cheeks heat up at the words coming out of your mouth. Well thats definately something you never saw yoruself saying.

You might even wish that what you said wasn't true.

"I wasn't saying you did-"

"Yes you were."

He lets out a sigh and reluctantly meets your gaze. "Alright maybe I was, but can you blame me? seeing him come out of your room while you were undressing... what else was I supposed to think?"

"Youre supposed to think rationally. If you wanted me to send you home so badly, you coudve just said so."

His expression falters and his features soften as he realizes the weight behind your words. "I dont want you to send me away," he says quietly, voice barely above a whisper, "Im just..i dont know, i overreacted."

"You keepdoing this and im suck and fucking tired of it. I shouldn't have to threaten you for you to behave yourself..." you scold him with a disapointed tone. You thought he'd fixed his out of line behavior.

His shoulders sag, expression one of embarassment. "I overstepped I'm sorry..."

"Sorry isn't enough, this needs to change sooner or later. If you have concerns you let me know, respectfully."

Jace nods, his head lowered in genuine remorse. "I will..." he promises.

"Go to your room."

He turns to leave, shoulders slumped in shame.

"And on more thing."

"yes...?"

"There is a feast tonight. I expect you to be cleaned up and presentable within the next few hours."

He lets out a small sigh. "Alright. I will. Anything else?"

Knock next time. Please." He nods a third time and shuts the door behind him as he leaves.

"Gods that boy..." you mutter to youself. You make sure the door is locked this time as you undress again. "Hes so rash sometimes..." Youre still replaying the scene in your mind.

You continue to undress, shedding your outer layers until youre left in just your undergarments. Your top exposes a generous amount of skin and leaves very little to the imagination.

Knock knock knock.

"What do you want now Jace???"

There is a moment of confusion as you assumed it was Jace on the other side of the door. You call out again, your question lingering in the air, until the person on the other side replies.

"It's Cregan."

oh. "Yes?"

to your surprise he asks, "May I come in?"

"No i am not decent yet... what is it?"

cregan sesitates for a moment, clearly thrown off by your responce. he lets out a small cough, trying to maintain his composure. "Forgive me, I didnt lean to intrude. I...I just wanted to check in on you." He talks in a hushed tone now. "I heard you...arguing with Jace."

"Shouldn't you be resting?"

You let out a sigh and so does he.

"I was going to, but then i heard the comotion in your room and i wouldnt help but worry."

"How much did you hear...?"

He pauses for a moment, mind racing as he tries to decide whether or not to be truthful. You were worried he heard the part where you said-

"I overheard most of it..."

Fuck.

"I know. it wsnt a plesant conversation to listen to." but it was pleasant to think about fucking, even though you know you shouldn't.

He shakes his head to get the thoughts out of his mind. They're becoming dangerously more frequent for both of you.

"Well how much is 'most of it' ?"

Cregan leans against the doorframe, voice more quiet as he recounts what he had overheard. "You scolding Jace for barging in and jumping to conclusions about us... And.." Oh no here we go. He hesitates for a moment, voice getting even quieter.

"I heard you discussing the...less the appropriate implications he made about our...activities" He blushes furiously and awkwardly clears his throat. You silently cover your face on the over side of the door.

"Im so sorry you had to hear that..."

He shakes his head, trying to wave off your apology with a nonchalant gesture. But the blush on his face betrays his true feelings. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Its...Its alright," He assurs you "I shouldn't have listened in the first place."

"No we were too loud. Thanks for checking in on me." You reply

Cregan nods, his embarassment slowly fading as your words sink in. "Of course,"

You silently scream and punch the air, sursing Jace in your mind. Thinking back to those...activities, you blush too. You know he heard what you said.

"Okay.. Well um...Good luck on the hunt then. Go catch something big for me."

"You know I will," He replies, trying to sound confident. "I'll bring home the biggest buck you've ever seen."

"If you say so..." you taunt.

He grins, conficence rising at your doubtful tone. He cant let that go unchallenged. "Oh I do say so. I'll get that dance, just you wait."

"Off you go then."

As Cregan heads off to the stables, he can't shake the feeling of your prescence from his mind. The thought of you and the implications made still lingered, stirring up a maelstrom of emotions within him.

Maybe the things you said you hadn't done with Cregan, you wish you had.

He really just doesn't want any other lord to end up dancing with you. The image of another man, holding you in his arms makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. His mind fills with the image of him dancing with you and his heart quickens.

But then his thoughts take a more intimate turn and his imagination spirals out of control. Him holding you close, bodies pressed together, an embrace that borders on indecent. He can almost feel your warmth just thinking about it.

Cregan knows he shouldn't be thinking such things but he cant help it. That image of you, so close yet so far from his grasp, is consuming his mind and burning in his core like a raging fire.

❆ • ❆ • ❆ • ❆

𝐀/𝐍: SUMMARY: THEY JUST KEEP GETTING LONGER AND LONGER. I'm sorry for the boring filler guys (and for dissapearing) 😔 see you at part 4 when the feast happens. At the end of the feast things get a little heated xp

Don’t be afraid to leave me a suggestion in my inbox or the comments. And if you want to be tagged in the next chapter, just sign up for my tag list. The link is at the top of the post!

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[evandsolo]

Home is where you are. | ft. Choi San.

choi san x reader genre : fluff, established relationship, slice of life words : 1,790. trigger warning : none ! if you see some, please tell me. plot : it's your first anniversary with the love of your life. you just spend the night together. side note : i just love San so much, i wanted to write the cutest thing with him ! I hope I gave him justice !

It’s already been a year. The best year of your life if you had to be fully honest. A year since he said he wanted to spend the rest of his life by your side. You knew San for a long time before, but could you imagine how amazing your life would be today ? You’ve never felt so loved before, so understood, so cherished, even though his work was taking a lot of his time. He always made sure to have enough time to spend with you.  

“I can't wait to be home and to be with you again” he said on the phone last night making your heart flutter so fast. “I Can't wait either. Will you be home when I get back from work?” You asked, hoping for a positive answer “I'm landing in the morning. I'll probably have to make a stop by the agency before heading home but I'll be there. I promise.” 

Your day was full of meetings and appointments, but you loved your job so much. You had a lot of responsibilities and you've never felt so accomplished in your life ever before. You kept on checking your phone every time you had the chance to. You wanted to make sure your boyfriend arrived safely, but the text did not arrive as soon as you hoped it would. He was supposed to arrive in the morning. He always texted you when landing. He probably had forgotten, you knew he had a lot of things to do. Or maybe the plane was running late. For a second you thought about checking his flight, just to reassure yourself. But it'd be a little bit extra. You let the hours pass by, until it was time for you to go home. Still no news of your lover. You can’t help but start to worry. It’s not usual for him to remain silent, especially when he comes home from a long trip.  

You hoppe in a taxi trying to call his best friend, who also became yours over time. “Yeah ?” answers Wooyoung’s voice on the other side of the phone. “Good lord, you’re alive !” Relief can be heard in your voice. “Of course I am ! Are you okay y/n ?” Okay ? How can you be ? “ I haven’t heard from San since you took off the plane, is he still with you ?” you ask. please please please, tell me he is with you. “No, he left the agency a few hours ago, but I'm pretty sure his phone died. You don’t have to worry, y/n” You try real hard to hold back your tears. “Yeah, I hope you’re right. Thanks Woo.” You finish, hanging out the call. Why hasn't he reached out to you yet ? On that day that seemed so special for the both of you. 

Your way home is full of questions and worries. You try to call him up but you end up again by falling on his voicemail without even a tone. Wooyoung was probably right after all, there was no need to be worried. 

You unlock your door and suddenly your heart stops in your chest. A soft dim light is diffused in the whole apartment, and the floor is covered in red petals. The room is filled with the sound of your favorite melody. All the pieces of the puzzle are assembled and you finally realize what was going on. Your eyes are starting to fill with tears as you move into the room. He stands up here, behind the central island of the kitchen. His eyes finally reach you and you can see the widest smile on his face. “ Hi gorgeous !” He says, in his joyful voice. 

Your bag falls on the ground, and you run into his arms, burying your face into his chest. You were so worried, that seeing him here was the biggest relief ever. “I’m happy to see you too, baby.” He chuckles. “ I missed you, and you didn’t send any text. I thought something bad happened to you.” You admit, keeping your face close to his heart so you could hear his heartbeat. “ My phone died before I left the agency and I didn't have any battery left in the other one. But I had to come home fast.” You sigh in relief. You finally took a second to reach out to his lips and pressed yours against it. “I missed that.” He says, when you step back. 

“What were you cooking? It actually smells so good !” You ask, leaning on the counter to see into the pot. “A Sundubu-jjigae. Your favorite.” He answers, putting a kiss on your temple. “You really make my life feel like a dream, Sannie.” You were so lucky to have him. The sound of your favorite jazzy melody echoed in the room. Everything was so damn perfect. “ Would you like to dance with me ?” He asks, behind your back. “Here ? But the kitchen is way too small, we don't have enough space to dance.” You say, pointing at the room around you. “We won’t be fancy waltzing for sure, but I just want to have you close and swing to music.” He puts his hands around your waist and you wrap your arms around his neck, and starts swinging softly around the room. Soft light coming from the little spots and candles around the room made it even warmer. That was comforting. You always dreamed of those kinds of moments, but never thought it could be real. But here you are, slow dancing in the arms of the love of your life. “ I’m so thankful for the life we share.” You whisper, eyes riveted in his. He was gentle, understanding. The most caring and beautiful soul you’ve ever seen in your life. He makes you turn around yourself and you can’t help but giggle. “I’m thankful for you, y/n” He murmurs in your ear. keeping you close to him. The music changed, and sadly you stopped the moment. 

It was time for you to freshen-up a little, as the dish was finishing to stew. You had a few minutes before you. Once you reach the room, you find a giant box on the bed. The bow on it doesn't fool you. You also had a present prepared for your lover, but this ! This was quite wild. “Love ? What's in there?” You shout from the room. “Open it, you'll love what's inside !” Curious, you pull the piece of fabric to open the box’s lid. It’s absolutely full of things, and every little detail makes your heart warmer. Twelve items, for twelve months of love. A giant bear plushie, some candies, your favorite perfume, a very pretty bracelet. amongst everything there was a silky sleepwear set. Two cats were embroidered on the top, right on the heart position. It was the cutest thing you’ve ever witnessed, and it was quite special to you. It was personalized and showed how much attention he puts in everything you said or shared this past year. You took the time to admire every single item, before heading to the bathroom for a few minutes. 

“So ? You like… Wow ! Hello Baby.”  He says, appearing in the door frame, making your smile become wider. The way he was looking at you, could make you fall in love again. “How did I get that lucky ?” He asks, as you turn to him. He had so much love in his eyes. That's something you have never witnessed ever before. And the way he looked just like a prince out of a fairytale. His half buttoned shirt, rolled out sleeves, perfectly adjusted to his good amount of muscles. He couldn't look more handsome than this. “ You ain’t bad either, love.” You answer him with a little voice both amused and lascivious. You loved the way his honeyskin stood out even more thanks to his white shirt. He probably would be even more handsome without, but you’ll keep that for later.

You grab the small box on the dresser before heading towards him and placing a kiss at the corner of his jaw. “Here’s yours. Open it.” You invite him, a little smile on your lips. You waited for this for days. You knew he'd be so happy.  “What’s in there ?” He says, looking at it closely. But it was just a box, no brand, no distinctive signs of anything. “Just open it !” You press him with all your impatience. You couldn’t wait any longer. He opens the upper part, just to discover a gorgeous beige necklace. “Babe ?” He says, a little bit lost, when taking the object in his big hands. You can’t help but giggle. “You should just read the paper in it, before looking at me like that.” He took it with concern, and read the lines you handwritten him earlier on. 

Hi ! It’s me, Byeol. 

Apparently, you told mom you were hoping to grow the family one day. So here I am the first addition to our family. I may not be a human baby, mom says it’s a little bit too soon, but she said to me you’d be the happiest kitten dad in the world.  

I can’t wait to meet you ! You and mom will come and get me tomorrow morning. 

See ya, Byeol ! 

“Is it real ?” He said, lifting his head up to you, his eyes sparkling with joy. You nod your head quickly, happiness reading in your features. “But you said because of your allergy we couldn’t have cats !” His cautiousness made your heart flutters. “It’ll be okay, I've discussed with doctors and I was able to be desensitized, so we will be able to accommodate her.” You didn’t tell him anything to keep the surprise total. And it worked just as you expected. “ You did that for me ?” He asks, wrapping his giant’s arms around you. “ Yeah. You wanted to have a cat for so long now. I knew you’d be happy.” He leans to you, to kiss you deeply. “Do you know how much I love you ?” He says against your lips, making you smile as you step back a little. “I’d probably love you more after the diner. Because you cannot imagine how hungry I am.” You say, leaving his arms to run to the kitchen. 

From the hallway you can hear him yelling with joy and saying "Guys! I’m going to be a cat daddy!" Probably a voice message he sent to his best friend, impatient to share the big news. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

Life was so good by his side, you hoped it would remain like that, forever. Even how fast, crazy and amazing it is. It’s just as perfect as you expected it to be.

I really hope you appreciated it, do not hesitate to reblog or to leave a note i’d love to read all about your thoughts. ✿