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ichorai · 3 months ago

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i'm not made by design ; part two ; jaime lannister.

part one.

pairing ; jaime lannister x stark!reader (she/her pronouns)

synopsis ; wolves and lions tend not to be friends, much less lovers.

words ; 9.0k

themes ; heavy angst, action, fluff, (actual) enemies to lovers, slowburn

warnings / includes ; war/murder/injury, this part covers a few events from a feast for crows, politicking, mentions of incest/rape, foul language, animal cruelty, a lot of generally terrible things going on but what else can you expect from asoiaf, lots of dreams, jaime is a morally grey delight in this part yes, they are being HAUNTED by each other!

a/n ; wow, it's been a long time coming! ok i know this part is quite short and doesn't yet get to where you guys probably want to be, but tumblr has a max limit of 1k text blocks per post now (boo everyone throw tomatoes) so i'll be posting the rest of the story in smaller chunks! expect the third part to be coming soon, and i promise part three will start off exactly where you guys want it to be :) also if any of you can spot any sort of parallels in this part i will kiss you on the Mouth .

main masterlist. read on ao3!

The wintry breeze tousled the two young Stark girls’ hair, whispering frost into their ears. The horse the two were riding whickered as it galloped through the snow. Lyanna was exclaiming something, something lost to the wind, and you only held all the tighter to her from behind.

“Lyanna, I want to get off!” you yelled, tugging at the furs draped over her. “Lyanna, let me off!”

Your older sister laughed some more. Not wickedly, but more out of fond amusement. She slowed the horse down to a languid canter, then to a trot, and led the stallion towards the shade of a tree. There was snow blanketing the branches and the grass which crunched beneath her weight as she swung down. She looked up at you with her large grey eyes, crinkled at the corners as she grinned boyishly. “Were you frightened?”

You held your arms out for your sister to help you down. Only at eight years of age, you were still of short stature, and Lyanna had picked a rather tall horse. She had always been a voracious rider, even more so than all your brothers.

“I wasn’t frightened,” you indignantly replied as she wrapped her arms about your waist and pulled you down onto the ground.

“Right.” She began to stroke the stallion’s mane, his hooves pawing at the snow. “Do you not trust me, then? Did you think I would ride us right off the edge of a cliff?”

“No,” you replied, scuffing your boots against the snow. “I don’t like riding from behind. I can’t see anything from back there.”

There was a moment of silence before Lyanna reached over to ruffle your hair—an action that both she and Benjen often did. Eddard and Brandon often spared you from such irritations, but being the youngest of the family, you were always doted on and hovered over and babied.

“I don’t trust you riding a horse as big as this, so I suppose we can walk back. It’s not too far.”

“Why can’t I just sit in front of you?”

Your sister stuck her tongue out at you. “We’ve got something in common, you know. What makes you think I like sitting behind?” When you glowered at her, she went on, “Let’s get a move on. Ned will complain that I’m stealing you away—especially since he’s just returned. He misses you. Your letters grow briefer and briefer, he tells me.”

You were none too happy about trudging through the snow, but you voiced no complaint and walked alongside your sister, who tugged at the horse’s reins to follow along.

“He’s always going back and forth,” you said, a small frown marring your features. “I wish he would just stay home. The Eyrie couldn’t possibly compare to Winterfell.”

“You know him.” Lyanna’s dark hair was speckled with snowflakes as she turned to you. “Studious and dutiful as ever.” Her voice went an octave deeper and she pulled a mockingly somber expression in a startling resemblance to Ned. You let out a small laugh at that.

“Last time he visited, you were betrothed,” you said, your voice shrinking to a whisper.

The amusement died away from her eyes, turning stony. “Yes. Though I doubt it will be a fruitful union.”

There were a few more seconds of silence as you considered her words, not entirely sure why she would think so. Robert was loud and robust the few times you’ve met him, but you knew little else of Ned’s friend.

“Do you think he’ll bring a wedding proposal for me this time?”

Lyanna’s features contorted with surprise. “Why? Do you want to be married?”

Your cheeks flushed with heat, despite the frost settling over your skin. “Well—if Father says I have to, then I will.”

“I didn’t ask about Father,” replied Lyanna. It was hard for her to believe that you were only eight sometimes. You always tried to act older than you actually were. “I asked about you.”

Winterfell grew larger and larger as the two of you drew nearer to the castle gates. Home.

“I don’t think I’d mind getting married,” you told your sister, eyes downcast and brows pulled together in thought. “As long as I get to stay in Winterfell. I never want to leave.”

Lyanna smiled, all teeth and cheek. “Wouldn’t that be a dream?” she sighed.

The rest of the short journey was made in relative silence, and you left your sister and the tall stallion by the stables (not without her ruffling your hair one last time), and you dashed up to the castle chambers where you knew Ned would be.

He carried no proposals, only a few books he thought you would enjoy and a warm hug.

You awoke with a startled gasp, kicking at the thin blanket that laid over your form. It took you several moments to realize where you were. A boat. Rocking steadily, back and forth and back and forth. You rubbed at your sleepy eyes whilst drawing your knees up to your chest, still blinking away remnants of your dream.

Lyanna. Ned. Still young, still practically children.

One of the tongueless little birds stood in the doorway. It was an ominous sight. Her eyes were large and unblinking, glinting like glass balls within her small head. In her hands was a wooden bowl, full of what looked to be a poultice of sorts. She drew nearer, and the heavy scent of honey and flowers reached your nose.

“What is it?” you asked the child, a coil of pity winding in the pit of your stomach. You knew they couldn’t respond—Varys had stolen not only their youth, but their voices, too. “Is this food?”

A foreign delicacy of sorts, maybe? An Essosi dessert you weren’t familiar with, perhaps. It looked quite unappetizing, though you knew you had no room to complain.

The girl shook her head, then pointed to your hair, which was pulled back into a braid. You understood from just that, and nodded your thanks while accepting the bowl from her. This was hair dye, made from a blend of flowers and other substances you couldn’t name. You supposed it was a necessary precaution—you had an unmistakable Northern look to you, and would surely stick out like a sore thumb here down South. Dyeing your hair and cutting it short would help to somewhat conceal your identity. Short enough, and perhaps you could even be mistaken for a man, at least at a first quick glance.

The little girl left a dagger and a small, rusty, hand-held mirror by your legs and disappeared from your cabin in complete silence, as if she was never there in the first place. They were like ghosts, this crew of children. Everything was so quiet all the time, with only your thoughts and the ocean waves to accompany you.

You unbraided your hair and shook it loose. Hair carried memories. Memories of Catelyn showing you how hair was done in the Riverlands, memories of Benjen tugging at your hair to tease you, memories of Jaime commenting on how your hair was a lovely shade of animal waste. That had been grumpily remarked earlier on, when you and Brienne were escorting him to King’s Landing. Before Locke and Roose Bolton and… Robb.

You propped up the rust-spotted mirror against the wall and scooped up the dagger. The reflection that met you was only barely recognizable. You looked so tired. With a resigned sigh, you began to slice off your hair with the sharp blade. Handfuls fell to the ground. You sliced and sliced until your head felt light and your neck was bare. It’s never been this short before. If Benjen were here, you knew he would surely laugh at you. Brandon would comment that he never knew he had another brother.

Yes, you thought. I can surely pass as a man if I wanted to. Though you certainly shared many features with your sister, you hadn’t the wild beauty Lyanna had. No, you were far plainer than her, colder and sharper than she was. Nothing worthy to note—though your father, quiet as a man he was, once told you that you looked the most like your mother out of all your siblings. That had made you feel more beautiful than anything.

Plain was good, though. Plain meant no eyes would be drawn to you.

You weren’t too sure what color your hair would turn with this dye. You lathered the thick paste over your newly-cut strands, massaging it into your scalp. Your nose twitched from the strong odor—not entirely unpleasant, but also wasn’t a delight breathing in.

As you rinsed your hands of the dye, your skin was left with a slight copperish stain. You stared at the color with sad eyes—would your hair turn out red like Cat’s? Like all your nephews and Sansa?

And, like a fool, you wondered if Jaime would like short, red hair. He wouldn’t care much, you found yourself thinking, perhaps wishfully so. Did you want him to care?

Two children brought you food—rations of dried meat and crusty bread. You wolfed half of it down and handed them the other half. Though they couldn’t speak, the children made for pleasant company. Or perhaps you were just lonely. It was hard to tell.

After eating, you rinsed out the hair dye and wrung the water out with a cloth over the edge of the ship. The cloth came away stained bright red. You retreated back into the cabin to look at the mirror.

It was a shock to see your hair resemble Catelyn’s. It was darker than hers had been, but the auburn, orange-red sheen to your head was unmistakable. You looked like a Tully! You nearly laughed with amazement, but any sort of joy was short-lived, and you lapsed into more silence.

You laid on the rickety bed, thinking of Winterfell and your now-scattered family. Robb and Ned and Cat and the younglings Bran and Rickon might have been taken from you, but… you still had family left. Sansa and Arya could very well be scattered somewhere in the Seven Kingdoms, alive and breathing. Jon, at the Wall, as well. At least, you hoped. It’d been so long since your time sending letters to the young boy. Was he hurt that you stopped sending them so suddenly?

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, and you drew your knees to your chest, willing yourself into a restless slumber.

Days came and went. The little children were growing more agitated, fluttering about the boat with wide eyes and quick feet. They tossed nets overboard into the water—masquerading the boat as a fishing vessel, you assumed. There were many ships out and about Blackwater Bay. Some carried banners of houses loyal to the crown, and others were bannerless. Pirates or fishermen, you couldn’t tell.

So far, all other ships have passed by quietly. But the risk grew with each day. You knew Tywin and Cersei would likely order more fleets to be sent after you, Sansa, and Tyrion. The chances of you being found on water would grow each day—and you couldn’t risk becoming a prisoner again. Jaime wouldn’t be able to help you escape a second time, not with Cersei around.

At least on foot… you had somewhere to run. Being on sea left you nothing but water for miles on end.

And so you told the silent children to let you off at the nearest fishing port. Some part of you wondered if they would object, but they stared at you with round, moon eyes and nodded. You didn’t know whether to thank or damn Varys.

The ship docked in the dead of night, half a mile from Duskendale. One of the little children handed you a map and tapped at where they’d leave you. A pouch full of food rations, more dye, and other necessities was left on your cot. You thanked the child endlessly, who seemed not to hear your gratitude and scuttled away. You grabbed the pouch, the dagger, the bow and quiver full of arrows Varys had presumably left you, and slipped into a large cloak.

Land felt like it was lurching beneath your feet once you stepped onto the pier. Your body was used to the swaying motions of the waters, and would take some time to adjust. You gingerly shook one of your booted feet. The children watched you disembark on wobbly legs, but you dared not wave back at them.

Despite it being nighttime, the docks were busier than ever. Fishermen and merchants littered all over the shore, some selling products and entertainment and others working hard to gather more to sell before day broke. You steeled yourself with a deep breath, and made your way through the busy crowd.

You began trekking your way North towards the Eyrie, the hood of your cloak pulled over your short, red hair.

It took nearly three weeks for you to reach the Crossroads. Nightfall was nearing when you strode in front of the inn, the sky a mirage of bleeding reds from the setting sun and moody greys from the rainclouds. The air smelled of mud and rusted metal. It was certainly no grand castle, but a modest bed was better than sleeping on the cold dirt you’ve been curled up on the past several days. There was a young girl and a dark-haired boy by the front that looked somewhat like your memory of Robert Baratheon twenty-some years ago. At first, the boy denied your request for shelter, but reluctantly clammed up once you offered him some gold, worth more than it ever could in times of war. The two let you pass with not a word more.

Greeting you inside was a ruckus of loud children. Parentless, you realized, as there were none to be seen within the inn’s walls. An inn full of orphans, you thought with a touch of sadness. In that regard you supposed you shared a similarity with all of them.

Just as you slipped onto one of the creaking wooden stools to momentarily rest your weary feet, you overheard a voice. A familiar voice. Low and raspy and unmistakably—

Brienne, you thought, wide-eyed. But she wasn’t alone. A young boy was by her side, yes, that was Podrick, and an older man—a knight, by the looks of his armor, and an even older septon with grey hair and a hunched back. What a queer party Brienne was leading. She was supping on porridge and salted cod.

The impulsive part of you wanted to call out for her and rush to her side, ask if she had found any sign of Sansa, or if she had made any progress on her quest. Instead, you drew in a deep breath, and stood from your stool to take a seat across from Podrick whilst Brienne was busy speaking to the knight. The young squire made a half-gasping, half-choking noise once his eyes raised from the cup he was draining to your cold eyes, recognizing you immediately. You discreetly lifted a finger to your lips to silence him. His eyes went moon-round and he nodded once.

Brienne ignored the knight’s constant jabbering about lips and marriage and castles full of children, and turned to look at her squire in mild concern of him choking on a fish bone. But her eyes landed on you, and her mouth dropped open.

She was very near to bowing her head and saying, “My lady.” But she didn’t, knowing it would draw far too much attention, and stared at you with utter confusion plain over her features.

“Hello,” you said to her. “It has been a while, Brienne.”

“Do you know each other?” the knight bumped in. He spooned some porridge into his mouth.

“Brienne and I were childhood friends on Tarth,” you lied. “I was the son of a cook. A nobody in truth, but Brienne was kind enough to befriend me.”

Brienne was no good at lying, you knew this, but she nodded along to your story.

The knight looked you over. “A little runt boy and a grand beast of a girl. The two of you must have been a sight.”

You could only offer him half a shrug at that.

“What brings you here?” Brienne carefully asked you.

“Someone helped me leave,” you responded with equal caution. Avoiding the knight’s curious eyes, you leaned closer to Brienne. “Is there a place for us to speak with fewer naked children milling about?”

Being around Varys’ little birds for long enough taught you that children were oft smarter than they looked. Somewhere to your right, you saw one of the little orphan boys stick a nut inside his nostril.

Brienne nodded and led you just outside, away from prying ears and eyes. There, you told her everything. From Tyrion’s trial, to Oberyn’s death, to Cersei demanding you to be locked up or killed (whichever suited her taste that day), to Jaime helping you escape, to the birds on the boat, to your journey here. In turn, Brienne told you of her lengthy journey and what she had found on the way. Mostly nothing, lots of war and skirmishes. Sandor Clegane was dead, but Arya had been with him soon before that… not Sansa. The thought of Arya somewhere out there alive, sparked dangerous hope within your chest.

“Varys says Sansa is in the Eyrie, masquerading as Baelish’s bastard daughter.” The thought revolted you. “But I do wonder if the Eyrie is a trap of sorts. I cannot trust Varys. He certainly is no friend of the Lannisters, but neither is he their enemy. For all I know, he may be conspiring with dragons and grumpkins.”

“Sansa would be safe with her Aunt Lysa there, right?” Brienne asked, though even she sounded doubtful of her own question.

“I can’t quite say,” you said, brows furrowed. “Lysa is an unpredictable woman. Frightened and secluded is never a good combination of characteristics. Even so, I doubt Sansa would make her way home up North without being intercepted. It wouldn’t hurt to check the Vale first.”

Brienne nodded solemnly. “We can make our way first thing in the morning. For now, you must rest, my lady. You must be exhausted.”

The sudden reminder of the limitations of your body made your knees wobble. The past few days had you running on little else than adrenaline, fear, and meager portions of salted foods.

“I missed you, Brienne,” you whispered, looking up at her. “I fear trusted friends are few and far in between in these times.” Not that you ever had many friends to begin with. Everyone had always been so afraid of you—something Brienne could relate to.

The term friend dusted pink over Brienne’s large, crooked nose and broad, freckled cheekbones. She was certainly not pretty, not by a long shot, but that was of no matter to you. She was the most beautiful blessing you could have possibly encountered—your chances of survival and finding Sansa were far better with Brienne by your side.

“I missed you, as well,” Brienne managed to choke out after many moments of stunned silence. She had never been good with niceties. “Podrick has been company enough, but the boy is young and easily frightened.”

“I’m frightened, too,” you admitted. “One would be a fool not to be, with enemies at every turn. Young, however, is a trait I have long outgrown.”

Brienne looked up at the night sky. “Youth was a curse on me. I always looked older than I was.”

“Me, as well,” you mused with a thoughtful hum. Memories of the lords and ladies living at Winterfell’s court whispering behind your back… sending you strange looks of distant pity… veering far out of your way in fear of you… it weighed heavy on you, especially in your younger years. “My anger has aged me a decade, I think.”

Before Brienne could respond, there came a commotion of noise. Men on horses, their hooves schlocking through mud and puddles. Instinctively, you drew the cowl of your hood up over your head. They are armed, these men, you thought with grim unease. And there were many of them, just above half a dozen. Far too many for you and Brienne to take alone.

Brienne drew in a sharp breath at the sight of them and unsheathed Oathkeeper. She stepped in front of you before you could even begin to react. The biggest man of the party was so hefty that his beaten horse buckled and shook beneath the sheer force of his weight. His pale face was torn and wept with pus and blood. But Brienne’s eyes were drawn to his snarling helm—with its dull metal nose and sharp teeth of steel. It was the Hound’s property but the man wearing it was certainly no Hound.

The sky grew darker and the storm clouds thundered up above. The young girl that had greeted you into the inn had slammed the door open, now holding a crossbow. Whatever she was screaming was lost to the rain and thunder.

“Loose a quarrel at me and I’ll shove that crossbow up your cunt and fuck you with it. Then I’ll pop your fucking eyes out and make you eat them,” raged the man, his voice nearly as loud as the booming in the sky. Your chest rose and fell in silence as you slowly reached behind you to unsling your bow.

“Leave her be,” called out Brienne, drawing their attention. “If you want to rape someone, try me.”

The outlaws laughed and chortled at that. One japed about fucking horses before fucking her. The rest of their words were unintelligible to you as you focused on drawing an arrow without pulling too much attention to yourself. It proved to be a difficult task when there were seven pairs of eyes trained on Brienne, and, consequently, you, as well.

Brienne said something you couldn’t catch, leaving the man with the helm fuming. He charged forward through the mud. Brienne shuffled away from you—she needed the man to come to her, but not to get too close to you. You were her priority now.

A song of steel screeched through the rain-torn wind as their swords clashed. Brienne managed to cut through the rags of his tunic and slash a gaping hole in his cheap chainmail just before she just barely evaded his swinging axe. The man was screaming expletives at her—whore, bitch, freak.

You nocked the arrow with not a second thought.

Then the drawstring was split in two and you were left with a useless bow. One of the outlaws had made his way to you whilst you were concentrating on the man with the helm—and broke your favored weapon.

“Shhh,” he crooned as he laid the cold, wet blade of the knife he used to cut your bow against your throat. “Enjoy and watch the show, boy.” He must have thought you were one of the orphans that lived here—and not much of a threat, considering he pulled the knife away from you and made a show of pointing it towards Brienne and her attacker. “It’s not every day you see a woman like her battle a man like him.”

You nodded, playing along. You still had the dagger you used to cut your hair tucked against your hip. It was a touch too dull for your liking, but it would have to do for now. You had no other choice. With the man’s eyes drawn back to their messy duel, you drew its blade and drove it forth, straight into throat. His arms flailed for a second before clawing at your face and chest. Pain bloomed over your skin. If you were bleeding, you couldn’t feel it—not with all the rain pouring over you. You savagely tore the dagger out from his throat and drove it through his chest again and again and again. From your peripheral vision, you could see Brienne parry over and over, stab this way and that—and finally skewer her longsword straight through him until its pointy end protruded out his back.

You continued stabbing the man until he fell to the ground in a limp, bloodied heap. Even then you didn’t stop—straddling his waist and bringing the dagger down in furious strokes. It occurred to you that the other men would be upon Brienne a second too late—when you swung around, she was swarmed by the rest of them.

“Eddard!” she called, immediately halting you in your assault on the long-dead outlaw. It took you a moment to realize that she was addressing you, not wanting to call out your actual name. “Run! Run, now!”

Two of the outlaws were coming towards you.

“Brienne!” you yelled just as one of them sliced a cut through her shoulder she couldn’t properly roll away from. The rest of your protests caught in your throat when you watched one of them—one with wild eyes that had irises too small and teeth filed sharp—dive forward onto Brienne, sending her crashing to the ground. He bit a chunk of her face right off.

More men surrounded her. Punching, kicking, and slicing at your friend. No, you couldn’t see her anymore, where is she? Get up, Brienne, get up…

“GO!” you could hear her muffled voice scream. “NED, GO!”

No, no, no…

But if you stayed, you would be dead, as well. One of the outlaws made a grab for you, but you danced back. If not for the two slipping on the watery mud the very next second, you would have been dead.

With your heart beating in your throat, you turned on your heel and fled.

What was a kingsguard without his king? Jaime hadn’t been happy to be sent off to the Riverlands again—his place was beside Tommen. The boy-king with a golden crown sitting atop his golden curls. Cersei had insisted on him leaving, however. She’d grown more restless, more paranoid, more snappy since their father’s death. Lancel, his fool of a cousin, was now a religious fanatic who seemed to be intent on fasting until he passed from starvation, and had confessed his sins of lying with Cersei. Apparently he was not the only one. The Kettleblack brothers, the court fools, and hells, even serving girls, if word of mouth was to be trusted.

He felt a fool for ever loving her. And now she had kicked him out of the castle and away from his duty like one would a dirty mongrel.

Let her run the kingdom to ruin. See if I care.

Jaime wearily pulled at his face. That was the problem—he did care, and he knew he did. Cersei on the throne would mean little good for anybody. Not for his little brother, not for Brienne, not for you. He hoped you were safe, wherever you were.

The knight with one hand had had a long day, even though it was not yet nightfall. He had spoken to the Blackfish, Brynden Tully, in hopes of making some sort of negotiation. Perhaps goad him into a duel of single-combat and spare everyone of the grueling boredom that came with a slow siege. Expectedly, the wind-beaten lord took none of the bait and retreated back into his castle. Then, he had a short, but explosive council meeting with a few of the riverlords. They squabbled over each other like mindless birds over a piece of half-baked bread. Jaime couldn’t help but wonder what his father would do in his shoes, but was quick to relinquish such a thought. Tywin Lannister would never be in this position in the first place. And he was dead, which was perhaps the more important bit. After the council, he paid a visit to Ryman Frey, who was preoccupied fucking some whore who called herself a Queen. He had the big oaf dismissed for wasting so much time and resources, then named his son, Edwyn, command of the siege. He ordered young Edwyn to tell his great-grandsire, Walder Frey, to release all the prisoners for the crown. There was no undoing the Red Wedding, but he could, at the very least, attempt to rectify the troubles it left in its wake.

And now—now Jaime had one more person to visit.

It was his aunt, Genna Lannister, who had urged Jaime to do something about the sullen man with the noose loosely wrapped around his throat. In his state, he posed no danger physically. As a symbol, however, Edmure Tully, was a great danger to the cause. His cause? Jaime wasn’t entirely sure what he was fighting for anymore. It certainly didn’t feel like he was protecting Tommen from all these leagues away from him. His golden hand felt so very heavy strapped onto his stump—why did he still bother carrying it around?

Ilyn Payne made quick work of cutting Edmure Tully down from the wooden gallows he was perched upon. His hair, scraggly and red, hung in limp clumps over his dirtied, bloody face. Eyes deep blue, heavy with exhaustion. Jaime couldn’t help but think of Robb Stark at the sight of him. Gods, they looked alike.

Jaime had Edmure pulled through the tents and mass of Freys and other rivermen alike. One japed about a fish on a leash. A young man holding an instrument was amongst the throng of stares, and he ordered the singer to follow, and the lad obediently did. Onto a ferry they went, where the vessel would carry them to Tumblestone.

“Why?” Edmure has croaked, gripping weakly onto Jaime’s arm.

“Consider it a wedding gift,” Jaime replied.

The Tully eyed him warily. “A wedding gift?”

“I’ve heard your wife is pretty. She’d have to be, for the two of you to be abed whilst your sister and king were being murdered.” Jaime gave him a wry look.

“I never knew. There were musicians outside the bedchamber, I couldn’t…”

“I’m sure Lady Roslin made for a grand distraction, as well.”

At the crass insinuation, however truthful, Edmure frowned and pulled away from the knight. “They made her do it. She had little say in the matter. Roslin never wanted any of it to happen. She wept the entire night, but I thought…”

“You thought it was your rampant manhood that swayed her to tears? It’s a sight any woman would weep to, I’m sure.”

Edmure hung his head. “She is carrying my child.”

Your child or your death? Jaime thought, but tastefully decided not to say it out loud. Not yet. Instead, he asked, “Your king-nephew, Robb. Did he ever speak of his aunt before his end?”

Edmure lifted his gaze to the kingslayer at that. “The Bitter Wolf?” He thought for a moment, eyes distant. “No. She was hardly ever brought up. Robb didn’t like to speak of her. Not after her betrayal with your freedom. If he did speak of her, it would’ve been with Catelyn.”

“Who is now dead,” Jaime dryly said.

“Yes,” Edmured replied, letting his gaze drift down to the waters.

“Much help you are.”

“Where is she now? The Bitter Wolf.”

Jaime saw no point in lying to him. “I don’t know.”

The rest of the ferry trip was spent in silence.

Once at his pavilion, Jaime dismissed Ilyn, but kept the singer around. He ordered the servants there to boil bathwater for the honored guest, and had clean garments brought to him, along with warm food and sweet wine. Edmure still couldn’t quite comprehend why exactly Jaime Lannister was being so courteous, but couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of cleanliness. He clambered into the tub and started scrubbing the grime off his skin.

Jaime pulled up a chair to sit beside him. “After you’re clean and your belly is full, you will be escorted to Riverrun. What happens after that is up to you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” said Jaime. “Your uncle is old. Valiant, admittedly, but his best years are behind him. He has no wife to grieve for him, nor children to succeed him. A good death is the most the Blackfish can wish for. You, however, have many years remaining to you. You are the rightful heir to House Tully, not him. Your uncle serves you, by law. Riverrun’s fate is in your hands.”

Edmure blinked at him. “I don’t…”

“Understand, I presume? All that time with a rope around your neck must have strangled you of all your wits.” Jaime was growing impatient. “You must yield the castle. Yield, and nobody dies. The smallfolk will be allowed to leave in peace, or they may serve Lord Emmon and his lady-wife, my aunt. Ser Brynden will be allowed to take the black and join the Night’s Watch, with as many of the garrison that choose to join. You, as well. The Wall is in dire need of more hands, I’ve heard. If that is not to your tastes, you may go to Casterly Rock as my captive and enjoy all the comforts and courtesy that befits a hostage of your rank. Your wife may join you. If your sire is a boy, he will serve House Lannister as a squire. Once he comes of age, he is welcome to earn his knighthood, along with some lands I will bestow upon him. If Roslin bears you a daughter, she will be well dowered until she is old enough to wed a fitting lord. You may be granted parole, even, once the war is done. All this only if you yield the castle.”

The water steamed and sloshed in the tub as Edmure gingerly shifted about. “And if I will not yield?”

The servants and squires were all listening. The singer watched the two speak with wide eyes. No matter. Let them all hear it.

“You’ve seen our numbers, Edmure. The ladders, the towers, the trebuchets, the rams. If I speak the command, my cousin will bridge your moat and break your gate. Blood will spill. Hundreds will die, most being your own people. Your former bannermen will be the first wave of attackers, so you will start your day by killing fathers, brothers, and sons of men who died for you at the Twins. The second wave will be Freys, and there are plenty of them to spare. My westermen will be the third once your archers are exhausted of arrows and your knights so weary their blades will no longer lift from the ground. The castle will fall, and all inside will be put to the sword. Your livestock will be butchered. Your river will rot with corpses. Your godswood will fall. Your keeps and inventories will burn.” Jaime swallowed as he said the next words. It was true that he did not actually mean to do it, but a threat was a threat, and words are wind. “Your wife may have the child before any of this. You’ll want the babe, I presume. I can send him to you once he’s born. With a trebuchet.”

There came a lengthy silence. Edmure was still in the bath. All the servants and squires stared in horror.

Genna had told him earlier that he was not his father’s son. Tyrion was more Tywin’s than he could ever dream to be. Would her mind change if she had heard his speech? Was this what Tywin would have done?

“I could climb out of this tub and kill you right as you are, Kingslayer,” said Edmure, once he finally regained his wits about him.

“You could try,” Jaime calmly replied. The man made no move, so Jaime pushed himself back to his feet. “Enjoy your food. Singer, play for our guest while he eats. You know the song, I trust.”

“The one about rain? Yes, my lord, I know it.”

Edmure’s head swiveled between the singer and Jaime. “No. I don’t want him. Get him away from me.” The tub water sloshed some more.

“Why, it’s just a song, Lord Tully,” said Jaime, feigning innocence. “His voice couldn’t be that bad.”

The knight left his pavilion with the beginnings of Rains of Castamere playing faintly behind him.

The inns you came across the road were growing sparse. Many had been torched, ransacked, abandoned, or torn down. War left much of the Riverlands in ruins. Though you were none too happy about the state of the lands, pillaged, empty villages meant there would be fewer people loitering about, which was all the better for you.

You had managed to outrun the outlaws through the cover of the storm and ruins. It was only when the rain cleared away did you let yourself sit down and silently cry for Brienne. None deserved a fate like that. She was so undeniably good, more honorable than any other man you’ve ever met—and yet her face was torn apart and now she was dead.

Eventually, you made it out of the Riverlands and began to travel along the high road up to the Eyrie. It was the safest option to get there—the mountains were hardly on the table to walk through on your own, considering it was likely running amok with clansmen and thieves of all sorts. Even on the high road, the terrain was far more mountainous than the relatively-level grounds of the riverlands, and the incline noticeably steeper. You were traveling at a much slower pace than before, growing ragged and tired with shorter distances.

On the third day on the narrow pathway towards the Bloody Gate, you came across two men on a cart. Merchants, perhaps. You spied the stacked wine casks in the back of the cart, wondering if they were empty. Surely they must be, you thought. The Vale is not likely to make any wine of their own, not with mountains as sheer as theirs.

As their cart slowly rolled by, being pulled by braying donkeys, you overheard one of the men say, “A singer, it’s said!”

“A singer?” the other merchant echoed.

“Yes, a singer! They say he shoved Lady Arryn right off a mountain.”

Lady Arryn? Your ears perked up at that. Did they mean Lysa?

He glanced at his companion dubiously. “I heard she threw herself out the door once she confessed her love to him.”

“That’s nonsense, have you seen the way she grips that sickly whelp of hers? She would never throw herself to her death whilst little Robin lives.”

That confirmed it. Lysa is dead?

“If I had a son like that, I’d do the very same,” he grumbled.

“Wait! Good sers!” you exclaimed, turning back to hurry after the cart. The donkeys whined protest as they were pulled to a slow stop. They both glanced back at you with wide, curious eyes.

“Sers?” The one with mousy brown hair piped up with a laugh lodged in his throat. “We are no knights.”

“Apologies, it’s a habit now, I fear. I simply wanted to know—” You stopped in your tracks. “What were you saying about Lady Arryn?”

“She’s dead, she is,” the older of the two merchants told you. His nose was crooked in three different places. “Out the Moon Door—or off the mountain—she flew.”

You stared at them for a moment, trying to gauge whether they were being serious or not. Tall tales such as this were not uncommon amongst the lowborn. “And who now rules in her stead?”

“Little Lord Robin is young still—”

“And far too sickly!”

“—Until he comes of age, Lord Petyr Baelish is Lord of the Vale.”

Littlefinger. The realization dawned on you with great unease as you recalled his infatuation with your good-sister and his alliances with the crown. Lannister crowns. This was no good… no good at all…

“Thank you,” you told the merchants. “That’s good to know.”

“Where are you off to?” said the younger one.

“Runestone,” you lied. “I have family there.”

That seemed to appease them well enough. The one with brown hair waved farewell as he set the donkeys back into motion. You silently thanked the Gods for coming across decent men. You watched the cart of wine caskets descend down the path.

Now what? You could hardly stroll straight into the Vale now—not with the threat of Littlefinger handing you right back into Cersei’s mad hands. Should you even trust these rumors, though? Perhaps the septon at the Bloody Gate could clarify the situation for you. Surely he would tell you the truth. But getting there would take weeks, and you certainly didn’t have that sort of time. If word of Littlefinger’s rule in the Eyrie was true, you would be wasting even more time doubling back to escape. And if he heard of your presence in the Vale there was no telling what he would do… have you locked up and sent to Cersei in a cage?

But what about Sansa? Your heart shattered at the thought of leaving her alone at the Eyrie with Baelish. You had to be smart about this. Even if Sansa was in the Vale, and if you managed to get to her, and if you could whisk her out of the castle undetected, there was nowhere for the two of you to go that would be safe. Sansa wouldn’t last a fortnight out in the wilderness. Gods forbid, but perhaps it was best for her to stay in the Eyrie until you managed to find a stronghold that would keep her safe and protected.

Then again, she could just as likely be elsewhere in Westeros. Arya, too. Gods, you wished Brienne was with you. You could still see the blood spurting from her face, her screams cracking through the thunderous air.

Damn you, Jaime. You should have come with me, you said to yourself, knowing it was a foolish chain of thought. He wouldn’t be much help, anyway. All he did when we traveled together was complain and find new ways to irritate me.

You lingered on the path for a few more moments. Then, you frustratedly gestured to nobody, made a noise of displeasure, and turned to follow after the wine merchants.

Back to the Riverlands you went.

Riverrun was now taken, but at a great cost. Brynden the Blackfish had escaped. All thanks to Jaime’s carelessness and Edmure’s wit. This would never have happened if Tywin was around, Jaime couldn’t help but lament. It was no wonder his aunt Genna told him he was nothing like his father.

He was a fool, and his father knew it.

After a series of threats to both Edmure and his wife, the Tully lord managed to sullenly tell him what he knew of the Blackfish’s whereabouts. Which, to Jaime’s dismay, was very little.

“He swam away,” Edmure had told him. He had the very same blue eyes as Catelyn did, as well as Robb. The very same look of loathing in them, as well. There was a time when you looked at him like that. “The Water Gate’s portcullis was raised. Not enough to be noticed, only three feet or so. My uncle is a strong swimmer. He pulled himself beneath the spikes and I can only assume the current helped him from there.”

Damn it all.

Jaime had hounds and hunters on the prowl for the Blackfish, but he had little hope of catching him. And Edmure was to be heading west the following morning. Jaime was glad to be rid of him, though he worried that the man would slip through the guards he would be traveling with. The knight wasn’t too keen on hunting for the Tully a third time.

News of Ryman Frey’s death was brought to him by young Edwyn, the former’s son. Hanged, apparently, by a band of outlaws nearby Fairmarket, which was boldly close by. Thoros, or Dondarrion, or this mysterious Stoneheart woman. There was little to do about the matter now—Jaime ordered more guards posted and that was that.

That night, he practiced his shoddy, left-handed swordsmanship with the silent Ilyn Payne. He managed to last a grand total of three hours before giving into his cramping muscles’ begs for a rest. Afterwards, he poured the both of them cups full of Hoster Tully’s wine, and told Payne of how he used to kiss his sister when they were children. It was innocent at first, until it wasn’t. It felt nice being able to freely tell someone of everything knowing he couldn’t possibly relay such information to anybody else—Payne’s lack of a tongue ironically made Jaime chattier than ever.

“Tyrion once told me that whores oft avoid kissing their patrons. They’ll fuck you until your legs fall off, he said, but they keep their lips far from yours. It’s what separates work from real romance. I wonder if my sister ever kissed Kettleblack.” Jaime thought for a long moment. “I kissed the Bitter Wolf.”

Payne spared him no reaction.

“She was crying.” Jaime took a sip of wine, leaving out the fact that he had shed a tear or two. “Not because of the kiss, though. I hope not, at least. I’m not that bad of a kisser. Cersei never cried when we kissed.” Though, after he said that, he realized basing his assumptions around Cersei wasn’t a particularly smart thing to do. You and Cersei were many leagues apart from one another.

Payne drained his cup and gestured for Jaime to refill it.

As he did, Jaime went on. “If not for Tyrion’s reckless call for a trial by combat, I would have married her. The Bitter Wolf. We would be at Casterly Rock, and Tyrion would be at the Wall, and my father would still be alive, and my son would sit the Iron Throne, and all would be well. Or not. Cersei would make matters difficult. I doubt Y/N would be pleased about her predicament, either, come to think of it.”

He decided to change the subject back to Kettleblack when Payne’s silence stretched for a little while longer.

“It would be ill-fitting to slay mine own Sworn Brother. I should geld him and send him to the Wall—make up for Tyrion’s loss in some way. He’s been to the Wall, perhaps he had no taste for returning. It’s bloody cold there, I’ve heard. Of course, if I were to lay a hand on Osmund, there would be his brothers to consider, as well. Brothers can be dangerous. Aegon the Unworthy had Ser Terrence Toyne dismembered into pieces after finding him abed with his mistress, and forced her to watch. Toyne’s brothers tried to kill the King for it, though their plans were ultimately foiled by the Dragonknight. It’s written in the White Book. All of it, including every knightly deed and chivalrous act. It doesn’t tell me what to do with Cersei, though.”

Ilyn dragged a finger across his scarred throat.

“No,” Jaime said. “Tommen has already lost a brother, and the man he thinks is his father. If his mother were to die by my hand, he would hate me for it. I’m sure his sweet little wife would use that hatred to her benefit, as well.”

An ugly smile stretched at Ilyn’s thin lips. Jaime misliked the crude gleam in his eye.

“You talk too much,” Jaime told the mute.

The next night, Jaime found himself in Hoster Tully’s solar, looking over a map, wondering where the Blackfish could have gone. Many of his hunters had returned that morning, torn and bleeding. Direwolves, they had told him. A monstrous pack with a large she-wolf leading them. He wondered if that could have been the wolf that had mauled Joffrey what had felt like a lifetime ago.

In consequence, Jaime couldn’t help but wonder about you. Did the direwolves like you at all? He strained his mind to remember, but couldn’t seem to recall. It confused him when his chest constricted at the thought of forgetting you.

The war was practically won. Dragonstone was taken, and Storm’s End would be very soon. Stannis was welcome to the cold fruits of the Wall—if Roose Bolton hadn’t already destroyed him. And the Riverlands were successfully taken without Jaime ever having to raise a sword against neither Stark nor Tully. All in all, he was to be content.

But where did that place you? Once everything calmed down, what would happen to you? To Sansa, who surely deserved no harm that would come to her? She was just a young girl and you… you were far from the paragon of innocence, to be certain, but surely he could have Tommen pardon you for any of your crimes. Your crimes being allegiance to your own nephew, which Jaime could hardly fault you for.

Then again, Cersei was the problem. There was no chance she would sit idly by and let you live. Once he returned to King’s Landing, he had to find a way to whisk Tommen from her crutches before he would turn as corrupt as Joffrey. A new council full of abled men would be in order, as well.

More and more days passed. Jaime had the entire Tully garrison safely released from their keep, which displeased his Aunt Genna greatly, but Jaime was intent on letting them go. There was little harm they could do when they were scattered, weaponless, and hungry.

He dreamed of Cersei most nights. Of her golden hair, which then molded into golden hands. In his dreams, he always had two hands. Sometimes touching her, stroking her, holding her—dreamy memories of old. Sometimes he was strangling her, which he certainly had never done before.

Other nights he dreamed of Brienne. Her big, brutish face red with rage and exhaustion. She would swing Oathkeeper at his neck and he awoke just before his head rolled off his shoulders.

Some of the nights, however scarce they were, were far more precious. He dreamt of you, your hair freckled with snow, your eyes alight as you watched children play beneath you. He was in Winterfell, he realized, and with a shocked start looked back down at the children. His? No. They were your nieces and nephews, of course. Their faces were a blur, but their red hair was unmistakable. Save for the littlest girl and the bastard boy. Snow, Jaime remembered.

“We should have one,” your dream-self said to him, so serious that Jaime wondered if it was actually you standing there in front of him. “A little wolf-lion.”

Did Jaime want that? Would they have golden hair like his? Like Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen? But how could he have another child when he was never a father to the ones he already had? It felt wrong to even consider it. Dishonorable. Any romantic notion of a normal life with you was quickly dashed.

“I know we can’t,” you continued on before he could respond. “They’re all dead.” You gestured down to the Starklings. “And I’ll be joining them soon. But it’s a nice thought, isn’t it?”

“No—” he said, reaching out to you, but you had already faded into a blur.

Not all of his dreams with you were as bleak. Once he was abed with you, and another time he was bound by rope as you pointed an arrow at his forehead while he cackled maniacally.

A week after releasing the last of the garrison, Jaime woke up with a start after dreaming about a cloaked figure that looked eerily similar to Cersei, though he knew it wasn’t her. His mother spoke soft riddles, where Cersei would bark harsh insults. He couldn’t quite tell which he favored. He threw the covers off him with his stump.

The room was frigid. The hearth’s warmth had waned away and the windows had been left pushed open when he fell asleep. In the darkness, Jaime made his way to close the shutters, but his foot touched against a wetness on the ground. Blood had been his first thought, but blood would not be so cold. Rain, perhaps, but he would have heard the sound of pattering coming from outside.

Jaime drew the damp curtains apart, letting the moonlight stream through. Moonlight and snow. Down below, the yard was spotting with white, growing thicker and thicker in the minutes he watched. After a moment, he even began to see his breath misting in front of him.

Winter is here, he thought. Marching south, and our granaries are half empty.

He watched the snow fall, and stood there thinking of you. It irked him that you haunted his every thought. Nonetheless, he hoped you were warm, wherever you were. If he was as fanatically religious as his dear coz Lancel, he would have even prayed for your safety.

When morning dawned, Riverrun’s maester came to pay him a visit. He was pallid-faced and shaking.

“I know,” Jaime said, glancing at the bound letter in the old man’s quivering hands. “The Citadel has sent a white raven. Winter has come.”

“No, my lord,” said Maester Vyman. “The bird came from King’s Landing. Forgive me, I took the liberty to open it, I did not know it was meant for your eyes…”

Jaime took the letter and sat by the window to read. It was Qyburn’s hurried hand, but he knew it to be Cersei’s fevered words.

Come at once. Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.

“Does my lord wish to answer?” asked Vyman, hovering by the door.

A snowflake landed on the letter. He was reminded of the snowflakes in your hair, in his dream. It was quick to melt, blurring the inked words and streaking down the paper.

Jaime rolled the paper back as tight as he could with his one hand, and handed it back to the maester. “No,” he said. “Put this in the fire.”

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sxcret-garden · 11 months ago

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Making out with Ateez

ღ Ateez all members x gn!reader ღ genre: fluff (?), very suggestive (not quite smut yet, but also not appropriate for my sfw blog so I'm posting it here :')) ღ warnings: none

Hongjoong:

You've barely taken off all your clothes when he's already pulling you into the shower, a smile on his face filled with adoration for you, and he can't take his eyes off you. You've been making out for quite a while before this, and from the way he touches you unhurriedly and with much care you can tell he can keep going like this for another while until the need for more will finally overcome him. But for now he pulls you close gently, a smile still present on his lips as he leans in to give you a short kiss, and when he turns on the shower and the warm water flows down your skin, you relax yet a little more in his arms. Fingertips dancing down your back and drawing little pattern along your spine, he plants a soft kiss on your forehead, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips, where he lingers. The taste of him and that of the water mixes on your tongue as he parts your lips to deepen the kiss, and one of his hands snake up to the back of your neck to support you there. Chest pressed against chest, all you can do is hold onto his shoulders as he kisses you with great care, but need is slowly taking over his movements. Teeth nibbling on your lower lip, he only gets more eager when he hears you moan at his actions, and eventually his palms wander from your back to your front, touching you there. "Hongjoong..." you call out his name in between kisses, "I need you." Your muttered words are met with darkened eyes and a promise to take care of you, before he closes the distance between you two again. His kiss is almost rushed this time, though he's careful when pushing you against the shower wall so you two won't slip. The impact makes you gasp - merely an excuse for him to move away from your lips, starting to trail kisses down your throat and chest instead.

Seonghwa:

With his hand on the small of your back he brings you in closer, eyes glued to your mouth as his tongue darts over his bottom lip. The tension is obvious in the whole room, and though you feel like you could burst right then and there, you drag out the wait just a little longer. As you're sitting in his lap, you roll your hips once, drawing a barely audible sound from him and you watch as his eyes flutter shut for a second. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, you play with the ends of his short hair, and then finally you lean in. It's you who makes the first move, but you know that Seonghwa will soon take the lead from you - too high his confidence in making you go crazy with a single kiss, and too big his greed to feel you giving yourself up to him completely on top of him. You brush your lips against the corner of his mouth softly, withdrawing immediately so as to keep him from making you hand over control right away, but when you lean in once more you can't resist the velvety sensation of his lips against yours. His touches are hot from the start, kissing you as if he wanted to devour you - but in a very graceful way that has fooled you before. His fingertips sneaking underneath your clothes and leaving teasing touches on your skin are burning, and yet you want more, and when you wiggle even closer to him you already know he's got you trapped under his spell. Tongue skillfully exploring your mouth, his hand at the small of your back gives you but one nudge to make you roll your hips on top of him at a steady pace, and as you feel his bulge growing underneath you, heat rushes through your own body as well.

Yunho:

You crawl on top of him, straddling him on your bed, and taking off your shirt, you throw him a smile. Yunho simply watches, hands flying to your hips instinctively, but his fingertips merely brush against the skin there. He lets you have the lead for now, curious of what you’re about to do. You cup his face in both your hands and you lean in, lips brushing against his and lingering for a while, and when you bring some distance between the two of you to get a good look at his face, you can see the desire burning up behind his half-lidded eyes. “You want me?” you ask while you shoot him a playful grin, and when you see him nod ever so slightly, you press your index finger against his parted lips. “Let’s go slow today, baby.” Leaning back in, you kiss him unhurriedly. You feel him falling into your rhythm, letting you lead as your palms begin to roam his chest and eventually you rake your fingers up into his hair. Tugging at the strands as you part his lips with your tongue, you deepen the kiss. And though you can feel a fire ignite deep inside you, you keep going slow. Eventually you pull his shirt off him too, both of you now sitting up, and Yunho’s hands are grasping at you more firmly. Palms placed on your sides, he looks up at you, and you take in his expression as you roll your hips on top of him once, watching as his eyelids flutter shut momentarily. Muttered words of praise escape you, before you press your lips onto his once more, and suddenly the way you find yourself kissing him becomes sloppy and impatient. With his hands dancing up your torso, you grind against him, and eventually he cups your face and he breaks the kiss. Thumb brushing over your lower lip, his gaze drops to your mouth, and as he draws closer, you know it’s his turn to take the lead now. Nibbling on your bottom lip, he makes you moan into the next kiss, and you allow yourself to melt against his touch, until he flips your positions, now hovering above you. You throw your arms around his shoulders, reaching up into his hair again, and you throw your head back as he begins leaving kisses down your throat, and moving further down, and soon his lips are mapping out your whole body.

Yeosang:

What started as a few playful kisses to motivate him during his workout is beginning to turn into more of a heated makeout session than you two had planned. He had wanted to get in a few quick exercises at home, and as he was doing sit ups you had decided to help him, taking a hold of his legs to steady him and receiving a peck on the lips with every time he came all the way up. You were giggling about it at first, but sure enough the sight of your boyfriend working out in a sleeveless shirt awakened entirely different feelings within you. And so you’re now hovering above him as he’s lying down on the floor, leaning in for a teasing kiss on the lips. Too soon you move on to make your way from the corner of his mouth down his throat, and when he leans his head back to give you better access, you linger there for a while. Nipping at the skin and luring a deep moan out of him as you sink your teeth into one particular spot, you remind yourself not to leave a mark on him where it would be visible. Instead, you come back up to have a look at his face, and one of your hands finds its way underneath his shirt. Fingertips dancing over his abs, you make your way to his chest, pulling up the piece of clothing as you go. Yeosang lets you, curious eyes watching your every move, and when you begin leaving kisses down his chest, you feel him letting go of the tension in his body underneath you. You reach his stomach eventually, letting your lips explore that area of his body as well, and eventually you force yourself to make your way back up. “Not yet,” you whisper, barely audible, finding a hint of impatience in the look he gives you. You lean back in, kissing him properly and not wasting much time to deepen the kiss as you moan into his mouth. With you taking the lead, he follows you, his arms sneaking around your waist to pull you closer. Eventually, you find yourself reaching for his wrists, your lips brushing against his palms, and as you pin his hands above his head, he simply lets you, longing for your next kiss.

San:

You know your boyfriend is doing this on purpose whenever he gets out of the shower, towel merely wrapped around his hips and his skin and hair still damp. And it's not like you can even blame him, because you know that if his plan of luring you towards him with that appearance works, you're sure to be in for a treat. And today it sure does, because you get up without resistance, and when you're standing in front of him, his hands are already resting on your waist, thumbs sneaking underneath your shirt. You run your nails down his upper body, mapping out his toned chest and abs as he leans in to kiss you. It's a feathery light kiss, quite in contrast to his intentions, but the way his lips linger on yours only make you want more. Palms moving all the way back up his torso, you place your hands at the back of his neck to bring him back in just after he parts from you, this time running your tongue across his lips to part them and to deepen the kiss. He lets you take the lead, but only for a bit, because next thing you know he has you pressed against the wall with your hands pinned above your head. Kisses you with such fervour and passion that your head starts to spin and when you break apart you're not only breathless but also devoid of all thought. Already your mind is filled with nothing but him, and so when he lets go of your wrists to pull your shirt off you instead, your hands find their way to his back, feeling his muscles dance underneath the skin with each of his movements. His lips don't hesitate to find yours in another passionate kiss, and when you feel him rolling his hips into yours to tease you, you moan into his mouth, and he does the same when impatience drives you to drag your nails down his broad back.

Mingi:

You didn't mean to interrupt him as he was preparing dinner for the two of you, but as you snuck up to him to give him a playful backhug, one thing just led to another and he turned around to give you a kiss that felt maybe a little too passionate for the situation. So now he has you standing there, starstruck, realizing the effect his unexpected action had on you. And just when he gives you a smile full of adoration, you take a step forward and you wrap your arms around his neck to bring him in for another kiss. When you part this time, one look at each other's face is enough to know that he's not gonna continue cooking anytime soon. And so instead he gently nudges you into a different position with one hand on your waist and the other cupping your face, so he could trap you in between the kitchen counter and his body. His lips find yours again with chaste but curious touches as if he was kissing you for the very first time. But really, it's all just his way of teasing you and of making you want more eventually, and you know it. Still, you can't but enjoy the way he leads your kisses, falling deeper into the push and pull game he's playing with you by always parting from you when he can feel you starting to melt against him. Eventually he helps you sit up atop the kitchen counter, and with your legs wrapped around him to keep him close, you become more demanding in the way you kiss him back. Hands roaming his chest and eventually tearing off his shirt impatiently, you've reached a point where the need to feel his kisses not just on your mouth, but all over your body arises. And you know he feels the same, because his palms are now restlessly searching your figure, eventually finding their way underneath your clothes, and when you feel him finally trailing kisses down the side of your throat you can't help but throw your head back and whisper praises meant to keep him going.

Wooyoung:

You bite your lip as you lay back on his bed and you watch him crawling on top of you. Extending your hand to tangle your fingers in his hair, neither of you wastes a single second to connect your lips to the other's. His kiss already tells you everything - that he wants you and that he's probably been thinking about all the things he's about to do to you the entire day. Still you know he's not one to rush things, especially when it comes to alone time with just you, and that's something you can read in his kiss as well. He moves his lips against yours slowly, but with deliberation in every single touch. He wants you, and he wants to take his time with you to savour every moment spent with you like this. And yet, everything he does to you feels so intense - the way he's now trailing kisses from the corner of his mouth to your jaw, the way his lips brush against your skin, and also the way his hands are slowly sliding down your arms so he could intertwine his fingers with yours. Thumb rubbing soothing circles at the back of one hand, he leaves little nips and curious bites down the side of your throat, and when he finally lures a moan out of you he can't but grin in satisfaction. There's mischief in his eyes as he comes up to have a look at your face, and even in between all of his teasing he won't let it be taken away from him to cup your face lovingly in his palm, brushing his thumb over your cheek now, before he leans back in for another kiss meant solely to rile you up some more.

Jongho:

You rush inside from the unexpected rain hand in hand, hurrying so as to reach your dry apartment soon, yet giggling because somehow the two of you find amusement in the way none of you came prepared for the weather. Without an umbrella at hand, you both became drenched in the sudden rain, and so obviously the first thing to do as you arrive home would be to find a dry set of clothes to change into. Or so you had thought, because as soon as you have taken off your shoes and locked up, he gets a few steps ahead of you, making you halt with his eyes glued to your lips. No thoughts wasted on why he’s stopping you, your body simply responds to the way he gives you merely a gentle push with his hand at the small of your back, and before you know it, your eyes flutter shut and he’s kissing you. You can taste the rain as his lips brush against yours, and when your hands search for something to hold onto, you find his soaked sweater, tugging at the fabric to pull him yet a little closer. You break apart for air eventually, unable to escape the way he’s mustering you from top to bottom, and almost forgetting to breathe under his intense stare. One hand now cupping your face, and the other resting on your hip to give you a gentle squeeze there, he steers you back a few steps until he has you pinned against the nearest wall, his lips finding yours again. Not letting you deepen the kiss just yet, he breaks apart from you too soon, and as he sneaks his thumb underneath your shirt, you can hear him mutter, “You’re gonna catch a cold.” Understanding what he’s hinting at, you let him help you slip out of the piece of clothing, and as soon as it lands on the floor, his hands are back on your sides. He kisses you with more passion now, pulling you in yet a bit closer, and all you can do is match his rhythm as you feel yourself melting against his kiss.

#ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez drabbles #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #reaction #smut #fluff

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amirasainz · 2 months ago

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Hey love the leclerc sister ❤️ can you do maybe that we won in monza her reaction and the family reaction please ?

Hiii guys. I hope you enjoy reading this and thank you soo much for all the support. I promise, I'll try to write the other requests as soon as possible. However, I currently find it easier to write Leclerc!sister stories. So if you have some ideas, my requests are open for them. (they are open for all ideas.

Btw, I'm so happy that Charles won. He is literally my favourite driver. However, I'm very unhappy with the way Lando is currently acting (it's just my opinion, please respect that)

Enjoy reading!!!

-XoXo

He won in Monaco, he wins in Monza

One of the interviewers, addressing Charles who was seated alongside Lewis and Nico in the media room, asked, “A question for Charles. I hope I’m not being disrespectful with this question, but it is about your little sister. Why is Monza her first race appearance and not Monaco, and why did it take so long for her to attend a race weekend?”

It was Thursday, and the only topic on everyone’s lips was the attendance of YN Caroline Pascale Florence Leclerc. When the Leclerc family entered the paddock today, the sight of the young Monegasque girl walking between her older brothers not only surprised the fans but also caught the media’s attention, as it was her first-ever Formula 1 appearance.

Charles responded to the first part of the question with a smile, "Ah, yes. I’ve been asked that a lot today. Well, it’s actually quite simple. My sister wasn’t in Monaco to see the race in person because she was at home with our grandmother, watching the race together. Since the start of my Formula 1 career, my sister and grandmother have always watched the races together at my grandmother’s home. There are a couple of reasons for this tradition: 1. My sister was too young to attend the paddock a few years ago. With all the media and fans, it would have been quite overwhelming for her. 2. My grandmother isn’t very healthy anymore, so it’s easier for her to stay at home, where it’s cooler, and she can relax in peace. So, this has become their Monaco Race tradition, and I wouldn’t want to ruin that just because people are wondering where YN is."

Before Charles could address the second part of the question, Lewis interjected, preventing the reporters from probing further. “That is a really sweet tradition. And Charles is right. Why should he ruin a family tradition, or in this case, a grandmother-granddaughter tradition, just because the fans and media think YN must attend the Grand Prix in person? From the sounds of it, all parties seem happy with how things are.”

Nico, who had been listening intently, nodded in agreement and added, “Absolutely. Family traditions are important, and it’s heartwarming to hear about the bond between your sister and grandmother. It’s not always about being physically present at the races; it’s about the shared experience and the memories they create together.”

Charles smiled thankfully at Lewis and Nico before agreeing with them. “Yeah, everyone is happy with how things are, and it doesn’t matter because, in the end, we always have a nice big family dinner with everyone. For the second part of your question about why it took so long for my sister to make an appearance, there is also a simple answer. My sister recently turned 18 years old, meaning she now counts as an adult. However, when I started in Formula 1, she was only 12 years old, meaning she was a little girl. My family and I had a long talk about this when I first started racing, and none of us felt comfortable with the thought of her getting swarmed by the media or fans at such a young age. We wanted her to be able to go to school or meet up with friends without getting photographed all the time. As some of you might have seen, I only posted pictures of my sister where her face was covered up just for privacy. But now she is 18 years old, she made the decision to attend this weekend, so I’ll respect that. However, I still ask everybody to not swarm her and leave her as much privacy as possible. She is here to watch the race and not to be the new art piece for social media."

With the strong words from the Ferrari driver, the media stopped asking questions about the youngest Leclerc, making her brother's life a bit easier this weekend.

_______________________________________________

The next few days passed quickly and YN enjoyed every minute with it. Not only was the young girl able to see her brothers all of the time, but everybody was also so nice to her. AT the Ferrari garage, the mechanics always greeted her and answered all her questions. The other team members were always quick to inform YN about the newest paddock Gossip over some watermelon and strawberry gelato. Carlos, her brothers team mate, told her all of Charles embarrassing stories, making her laugh till she cried. And the best part for her was, that her family was always there as well. And before she could even blink, it was finally race day.

The air was electric at the Autodromo Nazionale Monza, where the excitement of the Formula 1 race filled the atmosphere with palpable energy. YN, a bright-eyed girl with a heart full of enthusiasm, stood between her two older brothers, Arthur and Lorenzo. The three of them wore matching Ferrari shirts, their faces painted with the iconic red logo.

“Can you believe we’re finally here?” YN exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as she took in the sprawling racetrack and the roaring engines.

“I know! It’s incredible!” Arthur replied, grinning broadly. He ruffled her hair affectionately. “You’re going to love this, YN. Just wait until the race starts!”

Lorenzo leaned in closer, his voice a mix of excitement and pride. “And just think, you’re going to see Charles out there racing! This is his second home track!”

YN's eyes widened with joy. “I can’t wait! I’ve watched him on TV, but seeing him in person is going to be amazing!”

As the cars lined up on the starting grid, the atmosphere thickened with anticipation. The siblings exchanged glances, feeling the thrill of the moment. Suddenly, the crowd erupted into cheers as the drivers took their positions, and YN jumped up and down.

“Look! There he is!” YN pointed excitedly as Charles, her older brother, appeared on the screen, adjusting his helmet and climbing into his Ferrari.

“Go, Charles!” Arthur shouted, pumping his fist in the air. Lorenzo joined in, his voice booming, “You’ve got this, Charles! Show them what you’re made of!”

With the race about to begin, YN felt a flutter of nerves mixed with excitement. “What if he sees us?” she asked, her voice a mixture of hope and anxiety.

“He will! He always looks for us,” Lorenzo assured her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “And he’ll be so happy to see you here for your first race!”

The lights turned green, and the cars shot off the line, the sound of engines roaring like a symphony of speed. YN’s eyes were glued to the track, her heart racing in rhythm with the cars as they sped by. “This is so fast! Look at them go!” she shouted, her excitement contagious.

As the laps progressed, the tension in the air grew. YN cheered for Charles, her small voice echoing through the grandstands. “Come on, Charles! You can do it!”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the race came to an end, and Charles crossed the finish line in a spectacular first place. The crowd erupted in applause, and YN jumped up, beaming. “He did it! He did it!”

Arthur and Lorenzo hugged her tightly. “He’s amazing!” Lorenzo exclaimed, his voice barely able to contain his excitement. “I’m so proud of him!”

As the drivers began to celebrate, YN spotted Charles climbing out of his car, his face lit up with joy. He scanned the crowd, and when his eyes landed on his family, his smile widened even more. “I see them!” he shouted, pointing towards them.

“Charles!” YN screamed, waving her arms wildly.

Charles jogged over to the barrier, his heart swelling with happiness as he spotted his little sister. “YN! Did you enjoy the race?” he called out, leaning over the fence to get a better look at her.

“Of course I did! I loved it! You were amazing!” she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

“Did you really? I’m so glad you’re here!” Charles leaned closer, his eyes shining with pride. “You were cheering so loud! I could hear you!”

“Really?” YN’s eyes widened in disbelief, and she giggled. “I was so nervous! But it was the best day ever!”

Arthur chimed in, “You should’ve seen her, Charles. She was a little ball of energy the whole time!”

“YN, you’re my lucky charm!” Charles laughed, ruffling her hair. “I need you at every race now!”

“I will! I promise!” she giggled back, feeling like the happiest girl in the world.

Lorenzo grinned at his brothers. “You should be proud. You raced well, Charles. You’re amazing out there!”

“Thanks, man. It means a lot,” Charles replied, his voice filled with gratitude. “But the real highlight was seeing YN here. I can’t believe it’s her first time!”

Just then, the crowd roared with applause as Charles’s fellow drivers approached, congratulating him. He turned back to YN, “Let’s take a picture! I want to remember this moment!”

“Yes! Let’s do it!” YN squealed, and the three brothers gathered around her, arms wrapped tightly.

With the sun setting behind them, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, they posed for a picture. Charles held YN close, a protective arm around her shoulders, while Arthur and Lorenzo beamed with pride.

“Say Ferrari!” Charles instructed, and they all shouted in unison, “Ferrari!”

As they snapped the picture, YN felt a warmth in her heart, knowing that this day would be etched in her memory forever. “I can’t wait for the next race!” she declared, looking up at her brothers.

“Neither can we,” Arthur said, pulling her in for another hug. “We’ll make sure you’re at every race!”

“Absolutely,” Lorenzo added, a grin plastered on his face. “You’re part of the team now, YN!”

Charles smiled down at his little sister, feeling grateful for the love and support of his family. “I’m so lucky to have you all here. This was the best race ever.”

As the excitement of the race began to settle, YN, Arthur, and Lorenzo found a cozy spot near the track where they could watch the celebration unfold. The atmosphere was alive with the sounds of laughter, cheers, and the roar of the fans.

“Look at them!” YN pointed to Charles, who was now surrounded by teammates and fans. He was smiling from ear to ear, clearly reveling in the joy of the moment. “He looks so happy!”

“He is happy,” Arthur replied, leaning back against the railing. “It’s not just about the race; it’s about sharing it with the people you love.”

“Yeah, and he knows we’re here cheering him on,” Lorenzo added, a proud grin on his face. “He’s always been a family guy.”

YN beamed, her heart swelling with pride. “I can’t believe I got to see him race in person. It was so cool!“

As the celebrations continued, YN’s attention was suddenly caught by a group of fans waving banners and holding up signs. “Look over there! They have a sign for Charles!” she exclaimed, pointing excitedly.

“Let’s go check it out!” Arthur suggested, and they made their way through the crowd, YN leading the charge.

When they reached the group, they encountered a colorful banner that read, “Charles Leclerc, our champion!” YN’s eyes sparkled with admiration.

“Can I hold it?” she asked, her voice filled with eagerness.

“Of course! Here you go!” one of the fans replied, handing the banner to her. YN beamed with joy as she held it high above her head.

“Charles! Over here!” she shouted, waving the banner enthusiastically.

Charles turned, catching sight of his little sister holding the sign, and his heart swelled with affection. “YN! That’s amazing!” he called back, flashing her a thumbs-up.

“Look, he sees us!” Lorenzo said, his excitement contagious.

“Let’s take another picture!” Arthur suggested, pulling out his phone.

As they posed with the banner, YN felt a surge of happiness. This was a moment she would cherish forever. After snapping a few pictures, they decided to head back to the main area where the podium ceremony was about to take place.

“YN, you’re going to love this part!” Lorenzo said, guiding her through the crowd. “This is where the drivers get their trophies.”

As they settled into a spot with a great view of the podium, YN couldn’t contain her excitement. “I can’t wait to see Charles get his trophy!”

When the drivers were finally called up to the podium, the crowd erupted into cheers. Charles stood proudly on the first-place step, his trophy gleaming in the sunlight. YN clapped and cheered along with her older brothers.

Charles looked down at his family, and his smile only grew wider. He raised the trophy high above his head, and the crowd roared in response.

After the ceremony, Charles made his way through the crowd toward his family, still clutching the trophy. “You guys are the best! Thank you for being here!” he exclaimed, enveloping YN in a warm embrace.

“I’m so proud of you, Charles!” YN squeaked, her face lighting up with adoration. “You were so fast!”

“Thanks, little sis! It means the world to me that you came to support me,” he replied, tousling her hair again. “I hope you enjoyed it.”

“I loved it!” she said, her eyes glistening. “Can we come to every race now?”

“Absolutely! We’ll make it a tradition,” Charles promised, exchanging a knowing glance with Arthur and Lorenzo, who nodded in agreement.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, the siblings gathered for one last photograph together. Charles held the trophy aloft, with YN standing proudly beside him, a huge grin plastered on her face.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x sister!reader #charles lecerlc x leclerc!reader #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc x leclerc!reader #leclerc!reader #leclerc!sister #lorenzo leclerc x reader #monza gp 2024 #charles leclerc #monza 24 #monza grand prix #ferrari f1 #scuderia ferrari #xoxo babygirl 💋

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thatnonameuser · 28 days ago

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Hii, I love your work!

I read that ask about Epel being a possessive yandere because he wanted to be in Savanaclaw, and then I started thinking about Rook and he being a possessive yandere as well because he actually WAS in Savanaclaw. So I wanted to ask about maybe about all the characters having yandere "Sub-traits", the traits that they have but are secondary in their approach, like Epel and Rook being primary possesives but also obsessive. If you had to give these sub-traits to the characters, what would you give them? If I may give a suggestion, maybe Jack could be possessive (primary) but also protective. If it is too much to do all the characters, the ones from Heartslabyul is enough!

I hope you can understand what I'm trying to say 😅 If sub-traits is not a idea that you like, it's okay! As I said before, I love your work 🥰

It's fine but it's probably best I explain every yandere type for everyone.

Heartslabyul, the dorm of controlling yanderes....

Riddle is a controlling yandere, all the way. Even Post OB, he still remains a stickler for the rules and old habits die hard. If you reject any of his control, then that's just you proving why he needs to do this. Why he needs to be so controlling with you? Because if he doesn't you'll be pulled around and thrown into all sorts of trouble, trouble that he needs to protect you from. So he'll give you rules, rules that he needs to keep you safe, in line. It may seem harsh, but he does it because he loves you.

Ace, your first friend in this strange world, takes pride in that title. Besides being controlling, one could say he is quite possessive of that position. He doesn't want you to belong to anyone else, you were his first, and he was the one who he going to have you in the end. But because of that, he'll be oh so desperate to keep you away from those who are his rivals.

Deuce, is a combination of protective, controlling and clingy. Deuce doesn't mean to be controlling, mostly because he doesn't think he is controlling, but he needs to protect you. And to do that, he needs to stop you from doing some things, like going outside and seeing people. He's also very clingy, and all he wants to do is be with you and only you. You calm him, and make him want to be the honor student he promised to be. Everything he does is to protect you, whether it's being controlling or clingy, he'll do what he has to.

Cater, our friendly little influencer, is a very controlling, manipulative yandere. What hides behind his eyes is oh so cruel and he was raised with a very warped perception of love, even for yanderes. Expect to see him around of so often, he'll pop out of nowhere with Spilt Card and you'll be stuck with him for hours. And don't you dare, reject his company because if you don't that pesky little secret you have will soon become very well known on campus. He's prepared to be manipulative and blackmail you into being around him. He'll have you one way or another, so play nice.

Trey, ever the gentleman, is controlling, protective and manipulative. It's all the perfect combination for a yandere, who's under the assumption that he does nothing but love you. He's aware of what he's doing, and that this will end with you being his wife. He's controlling because he'll push you to and fro from where exactly he needs you to be physically, mentally and emotionally. All this is, is just him being loving and caring. He's not hurting you, he's helping you.

Savanaclaw, the dorm of (violent) possessive yanderes....

Leona, caused by his life of being in second place, is naturally very possessive. Being stuck in second place since he was born, he wants you all to himself and only to him. You are what he calls his own. God help you if he finds out about Malleus' feelings for you. He is also an incredibly jealous yandere. With his past, having you all to himself and only to himself is something he's prepared to kill for, because he will never ever let you be with anyone that's not him..

Ruggie, bound by his animalistic nature and his own childhood of not having much, he is very possessive. It's in his instinct to devour, he's been taught to take what he wants, to take what he needs, and you are what he needs. Additionally, he's quite the violent yandere. 'Laugh with Me' being used to make his rivals die in horrifically tragic accidents and suicides. Plus, hyenas can eat almost anything. You can't notice a pattern of murders if they are no bodies to look for.

Jack is different from a lot of his fellow possessive yanderes in Savanaclaw. He's possessive and clingy. He's bound by instinct, and he can't risk losing you to anyone. If he can't claim you, he'll lose his mind. Speaking of, he's unbearably clingy. You're his mate, so he can't stop the call to touch and hold you. He doesn't want to hurt you, but sometimes his attachment is just so strong that he can't resist.

Octavinelle, the dorm of (sneaky) possessive yanderes.....

Azul, our greedy lil octomer, is very possessive, but he's also quite clingy and manipulative. Our greedy octomer doesn't just want you, he wants to have you, to own you, to control you. With his contracts that will bind you hopelessly to him for the rest of both your lives, he'll control your life and existence down to the letter. The letters on the contract that is. But he's also quite clingy. With his childhood insecurities, he needs you to be the glue that holds him together. Even if you don't want to, you never had a say.

Jade, the evil twin, is an unfortunate mixture of three different yanderes, each as dangerous as the next. Sadistic, Possessive, and Manipulative. Jade's sadism is boundless, he adores watching you distressed and in pain and the idea of you clinging to him in distress as he tortures you with more mental and physical abuse. He's deeply possessive, he doesn't want to share you with anyone. Hell, he'd kill Floyd before sharing you with anyone. Finally, Jade is a manipulative son of a bitch, the idea of you being completely dependent on him drives him crazy with sick delight.

Floyd, the good twin, is an equally unfortunate mix of three. Clingy, Violent and Possessive. Floyd is constantly touch starved, he'll almost always have his hands on you. Sure, he'll be threatening to crush your internal organs with how tight he'll squeeze you but fear not, he won't kill you. He is also very violent, you could look at someone too long, and he'll tear their eyes out. You yawn and someone does too, they'll have their jaws completely and irreparably removed from their head. Speaking of, he's horrifyingly possessive. Like Jade's, he's pro-no-sharing. Mostly because Jade will break your mind and then you'll be boring if he shares with him. Also he really hates the idea of you spending time with anyone that's not him. So don't or someone will likely be squeezed to death. Just kidding, they'll suffer far worse than that.

Scarabia, the dorm of manipulative yanderes....

Kalim is a delusional yandere with a few manipulative tendencies. As mentioned before Kalim sees you as his one true love. In his life, you're greater than the sun, moon and all the stars in the sky combined. And he's under the belief that you love him to, even when you tell him otherwise right to his face. As for his manipulative tendencies, he'll gift you so many, many expensive gifts. It smothers you, but you'll never say no, and he uses that to his advantage. Even if he's kind, just remember you're at a villain school.

Jamil is a textbook manipulative. Even without his UM, he is very intelligent and equally methodical. He'll make you hopelessly dependent on him, and at the same time use you as a tool to isolate yourself. Jamil's pride makes him very selfish so the thought of having you 'pick' him, especially over Kalim, is exactly what he wants. It's what he craves.

Pomefiore, the dorm of obsessive yanderes....

Vil, obsessed with beauty and perfection, is an utterly obsessive yandere. Whether you're the shiniest apple or the dirtiest potato, you are unimaginably perfect in his eyes. The pull of desire he feels from you drives him crazy constantly. If he could look at you and only you the rest of his life, he would happily accept. But that's not just it, he's also a very possessive and jealous yandere. If you are perfect in his eyes, he needs to be nothing less than perfect in your eyes, whatever unhealthy beauty practices he has available, he will use until he's utterly flawless. And if you give your attention to someone else, they'll be poisoned and cursed until there's only him for you to look at. Seven help Neige if Vil finds out that he is a yandere for you.

Rook is a trifecta of three yandere types, obsessive, possessive and devoted. He's so fixated on you that he needs to know every single thing about you. Your wants, your fears, your dreams, everything. But that's not enough. He needs to have you. The hunter needs to capture his prey. He wants to have you for himself, and he'll hunt you to the end of time if he needs to. His devotion for you goes even farther than his devotion for Vil and Neige, you're like a goddess on earth and he isn't worthy to even be near you. But, like he'll tear you from the heavens himself, if he has to. Because he has to have you.

Epel, opposite to his adorable demeanour, he is a very obsessive, possessive and violent. When it comes to you, he's practically feral. Like an animal wrapped in human skin. He's obsessed with having you, keeping you away from all who could take you away. He'll fight to the death if he has to, to have all to himself. He might not look it at first glance, but he'll rip someone to shreds with his teeth if he needs to. Regarding his obsession with you, you are the only thing that can calm him, like the beauty that tames the silent beast inside him.

Ignihyde, the dorm of stalker yanderes....

Idia, like his ancestor, wants to watch from afar. A stalker at heart, he wants to observe you first, wants to learn and collect as much as he can. He'll record thousands of hours of footage of you. Of you sleeping, of you showering, of you reading, et cetera, et cetera. He'll delude himself into thinking that you love him from the accidental glances you give the cameras, or the little things you do that make his heart flutter and his hair turn pink. He's also dangerously clingy, his attachment issues run so very deep. When it's time to meet in person, he'll be so touchy, and cuddly. Just so desperate to love you and everything about you.

Ortho(platonic), is so protective of his brother's love and he loves you too like a sister. All he wants to do is bring you together and watch you and his brother live happily ever after. As a protective platonic yandere, he'll safeguard his brother's future. He's prepared to dox his brother's rivals, leak your dark secrets to the dark web for thousands to see and more. He'll push you to Idia, by mentioning how great his brother is about helping you with the hidden cameras in your room, the leakage of your dark secrets to the dark web. Or maybe he'll mention about the hobbies you and Idia 'share' (by that he means Idia researched the hell out of it because he's obsessed with you) He'll be the perfect wingman.

Diasomnia, the dorm of enigma yanderes.....

Malleus, or Tsunotaro, is a mix of devoted, clingy and delusional. You, his first friend, his child of man, you've placed yourself deep in his heart, and he can't bear for you to be ripped out. You aren't just the sweet human he met on his nightly walks, you were the one he wanted as his wife, his queen, so that he may spoil you for the rest of your lives. But as the treasure on the top of his hoard, he will never part from you. Ever. If he needs to chain you there, he will. His abandonment issues make him want to keep you in this life and the next, so he'll never let you leave. But if you have objections, Malleus can't hear them. He believes that you're just a little frightened off the role that lies ahead, not that you don't love him. So enjoy the heavy crown you'll soon wear, it'll be hard but Malleus' love will help you carry it.

Lilia(platonic), once the general was a very protective yandere in his war days. That extends to his kids, but it is yet to extend itself to you. Because of that, expect to fall victim to the general's sadism. You'll be exposed to horrific psychological abuse, until you finally give up and accept his kids' advances. They're even working with him too, ensuring that they're able to swoop in to pick up the pieces after you've been shattered. He'll play the bad guy for their benefit, and in exchange all he asks is a cottage or castle full of grandbabies for him to spoil. (PS. Don't think he'll be any nicer to you after that)

Silver, the knight in shining silver armour, sees you as his princess, the damsel he's met to save. He's a yandere blinded by his delusion, and because of that is very protective of you. He loves you, he adores you. Lilia had told him when he was old enough that he could lose his darling if he failed to protect them when it matters most. Because of that Silver will stop at nothing to protect you, even if it means isolating you, even if it means killing those you love.

Sebek, the knight in dark black armour, is already an obsessive. Look how he treats Malleus and multiply that by a thousand. And he can't help be obsessed with you. But that obsession comes with him being very protective of you. In fact overprotective is the better way of putting it. He'll refuse to let you out of his sight, or if he has to lock you somewhere no one will find you if he needs to.

#ask #i love asks #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere #yandereverse au

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crljhnn · 2 years ago

Text

The older Jefferson

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader

Summary: After Rowley announces that his older (half-)sister, who lives quite far away and has never met the Heffleys, is going to visit him over the break Susan invites his family over for dinner. Her not being what Rodrick expects, he starts crushing, which results in him trying to impress her - failing horribly.

No physical description; No use of y/n

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: None

A/N: Hi, just a quick warning that English isn’t my first language and that this is also the first time I’ve ever written a longer text in English that isn’t a school assignment. I also don’t fully understand Tumblr yet, which makes me honestly a bit anxious to post.

[This and a gender-neutral version are also posted on AO3]

“Why haven't you ever mentioned that you have an older Sister?” Rowley and Greg were sitting on the Heffleys living room floor - Rodrick occupying the whole space on the couch - playing a video game. Well, Greg was. It was a single-player. He promised they would take turns, but by now Rowley had been over for about two and a half hours and hadn’t even had the chance to touch the controller yet. He gave up on asking and settled on just watching about 45 minutes in.

“I talked about her before. Multiple times actually.” That is true. Rowley looks up to his sister a lot “Also, she is technically my Half-Sister. She’s been living with her Dad for longer than I remember. Normally we are the ones flying over to visit during summer break, but she hasn’t visited since she was a little Kid, and after her school schedule finally allowed it, we thought it would be a good idea if she, for a change, came here instead.”

“It sounds like you two get along great!” Mrs. Heffley walked in, holding a laundry basket under one arm while carrying Manny with the other.

“We do! I can’t wait to show her my room and have her around for the entire break! I have so much planned out already, it's gonna be so much fun! Best summer ever!”

“That sounds lovely Rowley, I wish Greg was so excited to hang out with Rodrick, but they just won't get along.” Susan sighed, throwing a pitiful glance at her two oldest, who simultaneously let out a laugh hearing this.”

“Yeah, never gonna happen.” Greg says, “I would rather spend the whole summer in school than voluntarily hang out with this idiot.”

“My Sister is actually around the same age as Rodrick.” Rowley buts in. Greg doesn’t understand how this is relevant, but it probably adds to his mother's yearning for her two oldest sons to get along. Rodrick lets out a laugh hearing that.

“I can’t wait to meet them. Just imagine an older, female version of Rowley. That’s actually fucking hilarious!”.

“Watch your language! Also, I'm sure she is wonderful.” Gregs Mom loosens her lecturing stance, turns around, and smiles at Rowley “I would love to have you and your family over for dinner sometime. It has been a while since I’ve seen your parents and I would love to meet your sister.”

“That sounds great Mrs. Heffley. I will ask my parents as soon as I get home!”

That brings us to about a week later, when the Jefferson family, including their oldest daughter, is standing in front of the Heffleys House, ringing their doorbell.

Rowley has been telling you all about his best friend Greg for years, which made you somewhat excited about finally meeting him. However, you can’t say that the picture your brother painted is entirely positive, finding him rather irritating in many of the stories you were told over time. You aren't too mad though, assuming it is normal for young, teenage boys to act like jerks every once in a while. Not everyone can be such a sweetheart as Rowley. Overall you're glad your brother managed to maintain such a long-lasting friendship.

And then there was Rodrick. You've heard rather interesting stories about him as well. In the beginning, you found those quite amusing, that was until you realized that Rowley was genuinely terrified of him. Not the best first impression someone could make on you. Influenced by seeing your younger sibling grow up to be such a sweet and genuine person you tend to be a bit protective from time to time.

You hear some hushed voices from inside, and you can identify one of them as female, reminding someone to behave. Then the door opens and a woman, who you assume to be Mrs. Heffley, kindly smiles at you. Your suspicion is confirmed a second later when she introduces herself and shoos you into the house, before continuing to greet the rest of your family.

Crossing the threshold you can now see a man standing slightly behind Greg's mother. He introduces himself as Frank, making quite a kind impression on you. Then he leads you into the living room to meet his sons.

The two older ones hardly even notice you at first, too occupied with arguing and rowing with each other.

“Boys!”, their father speaks up, successfully catching their attention. Rather comically their gazes fall from their father to you, their eyes widening and their mouths dropping open. You were not what they expected. While Greg looks just shocked, you would describe Rodricks state as mesmerized.

He recovers fast, pushes Greg off of him, stands up, and puts on what he hopes is a charming smile. Extending his hand he starts to introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m-”

At least he tries to.

“Rodrick. I know. My brother has told me one or two rather interesting stories about you”, your smile is sharp. He gulps, his confident smile turning sheepish, cursing Rowley in his head. You are not what he expected and you are definitely not anywhere close to being a female carbon copy of your, in his eyes, embarrassing younger brother.

He normally wouldn’t consider himself the kind of person who has a type, but from now on, if someone asked, he would probably revert to describing you. You were just ethereal, everything about you was attractive to him. The way you walked, talked, and carried yourself, but also your clothing and hairstyle. Your pretty face just rounds up your whole appearance, making you all the more alluring.

He had to get on your good side. While a family dinner, especially with Greg present, may not be the best opportunity, he could ask Rowley to put in a few good words for him. That kid was easily influenced (or intimidated). Still, making the best possible impression over dinner wouldn’t cause any harm either.

You turn to the other boy who has been silently watching the exchange. Now that your attention is on him he starts feeling nervous as well. Your expression, however, turns a bit more friendly.

“And you must be Greg.” he nods. You introduce yourself and lastly say hello to Manny who is sitting on the floor playing with some figurines. By now the others have entered the room, causing Susan to start leading you all to the dining table.

You’re seated between Rowley and Greg, across from Rodrick, which results in quite frequent eye contact. On one side you really want to intimidate him a bit. This could maybe make your brother's life a bit easier, at least for the time being. On the other side, you do want to make some conversation, maybe throw in a bit of (family dinner appropriate) flirting or at least find out if he’s single.

It’s really hard to hold a grudge against someone who is entirely your type.

While you’re conflicted, Rodrick, on the other hand, is sweating. Nervously fidgeting in his seat. You didn’t seem as irritated with him anymore, if the eye contact was anything to go by. Was this his chance to redeem his shitty first impression? He cursed his brain for failing to come up with something cool to say.

Since when is it so hard to talk to girls? Is it getting hotter in here? What impresses girls? What does he normally brag about? His band! That’s it. Now he just has to bring it up somehow. Maybe he can bribe Greg to ask him about it. No, that’s too risky, he can’t count on Greg to not fuck this up. He is just going to casually bring it up ‘I’m in a band by the way, pretty sick huh?’ ‘Do you like music? Cause I’m in a band’ No that’s stupid everyone likes music… ‘Which kind of music do you listen to?’ That’s good, he should bring up the topic of music first, that’s a normal conversation topic. After that step two is to bring up the band. That’s easy, he got this.

Now he just needs to wait till your attention is on him again and then he can smoothly lead the conversation in the desired direction. He has to calm down, he can do it.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m in a band!” He speaks way louder than intended, his voice is squeaky, and in the middle of the sentence he has the most embarrassing voice crack imaginable.

Silence.

The sole attention is now on him. All he hears is Greg's snickering which causes him to kick him under the table.

“Ow!” That was not Greg's leg. He looks up to see you looking at him with a questioning expression.

That’s it. He fucked up. His chances were already low, but he still managed to shrink them even more, making them most likely completely vanish. Great. His ears were ringing, all he can hear is Greg's quiet laughter in the background.

“I'm sorry I didn’t mean to kick you, I-” he starts his apology but loses track of what he is trying to say when he sees your expression change. You're clearly trying to suppress a smile, but it's not working at all.

“You’re adorable.” Rowley chokes on his food, and Greg's laughter abruptly stops

“Rodrick? Adorable?” That’s it. Greg gives up on ever trying to understand girls. How can his stupid older brother embarrass himself like that, then kick the poor girl under the table and still be perceived as adorable by her, especially since she is so much out of his league?

Rodrick however, was still not functioning properly.

“So that band, is its name by any chance Löded Diaper?”

“Yeah.” He is proud of himself for speaking at an appropriate volume without stuttering. “How do yo-”

“I saw your creepy white Van in front of the house. What’s up with that, kidnapping little kids as a side hustle?” You are still smiling, and with your stupid joke you somehow manage to relax the atmosphere a bit, the adults going back to their conversation.

Rodrick too is now smiling, looking at you with an expression you could only describe as lovestruck, even though you just insulted him.

He is contemplating making a joke about how the space in the back could be quite useful for more than just trapping kids but decides against it, fearing to make it awkward again. Getting nervous about taking too much time to come up with an answer he instead lands on “No only kidnapping pretty girls like you.”. As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets it, realizing it's in fact not a funny and flirty thing to say, but honestly rather creepy.

At the end of the evening, Rodrick has messed up flirting with you multiple times, however, it’s his luck that you find his desperate attempts to look cool to impress you weirdly endearing. Not that he realizes that. Calling Rodrick confused, questioning why you were still talking to him, would be an understatement.

He certainly doesn’t know how he can have messed up so many times and still end up finding a little note with your number on it in his pullover hood after you left.

#rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley #fem!reader #diary of a wimpy kid #fluff #first meeting #oneshot #x reader #reader insert #fanfic

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banquetwriter · 7 months ago

Note

can u write a smut of an insecure plus sized goth reader x johnnie please? she's a virgin and after being together for a few months she asks him could they do it, and he eats her out n fucks her n stuff 🙏🙏 make it really soft pls and thank u i love ur work btw 🖤🖤

୨୧ Batty love ୨୧

pairing: Johnnie Guilbert ♡︎ goth!fem!Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ smut, losing virginity, getting eaten out, general shenanigans

summary: ʚ johnnie isn’t gonna let you being inexperienced stop him from devouring you ɞ

Words: 2234

An: i know this isn't the best but I'm legitimately do sick rn 😞

SUPPORT ME

You haven't stopped looking at your phone for at least two days. Johnnie, your boyfriend, had just hard-launched your relationship for the first time on Instagram. And to your shock, 95% of the comments were so positive. Everyone complimented your goth appearance.

This much praise was addicting. Being plus size meant a lot of insecurities made by the pathetic losers of society. There were of course a few nice comments… those weren't the ones you kept staring at. Criticizing your looks or body.

Johnnie had warned you about this happening, and you promised him the world knowing about you two was worth it, and it was, but god did it hurt. Johnnie Was out streaming with Jake today so that left you alone for a good few hours.

It was useless trying to wait around crying over some loser online who couldn't handle the fact their celebrity crush didn't pick them. You sat up rubbing your face carefully not trying to hit your piercings at all. You scrolled around on your phone’s playlist before connecting to a speaker.

You started to shift through your closet to come up with an outfit. Maybe you and Johnnie could go out tonight? It was hard to get dressed in full goth normally, especially when you weren't feeling good about yourself.

You settled on a long black skirt with silver shiny bats that were sporadically speckled on it and paired it with an ‘i ❤️ emo boys’ t-shirt with a corset. You put your outfit on by pairing your black stockings and fishnet top for your arms.

You sat down at your desk singing along to your beloved playlist. You turned your light on your mirror searching for your hair clips. You managed to locate them by clipping your hair out of your face. Your music was briefly interrupted by a text notification.

You pick up your phone and it is from Johnnie, ‘should be done soon. Just filmed for Jake's, we're gonna do mine now. Probably just dick around Walmart or something. See you soon love 🖤’ you smiled at his text.

You responded back within seconds ‘Have fun filming (but not too much fun without me lol) 🖤🖤’

You sat your phone down, adjusting your shirt, and you started on your makeup. You put on primer, then foundation, the concealer, and to finish your base off you pack on some powder letting it sit on your face. You pulled out your phone and snapped a selfie of your half-done make-up.

You stuck your tongue off a little for the picture. You posted it on your main Instagram story with a goth song of course. Your Instagram gained quite a few followers from Johnnie’s post. It was exciting and also very scary.

You decided the powder baking on your face was about done so you brushed it off. You grabbed your contour brush and packed some onto it. You started to carve your face onto the white base using the black powder.

Now it was time for your eye makeup. It was the hardest part. You spent a good while meticulously adding your eyeliner and eyeshadow. Once you were done, sufficiently looking like a bat, you finished it off with black lipstick and some setting spray.

You put on accessories and teased your hair to high heaven. And you were all ready. You sprayed some perfume on and looked in the mirror. Fuck did you look good. You posed a little admiring yourself, you took your phone out again and decided to take a few pictures.

This time you posted them as posts and not a story so anyone could say anything. It scared you but you couldn't hide forever. You were dating Johnnie and no one could change that.

It took only a few minutes before the comments came rolling in. All of which were positive, it made your heart soar with all the compliments. You were smiling until you read one: ‘Johnnie eating good tonight’ . It was a nice comment and funny naturally.

There was just one issue. You and Johnnie haven't had sex yet, and furthermore, you have never had sex. Ever. Sure you used a few toys here and there but never has another person shared such an intimate moment with you. You had already worried yourself sick about this. Johnnie Was sexually active and therefore, inevitably he would want to have sex with you.

You were ready… you think at least. You wanted to, of course you did, have you seen your boyfriend? He was such a fucking hottie. You had plenty of dreams of ripping his clothes off and going under the covers. You were just nervous.

You did actually weigh a lot more than your boyfriend and no offense to him he wasn't exactly built to handle all you could offer. The nerves rattled through your body. But you were a full-grown woman and there wasn't anything wrong with taking your time to have sex.

If Johnnie didn't understand that (which you're sure he would) then this wasn't the relationship for you. You shook your thoughts of breaking up with Johnnie away. This wasn't a time to worry.

It was only a few more minutes before Johnnie came home. He stepped into your apartment, and he stopped when looking at you. His jaw faltered open. “Wow, how are you mine?” he asked, closing the door, his hands wrapping around your waist.

“From your strapping good looks and charm of course.” you purred, moving a strand of his hair from his face. You planted a small kiss on his now-exposed skin. “Yeah sure,” he murmured against your hair, planting a small kiss on the top of your head.

You smiled at him, your eyes holding each other. His eyes seem to almost darken looking at you. You pull him into a kiss, one he gladly returns. His hands are holding onto your corseted waist. Even through the thick fabric, you can feel him clutching your body.

Your kisses got more heated as he started to move his hands down your body. You had done this with him before. It didn't scare you much anymore. Of course it was nerve-racking, but not scary. His touch felt so nice even if it was through your clothes.

He slowly moaned into your mouth as you gently tugged his hair. “Fuck,” he muttered slowly pulling away from you. He wrapped his hands into your pulling you towards your couch. Your nerves jumped into your throat knowing what was coming.

And yes you wanted to so fucking bad, you needed your hot boyfriend inside you. He gently pushed you onto the couch, you fell back ruining your cute decorative pillows. He positions himself between your legs, his mouth hungry to devour all of you.

You wanted to enjoy him you really did but your heart was pounding out of your chest with nerves. “Johnnie-” you asked quietly against his lips. He pulled back sensing your worry. “We haven't done anything yet-” you started, unsure how to keep going you stayed silent.

“It's fine if you don't wanna, you know, tonight.” he spoke softly, “No trust me I want to. It's just that I've never done that before. I've never had sex before.” you confessed. You could see his eyes widen. You felt like you were holding his breath.

“Woah, really?” he asked, leaning towards you, a small cheeky smile plastered on his lips. “Yeah, not that I’m waiting for marriage or something but I don't know I just haven't yet,” you said shrugging. “That's ok, are you still down to or?” he asks, staring at you sheepishly.

“Of course I am, I just need you to be slow I guess,” you whispered to him. He glances at your lips for a minute, “I can do that.” he says before your lips crash onto one another.

His hand crept down to your ankle and slowly started to run his hand up your legs, he reached the end of your stocking. He hooked his fingers over the clothing and pulled them off your body repeating it for your other leg.

He looked into your eyes as he slipped his hands back under your skirt, hooking delicate fingers over your panties and slowly pulling them off your body. The feeling of his hands on your thighs was sending waves of pleasure to your core.

You've been horny before but nothing compared to the feelings you felt as your boyfriend slowly lowered to his knees. Kissing up and down your legs. “Are you doing ok?” he asks between kisses up your thighs.

“Y-yeah I'm good,” you said quietly, eyes watching Johnnie like a hawk. He smirks against your skin. He slowly pushes your skirt up your body revealing your bare legs. He placed a tender kiss on the top of your cunt.

You swore you could see stars with the amount of pleasure That coursed through you. The end of your fingers and toes felt tingly and cold. Johnnie moved up to face again, he slowly started to kiss you again. “M’gonna move my hand now. Like my fingers ok?” he said against your lips.

“Ok,” you whispered back, and you spread your legs widely for him. He slowly dipped his finger into your sopping cunt. You let out a gasp at the sensation. He slowly pumped his finger in and out of you. It felt good but it wasn't enough for you.

As if Johnnie could read your mind, he pumped out of you once again. When he entered back in he had two fingers this time. It stung for a second or two then pleasure returned to your body as he started to curve his finger into you.

“Oh fuck.” you moaned out, you can guess how people get addicted to this feeling. You felt like a little pervy teenager with raging hormones. The feeling of Johnnie hitting your G-spot repeatedly was sending you over the edge.

“Johnnie.” you mewled out, to nothing in particular. “I need more please,” you begged, having a sense of missing something. “If you insist on it my love.” he pulled out of you, his fingers dripping wet. You watched as he crouched down further.

He kissed slowly on your thighs before reaching your clit. He pressed a soft kiss right on your spot. You felt yourself clench over nothing and it drove you wild. He continued kissing down until he reached your hole. He slowly prodded his tongue into you.

Very gently at first to help you get used to the feeling. You felt the pleasure tenfold as soon as he began to rub your clit, fully pumping his tongue in and out of you. “Oh fuck hold on,” you murmured to him.

He stopped cocking his head slightly. You quickly snap off your corset, immediately releasing tension in your gut. You quickly pulled your shirt off, your bra going with it.

You were now naked minus the skirt bunched up around your waist. “M’fuck.” he whispered looking at your tits. He had what looked like a painful erection at this point. His skinny jeans looked like they were gonna burst open.

“You ready?” you asked him, gesturing to his painfully hard erection. “Fuck yeah,” he whined undoing his studded belt, he started to further undress himself. You followed suit pushing your skirt down.

Once he was completely naked, he leaned down and started to kiss you again. He wrapped his hand around his cock and pumped a few times attempting to get ready for your body. After about a minute he lined up his leaking cock to your entrance.

He slowly pushed into you. You let out a wanton gasp as he bottomed out. “Fuck.” he growled into your ear. He fumbled around trying to find your hand and brought it down to your clit. You started to rub to your pleasure.

At the same time, he started to push into you slowly at first then after a minute he began to push into you at a quicker pace. “Fuck your so tight. So glad I get this pussy all to myself,” he whined into your ear. You couldn't hold yourself anymore. The coil in your stomach was going to snap.

You felt The familiar feeling bubbling in your stomach and your limbs. “Im gonna fucking cum.” you whined out, grabbing at his torso and leaving a long scratch. Johnnie held your eye contact nodding at you.

The coil finally snapped, your walls clenching around him. “Johnnie-” you whined, your back arching. Your body shaking from your orgasm, sent him completely over the edge.

Hit ropes of cum splattered inside you as he fucked you through his own orgasm. Your breath slowly returned back to your body as you saw Johnnie cleaning your body up with a damp towel.

“Are you ok?” he asked quietly, tossing the rag into the laundry basket. He misses but he just took his girlfriend's virginity so he isn't particularly worried about where it landed. “Yeah I'm fucking great right now actually,” you murmured.

He giggles pulling his clothes back on. You did the same, pulling out your phone to see your makeup completely fucked. Your eyeliner and mascara dripped down, the sweat sucking your makeup into your skin, your lipstick beyond fucked.

You pulled out your phone and snapped one last photo for your Instagram

#johnnie guilbert angst #johnnie x you #jake and johnnie #johnnie x reader #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert smut #johnnie #johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert x goth!reader

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churipu · 10 months ago

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omg hi! can i request jjk men with a girlfriend who loves acting! she goes to a drama club and all that (๑>◡<๑)

thanks I love all your posts (๑❛ᴗ❛๑)

JJK MEN AND A GIRLFRIEND WHO LOVES ACTING 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖

featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento, toji fushiguro x fem! reader

warning. gojo being dramatic

note. hi nonnieee :< sorry for the late update on this, and i appreciate you saying that, it means so much to me <33 i hope you like this one! and believe it or not, i'm like — sick again??? i don't get it, i swear i was just fine an hour before and now i'm sneezing like five times after every ten minutes. pls save me. okay and ngl, this gave me ideas of musical actor! gojo and reader.

GOJO SATORU. he will absolutely be thrilled, and he is your number one fan. he gets very giddy when you tell him that you'll have a performance — but gets upset when he realizes that your character has a love interest (who isn't him).

but gojo doesn't try to ask you to switch or quit, because he knows this is just acting. as much as he hates to see other people touch you intimately, even for an act; the male knows how much acting means to you. it's your dream to perform for people for gosh sake.

gojo will make sure he gets the front row seats to be able to see you act. and the male drops by your practice to see how you were holding up, and sometimes, he helps you by going over the script together. the male finds your acting very very delightful, there's this flutter in him whenever he sees his girlfriend performing on stage.

proud, euphoria, love. everything all at once. he cheers the loudest when the performance ends, giving a loud clap and telling people beside him that you're his girlfriend. as soon, as people starts leaving the theatre, he finds you and tells you how proud he is of you.

as the rowdy theatre soon turns empty, gojo and you would spend some time performing the same act. where this time, he's your love interest — performing rather perfectly since he knew the script from going over it with you before.

"this 's the part where you jump into my arms and i twirl you, right, princess?" he asks, taking off his suit, tossing it aside so he could move better.

you nodded, "ready, 'toru?"

"'m always ready for you, baby," he opened his arms towards you and you laugh freely, throwing yourself onto him.

the male wrapped his strong arms around your waist and twirled you around on the stage inside the empty theatre, both of your laughs echoing in the large room. it's always a routine to end the day like that after every performance of yours.

"maybe i should consider acting, hm? so i could be your love interest instead of some . . . guy." he murmurs into your neck as he puts you down onto the ground gently.

"you could try, baby. i'd be glad to act with you."

gojo tries out, and he miraculously landed an act after his first audition (and he gets to be your love interest).

NANAMI KENTO. doesn't like crowds. but when it comes to your performances — he'd push that aside, because it isn't about him, it's about you. he promises to watch you, and he kept his words.

the first time he finds out about your passion for acting was when he sees you go over a script on your third date with him. of course he wanted to know what you were doing, and when he finds out that you were going to be performing for an act, he was astonished. he just needed to be there to see you.

believe it or not. nanami even went out of his way to cancel a meeting to go watch your show, and the first time he saw you live on act. he just gets so entranced by the way you move and act on stage — how you stayed on character despite the constant eye contacts he had with you during the play.

and after that, he always comes to see your performances; it never stopped even after you both started dating. he's always there, a flower bouquet sitting on his lap as he intently watches you perform with such elegance and professionalism. sometimes nanami wondered why you haven't tried out to be an actor on tv yet.

"kento, how did i do?" you'd ask him after every performance, sweat dribbling down the side of your head and the male wipes it with his bare fingers.

"amazing. as always. i'm proud of you," he slipped the bouquet into your arms and pressed a brief kiss onto your forehead, "you look beautiful."

nanami makes sure to pamper you after your performance, helping you clean the make up off — spoiling you with the best food, snacks, and anything you want. and when you tell him that it's too much to spend on you, he insisted on it. nanami won't even regret spending much on you.

TOJI FUSHIGURO. the first time he met you was from a cliche fiction type of bump, drop things, apologize and picking up. right outside a theatre where you were practicing a few days before the big performance, toji picked up your script and he asked you if you act — and you said yes.

an odd thing to say, but he admitted that he'd be watching and he's interested on it since it would be his first time watching an act (he didn't have a ticket, he just said that so he could actually come see you act).

and when you told him you'd be happy to see him on the big day — toji was internally telling himself that he screwed up big time since he didn't have a ticket. that day, the both of you exchanged numbers and got to know each other through exchanges of messages.

toji tries hard to find an available ticket, and was so happy when he got one (even if he didn't, i swear he'd force himself inside the theatre to see you). and front row too nonetheless. he tells you about where he was going to be sitting and that he has high hopes from you as a joke.

and when you finished the performance, honestly, he didn't know what to say. frankly, he finds acting a bit boring — but with you on stage, his eyes were intent. every single time you popped onto stage, he finds himself stupidly smiling.

even after you both started dating, he'd always come to your performances. even if he didn't get a ticket, he lies to you and tells you that he's coming — which he did, by letting out some meaningless threats to the security guarding outside.

"hah, knew y'were gonna be great, doll." he approaches you as you were wiping off the eyeshadow gently, and you chuckled, "y'look hot in that dress."

"oh, hush. how did you get in here? this is an actors and actresses only zone," you tell him, not even bothering to kick him out because he'll probably find himself back in anyways.

"i have ways," he stood behind you, watching the mirror, specifically at your reflection. the way your lips parted slightly at every brush of the dirty cotton onto your skin.

he's proud of you. but wouldn't tell you with words, but he will give you a kiss or two to tell you that he is indeed proud of you.

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vettelsvee · 3 months ago

Text

HOLD ON TO HOPE SERIES | Sebastian Vettel (Spider-Man AU)

f1 masterlist | ask me anything or let's talk! great power, great responsibility (1k special)

spidey!sebastian vettel x female bff!reader | based on 2010

for more information to the reader: ❥ this series is an au (alternative universe) and it is based on the amazing spider-man movies. seb is considered peter parker and spider-man, while nico rosberg would be harry osborn (and you know who) and, y/n, gwen stacy. ❥ it contains friends to lovers trope. ❥ seb, y/n and nico are last year students of their respective degrees (seb estudies biomedical engineering, y/n studies biomedical engineering as well, and nico studies aerospacial engineering). ❥ some parts might include sensitive content. pay attention to trigger warnings at the beginning of each part.

started: AUGUST 06TH 2024 currently status: on going | last updated: august 6th masterlist under the cut !

taglist: [feel free to tell me so i can tag you and you don't miss anything!]

a/n: i'm so excited, so happy and this just came out of my head and had to post this. oh. my. god. i hope you love this short series as much as i do (it will have a second part series with retired!seb x ?!reader, any guesses?) pls tell me your thoughts, comments and fangirl as much as i do because i'm absolutely in love with spidey!seb and i fangirl about him on twitter 24/7

SEBASTIAN VETTEL KNEW THAT HAVING A DOUBLE LIFE WAS DIFFICULT, BUT HE DIDN'T KNOW IT WOULD BE THAT HARD. Since he was bitten by a radioactive spider during a school trip, his life changed completely. At first, balancing the last few months of senior year with the task of being a local hero in Heppenheim was quite difficult. However, the real problem began when he moved to Berlin to study Biomedical Engineering with his two best friends, Nico Rosberg and Y/N Y/L/N.

At first, everything was great: Seb went to his classes and, in the evenings, patrolled the city looking for loose criminals and elderly ladies in distress who had lost their kittens. The problem, much to his regret, began two months after his arrival to the German capital when what initially were minor issues of little importance turned into life-and-death situations, where the boy had to stay out on the streets until the early hours of the morning, using Hanna, a student he had met in one of his classes, and the desire of wanting to date with her, as an excuse. Except he really wanted to date Hanna.

Nico was completely fine with the idea of Sebastian living his life and even insisted that he should try something with that blonde girl who seemed to catch his attention, encouraging him to ask her out and become the most envied couple on campus. Y/N, on the other hand, was constantly worried about Seb, staying awake every night until he returned home and even trying to follow him on more than one occasion to see if her best friend was telling the truth or if he was just getting into trouble and she knew nothing about.

Knowing that all Sebastian Vettel did was lie, and seeing that those same lies were accompanied by academic results that were plummeting alongside with his increasing desperation, Y/N offered Seb help to pass his retake exams after Christmas in exchange of just one thing: whatever was going on in his life, he would tell her before he took his last exam.

With a knot in his throat, Sebastian promised her so even knowing that no one, and especially not her, could know that he was Spider-Man... at least not until Y/N started getting to know the superhero when her friend stood her up for the second time and realized that, perhaps, Spidey and Seb had more in common than they should.

HOLD ON TO HOPE MASTERLIST

part 1: y/n decides that she's had enough of seb being an idiot, and tries her best to help him (coming soon!)

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 5 months ago

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SUB SLASH SUBBY SLASH SUBMISSIVE SAUL HUDSON SUB SUB SUB WHINY WHIMPERING NEEDY DESPERATE PRAISE KINK SUBMISSIVE SLASH!!!!!!!!

thanks 🎀

A/n: This almost took a completely different turn but I'm quite happy with how this turned out <3

Also, sorry I haven't been posting in a while I have over 70 asks in my inbox rn and I'm trying to write them I swear I'm just really slow lol but I am writing, I promise :')

Warnings: Smut, edging, pantie stealing/gagging?, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Slash had been on tour the past few months, usually while he was on tour you guys would call and get off on each other's voices, moans and sometimes commands. But you had plans this time, evil plans.

He wasn't cumming for the whole tour, it was short only about three months, sure enough he could handle that, right?

Anytime you were on call you'd make up some excuse for leaving, only after edging him for as long as you could, sometimes hours. You told him to be a good boy and not touch himself unless you told him to.

He'd come whining to you every day over the phone. "Please, please, can I cum now?" He ask, tears brimming his eyes, his dick hot and pulsing in his hand.

"Mm, you know what?" You'd start, hearing the small sigh of relief. "I'm actually feeling pretty tired right now, I think I might just go to sleep." You'd hear his soft whimpers over the phone, knowing he'd have to stop now.

"Mommy, please..."

"Good night, I love you." You'd say and hang up.

He was coming home tonight and you couldn't wait, you knew he couldn't either. As soon as he pulled up to the driveway you ran to the door.

The door opened and Slash practically fell onto you, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you tight to him as his lips crashed around yours. He'd dropped his luggage and was whining into the kiss. You couldn't not laugh at his excitement.

You tried to pull away from he kept pulling you back for more. "Slash!" You giggled, he rolled his eyes and let you speak. "Why don't you go upstairs and I'll bring your luggage up?" He huffed but went anyway.

You waited for him to get most of the way up the stairs, watching him sulk away all pouty, before closing the door and bringing up his luggage.

You got through your bedroom door and saw Slash by the clothes hamper, a pair of your panties in his hand and pushed to his nose, in his other hand was his already leaky cock.

"Aw, couldn't even wait for me to get in the room, huh?" Slash spun around at your words and just shook his head. You made your way over to the bed, sitting on the edge and patting the spot next to you.

Slash hurried over, ridding himself of his flimsy button up and leather pants. He sat next to you, back against the headboard and you sat between his spread legs, his dick hitting his abdomen.

You took the panties from him, a black lace pair you'd been wearing on one of your late night calls, and brought it back to his face, pushing them into his mouth and he happily accepted the gag. "You want to cum?" He nodded, tears already forming in his eyes. "Show me how good you can be, then."

His breath hitched as you gently ran a finger along his length. Of course you weren't just going to give it to him, what fun would that be? No, tonight would be filled with just as much teasing as any other.

"Oh, aren't you my good boy?" You asked, pumping him at a painfully slow pace as you had been the past few minutes, watching every small reaction he had, how his chest slowly fell with a shaky breath leaving him.

He was barely holding back his tears at that point, pre leaking from his slit and onto your hand. "Looking all pretty like this, just for me." He gave a small nod. "Time to take these out and let you cum?" His eyes widened slightly just at the thought of you letting him cum. He nodded excitedly and you smiled at your pulled the wet panties from him, kissing his plump lips.

"Please, mommy, I-I've been s'good, I swear." He mumbled, hands clutching the sheets so tightly his knuckles lightened to stop from touching himself.

His whole body was twitching, especially his legs and you couldn't not pay them some attention, lightly grazing his inner thighs with your nails causing him to moan. "Such a good boy, so obedient." Tears were rolling down his cheeks, a wonky smile pulling at his lips.

Your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, he gasped. Moans and whines left him in chains as you jerked him off at a much faster pace now. His heels dug into the mattress as he kicked, not wanting to cum until he was told he could.

"Please, can I- Can I cum inside, please?" He whined, hips helplessly bucking into your hand.

You shook your head at his request. "It'll feel good just like this, just do what I tell you to do." He whined at that. Your hand kept a steady rhythm, you watched the prominent vein up him pulsing and the rest of him twitched. You waited patiently for just the right time. "Such a good boy, huh? My good boy, can you cum for mommy?" Without a second thought he let everything go.

Moans ripped from him until he went silent, his head fell back and his jaw went slack, eyes rolling into the back of his head. His body completely melted into the bed as thick ropes of cum squirted onto his chest and stomach, his body quickly getting overstimulated as you continued to stroke him.

His chest fell with a heavy breath and his gaze came back to you. He looked down at himself, a thin layer of sweat coating him and far more cum on him than he'd expected. "Did I- Did I do good?" He asked, looking at you with expectant, wide teary eyes.

You nodded and moved closer to him. "You always do good." He smiled softly up at you, eyes struggling to stay open. You cupped his cheek with your hand, still cover in his mess. "Aw, are you tired?" He nodded, tiredly reaching for you. "You can sleep now but tomorrow it's my turn~" You mused and moved to sit beside him, wrapping your arms around him and letting him lean on you.

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unholyhelbig · 10 months ago

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i would love a one shot of nat interacting w ronnie! maybe r is caught up doing a job for nat and nat has to pick ronnie up from school and domesticity w r ensues?

Title: The Carpool Lane [an Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: You get caught up while running an errand for Natasha and aren't able to pick your daughter up from school. You ask Natasha to do it and she has to grapple with some big feelings.

[a/n: Hello! I promise you all that the last official chapter of the Oversight is going to be posted soon. It is a very heavy one so here is some fluff in the meantime! Also, I'm opening my requests again, so feel free to send some my way.]

Warnings: None that I can think of other than horrible grammar, but please let me know if I need to add any!

Check out the full Oversight universe

The air in the home office had become sticky and cloying. It often did when the sun decided to shine as strongly as it did. Natasha kept her books clean and clear of dust but often times there was only so much she could do. Large particles floated in the crossfire of a golden glow. It almost pained her to wrench the window open and disrupt the flow.

It was difficult for Natasha to keep focus when she could hear the sounds from outside and feel the soft breeze on her skin. She was often known for her dedication, for her focus and her ruthlessness. But on afternoons, she was stuck doing mountains of paperwork when she’d much rather be doing you.

Natasha often drifted into hazed memories of the whimpers that escaped you, your breathless swears interlaced with the intoxicating way you moaned her name. She liked teasing you until you begged for her, until you needed her more than you needed breath, until you arched your back and cried into the thousand thread count sheets.

Of course, her favorite thing was to bring you to the very edge with her just her delicate touch and her sultry words. You’d come undone underneath her, coated in sweat and ready to please as an orgasm rocked through- an annoying ringtone.

Natasha had shoved her phone into the bottom drawer of her desk to gain some focus. It clearly wasn’t working. Her nails scratched across the rich oak of the desks surface before she pawed around.

Yelena had set her ringtone to the loudest, most obnoxious blowhorn she could find. She claimed that Natasha was losing her touch and often couldn’t hear anything past her own thoughts. And so, what if that was the case? Natasha quite liked her thoughts lately.

“Romanoff,” She drawled, voice dripping with annoyance.

“Hi,”

It took one breathless word from you and everything else was forgotten. There was worry in that single syllable and it made Natasha’s world spin for only a second before she got her bearings. She could do this. She was in charge.

“Tell me where you are.”

“You know where I am, you sent me here yourself.” You chuckled in a low whisper. Natasha had sent you to collect rent from your usual charges. She knew your pattern and could hear the low hum of the row of washing machines behind you.

While she prided herself on her ability to train you into the perfect protector with a quick hand a vicious tongue, she wouldn’t dare change a thing about your soft spots. You had particular one for the family that rented the apartment above the Soapsuds laundry mat and ran it seamlessly.

It was nearly impossible for you to say no to the elderly woman that took up residence with her son. She’d make you tea and you’d indulge in cookies as she regaled you with her charming stories from the 40’s.

“She’s a trained killer, ma, she doesn’t have time for this!”

Natasha heard the son’s accented voice muffle it’s way through the phone. She scoffed, and switched her phone to her other ear. You must have put your palm over the receiver because you were garbled too.

“I absolutely have time for this Miss Vazquez.” You returned to your conversation, voice whispered once more. “I don’t have time for this, Nat. I don’t want to break her frail heart. Could you possibly… pick Ronnie up from school?”

Natasha had been rendered silent, which wasn’t a feat that was often achieved in a shocking manner. Usually, if a Romanoff was quiet, they were busy calculating and it was better to avoid the storm brewing behind their eyes. This wasn’t the same kind of soundlessness.

She had to pick her jaw off the floor. Veronica was your entire life, and though Natasha came in for a close second, you would do absolutely anything for that child. You’d walk through fire, and it was testament to your growing trust with Natasha, having her pick your daughter up from school.

“Nat, baby” your voice came through the phone “did I lose you? If it’s too much I can get Darcy to take a later lunch. It’s not a problem at all. I shouldn’t have asked, you’re a busy woman and-“

“I’d love to.”

“Huh?”

“I can pick her up, y/n, really.”

Her palms started to sweat, and Natasha never sweated. She stood up and started to pace the length of her office, entering and exiting the large stream of light that vented in through the window. She listened carefully as you told her word for word how to enter the car line, and what mothers to avoid entirely.

“I’ll call ahead, let them know you’re safe to pick up Ronnie. Thank you for doing this, Natty. I appreciate it.”

She smiled, biting her thumbnail. She stopped at the window and peered out at the newly installed swing set at the edge of the property. So many little things had changed in Natasha’s life over the last year. There were children’s books strewn over the tables and art supplies that Ronnie loved to draw with. This was an extra step. This was the extra step that made her fingers itch for the ring hidden in the false bottom of her desk.

“Darling! Would you like to hear about the night I had with Robert Kennedy?”

“I would love to, Miss Vazquez!” You called back, lowering your voice once more. “I love you, I’ll see you at home. Dinner is on me.”

You had hung up the phone a few moments ago but Natasha kept it against her face for a few moments as if it were an anchor. She had to pick up Ronnie. She had to pick up Ronnie. Natasha was on her feet now, searching the large living room and foyer, and even the nightstands by her bed before she grasped at her keys and sprinted out the door.

Veronia was a girl of very little words, but she was comfortable enough around Natasha to curl into her side during movie nights, little fist clenching onto the fabric of her shirt. Most of the time, she’d fall asleep before the end of the film and Natasha would stare affectionately as you scooped her up and took her to her room.

Now, Natasha sat in the parking lot of the school with blood rushing past her ears. Somehow, the gaggle of mothers that lingered by the release doors were scarier than anything she had ever faced before.

She’d been shot at least four times and had survived them all. She had pulled the trigger herself more times than she could count, but all of curious eyes landing on her sleek black car made her nearly sweat through her t-shirt.

Natasha stalled as long as she could before taking the tentative steps across the asphalt lot. There was a small patch of green grass that seemed to be overwatered if it still held its vibrant color during a late heated day.

Her sunglasses were down over her eyes and she feigned looking at her phone, though she eyed each and every parent that lingered. They were openly staring at her, and she heard a few hushed whispers, absolutely no attempt to muffle their judgements.

“Don’t pay them any mind.”

Natasha startled, not noticing the woman that had sidled up next to her. Her skin was pale, her hair a pitch-black color that must have heated her up on a day like this. She stuck her hand out and Natasha took it carefully, shaking it. “Jessica Jones.”

“Natasha Y/L/N,”

The woman was apprehensive to use her own last name. While she kept a mostly low profile, there were still some people who would clock the name as something familiar. The last thing she needed was someone targeting you, or God-forbid, Ronnie. The words fit perfectly into her mouth like a sweet candy.

“I’ve never seen you around here before, and apparently neither have the vultures with the way they’re circling.”

She couldn’t help but smile “I’m… new. My partner got a little tied up at work and asked me to pick up her daughter.”

“Ah, so you’re that Natasha.” She must have flushed awkwardly, nervously, because Jessica seemed to backtrack. “Nothing bad. There are moms like the women over there who put their entire being into making everything perfectly beige. Then there are moms like y/n and I. Imperfect.”

Natasha’s eyebrows lifted. Each woman that flocked towards the front of the glass doors, waiting excitedly for their children to spill out did have the same look about them. They all wore leggings and different colored pastel shirts. Each one had the same highlights and haircuts, and apprehensive stares.

“We’re out here a lot together, and it was pretty obvious when things started to change for her. With you around, the smile actually reaches her eyes you know?”

The statement warmed Natasha greatly and made the box in her desk weigh heavier on her mind. Of course, she didn’t want to think too much about it, but she also wanted to make sure that you were happy, something you reassured her of over and over again.

Natasha opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by the barrage of tiny feet on the sidewalks and grass. There was a sea of runny noses and crinkled papers slathered in different primary colors.

A small boy with dark ringlets of hair crashed into Jessica’s legs clumsily and she let out a large huff of air in response, scooping him up into her arms. He had the most startling blue eyes like his mother and gave Natasha a gap-toothed-goofy smile.

Natasha was searching the crowd for your daughter. It wasn’t like she would call out, that was much too vocal for her and Natasha didn’t blame the girl in the slightest. Through the sea of kids, her eyes locked on Ronnie’s and she gave her an encouraging smile and a small wave.

Veronica’s expression lit up as she dashed the few feet that was separating them. Natasha had the foresight to lean down enough to dampen the impact of her hug. It was quite the rare occasion to be embraced by her, so she savored the spring scent of her.

“Your mama got caught up at work and asked me to pick you up.” Natasha explained, leaning back on her heel, she brushed a strand of hair behind Ronnie’s ear. “What’s that?”

Natasha gently pointed to the picture that was in Veronica’s hand. Her chest welled with pride at the drawing and she would say that it was miles better than any other kid she saw run out with their artwork. Yelena had been right; Ronnie had a beautiful gift that Natasha would pour everything into for as long as she wanted to call it her craft.

This particular scene was a rendition of the large house, too big to fit within the confines of the paper. There was six figures that vaguely resembled each person Natasha knew and loved. A clear grouping had been established.

Kate was smeared in a purple color with dark locks of hair.

Yelena had been drawn next to her, hand and hand.

Clint stood close to them- but not too close- with his signature deep look.

What called to Natasha the most was how Ronnie had grouped her. There was a figure by the edge of the page that was clearly you, down to a tea, and a shorter figure right next to you that was unmistakably Ronnie. The two figures held hands; and on the other side, with her signature deep auburn hair and green eyes, stood Natasha. Her fingers were wrapped around Ronnie’s in the photo, too smudges of color that made the enforcers heart thrum harder than it ever had before.

“This is beautiful,” Natasha breathed, struggling not to let the water that built up in her eyes drip down her cheeks. That would be weird. It would freak Ronnie out. “I love it.”

“You do?” The girl asked.

“I do. In fact, it’s getting framed and hung up immediately.”

It was rare for Ronnie to speak, but it was a prize each time she did. Just like you, Natasha had begun to understand her body language and everything she said with her eyes. It was something she would grow out of, or maybe she would speak with just her art.

Either way, Natasha read her loud and clear.

It was well past ten pm by the time you had pulled yourself away from the laundry mat. You ended up eating dinner with the family despite your repeated refusal. It was some of the best food you have ever eaten and though you missed the quality time with Natasha, the vodka coating on the pasta would have you reeling for weeks.

The house was mostly dark by the time you returned, and you were careful when you let your keys drop into the dish by the door. A soft golden light streamed down the hallway, leading to the kitchen.

Natasha would often partake in a glass of red wine, a record playing softly in the background. It was her time to unwind, to do the dished from dinner and breathe out the stress of the day. Just like any office job. Sometimes she’d use the time to scrub away blood from under her nails as you waited patiently and took sparing sips from her glass despite denying wanting one of your own.

The sink wasn’t on, and the kitchen was mostly silent save for a faucet drip here and there. Natasha leaned against the counter and stared at the moonlit swing set in the yard. It was bathed in just enough pale light to make out the shapes drifting in the light breeze.

You came up behind her, snaking your arms around her waist and resting your head on her shoulder. She shivered against the coolness of your skin, but hugged you tight against her center with a comforting and raspy hum.

“Thank you for picking up Ronnie today,” you mumbled into the side of her neck, “And getting her to bed. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

Natasha turned in your arms and had a bit of a pout to her expression that you weren’t expecting. You lifted an inquisitive eyebrow at her. You wanted to kiss that frown right off her lips. You wanted to lull her into a state of content after the long day you’d had.

Almost timidly, she said “We’re a family. That’s what we do.”

God, how long you’d wanted to hear that. This time, you didn’t hesitate to close to the distance between you both. You kissed her softly; you kissed her with so much love that it left you dizzy.

You’d scared away partners before with the prospect of having a daughter. Most of the time, you wouldn’t’ even bring it up until a third date, when you were close to sure. But even then, you’d be left at the restaurant, or the bowling alley, or the movie theatre by yourself once the words left your mouth.

Nothing about your relationship with Natasha had been conventional, however, and each day she shocked you with her tenderness and care for someone she had no responsibility towards. Just letting you and Ronnie move in had been enough. Parenting her? Loving her? It felt beyond reality.

She chuckled into the kiss, running her fingers down your jaw. “I love you too, detka.”

“Mm, seriously, thank you.”

“Do you want to see something?”

You lifted your eyebrows suggestively and earned a light-hearted smack to the shoulder. She wormed her way out of your embrace and crossed the large kitchen to the fridge. When you’d first moved in, it was blank. There was a single wedding invitation tacked up with a magnet for joining the Murdock and Natchios families in matrimony, but even that had been years old.

Now there was something new.

Something that had unmistakably been crafted by Ronnie. The photo was a beautiful mix of colors and mediums and at the very corner in, in blue crayon, were two words; My Family.

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]

#Natasha Romanoff #natasha romanov #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanov x reader #Natasha Romanov x you #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Marvel Reader Insert #Clint Barton #Kate Bishop #Yelena Belova #Katelena #yelena x kate #Black Widow #Marvel #Hawkeye #Request #mafia au

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holdmytesseract · 2 years ago

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If you are seeking soon to be dad Daryl, what about a fic where Y/n gets pregnant but she's scared to tell Daryl because what happened to Lori? Maybe she is finally able to tell him when they get reunited after the prison falls and by then she's already showing? Idk I know it says requests are closed but I saw your post!

Blessing in Disguise

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: After discovering that you are pregnant, you don't know what to do; being utterly afraid after what happened to Lori. You don't even have the chance to tell it your boyfriend, Daryl, because after the prison fell, you and Daryl get separated. Can you find him again and finally be brave enough to tell him?

Warnings: the usual TWD stuff, walkers, weapons, angst, mentions of birth and pregnancy, fluff!

Set in Season 4/5!

Word Count: 4,6k (Whopsies...)

a/n: I promised y'all a new Daryl fic and here it is! ☺️ Thank you for this wonderful request @starfirette ! ☺️ I loved, loved, loved to write this! 🥰 I hope you like it. ☺️ I changed the timeline a little bit - and I uh, may have ignored the existence of Mika and Lizzie, because I somehow struggled a lot to write them. I hope that's okay. 🙈

Tagging: @in-this-minute @thefemininemystiquee @hotgirlsshareaccounts @azanoni @lokisgoodgirl @goobysgoobers @fuseburner @fictive-sl0th @alexreadz07 @sweetpeapod

Masterlist

Biting your lip nervously, you watched your friend from afar, loading stuff in a car. He was alone, so your only opportunity to ask was probably now - or never. Taking a deep breath, you bit the bullet and walked over to him. "Hey, uh, Glenn?" The black-haired man turned to face you. "Oh, hey Y/N. What's up?" He asked you, smiling. "Can... Can you please get me something from the drugstore you're going to?" "Sure thing, no problem. What is it?" You bit your lip again; shaky fingers handed over a small piece of paper. Glenn took it and slowly unfolded it. His gaze scanned the written words, eyes widening. "Y-Y/N this... This is-" "I know, Glenn, I know. Please, keep this to yourself, okay?" "Of course, but... You know that everyone says I'm bad at keeping secrets?" You sighed, rubbing the heels of your hands in your eyes. "Yes, but you're my best friend. I trust you." The Korean nodded, "You got a point there..." and stuffed the note inside his jeans pocket. "Don't forget it, please." "I won't, promise."

You spent the time walking from one place to the next. Your mind was restless, and so was your body. A billion 'What if...' questions were running through your head on lighting speed. It felt like your skull was going to burst any second. The wait for Glenn to return was almost unbearable. "Y/N? You alright?" Maggie's voice cut through the loud noises in your head. Blinking, you stopped in your motions; looking up to face her. "Y-Yeah, of course." The woman looked at you quite a bit sceptically. "Are you sure? You seem really... uneasy and nervous. Something wrong between you and Daryl?" You quickly shook your head at your friend's words. "No, no! Everything's perfectly fine! We're good. I'm good!" Maggie eyed you a second time doubtfully, "Alright." before she turned around to leave again. You breathed out relieved, closing your eyes. Gods... That was hell.

About two hours later, Glenn and a few Woodbury people came back from the run. Subtly, your best friend handed you the small bag. "You got it?" He nodded. "Yeah. Brought three different brands." You stared at the bag, taking it into your hands. "Thank you." "Of course." You gave Glenn a small smile, which he returned. "You can talk to me about... You know. I-I'm always here for you." "I know - and I appreciate it so much." Before the Korean could even answer, you had pulled him into a big hug.

Now you sat in the cell you shared with Daryl - who was on a hunt at the moment, on the bed, staring at the bag in your hands. You had to do it. You just had to. You needed to know. So, you grabbed all three packages and sneaked into the prison 'bathroom'. Taking the tests were easy. Waiting five minutes for them to show a result was excruciating. Once again you found yourself walking up and down the room, hoping for once time would pass faster. At some point you couldn't take it anymore. You had to look; waited clearly long enough. Closing your eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, you stepped over to one of the sinks - where you had placed all three tests, and taking a look at them. The first one. Positive. The second test. Positive. And the third result. Positive. "Fuck..." You were pregnant – without a doubt.

Shock wasn't the right word to describe your emotions right now. It wasn't really a shock, since you had the assumption; showing the typical signs for over a week now. Fear and panic were better words. In another world, you would've been happy. Having a baby with the man you loved was everything you ever wanted. Daryl was that man. The rotten, destroyed and dangerous world was a big problem, sure. Not just the walkers were a big threat. The disease, which roamed the prison had been a problem, but also other people out there. People like the Governor, for example. But now that you had the prison back and successfully defended your home against that psychopath, you weren't that concerned about the circumstances and surroundings. The prison was safe. What was a bigger problem and the cause for your main fear and panic, was what had happened only a few months ago... Judith's birth, and Lori's death. She died, birthing a child - and that was what gave you the chills. What if the same fate befell you? What if you were going to die as well, bringing yours and Daryl's baby into this world? Like Lori already once said… This wasn't a hospital. Sure, you had medical supplies - but not enough for a c-section or worse. If there would be complications, you were sure going to die - and you didn't want that. Despite that, it was already kinda hard enough to provide for one baby, but two? You didn't know. You really didn't know. What were you going to do now?

Driven by the panic coursing through your system, you went on search for Glenn. You needed to talk - and your best friend was your safe haven right now. Telling Daryl wasn't an option. Not just because he wasn't here at the moment anyway - which had left you worried sick enough, but also because you just were too afraid. You didn't want to do this to him. If you were really going to die during childbirth, you would put even more weight on his shoulders. He already had to carry enough.

"Glenn?!" You shouted up the guard tower, knowing that he was on watch at the moment. Seconds later, the door sprung open and his head appeared. "Y/N?" He shouted back. "Can... Can I come up?" You choked out; the tears on the brink of falling. "Uh, sure!" Quickly, you made your way up the stairs and through the doors. "T-Thanks." "Sure thing. Did you take the- You did." Glenn said, turning to face you and noticing the tears in your eyes immediately. "Is it... positive?" You nodded. Glenn's eyes widened. "You are... pregnant?" Once again you nodded; having lost the ability to form words. Without another sentence, Glenn bridged the distance between you and him and hugged you close. A big hug - exactly what you needed right now.

The two of you just stood there for a while, embracing each other. The only thing which could be heard, were your quiet sobs of desperation.

"W-What am I doing now, Glenn?" He pulled back from the hug, looking at you a bit confused. "What, uh, do you mean?" You blinked, staring at your best friend. Was he serious right now? He didn't get it? "Glenn, I... I can't have that baby!" And again the black-haired man's eyes widened. "Wait, what? You want to...?" Shrugging your shoulders, more tears started to fall. "N-No, but... I'm afraid of being pregnant; of birthing that baby. You know what happened to Lori! What if this happens to me, too!" Glenn immediately shook his head. "It won't, Y/N. Judith's birth went wrong, because Hershel wasn't with her. Lori was at the wrong place on the wrong time, unfortunately. It won't happen to you." You scoffed, not seeing this as easy as him. "That may be true, but what if Hershel can't be with me as well, huh? For any reason? And nevertheless, this ain't a hospital... It's a goddamn prison." The Korean sighed, tried to reassure you further, but it was no use. "I'm going to take you to Hershel now." He said, grabbing gently your arm and pulling you with him. "W-Why?" "Because maybe he can reassure you; and especially prevent you from having a panic attack." You said nothing; knew that he was actually right, so you didn't protest.

Passing by a lot of familiar faces on the way - due to the people from Woodbury your group had taken in in the prison, Glenn brought you to the small infirmary, where he was surely working.

"Hershel?" Glenn called out, trespassing the big doors with you. "I'm here." You heard the elder man call out, before he stepped out of one of the cells turned hospital rooms. "Glenn, what can I- Oh, hello Y/N." Neither of you said a thing, causing Hershel to look confused at the both of you and get closer. "Is everything alright?" Glenn turned to face you, squeezing your shoulder gently. "I'll leave you to it." With those words and a smile, he disappeared through the doors again, leaving you alone with Hershel. "Are you not feeling well, dear?" "Y-Yes." What were you saying? "N-No, I-" Even more overwhelmed now, you took a deep breath, trying to get yourself together. Hershel could see how you struggled; that you were rattled and of course, that something was bothering you. "Come, Y/N, let's sit down." The older man gave you a soft smile and gestured for you to follow him. He guided you into an empty room, in which he told you to sit on the small bed. "I'll be right back." You nodded, still too shaken up to form words.

A few minutes later, Hershel came back with a water bottle, handing it over to you. "Drink." You nodded once again, twisted the cap open and took a few big sips. "Good. Now take a few deep breaths and tell me what's wrong - if you feel up to it." You did what Hershel instructed you to do; took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. You needed that. You didn't know it, but you needed that. "Thank you." The man nodded at you, giving you another small smile. "O-Okay, so... Um, I... I wasn't feeling that well for the last few days. Always tired, no matter how much I slept. Sometimes, I had a bit nausea and mood swings... A-And I had to pee more often." You paused for a moment, fiddling nervously with your hands. A look into Hershel's face told you that he already knew what you were trying to say. After all, he was a doctor, but he didn't interrupt you; let you speak on. "W-Well, I counted one and one together and... Glenn brought me three tests. I just took them and..." "They're positive?" You nodded, clenching your jaw in order to suppress the upcoming tears. "W-What do I do now, Hershel?" The older man reached his hand over to gently place it on yours. "Be happy about it. This is a gift. A wonder." You scoffed, controlled by your fear once again. "It wasn't a gift for Lori, was it?" Hershel sighed, knowing exactly what you meant. "What happened to Lori was an accident. It was the wrong place and the wrong situation." "That may be true, but what if I'm going to die, too? What if this baby decides to come in the wrong place and the wrong situation as well?" "That won't happen." "Why are you so sure of that? This just isn't a world to have children anymore." It was a back and forth and throwing arguments - until Hershel shook his head and gave your hand a squeeze. "Now listen to me, Y/N. I know very well that this must be not easy for you. I can understand; given what happened to Lori. But Lori had Carl through a c-section, so the chances were pretty high she needed to have Judith with a c-section as well. You on the other hand have very good chances for a natural birth." He said calmly, pausing for a moment to let his words sink in. "Despite, you are such a strong woman. You've got Daryl by your side. You've got all of us by your side. A safe place with the prison..." He gave you a smile. "We're going to make this."

Hershel's words managed to calm you down a bit and take away some of your anxiety - quite to your surprise. "Y-You think?" "Yes." You nodded and stayed quiet for a moment, before the next thought hit you. "B-But what if Daryl doesn't want this?" A low, hearty chuckle rumbled through the elder man's chest, causing you to look at him confused. "Y/N... That man would do anything for you and that baby. You know just like me how adamant he was to keep Judith alive and healthy. He was the first one who reacted, went immediately out on a run to get her formula. Daryl would never reject that baby, trust me. He is going to be a great father." He squeezed your hand again, giving you another smile, which you couldn't help but return. "Now let's get you checked up and make sure to start on the prenatal vitamins."

And for a short moment, everything was perfectly fine. Sure, you still had your doubts and fears, but the voices in your heads became quieter, due to Hershel. Unfortunately, your happy phase didn't last even three days. Suddenly everything turned sour, when Hershel and Michonne vanished, the Governor returned to take the prison by brutal force with the two missing people in tow as hostages, murdering Hershel in front of yours and everyone's eyes – and the fall of the prison in the end. It happened so fast. Within minutes, everything was heading south with walkers flooding the place and a war breaking loose. Suddenly everybody around you was crying and yelling, while you just tried to hold on to Daryl - but it was no use... In the end, you lost him, got separated from him and ended up with Tyreese, who had saved baby Judith - and who absolutely wasn't bad at all, but Tyreese wasn't Daryl. The prison was destroyed, your family split up, not knowing who survived and who didn't. Your boyfriend and still unbeknownst to him, father of your child was probably dead and you had absolutely nothing left. Within a blink of an eye, you had a mess on your hands.

"We have to go back!" You shouted after Tyreese, as he walked on through the woods, further away from the prison. "We have to go back and look for him!" Your friend gave you no answer, just continued to walk on. With a cocktail of anger, hurt, frustration and sadness coursing through your veins, you quickly caught up to him. "Tyreese!" He stopped suddenly abruptly in his tracks. "We can't, Y/N! We can't! Don't you see? Our home is destroyed, overrun with walkers! Going back there would be suicide!" "I don't care! I have to find him!" Tyreese sighed, bouncing Judith in his arms to keep her asleep and quiet. "I know this is hard for you and I am truly so, so sorry, but we have to look after Judith now. Make sure she survives." A part of you knew that the man was more than right, but your heart just couldn't accept this. You had to made sure that the man you loved was alright. So the emotions inside you exploded, causing you to reveal your 'secret' to your friend. "And I have to make sure that the father of my baby is alive!" Your eyes widened immediately after the words had left your lips, realisation dawning on you. Tyreese's eyes widened as well; his jaw dropping. "You... You are pregnant?" You nodded; tears threatening to fall. "Please, Tyreese, please..." Your voice was quieter and softer now, on the verge of begging. The man sighed once again, before placing a free hand on your upper arm, squeezing reassuringly. "No. It's too late." You wanted to speak up again, but Tyreese was quick to cut you off. "It won't change a thing if we are going back there." "Fine. Then I'm going alone." You wanted to turn on your heels and go, but Tyreese stopped you; grabbed your arm gently. "I can't and won't let you, Y/N. You are pregnant! I'd never forgive myself if something would happen to you. We stay together. Maybe we find Daryl somewhere around here. He is a survivor, you know that." Those words seemed to finally do the trick and convince you to not go back. Instead, you fell into Tyreese's arm, hugging his side and crying against his shoulder.

"Y/N!" Daryl looked around frantically, scanning his surroundings, while taking out several walkers on his way. "Y/N!" He couldn't see you. He just couldn't see you. "Y/N!" The tank, standing in the yard distracted his search for a moment, as he made sure to push a grenade down the gun, causing the man inside to jump out, before the tank exploded. Daryl was quick in driving an arrow through the enemy's chest; looking once again around. "Y/N!" The archer was on the edge of despair, so afraid to lose you. He had held your hand so tight and nevertheless, you were just suddenly gone, vanished into thin air, just because he had to use the hand which was clasping yours to kill an approaching walker. It was a mistake. He should've never let you go and rather just waste an arrow. Feeling the tears coming up in his eyes and witnessing more walkers storming the destroyed home they had built up, he screamed out your name from the top of his lungs for one last time. No response. No you. "Fuck!" He cursed, throwing his weapons to the ground and rubbing the heels of his hands in his eyes - until a familiar voice spoke up behind him.

"Daryl!" The archer spun around. His gaze landed on a young woman with blonde hair. Beth. "I was trying to find the kinds to get them on the bus." Daryl shook his head. "I lost Y/N. I can't find 'er. I can't find 'er." Beth looked at him compassionately, taking his hand. "I'm so sorry, Daryl." The man was quiet for a moment, until he ripped his hand loose from the teenager's soft grip. "You gotta Beth, you gotta go. Get yourself to safety." The young woman's eyes widened. "No! I-I... What about you?" "I can't leave. I need ta find Y/N. I can't lose her." Beth frantically shook her head. "You can't, Daryl. If you stay, you're going to get yourself killed! There are too many walkers!" "Don care. Gotta find 'er." He wanted to walk past Beth, but she held him back with a hand pressed against his chest. "No! Y/N wasn't inside the prison. I didn't see her. You couldn't find her outside. What if she was inside the bus, or left already with someone else?" Daryl's eyes flickered, the gears in his head turning. "Please... If you go in there now and get yourself killed, Y/N is the one who is going to suffer. You don't want that, do you?" Daryl swallowed, shaking his head. "No." "See? Now come on. We have to go. We'll look for her, I promise!" He nodded and followed Beth, still not sure if this was the right decision.

Time passed. Day after day went by. While you, Tyreese and Judith found Carol on your way, Daryl lost Beth to god knows who and found Rick, Carl and Michonne somewhere on the way. They weren't you, but he was relieved to see that other members of his family had survived. Unfortunately, they didn't know what happened to you as well, leaving the archer still in the dark. It was torturous. But so it was for you.

At some point, you lost track of time, couldn't tell if the weeks had already turned to months or not. What you knew was, that the baby living inside you, must be there already for at least three months, since you lately started to show, having a small baby bump now. Carol quickly counted one and one together as well, making sure together with Tyreese that you were safe and protected.

Well... And then Terminus happened. While Daryl tried to stay alive with the others, Carol went on a rescue mission. You wanted to accompany her at all costs, but of course she didn't let you. She didn't want to risk your life and with that the baby's life as well. So, you stayed behind in that little hut with Tyreese and Judith, making sure that this strange man you took hostage didn't escape. Let's put it this way... Not every part of it went according to plan, but in the end everything turned out to be fine. More than fine, actually...

"I'm not digging around with this crap. We just made it out." "The fences are down. They'll run or die." Daryl listened in silence to the group and Rick's arguing, biting his lower lip - until he heard the leaves of the forest ground crunch, alerting him that someone - or most likely rather something must be there. He was right. But it wasn't something. It was someone. Carol. Daryl couldn't believe his eyes, seeing his best friend standing there, only a few feet away. He didn't think he would ever see her again. Not after she had been banished by Rick. But there she was. Daryl didn't hesitate, ran over to her and pulled her into a big hug. That attracted the others attention as well. Everyone was exhausted to the core, but undeniably happy to see Carol. Rick as well. He approached the two friends. "Did you do that?" Carol nodded meekly, on the verge of tears. Rick went immediately to hug her, wrapping both his arms tightly around his friend. "Thank you." The grey-haired woman retreated from the hug, smiling softly. "You have to come with me."

That was exactly what they all did. They followed Carol to the little hut… "They're back! Y/N they're back!" Tyreese exclaimed, watching their family approach the hut through one of the windows. "Really?!" You literally jumped up from where you sat on the ground beside Judith's makeshift crib. "Yes!" "Daryl! Can you see Daryl?!" Tyreese turned to face you, smiling. "Look for yourself." You sprinted to the window, seeing familiar and also a few unfamiliar faces. Among them, was Daryl. Seeing him kickstarted your heart, sending waves of pure happiness through your veins. "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh," you splattered out, before moving over to run out of the hut. "Daryl! Daryl!" The archer's eyes shot up, landing directly on you. For the second time within minutes, he couldn't believe his eyes. He had already lost hope, thinking he was never ever going to see you again. "Y/N..." He breathed out, letting his crossbow fall to the ground and running towards you, meeting you halfway in a hug. You literally jumped into his arms, wrapping both your arms and legs around him. "Daryl..." You sobbed, burying your face in his neck. "Y/N..." You could tell that Daryl was crying as well. His voice quivering and unsteady. The world around you faded. Just you and Daryl existed in that very moment. "I-I thought I lost you. I thought I was never going to see you again." You stammered, still clinging to him. "Me too. I couldn't find ya. I searched for ya, but I just couldn't find ya." "I'm here now." You whispered with a smile, peppering the skin on his neck with small kisses. "I am never going let ya out of my sight again, I promise. 'M gonna protect you better, I swear." You shook your head. "You always protect me as best as you can. This wasn't your fault. Stop blaming yourself, please. It was the Governor's fault. Nobody else's." Daryl just nodded against your shoulder, relieved that he had you back in his arms. That was everything what mattered in that moment. You held him for another while, before you untangled yourself from around your boyfriend and backed up a bit, just enough to look into his blue, greyish eyes. Though, one eye was slightly swollen and red. All in all, he looked quite battered and bruised, causing your heart to ache. Gently, you cupped his scruffy cheeks, looking at him with furrowed brows, worried. He noticed that of course, "M fine. Don worry." and started immediately to rub reassuring circles in the clothed skin of your hips with his thumbs. "You don't look fine, Daryl." The archer shook his head. "M fine, really. Jus' a black eye and a few cuts and bruises... How are you? You alright?" His question reminded you suddenly of the baby, growing in your womb. His baby. You swallowed. Now was the time to tell him, wasn't it?

"Y-Yes, I am, b-but there's something I need to tell you, I-" "We need to go." Rick's voice suddenly cut through the air, loud enough to catch both, yours and Daryl's attention. The archer looked at his brother, an arm still protectively wrapped around you. He hadn't noticed your small baby bump yet. "Yeah, but where?" He asked. "Somewhere far away from there," answered Rick, everybody shuffling around to get ready for moving along. Daryl nodded, thinking the same as Rick. "You two coming?" "Yes, just give us a minute. We'll catch up." You jumped to answer your friend, before Daryl could. You had to tell him. Now. "Alright. Just don't stay behind. We'll make sure to look out for you." You nodded, giving him a smile. "Thanks." The others went to follow Rick, leaving you and Daryl on your own - for now. The archer's gaze met yours again, fear and worry clouding his blue-grey orbs. "What is it?" Daryl asked, eyes suddenly widening. "You didn't get bit, did ya?!" You quickly shook your head. "No, no! It's not that! I didn't get bit!" He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing out relieved. "Thank fuck. What is it then?" You took a deep breath. Now or never. "I-I'm pregnant." Daryl blinked, looking at you incredulously. "W-What?" You bit your lip, gently reaching for his hand and placing it on your small baby bump for him to feel. "I-I'm pregnant." An audible gasp left his lips; emotions getting stuck in his throat and tears blurring his vision. "P-Pregnant? Y-Yer pregnant?" You nodded, having to fight the tears once again as well. "Oh Y/N..." Daryl sobbed, engulfing you in another hug.

"Since when do you know?" You swallowed hard, knowing that this question would come. "A few days before the prison fell..." "W-What?" He was shocked. "Why didn't you tell me?" "I'm sorry. I-I wanted to, but I was so afraid because of what happened to Lori a-a-and I dunno... Before I could tell you, everything went south. I'm so sorry." "Damnit, Y/N... Jus' imagine what could've happen if you ended up alone out there? Ya could've died!" "But I didn't! I found Tyreese and Carol. They took care of me. They always made sure I was okay." Daryl scoffed, but took your hands into his. "Don scare the shit outta me again, woman, I swear…" You had to smile softly at his words, shaking your head, "Promise." and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him lovingly. "Let's catch up to the others. You stay close ta me. I don't want ya out of my sight, understood?" You nodded. "Yes, Sir." "Good." The archer intertwined your fingers with his, grabbed his crossbow and gently pulled you with him, in order to catch up to the others - what you did in the end. "So, you're not mad at me, that I'm, well... Pregnant?" Once again, he shook his head. "Why should I? This is wonderful, actually. Maybe not the best time, but we're gonna make this. Judith made it, too." You smiled up at him, your heart full and content with love. "I love you." "I love ya too, sunshine - and I promise I'm goin' to look after you and that kid."

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