#and i hope its not to romance-y for you

[kasagia]

Secret affairs

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x fem!grisha! reader Summary: Rumours and whispers are circulating in the Little Palace that General Kirigan has found himself a mysterious woman with whom he spends his nights. One morning Ivan learns that the rumours are true. Fedyor will not rest until he finds out who their Black General's new lover is—who is the one who makes him much less grumpy. Requested by: @drinix (I AM SOOOO SOOO SORRY THAT IT TOOK ME AGES! BUT I HOPE YOU WILL LIKE IT, HONYE!!! 🖤🖤🖤🖤) Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @chelseyyouraverageluigi @watersquirtpewpewboomm @summersummoner-pat Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

One morning, Aleksander sips his coffee and looks through the reports Ivan has just delivered to his desk. He has a meeting with his colonels in a few minutes, and he's struggling with his lack of sleep. At least this time, he has a better reason to stay up late than answering letters and planning new battle tactics.

He smiles, remembering the night he spent with you. He runs a hand over his jaw, trying to shake the thought of you beneath him. How you trembled at his every little touch, the sweet sounds you made as he struck your most sensitive spots with pinpoint precision, how wonderful you looked sprawled out on the bed, a clean, quivering mess as he tasted you to his liking…

"Forgive me, General, but I can't find your kefta." Ivan's voice snaps him out of his thoughts. Aleksander absentmindedly picks up the reports again, knowing full well that he has to read them before he goes to any meetings, and, ignoring Ivan a bit, mumbles under his breath, asking him to repeat what he just said. "I can't find your kefta, sir."

"My kefta?" Aleksander repeats, surprised. Ivan has never had any problems with this simple task before. Suddenly he remembers why his heartrender can't find his keft. "I must have left it at hers." Aleksander mutters under his breath, unaware that he is saying it so loudly that Ivan can hear him.

Heartrender frowns and stares at his general in shock as he casually takes his reports and heads to the main war room for a meeting.

As soon as Ivan enters the room, he meets the questioning gaze of his beloved. Feydor immediately notices how pale and nervous Ivan has become and that his heart is beating a little faster. He decides to ask him what happened. And a few hours later, Ivan confirms to Feydor the rumours that have been circulating in the Little Palace.

General Kirigan had a secret affair.

"I can't believe it! Him?" Alina's whisper reaches you as you sit down at the table right next to Fedyor.

"Who are we gossiping about? The healer who almost broke a bone in one of the Inferni yesterday while so-called healing?"

"No. Ivan couldn't find the general's kefta this morning. And when he told him, he mumbled that he must have left it at HERS. Do you understand? At HERS. HER. SHE. A WOMAN."

"Yes, Fedyor. I understood at first time when you said it." You laugh at his excitement about this new rumour.

"No you don't! You don't know what it means if you are not at least as interested and excited as me or Alina." Fedyor informs you in a very serious way.

You roll your eyes at his foolish behaviour and looks at Aleksander who is coming into the great hall. In his black kefta.

"No way! It must be someone from the Little Palace! Look at him, he is wearing it now! Someone had to give it to him." Fedyor whispers conspiratorially to the three of you, staring at the general.

You raise an eyebrow at him, amused when the man quickly feigns interest in his food as Aleksander's gaze falls on the three of you. He nods at you and leaves the room.

"Sorry, duties." You say and take an apple from the table. "Try not to interrogate everyone around you about the general's new beloved. She may get embarrassed or scared and leave him and he'll become a pain in our asses again." You tease him and leave him and Alina to discuss this new revelation.

You walk quickly through the hallway of the Little Palace, practically running after Aleksander. You burst into his war room and before you can say a word, his lips are on yours.

You moan softly, surprised by the suddenness of his kiss. You tangle your hands in his hair and hum against his mouth as he slips his tongue into your mouth, pinning you against the door. You’re breathless as he practically devours you, drinking in all your moans and whimpers of pleasure as his large, strong hands caress the cheeks of your ass.

"I was thinking about it since I left your side." He mumbles, pressing small kisses to your jaw. You sigh, digging your hands into the collar of his kefta and pushing him away from you with a heavy heart, but you have to get the message across to him before you get lost in each other again.

"You have to be more careful. Fedyor got something out of Ivan and knows you have a mistress."

"So you are my secret mistress now?" He asks, chuckling against your neck. You bite your lip as his beard teasingly grazes your neck, plump lips nipping at your skin.

"Call me that again and you will be comming back from my chamber to yours all naked." You growl, but your threat carries little fear as Aleksander begins to unbutton your own kefta.

"You wouldn't dare..." He mumbles against your skin and all you can do is tug on his hair in retaliation as he traces his marks across your collarbone and moves lower, approaching the valley between your breasts.

"So sure?" You gasp, trying your best to remain intimidate to him, but it is a challenge when his fingers work so smoothly in undressing you.

"Uh-huh." He mumbles and kisses you again, this time more forcefully than last time, making your legs buckle slightly. He holds you tightly by the waist and lifts you up, navigating through his room and laying you on his bed, which is filled with books.

"I... um... sorry. I should have cleaned up here." He mumbles to himself and throws the books to the floor in his haste. You laugh at him and grab his arm.

"I don't mind... besides it will be quite hard to explain why you suddenly clean your rooms without any suspicion about this new lover of yours." You tease him with a smirk, but he doesn't seem to share your good humour at all.

He's lost in thought, stroking your cheek with his thumb thoughtfully and not responding to your teasing, just staring at you sprawled beneath him, shadows slowly creeping out of his control and draping over the foot of the bed.

"Shouldn't we... make this official?" He asks, staring at you with those night-dark eyes of his. You shiver, surprised by his question.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat and control your slight panic attack as he continues to stare at you, waiting patiently waiting for your answer and searching your face carefully for any reaction.

"What for? That's... quite a comfortable... deal we are in. Besides, I don't want them to talk that I am your second-in-command just because I slept with you. And I thought you liked that our relationship is strictly private and well... not to anyone's eyes?"

"Yeah... yeah, I do. You probably are right. Having you in the darkness is much more entertaining than in the daylight."

You know from the way he frowns slightly that this isn't the answer he was expecting. But if anything, Aleksander is a pathological people-pleaser. So he doesn't say anything about his true feelings about the secrecy of your relationship and instead leans in for a kiss.

Which subconsciously makes you feel incredibly guilty.

"Come here... let me help you relax, moi soverenyi." You moan against his lips and straddle him, deciding that this afternoon you will serve your general.

But no matter how many kisses you press into his skin, how many marks you leave, or how many times you make him moan your name, you still feel a burning feeling of guilt inside.

You try with all your might to focus your attention solely on giving him as much pleasure as possible, but your thoughts involuntarily wander to his proposal. You weren't ready to show the two of you to the world yet. You weren't ready for the judgemental looks from others. You'd rather everything stay the way it was. Just you and Aleksander, your little secret, stole kisses and nights between each other's sheets.

You were completely happy with that. But as you can see, your Sasha wanted more.

And you weren't entirely sure if you could give it to him now.

You wake up blissfully aching. Aleksander's shadows float across his bedroom, obscuring the entire room, blocking out any sunlight. You turn your gaze to the man whose chest your head rests on.

You smile, watching the sleeping shadow summoner. It's rare to see him so... calm, rested. Unable to stop yourself, you run your hand along the line of his jaw and gently cup his bearded cheek. You stroke it with your thumb, drinking in his appearance, enjoying every tiny hickey you've left on him.

You lean down and kiss him sweetly, slowly, unhurriedly, enjoying the softness of his lips and the roughness of his beard. Kissing him had always been a surreal feeling for you. Sometimes you couldn't believe that you could actually press your lips against his and declare your claim to the most powerful Grisha that existed.

You feel him start to wake up as the kiss continues. He wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly by the waist, rolling you so you're straddling him as he kisses you passionately, hungrily. You sigh into his mouth, feeling his manhood press against you as if last night hadn't worn him out.

You run your hands over his chest and slowly settle yourself on him. You sigh as the head of his cock slowly opens your soaked walls. It feels so good and so damn full, as you settle yourself completely on him, as you become one. You bite your lip and hold your breath as he sits up, wrapping his arms around you tightly, digging his fingers into your back.

"Y/N..." He murmurs into your ear and kisses his lobe. You sigh, feeling him perfectly fill every little space of you.

"Morning." You gasp as he pushes you onto your back, hovering over you. He sucks hickies on your neck, mumbling quiet good mornings against your skin as he lazily thrusts into you.

You wriggle and moan beneath him, trying to press yourself as close to him as you can. There’s no space between you as he claims you with every thrust, destroying you for any other man. You sigh as he presses his lips to yours, kissing you possessively, stealing your breath with each deep, hard thrust into you.

He trails his kisses down your neck. His beard tickles your skin as he caresses your lips. You moan his name loudly as he suddenly sucks onto your breast.

He smiles evilly against your skin. Aleksander revels in the way you dig your nails into his shoulders as he works tirelessly to please you. He loved seeing you like this. Hair tousled against his black sheets, eyes closed from the rush of pleasure, mouth open in a quiet moan of his name when all you could think about was him. That was when you felt truly his. And it was a pleasant change for him to know that someone belonged to him, that he owned someone. It was just a shame he couldn't claim you in the sunlight as well.

A sudden movement in the war room makes you both freeze. Aleksander stares at his bedroom door and instinctively raises his shadows, causing them to wrap around the two of you defensively.

"General, we got a report from the west border with Fjerda..." Fedyor's voice trails off in the realization as the heartrender realizes he hears two heartbeats in Darkling's bedroom. Two fast heartbeats. "I... um... should I come later?"

"Preferably." Your lover responds, still on his guard.

You listen for Fedyor's footsteps and sigh in relief as he walks away. You laugh uncontrollably, which earns a soft chuckle from Aleksander. His heart heats up as he watches fondly as you laugh beneath him at the absurdity of the situation.

"Oh my dear saints. He's going to be so determined to find out who you're hiding under the sheets."

"Yes... probably." He replies. You frown thoughtfully, but you quickly distract yourself when he moves again. You moan, biting your lower lip and digging your fingers into his arm as he reaches deep, hitting that weak spot inside you that sends tingles throughout your body. "But you'll manage, right, milaya?"

You nodded, unable to utter any coherent sounds. He smiles pure evil and continues to pound into you at a punishing, rapid pace. You bite your lip, almost drawing blood as you try not to moan his name too loudly in the darkness of his chambers.

Yep... you definitely loved your stolen mornings with him.

A few hours later, you smile to yourself as you pack your things. Due to suspicious activity by the Fjerdans on the border, Aleksander decided to go and see for himself what was going on. You were supposed to be on the lookout for Morozova's stag.

Despite the sudden events of today, you couldn't just forget about the morning spent with him. The thought of it made you blush, and a smile appeared on your lips. Lost in thoughts about the shadow summoner, you didn't even register when Zoya entered your room with a packed backpack.

"Oh saints, you had sex!" You jump suddenly at her excited squeal and stare at her like a deer caught in the light of a hunter's torch.

"I beg you pardon?"

"You had sex! You're glowing, relaxed, and oh my, you're blushing like a teenager! Who's that? Do I know him? Handsome? What order is he from? Or maybe it is she?" She bombards you with excited questions. You hide your face in your hands, not wanting to watch her wicked smile as she settles on your bed, staring at you intently.

"I... have no idea what are you talking about."

Before you can somehow defend yourself from her accusations, you are interrupted by a knock on your door. Fedyor enters with his things, all excited, with Ivan hot on his heels.

"Y/N, you won't believe it! He really does have someone! You have to tell me if you saw anyone in the corridors leading to his quarters last night when you were leaving his chambers after the night briefing. Remember every detail, I need to know everything."

"Y/N had sex with some mysterious lover." Zoya briefs Fedyor before either of you can add anything to the man's long rant.

Ivan raises a surprised eyebrow at you, silently analysing the information in his head. You see the gears turning in his head, and as he connects the dots—as Alexander's closest confidant after you—he blushes. You shake your head slightly, staring at him as Fedyor and Zoya exchange gossip. He swallows and nods silently. You note it as a problem for later and turn your gaze to the two excitedly gossiping Grisha.

"I can't believe it! You too?! Who is it?! With your busy schedule with Kirigan, I didn't think I'd have time to find anyone, but here you are. Is it that handsome inferni? The one who's going on the mission with us and has been hanging around you for ages?"

"I… would prefer to keep my… boyfriend's privacy for now. It's a quite new thing, we're… testing if we're a good fit." You stammer, explaining yourself, knowing full well that you can't deny these two for long. They would have known the truth anyway. You're terrified of the moment when they realize that you and Aleksander are something more.

"Oh, I understand that perfectly. Ivan and I went through the same thing, right, honey?"

"Yeah..." Ivan mumbles thoughtfully and continues to stare at you in shock. However, Fedyor is too lost in his conspiracy theory to pay attention to his significant other's behavior. For which you silently thank the saints above.

Eventually, you all gather up and head for the stables. Zoya and Fedyor mumble something to each other in the front, and you and Ivan follow. You decide that this is a good time to approach him and ask for discretion.

"You know, don't you?" Ivan stares at you for a moment, then nods silently. You swallow hard, nervously playing with the sleeve of your kefta. “Listen… can we keep this between us? I… I doubt it’s a good idea to talk about all this now. He doesn't need to have such rumours running about us in the Little Palace."

Ivan nods at you, agreeing with your words. But you can see that something is bothering him. For a moment he grits his teeth in silence, but then he mumbles under his breath, barely audible.

"He seems… less tense. Less worried." You blush along with him. You clear your throat and turn your gaze to the walls of the corridors you pass, thinking of a… neutral response to his observation.

"I... I guess he is."

"I think… I want to say… it's good that he has you." You look at him in surprise, almost tripping on the exit steps as he says this. The blush deepens on your cheeks as you think about what he told you. "Everyone needs their own Fedyor."

You smile, seeing his gaze on his other half. And perhaps for the first time you see that they actually fit together, and Ivan is worthy of your best friend. You wonder involuntarily if Aleksander looks at you like that when you don't see...

"Yeah... I think you are right. Thank you, Ivan. You are a good friend. For both of us. Well, mostly to him." You say, referring to Aleksander. Ivan nods in silent agreement.

This strange harmony between you seems to be going strong. You are united by one goal. The good of your shadow summoner.

The four of you reach the stables. Alexei - the inferni, who as Fedyor mentioned was supposed to join your mission and had a crush on you quite openly, runs up to you quickly. But your eyes and attention are focused only on the general. Or rather, on the general and his sun summoner, as other Grishas maliciously called it.

Your blood boils, a strange feeling of jealousy hits you like a hunter's shotgun hits an animal, and you can't even do anything about it as Alina is clearly flirting with him. All you can do is stand there and try to swallow the bile of jealousy with dignity as Alina adjusts the collar of Aleksander's kefta. He somehow senses your burning gaze on him, but you quickly turn away and mount your horse without even waiting for his reaction.

He's lucky you're not official yet. And that it'll be hours before you can calm down before you can talk to him in private. But you're starting to understand why keeping your relationship a secret no longer works for the Black General. Especially when you see the way his jaw clenches when you laugh at some joke of Alexei's, causing the young inferni to give you lovey-dovey puppy eyes, to which you wink back.

You may have been cruel, but the knowledge that your lover was as jealous of you as you were of him calmed you down a bit and lifted your spirits. And if by any chance you made sure that Alina rode with you and away from Aleksander during the journey, that wasn't intentional at all. Not at all.

"So... Ivan knows." Aleksander comments as you lay in his tent, wrapped in his arms.

Ivan stood guard over your small camp while the rest slept. You decided to take the opportunity to sneak in on your shadow summoner to share the revelation. And maybe just a little to steal a few kisses and hugs from him.

"Indeed." You mumble, playing with his fingers that are slowly dripping shadows.

You bring one of his fingertips to your lips and press a small kiss there, which makes Aleksander's heart melt even more for you. He tightens his grip around you and presses a tender kiss to the top of your head before resting his bearded cheek on it with a small sigh.

"Well... sonner or later Fedyor will figure it out too. It's just the matter of time."

"Maybe... that's why I want to enjoy you in privacy for as long as I can." You prop yourself up on your elbow and lean in to steal a quick kiss. You pull away from him with a smile, but you frown, not finding any of the malice in his eyes that he would normally have at this gesture. Something was wrong.

"Y/N... Don't you think that's enough? We've been going around each other for a long time. I think the rest should know about us." A cold shiver runs through you at his words.

You try to control your heartbeat, but you know perfectly well that you are no longer able to hide your emotions from him so well. He knew you as well as you knew him.

He knew that you were not exactly keen on making your relationship public. That is why you cannot lie and pretend that it is not so. You have to convince him to change his mind somehow... but how?

"But it's so sexy to have you all to myself, a secret from everyone. Don't you love the thrill every time we sneak around each other for a kiss or something more?"

"I like that. But I don't like that I can't hold your hand outside the four walls of our chambers. I don't like that I can't go up to you and kiss you when you look so lovely after training with Fedyor or Zoya. I don't like that I have to watch others flirt with you and touch what's mine. I don't like that I can't make your cheeks blush in front of others. I don't like that I can't look at you for as long as I want without suspicion. I don't like that I can't play with your hair during particularly boring council meetings. I don't like that I have to hide the fact that I love you."

His confession hits you harder than any punch Baghra had ever given you during training. You swallow hard and kneel down next to him, watching him carefully as you try to process what he’d just told you.

"You... love me?"

"I do. And if it is not enough for you to make it public... I don't know if I can go on like this anymore. I don't know if I can keep my trembling hands from reaching for you in the light of day, not just in the darkness of night or my shadows. I need more. I need all of you, Y/N."

You stare at him, utterly shocked by his sudden confession. His words both overwhelm you and warm your heart, but it's not enough to quell the panic rising within you.

Because as much as you want to be his, as much as you want him to be yours, you know that the members of the Second Army won't look so... favourably on your romance. Besides the public opinion... you're afraid that once the thrill of excitement and mystery wears off, Aleksander's feelings for you will fade dramatically and he'll realise that you're not a good match at all and that Alina would be a better choice for him.

"I... it's hard for me... to give you an answer now." You mumble, watching anxiously as his brow furrows, face darkening as he retreats back into his shell and tries to hide his true emotions from you.

"I thought it should be easy. You either want me or not."

"I want you." You respond quickly, reaching out for his arm in panic and holding it in a tight, almost bruising grip. The desperation on your face makes Aleksander sigh with relief inside. You cared. That was for sure. So why do you hesitate for so long and postpone the inevitable?

"Then why do you insist on keeping us hidden?"

You don't answer. You know he'll think your uncertainty about his feelings is baseless and pointless. You think it's stupid. But you can't escape the overwhelming feeling that the moment your romance stops being a tightrope, his feelings for you will burn out like a candle. And you really wanted to keep him by your side.

Your silence, however, is not what he wants. Or something that could help you stop him. He nods silently and stands up from your makeshift bed of blankets.

"Where are you going?"

"Outside. I'll take guard duty for Ivan." He replies emotionlessly. You swallow nervously and sit up, following him with your eyes as he puts on his black coat as he is giving you a cold arm.

"Aleksander." You whisper with a pained tone in your voice. He stops for a moment and gives you a long, haunted look. He sighs and shakes his head at your silence and walks out of the tent, leaving you alone.

The lump in your throat grows and tears well up in your eyes. You close your eyelids and lift your head, taking a few calming breaths. You fucked this up. Not for the first time, but this time you really hoped you wouldn't get cold feet and that you'd somehow stifle that little voice in your head that had always questioned your worth.

Because you felt you weren't worthy of Aleksander. Yet for some twisted reason he thought you were perfect for him. Maybe this time you should take a chance and trust him? Trust that at the end of the day he'll decide you're enough and that you don't have to be a Sun Summoner to be his equal?

After a while, you stand up unsteadily and walk to the tent flap. You glance through it and freeze when you see Alina and Aleksander talking quietly by the fire. She says something to him and puts her hand on his shoulder, but instead of moving away from her touch, he seems to cling to her and answers her with one of those smiles that make your knees weak. You feel a painful stab in your heart. As if scalded, you jump away from the tent flap and lie back down in the pile of blankets.

You bury your nose in the material that has soaked in the scent of the Shadow Summoner and close your eyes as tears freely flow down your cheek and soak into the black fur. A hundred dark thoughts, doubts, and different scenarios in which Aleksander leaves you for Alina go through your head, and to be completely honest, you don't blame him. She was a real sun. How could you possibly compare to her? You were stupid and naive to think that he would stick to you when he could have her.

The only comfort you find is that at the end of your crying, when you had no more tears to shed and were only shaking uncontrollably, Alexander came back. He came back and practically silently laid down next to you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to his chest, burying his nose in your hair. He sighed quietly and ran his thumb over your waist, holding you so tightly as if you were the most important thing in his life, and he couldn't let you slip through his fingers.

You don't make a move, don't give any sign that you're awake. You spend the rest of the night half-awake as you try to memorize the way Aleksander holds you, the way he still wants to come back to your bed at night.

Because something tells you that this state of affairs won't last long.

"Just as I thought, you look adorable even after a week of horseback riding and searching for a group of Drüskelle." Alexei compliments you as you and Zoya return to camp after scouting. You let out an uncontrollable laugh at this, amused by the absurdity of his flirting, and join the group sitting around the campfire.

"It's a pity I can't say the same about you." You say spitefully and accept from Aleksander, who is sitting next to you, a stick with a fish that Fedyor and Alina had caught earlier. Aleksander takes another stick with a raw fish and starts roasting it again. Everyone else laughs at your remark, even Alexei.

"You'll see, one day I will melt your cold heart." You roll your eyes at this. Zoya, sitting next to you, hits your arm in amusement.

"Come on, Y/N. Tell us about this secret lover of yours. Maybe it will cool Alexei's ardor."

Fedyor perks up at Zoya's words and nods enthusiastically, while Aleksander, sitting next to you, tenses slightly. You see that his knuckles have been clenching around the stick since Alexei began his flirtation with you. You fear his further reaction to this conversation, which is heading in a rather dangerous direction.

"You have a lover?! Who beat me to it?" Everyone around you laughs at the exaggeratedly hurt tone of Inferni's voice and the way he dramatically aimed his fishing rod at you. You smile involuntarily and shake your head, trying your best to keep the blush from spreading to your cheeks.

"Thanks for your concern, or rather curiosity, but my lover and I would rather keep our privacy. Besides, I can't talk about him left and right without his consent."

"Maybe it wouldn't bother him at all?" Aleksander comments, not looking at you, instead focussing his attention on the fish in the fire. You feel an uncomfortable feeling in your chest when he won't even look at you. The bitter feeling of guilt resurfaces within you, and you wonder how the hell you're supposed to fix what you've broken.

"Exactly! I don't care what you want, I wanna meet this guy who is the best sex you've ever had!" Zoya comments, practically making you choke on your own saliva and freeze in embarrassment.

Everyone around the fire is laughing at this and asking you snide questions about your mystery lover's… prowess. You glance briefly at Alexander and almost punch him in the arm when a smug, dark smile appears on his face. And from the mischievous glint in his eyes, you know he'll only put the final nail in the coffin of your embarrassment.

"The best sex you've ever had, you say?" He asks, amused, raising an eyebrow at you. You bite your lower lip and slam your shoulder into his, almost causing him to lose his balance and fall over the log. He laughs at your feeble attempt at attacking him.

"Oh, piss off." You snap at him but he just reaches over and ruffles your hair with his hand. It's only the deafening silence around you that makes you realize you've done something… wrong.

Everyone stares at Aleksander in shock, as if waiting for him to yell at you for overstepping his bounds, but he doesn't. You see genuine shock and surprise on their faces. Before your general can say anything, you take over, trying to save the day.

"What? Haven't you ever seen two good friends banter?" You sneer at them and nod at their sticks. "Your food will burn if you sit there with your mouths open and stare at us much longer."

Somehow your words disenchant them. They go back to their usual joking, teasing demeanour, and the camp buzzes with their conversations again. You glance at Aleksander, and you can see from his face that he doesn't like the way you've handled this. You know this was the perfect opportunity to admit you're together, but after what you saw last night—the way he acted with Alina—you got too scared to tell them. If they all didn't know you were together, maybe his inevitable departure would hurt less?

You flinch as your secret lover sitting next to you suddenly takes the stick with the fish out of your hands.

"You'll burn it if you stay in your tangled thoughts any longer." He grumbles and takes the fish off the stick. You see he's completely abandoned his in favor of preparing your meal. You nod with a smile as he hands you a slice of bread and seasons the fish with the spices you brought with you.

Unconsciously to you, someone's eyes are watching the two of you closely.

Aleksander thrusts the food under your nose. You instinctively lean forward and bite into the offered sandwich, used to him feeding you, most often in the late hours of the night, when you both sit in the war room and spend time planning new tactics. You glance around quickly, but fortunately the others are too busy with themselves to notice. Or so you think.

"You're going to burn your own fish." You notice and take your food from him.

He's holding his stick back, and you decide to give him a bite of his before he gets his food. After all, he practically made you yours. You make sure no one notices and feed Alexander. He hums and brushes his lips against your fingertips before licking them teasingly. You sigh and punch him in the arm, to which he just grins wolfishly at you and winks.

You feel warm just from your playful exchange. And as the darkness grows deeper, you reach for Aleksander's hand and hold it tightly, shielding it with the hem of your coat. You smooth your thumb over the back of his hand, laughing at the stories Zoya tells. Aleksander seems much less tense, and a little satisfied, when you hold his hand tightly in yours.

And while you think no one has noticed, they have. Or at least one of them has.

At some point, Aleksander gives you his coat, insisting in a quiet conversation between you that you'll freeze and get sick if you don't take it and that he'll be fine because he's survived winters much worse than this one, and with much thinner clothing.

Your heart aches that he's had such an experience, but for the sake of peace, you take the black coat from him. You blush when he whispers that when he gets back, he'll make sure David makes you one that matches his, so everyone knows you're his.

And when he presses his lips to your forehead to check that your body temperature isn't too low for his liking, Fedyor awkwardly reveals that he's been watching you.

"Saints, Fedyor!" Alina squeaks in panic as the heartrender somehow loses his balance on the log and almost falls into the fire.

He hadn't leaned any closer to hear what you were whispering, and he hadn't nearly fallen into the fire in shock when he was the only one to notice their general's affectionate treatment of you. Not at all.

"Are you okay?" You ask him worriedly and kneel down next to him.

Fedyor swallows, trying hard not to show that he noticed the way Kirigan's gaze softens when he looks at you. He was such an idiot. How could he not have noticed that before?

"Yeah... yeah, I am fine. I should probably just go to sleep. Ivan?" Fedyor calls his beloved.

He helps him up and leads him to their tent. Before he can ask even one question about his well-being, Fedyor blurts out:

"Did you notice that Y/N and general are... very close?" Ivan at first seems not to react to his words. Fedyor only realises, through the very slight acceleration of his heartbeat, that perhaps his partner knows something more about... the unexpected connection between his best friend and the Black General. "Ivan... do you know what I think you know?"

"What do you think you know?" Ivan clears his throat awkwardly as they both enter their tent.

"Oh saints, you know right?! How long?! Was it that obvious?!"

Fedyor's mind flashes back to a million moments when your feelings for each other were painfully obvious. He remembers how Kirigan would let you playfully tease him, how he would always make sure you weren't overworking yourself and were eating the right amount of meals, and how he would look after your well-being. Hell, the general even delayed your trip to the fold because you were sick with a cold from your recent trip to Kertch! And he had behaved like a jilted, angry, resentful lover during those months! It was so painfully obvious that Kirigan was head over heels in love with you... but were you? Or was it just a passing fling? Fedyor had to know more.

"That's why we shouldn't get involved and let them decide for themselves… Fedyor, honey, where are you going?" Ivan asks confused as his other half runs out of the tent.

Fedyor throws a quick see you later over his shoulder and runs to your tent hoping to find you there so he can have a serious talk with you.

And fortunately he succeeds.

"You told Ivan, and you didn't tell me?! I am your best friend!" Fedyor shouts at the entrance to your tent. You stare at him, holding the report the falcon just delivered to you in your hands, as you are trying to understand what he means. You blush as you realise what he could be so angry about.

"I… since when did you…"

"Oh please. You've obviously been like this the whole time. I'm a fool for not making the connection. It's literally written all over his face that he loves you. What about you?" Fedyor sits on your blankets. Your palms are sweating and you put the reports on the ground, wondering how the hell you're going to get out of this situation now.

"I… it's complicated."

"Love is quite complicated. Maybe that's why you gave Alina a deadly look a few days ago when she was practicing her powers with the general? And you snapped at her, giving her a completely traumatic tantrum when she lost her sword?"

"I… it wasn't intentional and you know it." You mumble, blushing even more, but this time with embarrassment.

"It's a simple question Y/N. You either feel it or you don't. And from what I see, you probably also… reciprocate. Although it's clear that he fell much harder."

"You think?" You ask with a smirk, unable to help yourself at his comment. Fedyor nods and stands up. He walks over to the shadow and places his hands on your shoulders.

"Yes. And believe me, I don't blame him. If I didn't play for the same team, or didn't have similar tastes as you, it would be really hard for me not to fall in love with you."

"Yeah, I know. We'd be a great couple if you weren't gay." You laugh at him and pull him into a hug. "But don't tell Ivan or Kirigan that."

"Sure. We don't want to upset our grumps, do we?"

Your laughter is the first thing Aleksander hears as he approaches your tent. He opens the flap with one finger and sees you standing in Fedyor's arms, laughing. A cry of jealousy and a sudden need to take you in his arms and hide you from the other man pierce his mind for a moment, but he calms down, reminding himself that Fedyor... is no threat to him. At least not romantically.

"Can I interrupt?" He asks and goes inside. You step away from Fedyor and nod at him.

Fedyor nods at him and leaves, throwing you a mischievous wink over his shoulder. Alexander notices this and connects the dots rather quickly. He walks over to you and wraps his arms around your waist. He plants a kiss on your forehead, then rests his chin on your shoulder.

"So I guess he knows?"

His hot whisper against your ear makes you shiver. You burrow your face into his chest, nuzzling his neck as you wrap your arms around him in an equally tight embrace. Maybe Fedyor is right? Maybe when you know… you just know?

"Yeah... At this rate soon the entire Little Palace will know."

"Do you mind?" He asks uncertainly, expecting his words to hang in the air and for it to take you a while to respond with another excuse.

But you decide to bet on the truth. Show him all your cards and the same vulnerability he has for you. It was going to be everything or nothing and you knew you couldn't put it off for long. Not if you didn't want to lose him.

"Partly. I... I am afraid that once it will stop being a secret affair you will... loose your interest in me. I mean... look at me. I am not Alina." You laugh nervously and try to hide your face in his black kefta. Aleksander is not having that. He gently takes your middle and forces you to look into his dark, beautiful eyes.

"I don't want you to be Alina. I don't want you to be anything else but you, Y/N. I love you as you are. Heartrender, healer, sun summoner, inferni or whatever else, I don't care. I care about you. The way you make me feel. The way you hold me. The way you kiss me. I want you for what you really are. Not for the power you hold. Not for anything other than you."

You can barely hold back the tears in your eyes. Instead, you just nod and lean in to kiss him softly. You melt, as always, at the softness of his lips, the way he gently cups your cheeks in his hands and holds you like you're the most important thing in his life, like he can never afford to lose you. And you hope it stays that way forever.

"You damn manipulator how can I say no after that?" You gasp as the kiss ends and he rests his forehead against yours. He chuckles deeply and envelops you in the tight, warm, safe embrace of his arms.

"You can't." He mumbles against your temple and places a tender kiss there. "You are all mine. As I am yours, milaya."

And you have to say, his words have never felt more true, as he kisses you with a passion unlike any other men. You only hope that he secretly draws 'mine' on your skin for the rest of your life… not just in his shadows and the darkness of the night.

[tobintwo]

haven’t used this blog in a WHILLEEE goddamn. but hiii um anyways im lovesick <3 /pos I think but oh my god. i cant stop thinking about this FUCKING GUY !!!!!!!! im hbbchdhdhdbhccbjjvkvjbxb. 🥰

[wcters]

𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗢𝗬𝗦 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗗 𝗕𝗘𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗘

pairing: franco colapinto x fem!singer!reader, ex!lando norris x fem!singer!reader

summary: a year after the breakup between y/n and lando, daniel and alex set her up with someone new

warnings: some angst, fluff, some swearing, pda, this is for my alex and daniel fans (me), only some bad guy lando, pretend that some of the things that happened in 2024 happend in 2023

taglist: @landorris, @bellsboops, @a-beaverhausen, @seasonswinter, @rosalie-mae, @saythename-sm, @nataliambc, @sarahsobsession, @awritingtree, @kawaiifurychaos, @batman7sworld, @dying-inside-but-its-classy , @mbioooo0000, @xo100, @charlotte-xoxo, @theonottsbxtch, @iamred-iamyellow, @willowpains, @sunny44, @caroto-porta-world-blog

do not answer ‼️

do not answer ‼️

hey, can we talk?

about what?

what is there to talk about?

do not answer ‼️

i didn’t want it to turn out this way

YOU’RE the one who cheated, not me

i am fully entitled to react the way i did

and it could’ve been worse

do not answer ‼️

i know, it was shitty of me

i was just lonely and drunk

i didn’t mean it

that is such bullshit lando

you’re away 24/7 and not ONCE did i do what you did

don’t do this now

i’m moving on. you should too

what would your girlfriend think of this?

do not answer ‼️

i miss you, y/n

don’t do this, lando.

you’re going to regret it

do not answer ‼️

i regret doing this to you

it’s not the same with her

nothing will ever be enough for you lando

the only things i ask of you is to leave me alone and treat your

girlfriend right

don’t text me anymore. delete my number

i really do hope you find someone to settle down with

even if you don’t deserve it

you’ve blocked this number!

f1gossip

liked by user1, user2, and 114,025 others

f1gossip a little over a year after the breakup between lando norris and singer y/n y/l/n, y/n was seen hanging out in the williams garage with new driver franco colapinto at the italian grand prix. is a new romance budding?

view all 347 comments

user1 this is unexpected but not unwelcome

user2 they would be so cute together

author pretend it’s franco in the pictures 😭😭

user3 did y’all see they way he was looking at her??

↳ user4 they are both down bad

user5 daniel or alex probably set that up

↳ user6 oh for sure, they’re y/n’s biggest fans

user7 it’s nice to see her looking happy with someone new

lilyswag

liked by totallynotdaniel, yourspam, and 37 others

lilyswag going for a sweet treat with daniel after we successfully played matchmaker

view all 21 comments

totallynotdaniel feeling accomplished 😘😘

professionalchili okay queens

yourspam girl what

↳ lilyswag i thought i made it so you couldn’t see this….

↳ yourspam 🤨🤨🤨

artsyfartsyalex a well deserved sweet treat

ilovedaniel NEW SONG NEW SONG

↳ totallynotdaniel max…. you are so right

↳ totallynotdaniel NEW SONG NEW SONG

yourspam y’all better have gotten me, lily, and heidi something 😐😐

↳ lilyswag on the way to you now

↳ yourspam merci 😌😌

↳ artsyfartsyalex okay bilingual queen

↳ yourspam date me 😍😍 get rid of charles

↳ justaninchident girl what-

yourusername

liked by francolapinto, alex_albon, and 426, 972 others

yourusername p9 and p13 for my boys! mama’s so proud 🥺🥺 thank you for bringing me along 🤍 even though now i know your true intent (you too lily and heidi)

view all 1,255 comments

user1 i love their dynamic so much

alex_albon 🤫🤫🤫🤫

user2 WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

danielricciardo #masterminds

↳ alex_albon where’s our pay check

user3 they totally set her up with franco

francolapinto encantada de conocerte ❤️ (lovely to meet you)

↳ user4 this man is on a mission

user5 did you see the way franco was always looking for her??

↳ user6 his face LIT UP when he would talk to her

↳ user7 full on giggling n shit

lilymhe we definitely had no idea what was going on

↳ heidiberger_ 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

unknown

unknown

hey, is this y/n?

who are you?

unknown

oh sorry, it’s franco

i got your number from alex

ohh

that makes sense

well what’s going on franco?

franco

i really liked hanging out with you

i was hoping maybe we could do it again?

we could stay a couple days after the azerbaijan grand prix and explore the city

i don’t know…

franco

i’m not like him

please, just let me have a chance

if you don’t like it then we can never speak about it again

if you do, maybe we could go on a date

you can bring bernie

deal.

f1gossip

liked by user1, danielricciardo, and 123,973 others

f1gossip y/n y/l/n and franco colapinto seen walking her dog bernie and holding hands out in baku, azerbaijan after the azerbaijan grand prix. is this further conformation of their relationship?

view all 1,054 comments

user1 daniel?? what are you doing here

user2 they look so happy together, i hope they’re together

↳ user3 she deserves happiness after her last relationship

user4 the father who stepped up 👏👏

user5 bernie is so cute 🥺🥺

lilyswag we did it y’all

↳ user6 ALEX??

↳ lilyswag 🤫🤫🤫

yourspam

liked by lilyswag, artsyfartsyalex, and 37 others

yourspam AHHHHH

view all 26 comments

artsyfartsyalex happy for you belle 💗

lilyswag IT WORKED

lilyswag YIPPEE

totallynotdaniel alex and i are literally geniuses

ilovedaniel new songs coming??

↳ yourspam maybe…

professionalchili alex literally yelled yippee out loud

yourusername

liked by francolapinto, danielricciardo, and 802,647 others

yourusername loading . . . .

comments have been turned off

yourusername

liked by francolapinto, alexandrasaintmleux, and 1,573,025 others

yourusername !!!!!!!!!! my new ep gasoline comes out in a week with the tracks so american, bed chem, risk, so high school, gasoline ft. HAIM, and am i okay ft. megan moroney!

view all 3,936 others

user1 y/n y/l/n and megan moroney?? my two worlds have collided

megmoroney 💙💙

user2 this are all about franco i just know it

danielricciardo max just squealed in delight…. and so did i

↳ maxverstappen1 I DID NOT

↳ user3 it’s okay max, we all know you did

alexandrasaintmleux will be streaming on repeat 💗💗

user4 I’M NOT READY

lilymhe pre-tournament playlist??

user5 THEY DID IT, I JUST CAN’T PROVE IT

francolapinto muy orgullosa y mucho amor ❤️ (very proud and much love)

↳ user6 AHHHHH

francolapinto

liked by yourusername, alex_albon, and 1,246,013 others

francolapinto thank you to all the boys you’ve loved before ❤️

comments have been limited

yourusername :’) 🤍

user1 the balls this man has to diss you know who

alex_albon where’s our dedication song??

danielricciardo yeah, where’s the “thank you and i love you alex and daniel?”

↳ yourusername in the works, trust

heidiberger_ 💗💗

lilymhe you guys deserve this!

user2 thank you y/n for introducing him to taylor swift

[ozzgin]

Omg bro yk whats been on my mind for do long?? A demon king trying to court a hero reader. Like the hero has already fought and defeated the king but somehow he comes back and he's desperately trying to get the hero to join him (in more ways than one). He wants the reader to be his spouse and leader of his army against the corrupt human race and the reader (now fallen from stardom due to the evil kings defeat) just wants him gone and to be left alone. Idk if this makes sense but I need to see SOMEONE write abt it before I lose my last marble.

-Doll

This is giving me Dragon Quest vibes, haha. Not a trope I'm too familiar with, but it sounds interesting nonetheless. I shall do my best! Sorry for the delay, I hope it's close to what you imagined. :)

Yandere! Demon King x Hero! Reader

As it goes with villains, they always find a way to return. This time, the Demon King has a different plan in mind. You were prepared for anything, from evil schemes to ancient conjured weapons...except for a wedding ring cordially placed before you. Do you say yes?

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, 🔥proposal (literally)

[Part 2]

You still remember everything so fondly. How you crawled out of that enormous crater, body battered and weak, as everyone watched in horror and held their breaths. Finally, you raised your fist victoriously. The Demon King had been, at last, defeated. The people cheered and cried and pulled you up under thundering waves of applause. Peace was no longer just a dream.

A sweet, innocent memory, even more so given its fleeting nature. The genuine smiles of gratitude quickly turned into crooked grins asking for favors. Before you knew it, you became some sort of political accessory to convince the masses. Posing for photos, shaking hands, being interviewed with bizarrely planned questions reeking of propaganda. You suddenly felt burdened, heavy, disappointed. This was not the kind of fame you envisioned for yourself.

Thus, you gradually vanished from the limelight, keeping your distance from everyone else and spending most days in solitude. Better than having to look into those unscrupulous, opportunistic eyes measuring up your worth. You had fulfilled your job and purpose.

This morning you're woken up by the sound of your belongings rattling in their shelves. The wooden frame of your bed is creaking, and you struggle to get up. An earthquake? A wave of nausea flushes over you. You recognize this feeling all too well, though you never expected to deal with it again. This is a disaster alright, yet the forces of nature have nothing to do with it.

You rush outside, swinging the door open and nearly tripping in your hurry to confirm your suspicions: the demonic creature is approaching your humble adobe with heavy steps, as the ground crumbles and shatters underneath. The Demon King himself, in flesh and blood. Although the blood splattering his armor is most likely not his. Same for the visceral remains threading his weapon. Regardless, your jaw tightens nervously, and you stand back, in a defensive pose. "You're a stubborn one", you say smugly, trying to maintain your composure. "Can't say I'm a fan of dying, that is correct." A ragged, monstrous voice erupts from the tall, armored figure.

"What brings you back?" You demand. The surroundings are too peaceful for him to have tampered with the city. Did he stop by to formally announce his destruction? "I have an offer that might interest you." The Dark Overlord has closed the distance between you, now looming above your much smaller body. You shiver. "I don't barter with Demons!" You conclude, turning around, prepared to leave. "Even when your precious people are on the line?" The horned beast warns with a grin. "If there's nothing better to do as a Ruler of Realms than killing petty humans..." You swiftly retort, going back into your house and slamming the door shut.

He stands for a moment, speechless. "Y-your Majesty? Should I take care of the humans, or (Y/N)?" Only now he notices his scaly butler, bowing to his side with claws resting over the weapon. The Demon King raises a hand, shooing the servant away. The annihilation of the human race can wait. There are more important matters to deal with presently. He'd expected your rejection, naturally, but not in such fashion. The indifference, the flat voice, the empty eyes devoid of emotion. Have the city dwellers tampered with his hero? He expected to see your fierce rage and in return he was met with a hollow shell.

Bright blue flames erupt from the openings of his armor, resulting in a menacing show of lights. He's known it for the longest time, of course. Humans are rotten to their very core. Vile, deceitful creatures that have slithered their way up, exuding undeserved arrogance. He's been trying to show you this very fact, yet you were blinded by naive faith. Your unwavering, honest heart that won him over has turned out to be your early demise. Not anymore. His vengefulness knows no bounds when it comes to traitors.

The sudden spike in temperature alerts you. Was it your rudeness that angered the Demon? You don't care anymore. Whatever happens to the city is out of your hands. And yet...you're buckling the straps of your old suit made for battle. Sword in hand, you gaze at your reflection. What could the Beast want? The fortified city no longer holds the value of its olden days. Just like you've left your hero days behind. Without much contemplation, you run out and head for the main gates. The path is paved with ash and rubble and your grip on the weapon tightens. Regret immediately wells up in your chest, ready to burst out. Is it too late? The entrance is engulfed in fire, charred corpses toppling against the ruins of the walls.

You reach the town hall - or rather, what remains of it - and face the Demon King. Has he gotten stronger since your last encounter? You hold your breath as the horned monster turns towards you. "I've tried to tell you, again and again. Time after time." He sighs, defeated. "Between the two of us, I'd say you were the stubborn one all along." His voice is softer than what you would've expected from someone that had just massacred an entire settlement. There's not a single scratch or sign of struggle. Was he merely holding back during your last fight? One thing is certain: you're his final obstacle. You raise your sword, determined. Hot sweat trickles down your face as the flames surround you. "Well, at least you've convinced yourself now, I hope. There's nothing left for you here." The Demon King lowers himself, extending a fist towards you. A spell? Secret weapon? Your leg muscles contract in anticipation.

His fingers open and stretch out, slowly. In his palm, a barely noticeable ring. Given the ridiculous size difference, you assume this is better fitting for a human. You stare at it in confusion, discerning the wedding vows carved in the noble metal. "What's the meaning of this?" You mutter, glancing at the Beast now resting on one knee before you. "What? Is it not your human custom?" He looks away for a moment, clicking his tongue. "That useless butler. He told me- Forget it! You are to return with me to my Kingdom. As my spouse."

Of all the things you've prepared yourself for...Your brows furrow and your mouth hangs open in shock.

What is your answer? The Demon King will not leave empty-handed.

[driverlando]

✧.* THE FAN DIARIES

synopsis- in which nothing escapes the eyes of the devoted (Oscar Piastri x f!reader)

before you continue: I hope you enjoy this new smau series where I delve into stories from fans about the couples throughout the years!! it’s been so fun <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

✧.* 2022- boyfriend and girlfriend

✧.* 2023- boyfriend and girlfriend

✧.* 2024-boyfriend and girlfriend

—

✧.* 2026- engaged

Formula 1 Star Oscar Piastri Engaged to Supermodel Y/N Y/L/N? Fans Spot a Ring in Public!

By: Sasha, Rumour Radar

In the fast-paced world of Formula 1, it’s not unusual for drivers to make headlines both on and off the track. But when it comes to Oscar Piastri, the young McLaren driver known for his cool demeanour and precise driving, the latest buzz isn’t about his lap times—it’s about his love life.

Over the weekend, Piastri was spotted in a casual but intimate moment with none other than international supermodel Y/N Y/L/N, setting the rumour mill ablaze with speculation that the two are secretly engaged. The couple, who have been dating since 2022 and have been notoriously private about their relationship, were seen shopping together at a quaint boutique in Monaco, sparking a flurry of excitement among fans.

The sighting was innocent enough: Oscar and Y/N, both dressed in laid-back summer attire, were browsing through a selection of home goods. Witnesses described them as "completely at ease," sharing laughs as they picked out items for what appeared to be a shared living space. But it wasn’t the domesticity of their outing that caught fans’ attention—it was the sparkling ring adorning Y/N’s left hand.

Eagle-eyed fans quickly took to social media, sharing photos and videos of the couple from the outing. The ring in question, a delicate but undeniably stunning diamond set in a simple band, has led many to believe that the pair might be engaged.

"Did anyone else see that rock on Y/N’s finger?!" one fan tweeted, alongside a blurry but revealing image of the couple holding hands. "Oscar and Y/N engaged?? This is HUGE!"

While neither Oscar nor Y/N have confirmed or denied the engagement rumours, the speculation has only grown stronger. Some fans have pointed out that the couple has been spending more time together in recent months, often seen in each other’s company at high-profile events, as well as more low-key, everyday outings like this one.

"It's not just the ring," another fan commented in a viral TikTok video analysing the couple's body language. "They look so comfortable together, like they've moved past just dating and are really solidifying their relationship. I wouldn't be surprised if they were already planning a wedding!"

Despite their best efforts to keep their romance under wraps, Oscar and Y/N have become one of the most talked-about couples in the world of sports and fashion. The Australian F1 prodigy and the glamorous supermodel have been linked since early 2022, though they've kept their relationship out of the limelight, only occasionally giving fans glimpses into their private lives.

The rumour of their engagement isn’t the first time the pair has sparked speculation. Last December, they were photographed together on a secluded beach getaway in the Maldives, fuelling rumours of a blossoming romance. And earlier this year, Y/N was spotted cheering Oscar on from the McLaren paddock during the Monaco Grand Prix, further solidifying her status as his number one fan.

For now, Oscar and Y/N have remained tight-lipped about the swirling engagement rumours, leaving fans to speculate and hope for a confirmation. But if the ring on Y/N’s finger is anything to go by, it seems the couple might just be ready to take their relationship to the next level.

As the Formula 1 season continues to heat up, so too does the curiosity surrounding one of its rising stars. Whether or not the engagement rumours are true, one thing is certain: all eyes will be on Oscar Piastri and Y/N Y/L/N as they navigate life both on and off the track.

Stay tuned to Rumour Radar for the latest updates on this unfolding story and more celebrity gossip.

—

✧.* 2028 - husband and wife

✧.* 2030- parents

—

[seafarersdream]

Cregan x reader where the reader is betrothed to him but he gets close to Alysanne Blackwood and she feels insecure. But he then reassures her that he loves her. Could be fluff or smut, whatever you feel fits

Big Bad Wolf | 18+ (Cregan Stark x Y/N)

Y/N knows exactly why she has been sent to the frigid North: her grandsire, Otto Hightower, intends for her to secure Cregan Stark’s loyalty to the Greens with a proposed betrothal. A union that would bind the North to her family’s cause and strengthen her brother’s claim. She can’t help but wonder what he would sees in her—a willing pawn, a coveted prize, or perhaps, an unexpected adversary?

TW // Strong language and profanities, mild sexual content, mention of injuries and wounds, slow burn romance.

Note: I took a slightly different approach than originally requested to better align with my brainstorming ideas. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! And fair warning—it ended up being around 10k words because I got carried away and so into it😂

The wind howls around her like a beast, its icy fingers clawing at her cloak, desperate to strip her bare. Y/N Targaryen pulls the fur-lined fabric tighter around her shoulders, her silver hair whipping against her face as she stares out into the endless expanse of white that is the North.

The cold is sharp, biting against her skin, a relentless assault unlike anything she has ever felt in King’s Landing. There, the sun always warmed the walls of the Red Keep, the gardens bloomed with vibrant flowers, and the salty sea breeze carried the smell of soils from distant lands. Here, in the North, all of that feels like a distant memory—a dream now buried under layers of snow.

She shivers, and not just from the cold.

Being a Targaryen means something. Being a Targaryen princess means the realm is her oyster. She has always known this. The daughter of the late King Viserys Targaryen and the sister to the current ruler, Y/N has never wanted for anything. Born under the banners of black and red, her birthright is as weighty as it is illustrious. In the courts of King's Landing, her name alone is a force that can command, bend, and break. The Valyrian blood coursing through her veins has bestowed upon her an otherworldly beauty—hair the colour of moonlight, eyes that burn like molten silver. She is used to men and women alike vying for her favor, hanging on her every word, their desires evident in their eyes. She is used to being adored, admired, even envied.

But here, in the North, none of that means a thing.

The North is a different world, an ancient one with a heartbeat of ice and snow. It is a world where the name Targaryen carries little weight, where dragons are the stuff of nightmares, not symbols of power and strength.

For thousands of years, the North stood as its own kingdom, ruled by House Stark of Winterfell—a house older than her own, as old as the First Men themselves. The North submitted to Aegon the Conqueror’s rule, but submission is not the same as surrender. She can feel the weight of that history in every flake of snow, every gust of wind that threatens to unseat her from the back of her horse. The North remembers.

And the North does not care for Targaryen princesses.

The men and women who stare at her from the edges of Winterfell’s courtyard do not see a daughter of kings. They see a southerner, a foreigner, an outsider draped in silk and furs too fine for their taste. They see someone who has never felt the bite of a northern winter, who does not understand the constant struggle for survival that defines their lives. To them, she is the very embodiment of everything they disdain—the soft courtly life, the excesses of the south, the endless games of backstabbing and ambition that mean nothing in the face of a harsh winter. Her beauty, her title, her blood—none of it matters here. She is a stranger in a strange land, and they watch her with eyes that are cold and calculating.

It is a stark contrast to the life she has known. In King’s Landing, courtiers flocked to her side, eager for a smile, a kind word, a glance that might change their fortunes. But here, no one bows or scrapes, no one offers her flattery or fawning attention. Instead, they glance at her with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity, their expressions as unreadable as the frozen ground beneath her feet. Even the cold here seems to seep into their bones, hardening their faces into masks of stone.

Her gaze shifts to the man standing at the center of it all—the Warden of the North, Cregan Stark. He is as unyielding as the walls of Winterfell, a man carved from the very ice that surrounds them. His dark hair is touched with frost, his grey eyes piercing through the flurries like a direwolf scanning the wood for prey. He regards her with a guarded expression, his features stoic, as though he is measuring the weight of her presence in his hall. There is strength in his stance, a raw, quiet power that seems to ripple beneath his skin like a river beneath ice.

She knows why she is here. Her grandsire, Otto Hightower, has sent her north with a proposal for a betrothal, hoping to secure Cregan Stark's allegiance to the Greens. A marriage alliance that would bind the North to her family, to her brother’s cause. But she also knows that such an alliance is easier proposed than accepted. The Starks are proud, stubborn as the wolves on their banners, and they are not easily swayed by promises or threats. She wonders what Cregan Stark sees when he looks at her—a pawn, a prize, a potential enemy?

Y/N squares her shoulders, forcing herself to meet his gaze with the same intensity. Her breath mists in the cold air between them, mingling with the snowflakes that drift down from the leaden sky. She is a Targaryen, born of fire and blood, and she will not be cowed by the cold.

She takes a step forward, her boots crunching in the snow, and inclines her head with a grace born of years at court. “Lord Stark,” she begins, her voice steady despite the chill that bites at her skin, “I bring greetings from my family and an offer that I hope will interest you.”

For a moment, there is silence, broken only by the distant howl of the wind. The Northmen are watching, waiting for their lord’s response. Cregan Stark’s grey eyes remain locked on hers, his expression unreadable, and she feels the weight of the North pressing down upon her.

“Princess,” Cregan replies at last, his voice a low rumble that echoes across the courtyard. “Welcome to Winterfell.”

And with those words, the game begins.

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Y/N Targaryen has always been more her grandsire’s granddaughter than her mother’s daughter—or her father’s, for that matter. Not that it has been much of a choice. King Viserys had been many things in his life—gentle, soft-hearted, more comfortable with scrolls and histories than with the complexities of ruling—but present, he was not. His love for Rhaenyra, his firstborn, was the love of a man whose affections had been spent long before Y/N was ever born. So, she learned quickly that if she wanted attention, guidance, or even a semblance of familial warmth, she would find none of it in her father.

Instead, she found herself drawn to Otto Hightower. He was a man of purpose, of ambition, of decisive action. With her mother’s soft words and frail smiles failing to shape her in any meaningful way, it was Otto who taught her the art of politics, of maneuvering through a court filled with predators. In him, she saw a mirror of her own aspirations—always looking forward, always plotting the next move. It was from him she learned that power is something you seize, not something you wait for. She knew he would never coddle her, never tell her she was beloved just for being herself; he only valued what was valuable, and that gave her a clarity she found comforting.

Her siblings, however, were a different matter entirely.

Aegon, her eldest brother, was a fool. Self-conscious, always craving their parents' love like a starving child reaching for a morsel of bread. For years, he had hoped to be the shining star in their father’s eyes, only to discover that no matter what he did, he would always be in the shadow of their half-sister, Rhaenyra—the daughter Viserys truly adored. That realization had driven Aegon to the brink. He had spiraled into self-destruction, numbing his pain with Arbor Red, drowning in the company of whores and sycophants who fed his illusions of being liked, respected even. She had watched him become a hollowed-out shell of a prince, playing at being a king among the rats and the vipers of the Red Keep. Aegon was a king now, a ruler in name, but he wore his crown like a noose.

Aemond, on the other hand, was a different creature. Where Aegon sought love, Aemond sought approval, validation—something to make the gods’ cruel joke of his birth order feel less like a curse. He set impossible standards for himself, always striving to outshine his elder brother, to rise above his station as the spare. He immersed himself in philosophy, warfare, Westerosi customs, determined to be the best in every field, the most learned, the most skilled. And yet, no matter how many strategies he mastered or how many books he consumed, he would always be the second son. Aemond may have won the favor of their grandsire, may have been admired by those who valued intellect and ruthlessness, but in the end, Aegon’s incompetence still carried the weight of the gods' favor. And that knowledge gnawed at Aemond like a wolf at a bone.

Helaena and Daeron, bless them, were different. Y/N could say nothing ill of those two. Helaena, with her strange, prophetic dreams and her love for insects, was perhaps the only light in their shadowed family. She lived in a world of her own, a world of strange riddles and hidden truths that no one else could see. Daeron, meanwhile, had been smart enough to remove himself from the poisonous atmosphere of the Red Keep, carving out a life for himself in Oldtown.

As for herself? Y/N had always considered herself a performer, a mirrorball reflecting the light of others, knowing exactly where to place her foot in every dance. She did not crave her parents’ approval or love; she never had. She knew her worth, not in how many times her father called her his precious daughter or how often her mother sighed with the weight of unspoken affection. No, her worth came from the power she had managed to accumulate on her own, the alliances she had forged, the influence she wielded like a blade. She had held her own court, commanded attention, respect, and fear. She had learned to survive, to thrive, to be more than just another pretty Targaryen face.

And now, she had none of it.

Here in this frozen wasteland, she was stripped bare of everything she had built. The North was a godforsaken, heretic country in her eyes—a land of rigid codes and old gods, where men did not bow easily, where words were weighed like precious stones, and secrets were buried beneath layers of ice and snow. She had no court, no power to wield, no influence to peddle.

And then, there was Cregan Stark.

A man whose reputation preceded him like a cold wind. Honorable, they said. A man of principle, a man who lived by his word, who believed in truth and duty as if they were his religion. There was no room for subterfuge in his life, no space for half-truths or hidden motives. His gaze was like steel, unbending and severe. It was almost appalling, really, how saintly he was. Mother above she thought more than once, he would be eaten alive in King’s Landing.

In the South, where smiles masked daggers and every word dripped with double meaning, a man like Cregan Stark would be a lamb led to slaughter. His sense of honor would be his undoing, his truthfulness a weapon turned against him. She had never met a man like him. A man who looked at her not with lust or ambition but with a quiet, steady gaze that seemed to see right through her. He seemed entirely unimpressed by her. It was infuriating and fascinating all at once.

Y/N squared her shoulders, determined not to let her irritation show. She would learn this place, learn its people, and most of all, she would learn Cregan Stark. She would find the crack in his armor, the flaw in his honor, the chink in his unyielding principles. Everyone had one; it was just a matter of knowing where to look, how to press, how to push. She was not here to be swallowed by the North—she was here to conquer it, one way or another.

She knew that the path to Lord Cregan Stark’s cold, cold heart was not a direct one. It was not a road paved with smiles or adorned with sweet words. It was a labyrinth, and the only way through it was by understanding his people.

She had watched him long enough to know this much: Cregan Stark was a man who put his people above all else. The North had a way of making even its leaders humble before it. They were not like the nobles of King’s Landing, always scheming for personal glory or clawing at each other’s throats for favor. Here, in this frozen hell, survival depended on something far simpler, far more primal—on loyalty, on unity, on trust.

So, she began to snake her way into the hearts of his people.

It started small, with gestures they would not expect from a southerner, least of all a Targaryen princess. She knew how they saw her—pampered, delicate, with hair too fair and hands too soft to have ever known true work. She could feel their eyes on her wherever she went, could hear the whispers as she passed by, wrapped in her fine furs, a dragon in the land of wolves.

The courtyard was busy that morning, the ground slick with melting snow and the air thick with the sounds of work—axes splitting wood, the clang of blacksmiths’ hammers against anvils, the shouts of men and women hauling barrels and crates. She approached the group of women gathered near the cookfires, a mixture of curiosity and skepticism in their gazes. Y/N took a deep breath, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders, and stepped into their midst.

“Is there something I can do?” she asked, her voice clear and carrying over the noise. A few heads turned, eyes narrowing in surprise. She saw a woman in her middle years, broad-shouldered and with arms like tree trunks, squinting at her as if she were a curious animal. The others paused, their hands stilling in their work, glances exchanged.

The woman, who she had come to learn was named Mildred, finally spoke, her tone rough as gravel. “Princess,” she drawled, dragging the word out like it was something distasteful in her mouth. “I don’t think there’s much here a royal lady can handle. Unless you’ve got a mind to ruin that fancy cloak of yours.”

Y/N smiled. “I’ve more cloaks, Mildred. And if it gets ruined, well, I suppose I’ll just have to make do with another one, won’t I?”

A snort came from somewhere in the back of the group, and Y/N’s eyes flicked to the source—a younger woman with a mess of red hair and a skeptical expression. Y/N kept her smile, but she let a hint of a challenge creep into her tone. “Besides, I’m not afraid of a little dirt.”

The women exchanged glances, weighing her words. Mildred shrugged at last, tossing a hunk of dough onto a wooden board. “Fine then. Let’s see how you fare kneading bread. Got to feed half the damned keep today, and we’re short on hands.”

Y/N stepped forward without hesitation, rolling up her sleeves. The cold bit at her exposed skin, but she ignored it. Her hands, unused to such labor, moved awkwardly at first, pressing into the dough with less confidence than she wanted. Mildred watched her, arms crossed. “Too gentle,” She grunted. “You’re not petting a dragon. Put your weight into it.”

Y/N did as instructed, leaning into the motion, feeling the resistance of the dough against her palms. It was a small thing, this task, but it was a start. She could feel their eyes on her, hear the whispers quieting, turning into something more like curiosity than derision.

Hours passed, and the smell of freshly baked bread filled the courtyard. The women began to loosen up around her, laughter breaking out now and then. She let herself laugh with them, leaning into their banter.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N made it her mission to weave herself into the fabric of Winterfell. She found her way to the blacksmith's forge, where the air was thick with smoke and the clang of metal. She watched as the smiths worked, their faces streaked with soot, and asked questions—many, many questions.

“Why do you use that angle with the hammer?” she asked one of the younger smiths, a boy not much older than.

The boy, startled at first, blinked at her, then answered, “To shape the steel, Princess. To make it stronger, to give it an edge that lasts.”

She nodded, watching his hands. “Show me,” she demanded. The boy hesitated, glancing around nervously, but she stepped forward. “Don’t worry. I can hold a hammer.”

He did as she asked, and soon enough, she was holding the hammer herself, mimicking his movements. Her strokes were clumsy, awkward at first, but she learned fast, and with every thud of the hammer, she felt the eyes of the smiths soften just a little more.

In the great hall, she would sit with the lords and their wives, listening to their woes, their concerns, their petty grievances. Y/N had a mind sharpened by the best—her grandsire, Otto, had seen to that. She listened carefully, offering her thoughts, her solutions, often to the surprise of those around her.

“The river’s dammed up, and it’s ruining the fields,” one lord grumbled, a beefy man with a thick beard.

"Then undam it," she replied, her tone smooth. "Divert it, instead of letting it run its course. Build channels to guide it where you want it to go."

The man blinked at her, surprised. “Aye, well… that could work.”

“It will work,” she replied, a small smile playing at her lips.

She advised them on how to better store grain, how to rotate their crops, and how to reinforce their defenses with minimal resources. She made suggestions that saved money, improved efficiency, and most importantly, earned her a grudging respect. To her, these Northerners were like sheep, clueless and slow-witted. But she smiled, she helped, she solved their problems. She was always in the middle of things, her presence a constant in the great hall, the courtyard, the kitchens, the stables.

She even joined the hunts. The Northmen had mocked her at first for daring to ride out with them. “A princess in the snow?” they laughed. “She’ll freeze before we see a single stag.” But she proved them wrong. Her dragon’s blood kept her warm, kept her defiant in the face of the bitter cold, and she was the first to draw her bow, the first to bring down a deer.

“By the gods, she’s got a steady hand,” one of the older men muttered to Cregan as they dragged the deer back to Winterfell.

Cregan’s gaze had flicked over to her, his expression as unreadable as ever, but there had been a flicker of something there. Amusement? Respect? She couldn’t tell, but it was enough.

Bit by bit, she felt the change. The Northmen, these stubborn, superstitious heretics, began to soften, to open up to her. They began to speak to her not with suspicion but with interest, their words less guarded, their gazes less cold. They valued her now, saw her as something more than just a prim and proper southerner.

It was at a feast that she noticed it—how the lords and ladies began to speak of her in hushed, respectful tones, how they sought her out for advice, for a kind word, for counsel. She saw how Cregan watched from across the hall, his grey eyes narrowing, the faintest flicker of something akin to admiration crossing his face.

She caught his gaze, held it across the room. He didn’t look away. Instead, he raised his cup to her, a silent acknowledgment. A challenge, perhaps.

Y/N raised hers in return, a smile playing at her lips. The North had begun to bend, and soon enough, so would he.

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One afternoon, Y/N had just returned from Winter Town, cheeks flushed from the biting wind and the smell of pine and smoke still clinging to her cloak. The snow had begun to fall heavier now, thick flakes drifting down like soft feathers, blanketing the world in a quiet that felt almost sacred. She pushed back her hood as she stepped into the warmth of the great hall, her eyes scanning the room out of habit, looking for something—anything—that could further her cause.

She spotted a cluster of handmaidens seated by the hearth, their heads bent in concentration. They were mending and embroidering clothing, fingers working deftly with needle and thread. Y/N noticed the familiar shapes taking form on the fabric—the direwolves.

She glided toward them, her steps light, her expression warm and inviting. She had perfected this look over years at court—the doe-eyed charm that could disarm even the most hardened of men. “Oh,” she said with a bright smile, her voice a melodic lilt, “working on the Stark sigil, are we?”

The handmaidens looked up, a bit startled at her approach. They were used to her presence by now, but not so much to her sudden interest in their needlework. A girl named Caragh, her brown hair tied back in a braid, nodded. “Aye, milady. Lord Cregan’s cloak was torn on the last hunt, and his tunic needs a new embroidery. Wolves, of course.”

Y/N tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with interest. “How lovely,” she murmured, kneeling down beside them. “May I see?”

They hesitated for a moment but eventually passed her the cloth, the direwolf stitched in silver-grey thread standing fierce against the dark fabric. She studied it with a discerning eye, her fingers tracing the lines of the stitches. The work was good, but plain—functional, as was the way of the North.

A smile danced on her lips as an idea took shape. “Do you know,” she began, her voice soft and conspiratorial, “I’ve always been rather good with a needle myself. Perhaps I could try my hand at it? Just a little, of course. I wouldn’t want to overstep.”

The women exchanged glances, unsure, but intrigued. “Princess, you’d do that?” asked Caragh, her tone curious. “We’d be honored to see southern stitchings. They’re said to be… well, far more intricate than ours.”

Y/N chuckled softly, the sound like a chime in the quiet hall. “Oh, we do have a flair for the elaborate, it’s true,” she agreed. “But I promise, I won’t change it too much. Just add a bit of finesse.” She reached for the thread, selecting a shade of grey that was just a touch darker than the one they had been using. “Here,” she said, threading her needle with practiced ease, “let me show you.”

She set to work, her hands moving with ease. Her stitches were tiny and precise, the needle dancing in and out of the fabric as if it were silk and not the heavy wool of the North. The handmaidens watched her, their eyes wide with fascination as she added delicate touches to the direwolf—tiny knots that gave the illusion of fur, subtle shadows that made the beast look as if it might leap from the cloth at any moment.

“How do you make it look so… alive?” one of the younger handmaidens breathed, her cheeks flushed with awe.

Y/N smiled, enjoying their attention. “It’s all in the details,” she said with a little wink. “You have to see the wolf in your mind first, imagine the way its fur moves, the way its muscles shift beneath the skin. Then, you just… follow the thread.”

The hours passed, and the handmaidens were more than happy to let her work, their questions and chatter filling the space around them. They asked her about King’s Landing, about the fashions of the court, about the kinds of silks and velvets they had only heard of in stories. She answered them with good humor, spinning tales of the South that made their eyes shine with wonder. And all the while, her needle moved, faster and faster, until the direwolf on the fabric seemed to almost snarl, its eyes fierce and intelligent, its body coiled as if ready to pounce.

By the time Cregan Stark returned from a hunt, the hall was warm with the crackle of the fire and the murmur of soft voices. He strode in, snow still dusting his dark hair, his cloak heavy with ice. His boots left wet prints on the stone floor as he shook the cold from his shoulders and glanced around.

He stopped short when he saw her—Y/N, seated among his handmaidens, needle in hand, a small, satisfied smile on her lips as she worked on his clothing. His eyes narrowed, and he made his way over, curious despite himself.

“Princess,” he greeted her, his voice a low rumble, “I see you’ve taken to mending clothes now?”

Y/N looked up, her expression unruffled. “Lord Stark,” she replied, her tone light, teasing almost, “I thought I might be of some use. Your handmaidens were kind enough to let me practice a little of our southern needlework.” She held up the fabric for him to see, the direwolf now a striking, almost lifelike creature that seemed to leap from the fabric with a ferocity that had not been there before.

Cregan’s eyes widened, just slightly, his gaze moving over the stitching, his expression unreadable. “It’s… well done,” he said finally, and she could hear the surprise in his voice, grudging though it was.

She smiled, pleased. “You sound surprised, my lord. Did you think a Targaryen’s hands were only meant for taming dragons or holding goblets of wine?”

He let out a soft chuckle, the sound like gravel grinding together. “Not surprised,” he corrected, his gaze meeting hers, steady and unyielding. “Impressed. You’ve a fine hand.”

Y/N's smile widened. “Why, thank you, Lord Stark. I’m glad my work meets your approval.”

He nodded, his gaze still on the cloth, the direwolf that now seemed to pulse with life. “Aye, it does,” he admitted. “Though I wonder, Princess… are you looking to become a seamstress now?”

She laughed, a bright, ringing sound that filled the hall. “No, my lord. I’ve no desire to take up a needle permanently. But I do find it’s useful, from time to time, to show that a princess’s hands can be skilled in more ways than one.”

His eyes flicked up to hers, a challenge in them. “Is that so?” he asked quietly. “And tell me, Princess, what other skills do your hands possess?”

Y/N’s smile did not waver. “Oh, many things, Lord Stark,” she replied softly. “Many things indeed.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer, something unreadable flickering in the depths of his eyes, before he nodded again. “Well,” he said, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

And with that, he turned away, but not before she caught the slightest curve of a smile on his lips. She watched him go, feeling a thrill of satisfaction course through her veins.

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Her scheme had worked flawlessly. Piece by piece, the North was falling into place just as she’d planned. The people were warming to her, Cregan's gaze was lingering a little longer than before, and Y/N could feel the iciness of Winterfell slowly starting to melt in her favor. Everything was moving toward the outcome she desired.

Well until it wasn't.

The disruption arrived in the form of Alysanne Blackwood—Black Aly, they called her. Y/N watched her ride into Winterfell with a certain swagger, a confidence that bordered on arrogance. A member of House Blackwood, the aunt of young Lord Benjicot Blackwood, Alysanne had come north under some pretense Y/N didn't care to know about. At the time, it had seemed inconsequential. She had dismissed it, too caught up in her own plans to pay attention to this new player on the board.

A mistake. A rare, foolish mistake. Her grandsire would have scolded her for being so pliant, so hasty, so unguarded. Never underestimate a rival, he would have said. Never take your eyes off the board. And Y/N had done just that.

She should not have misconstrued this woman.

Alysanne was everything Y/N was not. Tall and lean, with thick black curls that tumbled past her waist, she had a wildness to her that seemed to embody the very spirit of the North. Her long legs and strong arms marked her as a woman who spent more time in the saddle than at a hearth, more time holding a bow than a needle. She wasn’t beautiful in the conventional sense—her features were sharp, her smile wide and often mocking—but there was something about her. Something raw and fearless, a fire that seemed to burn just beneath her skin. And that smell…woodsmoke. It clung to her like a second skin, as if she had been born in the midst of a bonfire.

Y/N had heard the whispers—how Black Aly was a legend in the North. An excellent hunter, a horse-breaker, an archer with a keen eye. She was bold and outspoken, with a tongue sharp enough to cut through steel and a wit that could match the sharpest of minds. The Northerners adored her. They loved her for her wildness, for her lack of pretense, for the way she embodied everything they valued: strength, courage, a disregard for the fripperies of southern court life.

She could see it in their faces as Alysanne moved among them, laughing and jesting with the men, sharing bread and soup with the women. Y/N could almost feel the tides shifting, the winds changing, as this woman—this picture-perfect embodiment of Northern virtues—threatened to ruin everything she had worked for.

Cregan Stark took to Alysanne immediately. Of course, he did. Why wouldn’t he? He took her hunting, riding out into the forest with her at dawn while Y/N was left behind to smile and make small talk with his bannermen. He brought her to his war councils, included her in his patrols, took her to meet the northern lords. Wherever he went, Black Aly was at his side, her sharp, barking laughter echoing off the walls of Winterfell.

Y/N could see it in the way he looked at Alysanne—a gleam of admiration, of respect, of something deeper, something raw. He valued her opinions, sought her counsel. And that stung more than Y/N cared to admit. Did it truly come down to this? Y/N Targaryen, a princess of the realm, having to compete with some backwater nobody?

She could feel her temper simmering beneath her skin like a slow-burning fire, the frustration building with each passing day. She thought of confronting Cregan directly, her hands curling into fists as she imagined the scene. She would demand to know why he spent so much time with that woman, why he found her so intriguing, so worthy of his attention. But no—she knew better than that. She couldn’t afford to appear desperate, to show him how much this rankled her. Instead, she kept her face a mask of calm, her smiles as practiced and serene as ever, even as she felt herself cracking.

One evening, as Cregan returned from yet another outing with Alysanne, Y/N was waiting for him in the hall, her posture regal, her eyes gleaming in the dim firelight. “Lord Stark,” she called out, her tone light but firm. “You’ve been busy.”

Cregan paused, glancing at her, his expression unreadable. “There is much to do, Princess,” he replied evenly. “The North doesn’t rest.”

She offered him a smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “So I see. And it seems you have found quite the companion to help you with your duties.”

Cregan’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Alysanne is a trusted friend,” he said. “She knows these lands as well as I do.”

Y/N felt a flicker of irritation but kept her voice smooth. “Of course. She is a fine… huntress. But surely, you don’t need her for every task, my lord. I’m certain there are others who could serve just as well. Perhaps even better.”

He regarded her for a long moment, his grey eyes searching her face. “Are you offering to join me on my next patrol, Princess?” he asked, his tone challenging, with the faintest hint of amusement.

Y/N’s smile didn’t falter, but inside, she felt a surge of frustration. “If you think my skills would be of use,” she replied, matching his tone. “I am, after all, more than just a… court ornament.”

He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made her skin prickle. “I’ve never doubted that,” he said softly. “But the North is not a place for games or tricks. It demands strength and a willingness to face the unknown without fear.”

Her smile wavered, just a little. “I am not afraid of the unknown,” she replied, her voice edged with steel. “Nor am I afraid to prove myself.”

Cregan’s eyes softened, just for a moment. “I don’t doubt that,” he said, his voice lowering, more intimate. “But Alysanne… she knows this land, these people. She knows how to speak to them, how to move among them. That is not something you can learn in a few weeks.”

Y/N felt the sting of his words, but she masked it with another smile, her eyes flashing. “Perhaps,” she conceded, “but I have learned much in a short time. And I am still learning, Lord Stark. Every day.”

Cregan nodded, as if considering her words. “Then learn, Princess,” he said quietly. “But do not think you must compete with Alysanne. She is… unique, yes. But so are you.”

The words were meant to placate, to soothe, but they only made her feel more cornered.

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The doors to the great hall swung open with a loud creak, and a chill wind swept in, carrying with it the scent of snow and iron. Y/N turned, her eyes narrowing as she saw the commotion. Cregan Stark had returned, his presence commanding attention even as he limped slightly, his dark hair damp with sweat, his face streaked with mud and blood. His men flanked him, some of them leaning on one another, their expressions grim, their clothes stained with the same mixture of dirt and crimson.

Her heart lurched at the sight, but she quickly schooled her features into a mask of cool indifference. The skirmishes with the wildlings had been growing more frequent, their raids bolder, and it seemed today had been no different. The maesters were already scrambling, rushing forward with their apprentices and assistants, trying to assess the most grievous injuries, their faces set in strained concentration.

Y/N took in the scene with a practiced eye, her mind already calculating. There were too many injured, too much blood soaking into the stone floor of the hall. She could see that the maesters were stretched thin, their resources and patience fraying at the edges. Cregan, of course, was insisting on helping his men, despite the fact that he was clearly favoring his left leg, a nasty gash visible on his right thigh, and his arm hung a little too limply at his side.

Typical. The man was as stubborn as a mule.

She moved closer, catching sight of the way he clenched his jaw against the pain, his brow furrowed in a way that made him look older, wearier. He was trying to wave off a young apprentice who was attempting to guide him toward a bench.

“I’m fine,” he growled, his voice low and rough. “See to the others first.”

The apprentice looked helplessly at Cregan, clearly torn between obeying the Warden of the North and following the orders of the maesters. Y/N, sensing an opportunity, pushed through the crowd, her chin tilted upward, her eyes sharp.

“Really, Lord Stark?” she called out, her voice loud enough to carry over the clamor. “You look about as fine as a roast pig on a spit.”

Cregan’s head snapped around, his eyes narrowing at her. “Princess,” he said, his voice edged with irritation, “this is no place for jesting.”

She smiled, a sharp, knowing smile. “No, but it is a place for common sense. Something you seem to be sorely lacking at the moment.” She turned to the apprentice and gestured toward the other men. “Go. Help the others. I’ll take care of your lord.”

The apprentice hesitated for a moment, glancing between them, but then scurried off, clearly relieved to be free of Cregan’s stubbornness. Y/N stepped closer, folding her arms over her chest, her gaze fixed on the injured lord.

Cregan grunted, his expression darkening. “I don’t need your help, Princess. I’ve had worse than this.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have,” she replied. “But forgive me if I don’t trust your judgment on your own health, seeing as you’re bleeding all over the floor and insisting you’re perfectly fine. Very lordly of you, I’m sure, but also incredibly stupid.”

He scowled at her, a deep line forming between his brows. “I can take care of myself.”

“And yet,” she countered, stepping even closer, “you’re not doing a very good job of it, are you? Sit down, Cregan, before you fall down and make an even bigger fool of yourself.”

For a moment, he looked like he might argue further, but then he winced, a flash of pain crossing his face, and Y/N seized the moment. She reached out, gripping his uninjured arm with a strength that belied her slender frame, and guided him toward a nearby bench. “Sit,” she ordered, her voice firm, and to her surprise, he obeyed, albeit reluctantly.

He dropped onto the bench with a huff, glaring up at her. “I don’t need a nursemaid, least of all a princess from the South who’s never seen a real fight.”

She laughed, a sharp, sarcastic sound. “You’re right, I’ve never fought wildlings or raiders. But I have spent plenty of time in the Red Keep watching men bleed out because they were too stubborn to accept help. So, unless you want to be one of those men, shut up and let me work.”

His gaze flickered with something between annoyance and grudging respect. “Fine,” he muttered, “but make it quick. I have men to see to.”

“Quick?” She snorted. “You don’t give orders here, Stark. Not while you’re under my care.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your care? And what makes you think you’re qualified?”

She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she grabbed a nearby cloth, soaked it in a basin of water, and began to clean the wound on his thigh with swift, precise movements. Cregan hissed through his teeth, his muscles tensing beneath her hands, but he didn’t pull away.

“I’ve shadowed Grand Maester Orwyle countless times,” she said as she worked, her voice steady. “I know what I’m doing. And more importantly, I’m not about to let you bleed out just because you’re too pigheaded to admit you need help.”

He grunted again but said nothing, his jaw clenched tight. She could see the pain in his eyes, the way his shoulders stiffened with each touch, but he stayed still, letting her do her work. She carefully cleaned the wound, her hands moving with a skill that surprised even herself, then reached for a needle and thread.

“This will hurt,” she warned, threading the needle with practiced ease.

“I’ve had worse,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“Of course you have,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it after I’ve saved your life.”

His lips twitched, almost as if he were fighting a smile. “You’ve a sharp tongue, Princess.”

“And you’ve a thick skull, Lord Stark,” she shot back. “Now hold still.”

She began to stitch the wound, her needle moving with swift, precise strokes. Cregan watched her, his eyes dark and intense, but she didn’t falter. For once, she was not the southern courtier, the diplomatic princess with honeyed words and gentle smiles. She was herself, sharp and unyielding, meeting his stubbornness with her own.

When she finished, she tied off the thread with a quick, efficient knot and sat back, wiping her hands on the cloth. “There,” she said, satisfaction in her voice. “You’ll live to fight another day.”

He stared at her, a mix of surprise and grudging admiration in his eyes. “You did well,” he said finally, his voice softer than before.

She arched an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. “Was there ever any doubt?”

He chuckled, the sound rough but genuine. “Plenty,” he admitted.

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Winter is coming.

No, not the Stark words, spoken like a prayer or a warning. Winter is truly coming, and Y/N can feel it deep in her bones, creeping through the stone walls of Winterfell like a living thing.

The air has grown sharper, biting at her cheeks with every gust of wind, and the snow falls thicker now, each flake heavy and deliberate. The trees are bare, their branches skeletal against the grey sky, and the cold seems to press down on her, seeping into her skin with a relentless chill. It is a different kind of cold than she has ever known, a cold that seeps into her lungs and settles there, making each breath feel like an effort.

The North has always been harsh, but now it feels like it is preparing for something more—something darker, more unforgiving. Even the men and women of Winterfell, who have spent their entire lives in the shadow of winter, seem more guarded, more wary. There are murmurs in the great hall, anxious whispers in the corridors. Wildlings have been sighted more frequently, their numbers growing bolder and more desperate as the long night approaches. The skirmishes along the Wall have increased, and the night fires are lit earlier and burn longer.

Y/N pulls her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she crosses the courtyard, the snow crunching beneath her boots. She knows what is coming. She can feel it in the very marrow of her bones. Winter is coming, and with it, something more—a tension that hangs in the air like a drawn bowstring, taut and ready to snap.

That night, as she sits by the fire in her chambers, a raven arrives. The black bird flutters through the window, its wings dusted with snow, a rolled parchment tied to its leg. Y/N takes it with a frown, untying the message with cold fingers, her eyes narrowing as she recognizes the seal. Hightower.

She unfurls the parchment and reads the message, her eyes scanning the words with a growing sense of unease.

Return to King’s Landing at once.

The words are simple, direct, and she can almost hear Otto’s voice behind them, calm but commanding. He has received reports of the incoming long winter, of the increasing sightings of wildlings, and he deems it no longer safe for her to remain in the North. He urges her to leave before the roads become impassable, before the snows deepen and the wildlings grow more desperate.

Y/N exhales slowly, a plume of breath escaping her lips in the cold air of her chamber. She should feel relieved. Glad, even. No longer required to linger in this frozen wasteland, where the people are as hard as the ground they walk on, and her plans have slowly unraveled like thread from a worn tapestry. She should be glad to return to the South, to the warmth and intrigue of King’s Landing, where the games are played on her terms.

But instead, she feels a sharp sting of frustration. She berates herself for failing to secure the North for her family, for not weaving a strong enough web to catch the loyalty of these proud, stubborn people. A true Targaryen, she should have bent them to her will, but the North is as unyielding as its lord, and she has not succeeded in making it hers. It is a bitter pill to swallow.

“Failure,” she murmurs, her voice a low hiss in the dim light of her chamber. “And what would you say to that, Lord Hand? That your granddaughter, for all her cleverness, could not win the North?”

She lets out a soft, mirthless laugh, crumpling the parchment in her hand. “It’s a matter for another day,” she tells herself. She will return to King's Landing, regroup, plot anew. There are always other pieces to play, other moves to make.

Yet, her thoughts drift back to Cregan Stark. The brooding wolf of the North, with his grim expression and unyielding sense of honor. She won’t admit, even to herself, that she is fond of him. Or likes him. Or anything of the sort. No, certainly not. But… there is something about him that lingers in her mind like a half-remembered dream, something she can’t quite shake off.

After being surrounded by the snakes of King’s Landing, the liars and flatterers, the power-hungry and the depraved, she finds something strangely compelling in Cregan Stark’s righteousness. It comes to him as naturally as breathing, as naturally as wielding that massive Valyrian steel sword of his, the one he calls Ice.

She has seen him wield it with ease, watched him cleave through the air with a power that seems almost otherworldly. She has watched him ride out with his men, fearless and unyielding, his face set in determination. There is a strength in him that is not just physical, but something deeper, something that runs to his very core. A strength that does not waver, that does not bend, even under the weight of the North’s endless cold.

And she hates it. She hates how it seems to make everything about him… uncomplicated. How he carries his honor like a shield, how he speaks his truth without hesitation, without guile, as if the very concept of deception is foreign to him. It is infuriating. It is intriguing. And it has left a mark on her, whether she likes it or not.

Y/N folds the letter and tucks it into the folds of her gown, her fingers lingering on the soft fabric for a moment longer than necessary. She knows what she must do; her place is back in the South. But as she rises to her feet, her eyes drift around her room, taking in the rough-hewn walls, the cold stone floor, and the fur pelts draped across her bed. There is a part of her—small, quiet, but undeniably present—that resents leaving this place. Resents leaving him behind.

She sighs, pushing the thought away, and begins to gather what little she had brought with her. No handmaiden to help her, not that she would ask. She has always preferred to do things herself when it comes down to it. She moves about the room with a swift efficiency, her hands quick and sure as she folds her scarves, places them neatly in her travel bag.

She is in the midst of folding a deep green scarf, the color of pine needles, when a knock sounds at her door. She freezes, her fingers still gripping the fabric, and for a moment, she considers ignoring it. But then she rolls her eyes at her own hesitation and strides to the door, swinging it open.

Cregan Stark stands on the other side, looking as rugged and battered as ever. There is a bandage wrapped around his arm, another at his side, but he stands tall, his posture straight, his face unreadable. He looks better than he had when she had tended to him earlier, but not by much. His grey eyes flick to her, and she can’t quite read the expression in them.

“Lord Stark,” she greets, her voice carefully neutral. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He inclines his head slightly. “I came to thank you,” he says, his voice low and gruff. “For earlier. For tending to my wounds.”

She raises an eyebrow, surprised. “Oh? Didn’t think you’d bother with gratitude.”

He snorts softly. “I’m not so stubborn as to ignore a kindness when it’s given.”

“A kindness?” She smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “I think you’ll find I had very little kindness in mind when I forced you to sit down.”

His lips twitch, just slightly. “Perhaps not,” he concedes. “But you did help. I owe you that much.”

Her gaze softens, just for a moment, but before she can reply, his eyes shift past her, taking in the half-packed bags and scattered belongings strewn across the room. His brows knit together in a frown.

“What is this?” he asks, his tone sharper than before.

Y/N shrugs, affecting a nonchalant air. “I’m going home,” she replies, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “A happy bit of news for you, I’d wager.”

He is silent for a moment, his frown deepening, his eyes fixed on hers. “No,” he says finally, his voice low and steady. “I take no joy in this news.”

She blinks, momentarily caught off guard. “No? I thought you’d be delighted to see the back of me.”

His expression softens, and he steps further into the room, his gaze never leaving hers. “Believe it or not, Princess, I’ve grown accustomed to your… presence.”

Her eyes narrow. “What are you on about?” she demands, her voice sharper now, a hint of frustration creeping in. “Don’t tell me you’ve developed a fondness for me, Cregan Stark.”

He hesitates, then, with a sigh, says, “Perhaps. Or maybe I’ve simply developed a soft spot for your relentless stubbornness.”

She scoffs, folding her arms over her chest. “Oh, do spare me,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “The Wolf of the North with a soft spot for a Targaryen? Is that supposed to flatter me?”

He gives a half-smile, his eyes holding hers. “It’s not meant to flatter, just the truth.”

She rolls her eyes, exasperated. “Right. And I suppose this has nothing to do with your other northern… interests?” She tilts her head, her voice laced with mock sweetness. “Surely, Black Aly is more up your alley?”

His face hardens slightly, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Alysanne is a friend,” he replies, his voice calm. “A trusted one. But you—”

“But me?” she interrupts, stepping closer, her eyes blazing. “But what, Cregan? Do you think I’m going to stay here in this frozen wasteland to be your latest curiosity?”

He shakes his head, his voice rising just a fraction. “No, that’s not what I meant—”

“Then what did you mean?” she snaps. “Because I have no desire to dance around whatever it is you’re trying to say.”

He exhales, frustration lining his features, but there’s something softer there, too. “I meant,” he says slowly, deliberately, “that I have come to respect you, Y/N. To… care for you, in ways I did not expect.”

She laughs, sharp and incredulous. “Care for me? Truly? You’ve a strange way of showing it, taking Black Aly on all your little adventures while I’m stuck here playing house with your bannermen.”

Cregan’s eyes darken, his expression turning serious. “It wasn’t meant to slight you.”

“But it did,” she fires back, her voice lower, more intense. “It did. And now, you stand here, acting like you don’t want me to leave, when all you’ve done is—”

“I don’t want you to leave,” he cuts her off, his voice firm, his gaze unyielding. “Not now. Not like this.”

There is a beat of silence, the air between them taut and electric. Y/N feels something twist inside her, something she doesn’t want to name.

“Why?” she finally asks, her voice almost a whisper. “Why, Cregan?”

He takes a step closer, so close she can feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. “Because,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, “for all your southern games and sharp words… you’ve gotten under my skin, Y/N Targaryen.”

She meets his gaze, searching his face for any hint of a lie, any trace of deception, but finds none. She swallows, her throat tight. “And what do you suggest I do about that?” she asks, her tone still edged, but softer now.

He glances around the room at her half-packed bags, and then, with a determined expression, begins to pick up her things, placing them back where they were. “For a start,” he says, his voice gruff but not unkind, “you can stop packing.”

She watches, incredulous, as he calmly folds one of her scarves and places it back on the table. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demands, even as a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.

He looks up at her, his eyes twinkling with a challenge. “Undoing a mistake,” he replies simply.

She shakes her head, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “You’re very difficult, you know that?”

He grins, the lines around his eyes crinkling. “So I’ve been told.”

They stand there, close enough to touch, the tension between them crackling like a fire waiting to ignite. For a moment, neither of them speaks. The air between them is thick, charged with something that neither of them can quite name. She lets out a sigh, breaking the silence that has settled over them.

“My grandsire has called for me,” she says finally, her voice softer than before. “It’s more of a command, really, than a request.”

Cregan’s brow furrows, his grey eyes narrowing slightly. “Is Otto Hightower the King of the Seven Kingdoms now?” he asks, his tone dry, laced with a hint of disdain.

Y/N chuckles, a low, throaty sound that sends a shiver through him. “He might as well be,” she replies, a faint smile playing on her lips. “He certainly acts like it.”

“Seems he’s got a hold on you too,” Cregan mutters, his gaze never leaving hers.

She shrugs, a half-smirk curving her lips. “I wouldn’t survive a winter here, would I? You said so yourself, Lord Stark. Even Vermithor and Silverwing refused to fly beyond the Wall of their own accord. Those ancient, powerful creatures wouldn’t dare. So whatever lies out there…” Her voice drops to a whisper. “It must be damning.”

Cregan’s expression is unreadable, his jaw tightening for a moment. “I can keep you safe,” he says quietly, but there’s a firmness to his voice, an unyielding resolve that makes her chest tighten.

Y/N raises an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “Oh, how kind of you, my big, bad wolf,” she drawls, her tone mocking but playful, her fingers reaching out to brush lightly against his arm. “But how about you start with something simple?”

His eyes narrow, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. “Simple?” he repeats.

She steps closer, so close that her breath mingles with his, the warmth of her skin brushing against him. “How about, for starters, you try keeping me warm?” she murmurs, her voice barely more than a whisper, yet it carries between them like a challenge. “It is awfully freezing here… Can you do that for me, Lord Stark?”

For a moment, Cregan says nothing. His eyes search hers, as if trying to discern whether she’s serious, or just toying with him as she so often does. Y/N isn’t expecting much—she knows the Northerners, with their prudish notions of honor and virtue, probably see this as a surefire way to eternal damnation. She expects him to laugh it off, to turn away with a huff, to remind her, once again, that he is not some Southern lord to be trifled with.

But he doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t turn away. Instead, his gaze darkens, his eyes tracing the curve of her lips, the line of her throat. He takes a step closer, his body towering over hers, and she feels the heat radiating from him, the intensity in his stare. Her breath catches in her throat, her heart thundering in her chest as he reaches out, his hand cupping her chin, tilting her face up toward him.

“Is that what you want?” he murmurs, his voice a low, rumbling growl that sends a thrill down her spine. “For me to keep you warm?”

Y/N swallows, her mouth suddenly dry. She hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected the Wolf of the North to respond to her challenge with anything but stern disapproval. “I—” she starts, but the words catch in her throat as his thumb brushes over her lower lip, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through her.

He leans in, his breath warm against her skin, and she feels the heat of his body pressing against hers, the rough fabric of his tunic brushing against the softness of her gown. “Say it,” he murmurs, his voice rough, almost desperate. “Say what you want, Y/N.”

Her heart pounds, and she feels a rush of something she can’t quite name—fear, desire, defiance—all mingling together in her chest. “I want…” she begins, her voice wavering, but then she catches herself, lifts her chin, her eyes flashing. “I want you to keep me warm, Cregan Stark.”

His lips curve into a slow, dangerous smile, and before she can draw another breath, his mouth is on her throat, hot and insistent. She gasps, her hands instinctively flying to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his tunic as he kisses her skin, his mouth trailing down to the hollow of her collarbone, his teeth grazing against her pulse.

“Gods,” she breathes, a mixture of surprise and pleasure washing over her. She hadn’t expected this—not from him. But he is relentless, his mouth moving against her skin, his teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh, his tongue tracing patterns that make her shiver. He smells of the woods and leather, of smoke and something wilder, something purely him, and it makes her head spin.

She feels a hot rush of sensation flood her body, a fire igniting deep within her belly as he kisses and nibbles at her neck, her collarbones, his hands sliding up her back to pull her closer. “I didn’t think you had it in you,” she gasps, her fingers threading through his hair, tugging just a bit.

He chuckles against her skin, the sound vibrating through her, and she can feel his grin. “I am good at playing my part too, Princess,” he mutters, his voice rough, raw with hunger.

She arches against him, feeling the warmth of his breath, the roughness of his beard against her skin, and something inside her snaps. She doesn’t care about the cold, or the North, or even the damned wildlings anymore. She only cares about the way his mouth feels on her, the way his hands move against her, the way he’s suddenly, inexplicably, decided to abandon his precious restraint.

“Oh, so you’re not a prude after all?” she teases, her voice a breathless whisper, but there’s a tremor in it she can’t quite control.

He bites down gently on her shoulder, making her gasp, and she feels him smile against her skin. “Careful now,” he growls softly, his lips trailing up to her ear. “You might just find out how much I’m not.”

She laughs, a low, sultry sound that makes his grip tighten. “Well then, Lord Stark,” she murmurs, her voice daring. “Show me.”

And he does. All night long.

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The next morning, chaos erupted in Winterfell. The dawn broke over the snow-covered battlements, but there was no sign of the Lord of Winterfell. Cregan’s chamber was found empty, his bed undisturbed, and his bannermen immediately feared the worst. The cold winds carried whispers of possible attacks, of kidnappings, of wildlings breaching the walls in the dead of night.

“Where is he?” one of the lords muttered, his voice tight with worry. “I saw him head to his chamber last night. He should be there!”

“But he’s not,” another snapped, his face pale. “And there’s no sign of a struggle. Nothing.”

Maids and guards exchanged nervous glances, and the tension in the great hall thickened like smoke. Servants hurried through the corridors, peering into every nook and cranny, while a group of bannermen began to search the grounds, checking the stables, the armory, anywhere he might have gone.

The panic spread quickly, growing like wildfire. Hushed voices turned into frantic shouts, and soon enough, a full search was underway. Every room, every corridor, every shadowed corner was combed through with increasing urgency.

“Maybe he’s gone to the Godswood?” one bannerman suggested, and a group ran in that direction, boots crunching against the snow.

“What if he’s been taken?” another whispered fearfully. “The wildlings—”

“No, he’d never be taken without a fight!” a grizzled old warrior barked, his hand tightening on his sword hilt. “Keep looking!”

And so they did, their desperation growing as each minute passed without a trace of their lord.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, one of the servants hesitantly approached the door to Y/N’s chamber. He hesitated, his hand hovering over the handle as if unsure whether he should dare to disturb a Targaryen princess. But with his heart pounding and knowing that all of Winterfell was searching, he pushed the door open.

There, in the soft light of dawn that filtered through the small window, they found him.

Cregan Stark lay sprawled across the bed, still deep in sleep, his dark hair tousled, a faint smile playing on his lips. His arm was wrapped tightly around Y/N Targaryen, holding her close against him as if she were the most precious thing in the world. They were entangled in the furs, his body curved protectively around hers, their legs entwined, her head resting on his chest.

For a moment, the servant could only gape, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. Then, finding his voice, he croaked out, “Lord Stark!”

Cregan stirred, groaning softly, his eyes blinking open in the dim light. He looked down to see Y/N still nestled against him, her silver hair a soft halo on his chest. For a brief, confused moment, he forgot where he was, why there were voices at the door.

Then he heard the shocked gasp of the servant, and it all came rushing back.

“What’s the meaning of this?” a bannerman’s voice boomed from behind the servant, and within seconds, the doorway filled with faces, wide-eyed and bewildered.

Cregan rubbed his eyes, sitting up slowly, his hand still cradling Y/N. He glanced over at the doorway and saw the crowd of his bannermen and servants, their expressions ranging from horrified to amused to utterly scandalized.

“Well, it seems I’ve been found,” he muttered, a grin spreading across his face as he looked down at her, still half-asleep beside him. “So much for a quiet morning.”

Y/N stirred, blinking up at him, and then she saw the small crowd gathered in the doorway. Her cheeks flushed, but her lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Good morrow, gentlemen,” she purred, propping herself up on her elbow. “Is there something you’re looking for?”

The bannermen stood frozen for a moment, then the old warrior who’d been leading the search cleared his throat, his cheeks flushed red. “Lord Stark, we thought… well, we feared the worst.”

Cregan’s smile widened, his hand brushing a strand of silver hair from Y/N’s face. “No need for fear, Wylis,” he replied, his tone far too amused. “As you can see, I’m very much alive. Just… occupied.”

The servant who had found them couldn’t suppress a grin, though he quickly ducked his head to hide it. The bannermen, on the other hand, exchanged awkward glances, shifting their weight, unsure of what to say.

Y/N looked up at Cregan, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Seems you’ve caused quite the stir, my lord,” she murmured, teasingly. “Should I be worried that your men are so eager to find you?”

Cregan chuckled, pulling her closer, ignoring the gaping faces in the doorway. “Let them talk,” he murmured, his voice low and affectionate. “I have everything I want right here.”

And as the bannermen mumbled and fidgeted, trying to find a way to excuse themselves from the room without causing further embarrassment, Cregan leaned down to kiss her forehead, his smile never fading. “Let them see,” he whispered. “Let them know.”

Y/N laughed softly, rolling her eyes. “As you wish, wolf.”

And with that, he pulled her back into the warm cocoon of furs, ignoring the murmurs from the doorway, perfectly content to remain exactly where he was.

[reilemon]

♥︎Amore Immortale♥︎ Ch. 1

♡︎ synopsis: A simple foraging trip takes an unexpected turn when you wake up in a mansion hidden deep in the forest. Now four captivating men are nursing you back to health, but their intentions—and identities—are a mystery.

♡︎ pairing: vampire!Xavier, vampire!Zayne, vampire!Rafayel, vampire!Sylus x fem!reader (separately and together)

♡︎ cw: depictions of head injury and fever

♡︎ tags: vampire au, slow burn (-ish), eventual romance, eventual smut, eventual polyamory

♡︎ word count: 4.3k

♡︎ a/n: the first chapter of the sixth and final story for kinktober 2024. I wanted to finish off kinktober with a gang bang, but I got carried away and now this is going to be a multi chapter story. I hope you'll like this one.

♡︎ Thanks to my dearest friend and beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping.

divider by @cafekitsune

"Poor little bunny." The blue eyed man coos as he find the source of the sudden loud noise - you. The clumsy human probably slipped and fell when the sky opened and heavy rainfall started. He carefully scoops you in his arms, with your head resting on his shoulder.

A small whine barely hits his ears and he catches the moment you briefly gain consciousness. He softly chuckles when he hears your silly question before passing out again. He ignores how a little of your blood is mixing with the rain on the fabric of his coat and starts walking away.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Your eyes flutter open, heavy and bleary. You adjust slowly to the dimness around you, the fireplace in front of your bed the only source of light. The ceiling looms high - a ceiling you don’t recognize. The walls are covered in wallpaper, worn and peeling in places. You don’t recognize that wallpaper either. The royal purple catches the dim firelight, a color you could never possibly afford.

You shift against the bed beneath you, the silk sheets cool and smooth against your skin. Over you is a heavy wool blanket, its weight like a comforting presence. A low groan escapes your lips as you rise and rest on your elbow. The room is beautiful, with expensive furniture, but there is this dormant energy to it.

You glance at the thick velvet curtains covering the window. The sliver peeking in the corner shows you a glimpse of the outside world. It’s nighttime, the downpour relentless, drops thrumming against the glass.  

‘The rain!’

You sit up abruptly, a sharp pang of pain zapping through your skull, making you wince and press your fingers to your temple. Your fingers try to rub the pain away as you lean on your other arm to rest. Right, the rain. After closing up the bookstore, you've gone to the forest to search for some mushrooms and sweet chestnuts. A hearty dinner and sweet dessert would be a great start of your two week long vacation. The last visitor commented how their elbow hurt which meant a thunderstorm is coming. You politely smiled and packed up their books. You should've listened to their elbow.

Now, staring around this unfamiliar room, unease twists in your stomach.

‘Where the hell am I?’

Right on cue, the door creaks open, and a tall, raven haired man steps into the room. He pauses in the doorway as his eyes meet yours.

“Hello,” he says, his voice smooth and deep. “How are you feeling?”

You swallow, his presence suddenly making you aware of the mess you must look. Embarrassment prickles your skin, and you rub your temple, trying to compose yourself, only to see his brows knit with concern.

“Um, I’ve been better,” you manage, forcing a chuckle. The grogginess in your voice doesn’t help the embarrassment. You smooth a hand over the blanket, feeling a little exposed. “Why am I here?”

“My friend found you,” he explains, “Out in the forest, just before the storm. You most likely slipped on the mud and hit your head.”

He nods towards your forehead, then reaches for a small, gold hand-mirror resting on the bedside table. The antique metal glints softly as he holds it, and you take it with a hesitant hand. As you lift it to inspect your reflection, you catch a small bruise just above your brow, the skin tender and slightly swollen. Considering the circumstances, you think, it could’ve been much worse.

The man, whose name you still haven’t learned, clears his throat. “I was the one who changed you into dry clothes,” he shifts in his seat, averting his gaze briefly before meeting your eyes again. “For that, I apologize. I wouldn’t have done it if there were any other choice.”

You shake your head with a small, reassuring smile. “It’s fine, really. If you hadn’t, I’d probably be shivering with pneumonia right now.”

His expression softens with relief. “I’m glad you understand. I would still like to listen to your lungs, Would you be comfortable with me examining you?” then he adds, “I’ve been in the medical field for quite some time, I assure you.”

Something about his demeanor, calm and controlled, makes him look trustworthy. And considering how thoroughly he must have tended to you—removing every speck of mud, leaving you dry and warm in a comfortable bed—it’s clear he has your wellbeing in mind. You nod. “Of course.”

He gives a curt nod and shifts closer to the bed. “You don’t need to do much, just sit as comfortably as you can,” he murmurs, the calm, low timbre of his voice steadies you. The shirt you wear—a loose button-up clearly meant for a man—hangs loosely over your shoulders, open at the collar. Suddenly, you feel the pulse of your own heartbeat, wondering if he might hear it already. His hand moves lightly over the fabric, as he leans closer, and then he places his ear gently against your chest, just above your heart.

The moment feels both entirely professional and so intimate. You tell yourself that this is completely normal, this is the usual routine. But he is not your doctor, and you can’t shun the butterflies you feel from having a handsome stranger resting his head on your chest. His hair, thick and dark, grazes your collarbone as he listens, his breath warm against your skin. Your heartbeat, which you’re certain must be thudding wildly beneath his ear, betrays you, a deep flush creeping up your cheeks as you try to steady yourself.

“Breathe in deeply for me,” his voice a soft murmur, his cheek brushing against you.

You comply, feeling his presence with every rise and fall of your chest. When he shifts, his head moves closer to your collarbone, the tickling brush of his hair sending a wave of goosebumps along your chest. You’re conscious of every small movement, every slight intake of his breath.

He shifts back a little, his hand grazing your shoulder as he adjusts to press his ear against your back. “One more time,” his tone is still composed, though you’re unsure if you catch a hint of restraint.

You breathe in, slowly, deeply, feeling the warmth of his palm on your shoulder. He holds still for a moment longer, listening intently. Then, he slowly pulls back, settling into his seat with a neutral expression.

“You do have a small fever,” he calmly states. “Although, there are no signs of anything serious.” He offers a faint, almost apologetic smile. “You should lie back down and rest.”

Your cheeks are warm, and not just from the fever. You nod and do as you’re told, sinking under the comforting weight of the blanket. The man briefly explains that you were unconscious for around two hours, and that your clothes are being washed.

You nod again, processing the details. “Thank you… that’s all very considerate of you.”

He offers you a faint smile. “It’s the least we could do.”

He rises from his seat and steps toward the door, his hand resting on the brass knob. “I need to check on my friend in the kitchen. There may be a fire to manage. And I’ll bring you some herbal tea.”

You chuckle. “Well, thank you, Dr…?”

A flicker of amusement lights his eyes as he opens the door, pausing for a moment. “Just call me Zayne.”

You tell him your name in return, and with that, he’s gone with the soft click of the door.

After Zayne leaves, the room slips into an almost eerie quiet. You prop yourself up against the plush pillows, trying to get comfortable despite the persistent ache in your muscles and the dull throb in your head. The room feels larger now that you’re alone. Every detail catches your attention—the thick velvet drapes, the intricate patterns on the worn wallpaper, the faint smell of stale air. You’d get up to investigate the room or try to figure out more about where exactly you are, but your body protests with every small movement. So you have to settle for gazing around the space instead, picking out details you hadn’t noticed before. The furniture is old but well-kept, the kind that belongs in a property far grander than any home you’ve ever been in. This place—it’s not like the humble cottages back in your village. No, this is different. Larger. More isolated. Somewhere far from the familiar streets you walk every day.

A shiver crawls down your spine at the thought of how far away you could be from your home. You’ve never ventured beyond the edge of the forest. You’ve heard stories about the other side. It was always whispered between older folk who’d lived through enough strange events to keep their superstitions alive. Vampires, werewolves, creatures of the night. They’d mention them, always in passing, as though acknowledging them would draw something out of the shadows.

At first, you’d dismissed it. What else could it be but old folklore? Some scary tales to spice up their lives, stories passed down from generation to generation. Something for them to talk about when the nights grew long and dark, to keep the children from misbehaving. Those creatures don’t exist. You were certain of that.

Or, at least, you had been.

You replay the events in your mind, trying to make sense of it all. Zayne said that his friend found you unconscious in the woods. They’d brought you here, tended to your injuries, and kept you warm. His behavior had been nothing but kind, gentlemanly even.

But then, why does your skin prickle as you think of him?

What if he is one of them? The pale complexion, the unnerving quiet, the way he’d moved with such elegant grace. And those eyes... there was something about the way he looked at you. Your pulse quickens. You try to reason with yourself—if this man, Zayne, were a vampire, wouldn’t he have done something by now? You were unconscious and vulnerable. He could have easily taken advantage of that moment, but he hadn’t. He’d taken care of you.

But what if... what if this is all part of some darker plan? You swallow hard, trying to silence the growing paranoia. What if they want to keep you here? What if, right now, they’re simply playing a long game, to coax you to be their little blood doll—

‘Stop.’ You force yourself to take a deep breath, trying to calm your spiraling thoughts. There’s no proof, no reason to believe that Zayne—or anyone else—is anything other than a human.

You glance toward the window. Your body feels like lead at the moment, but tomorrow you will probably be well enough to leave. The storm can’t go on forever.

A sharp knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts.

"Come in," you manage, your voice wavering just a little.

Zayne steps in, balancing a tray of a delicate ceramic tea set. The gentle clink of porcelain against porcelain brings comfort to your senses. Behind him, another figure slips into the room—a man with handsome, soft features. His tousled, blonde-gray hair looks like it would be soft to the touch. And his eyes, though shadowed by the dim lighting, have a dreamy quality, like someone lost in thought.

A faint smell of something burnt drifts into the room, cutting through the soothing scent of the herbal tea. You can’t help but frown a bit at the scent, but neither man acknowledges it. Zayne places the tray on the small bedside table, the teapot steaming. The air feels warmer now, not just from the tea.

The second man steps forward, offering you a polite nod, “Hello.” he says, his voice silky and mellow. “I’m Xavier, the one who found you.”

His soft smile makes your heart stir. It takes you a beat to find your voice to introduce yourself.

“Thank you… for, well, rescuing me,” you say with a shy smile.

Xavier gives a gentle shake of his head, his smile widening. “Why were you so deep into the forest with a storm on the way?” he asks, his tone feels almost like teasing.

You chuckle nervously as you feel the faintest flush of embarrassment creep up your cheeks. “I – Well, I wanted to gather some things for dinner,” you admit. “It’s my first real break from work, and I may have gotten a little too excited.”

His gaze lingers on you for a moment, as if he’s trying to fully take you in.

“You’re lucky he was done fishing at the time.” Zayne adds as he hands you a cup of tea. His fingers brush lightly against yours as you accept it, deepening the flush on your cheeks. You are lucky to be here. Even though you’re sitting in a room with two men who are strangers, they still have cared for you with such tenderness. You could feel their warmth in every gesture, in every word. It’s hard to hold onto fear when faced with such care. Even now, you can feel yourself relaxing, the tension in your shoulders unwinding.

You take a sip of tea slowly, trying to mask the strange tide of emotions flooding through you. You had been so afraid, so convinced of something dark lurking beneath the surface. But now, in this quiet moment, with the warm tea in your hands and their watchful eyes on you, you feel strangely safe.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

The clock on the mantel ticks softly, the brass hands showing it’s almost 1 a.m. The fire burns low, casting a warm, flickering glow over the room. Your eyelids feel heavy now, the weight of exhaustion settling deep in your bones. You turn onto your side, pulling the duvet tighter, forming a cocoon around you. The warmth, the softness—everything lulls you closer to sleep. But your mind drifts, recalling the conversation with Xavier after he’d brought you dinner.

He’d placed the bed tray gently over your lap, making sure everything was within reach. Before he turned to leave, the sound of your voice stopped him.

“Did you manage to catch anything?” you asked, your voice quiet but curious.

Xavier had looked confused for a moment, then his face lit up with a soft smile. “I did. Fried a few, but Zayne didn’t let me serve it to you.” He chuckled. “Said he didn’t want you choking on a bone.”

You laughed too, the sound easing the leftover tension you’ve been holding. That explained the faint burnt smell that had lingered earlier, and why Zayne had to rush to the kitchen.

“And don’t worry,” he added. “I brought back your basket too. Everything’s intact.”

You were about to thank him, but then an image flashed in your mind—a fleeting memory of him, his hair wet and clinging to his face. The moment felt so vivid, so real, that it stopped you mid-thought. You stared at him, squinting slightly.

“What’s wrong?” His voice softened with concern, his brows furrowing.

You shook your head quickly, flustered for being caught staring. “Nothing… it’s just—did I say something to you?  When you found me?”

Xavier hesitated, his lips twitching as though trying to suppress a grin. He glanced to the side, his hand coming up to cover his mouth, but his eyes gave him away. “Oh no…” you said, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. “Was it something embarrassing?”

“No,” he replied, though the gleam in his eye said otherwise. “It was cute.” He paused, then looked back to you, “You opened your eyes for a moment, and asked me, ‘Are you my prince?’ Then you passed out again.”

Your heart practically leapt into your throat, your face instantly flushing. “Oh, that’s definitely embarrassing,” you groaned.

Xavier laughed then, his voice soothing. “Don’t worry, I’ve been called worse.”

And just as you wished for the shadows to come alive and swallow you, Zayne entered, saving you from further humiliation. He brought you a bowl filled with ice and a cloth. You thanked both of them, adding that you planned to leave in the morning.

Their faces changed for a heartbeat when you said that, though you didn’t miss it. It wasn’t worry exactly, more like hesitation, as though they weren’t entirely convinced you would be gone by morning. Or perhaps… that they didn’t want you to be.

That thought lingered now, swirling in your mind as your body sank deeper into the mattress. Their kindness, their calmness—they made you feel safe, soothed the fears that had gripped you earlier. Yet, there was something unspoken between the three of you.

A sigh escapes your lips. You can feel sleep creeping over you, warm and heavy, pulling you under. The memory of Xavier’s reassuring smile and Zayne’s attentive gaze lingers in your mind, their faces blurring at the edges as your thoughts dissolve into a haze.

They are both so kind. And so handsome.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

A low whine escapes your lips before you even open your eyes. The ache in your body is heavy and relentless. Every muscle protests as you shift, but you force your eyelids open. The room is warm, the fire crackling faintly in the hearth. Someone must’ve light it while you were still asleep.

‘I said I’d leave in the morning.’ You glance over at the clock—it’s 11 a.m. That’s not really morning, but it is time for you to leave. If only you felt better.

You wince as you slowly, painfully, push yourself out of bed. Your legs feel weak, your body sluggish, like you’re moving through water. Every movement sends a wave of soreness through your bones, but you grit your teeth and push through. You don’t want to linger here any longer than you have to.

Grumbling under your breath, you stagger toward the door, your feet barely shuffling across the hardwood. You’re still dressed in the warm clothes Zayne gave you, though they feel a little too big now. You’ll just ask for your things and be on your way. You’ll return their clothes once you fully recover.

Goosebumps spread all over your skin as you open the door, the chill air of the hallway shocking your senses. It is completely quiet, only the soft creak of the floorboards under your slippers breaking the silence. More doors sit along the hallway, likely bedrooms as well. You glance at them briefly, but you step towards the staircase ahead. The polished mahogany wood gleams faintly, and you internally groan at the thought of making it down the steps in your current state.

You’re about to take your first step when—

“Hey!”

The voice comes out of nowhere, stopping you in your tracks. You freeze, your heart jumping in your chest as footsteps echo from above, growing louder as they approach. Turning, you find yourself face-to-face with a man descending the stairs. He’s tall and moves with an almost feline grace. His hair is gorgeous - messy curls of muted violet and his eyes, an unusual blend of blue and pink, are sharp and full of curiosity. His plump lips are pulled in an amused smirk.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice is teasing, though there’s a touch of disapproval in it. His arms cross over his chest, as he takes in your disheveled state.

You blink at him, still trying to shake off the fog in your head. “I - I need to leave.”

He narrows his eyes, looking you up and down. “You should stay in bed,” he says firmly, stepping closer. “You look like you’re about to collapse.”

He is right, you do feel like you’re about to collapse, yet you can’t help but notice how striking he is. His hair, his eyes, even the way he moves—it’s all captivating. But you force those thoughts away, shaking your head slightly. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

He uncrosses his arms, offering a small smile that’s both charming and a little smug. “Oh, right. I’m Rafayel.” His voice dips slightly, your name falling from his lips. “I’m staying here too. Zayne told me what happened.”

You blink again, taken aback by how easily he says your name. You hadn’t expected to meet another guest in the house. “Rafayel,” you repeat.

He nods, brushing a hand through his unruly curls. “Yeah. I took care of your clothes. They’re drying in my room,” he adds. “It’s still raining, though, so they might take a while.”

At his words, you pause and listen. Sure enough, you hear the soft, steady patter of rain against the windows. You’d been so focused on leaving that you hadn’t even thought to check the weather. ‘Of course it’s still raining.’ You sigh inwardly, frustration and weariness settling in your chest.

“What about Zayne and Xavier?” you ask, hoping to at least get some help from them.

Rafayel smirks, shaking his head. “They’re sleeping.”

You frown. “Sleeping?”

“Yup,” he says with a shrug, almost dismissive.

Your mind races. You know why you are up so late, but why are they still sleeping. Your mind is about to wander to that corner again, but you stop yourself. ‘They must’ve been exhausted from taking care of an injured stranger.’

Still, the unease lingers. Rafayel’s gaze flickers over you, his eyes softening slightly as if sensing your discomfort. “Look,” he says, his voice gentler now, “you really don’t look like you’re in any shape to leave. Why don’t you rest a bit longer?”

You hesitate, your body aching with every breath, the fatigue weighing you down with each second. He’s right. You’re not ready to leave yet.

Rafayel’s eyes hold yours for a moment. “You’re safe here,” he adds softly.

Just as Rafayel is about to steer you back toward the bedroom, another voice cuts through the air, deep and teasing, with a velvety edge that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Is that the lost kitten?”

You look down the stairs, and there he is. The man who appears next makes the very air around you seem heavier. He’s taller than the other men, with strikingly sharp features. His white hair is tousled yet elegant, and his eyes - a deep, mesmerizing wine-red, lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your stomach flutter.

Before you can even react, the man is standing right in front of you, his height towering over you. You can’t help but gawk, unable to stop yourself from tracing every detail of his sharp jawline, the way his lower lip looks so plump and soft.

Rafayel’s voice, sharp with annoyance, snaps you out of the trance. “You know her name, Sylus.”

But Sylus just smirks. He takes your hand, his fingers long and strong, enveloping yours completely. Your breath catches in your throat as the warmth from his touch sends heat rippling through your body. His hand is so much larger than yours, making you feel almost fragile in his grip.

“My name is Sylus. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Your name drips from his lips, and he bends forward and presses a tender kiss to the back of your hand. The sensation of his cool lips against your flushed skin sends tingles across your arm. You can’t help but blush under the attention.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rafayel roll his eyes, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “You’re shameless.” he mutters, though there’s a playful lilt to his voice.

Sylus simply laughs, a low, rich sound, before releasing your hand. With a light touch on your back, Rafayel guides you back toward the bedroom, his hand steady and firm against you. Sylus trails behind, watching with an amused expression.

When you’re back in the bedroom, Rafayel’s hands gently but insistently push you down by the shoulders, guiding you to sit back on the edge of the bed. “Seriously,” you protest, exasperated, “I feel better already! I don’t want to be a burden.”

Sylus leans lazily against the doorframe, his arms crossed, a smirk dancing on his lips as he watches the scene unfold. "You look much too cute to be any kind of burden, kitten," he says, his eyes fixed on you.

Before you can say anything else, Rafayel presses you back into the blankets, his firm but gentle insistence impossible to resist. As you sink back into the bed, Sylus pushes off from the door and approaches with an almost predatory grace. The teasing glint in his eyes fades slightly as he crouches beside the bed, his expression softening as his hand reaches out to press against your forehead. His touch is cool—no wonder, since the rest of the mansion is freezing—and the sensation sends a refreshing chill through your heated skin.

“You still have a fever.” he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly against your temple.

Rafayel shakes his head, giving you a disapproving look. “See? You’re in no condition to leave. I’ll prepare you tea and breakfast.”

Your protests die on your lips as Sylus pulls away, his touch lingering on your skin. Both men turn around and leave before you can say anything else.

The door shuts softly behind them, leaving you alone once again. You sink deeper into the bed, your body heavy with exhaustion. Your thoughts swirl, still caught in the lingering effect of their presence. You turn on your side, facing the window, staring at the thick velvet curtains that block out the view of raindrops racing down the tall windows. As much as you want to leave, as much as you should leave, you know your body isn’t ready. The fever might not be severe, but it’s enough to weaken you. Slipping away now—especially into the woods with no clear path—feels like a death wish.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips. For now, the best option is to rest and regain your strength. You can’t deny how safe their presence makes you feel, even if you don’t fully understand why. Something about them pulls you in, something more than just their looks.

You close your eyes, letting the exhaustion pull you under.

[tinycoffeeroom]

just friends | lando norris

face claim: none ♡

request: here !

part 2 !

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📍 sass cafe, monaco

👤 bffstagram, landonorris liked by bffstagram, landonorris and 59,203 others

y/nstagram dj lando came out of retirement for the night🤠

landonorris 😎 only for you xx ↳ y/nstagram i'm honoured mr norris 🫡 ↳ fan i love my besties who don't know they're my besties

bffstagram bro my tummy hurts ↳ y/nstagram i'm coming round with coffee and croissants you big baby ↳ bffstagram i love my gf ♥️ y/nstagram

fan i wanna party with y/nlando so BAD dude ↳ y/nstagram if you ever find yourself in monaco hmu xx

user ew flipping off the camera so ladylike ↳ y/nstagram idk your mum quite likes my fingers 🫶 ↳ fan ☠️☠️☠️ i love her

fan bffstagram is so hot, i need her ↳ bffstagram thank u babycakes 💗

liked by bffstagram, lilymhe and 69,928 others

y/nstagram rainy days in monaco 🌧️

lilymhe i deserve financial compensation for the emotional turmoil tfios sent me through ↳ y/nstagram don't,,, sat and sobbed my eyes out at the last 100 pages

fan how to lose a guy in 10 days... tfios... who hurt you y/n? ↳ y/nstagram hahahah nothing like that! i promise i'm all good!

bffstagram i still have a headache from crying at that book, next time i choose what we're reading for book club ↳ y/nstagram BORINGGGGG who doesn't love doomed romance? ↳ fan you guys have a book club? thats so cute 😭 ↳ y/nstagram yep! it's me, bff, kika, lily and flavy!! ↳ alexandrasaintmleux and no one thought to invite me?? ↳ y/nstagram come join us babe!! ❤️

landonorris wow, didn't take you for a sappy romance reader ↳ y/nstagram there's a lot you don't know about me comment deleted ↳ y/nstagram tfios can make even the iciest bitch cry (it's me, i'm the icy bitch)

landonorris also answer ur damn texts ↳ y/nstagram sorry idk how to read suddenly ↳ fan The Lando Norris gets aired, there's hope for the rest of the bitchless community ↳ landonorris dude...

liked by fan, fan and 103,028 others

f1gossip Eagle eyed Sass Cafe goers managed to capture Lando Norris getting cosy with an unknown blonde girl. Rumoured girlfriend Y/N L/N was nowhere to be seen. Trouble in paradise for the young duo?

fan delete this rn y'all are fucking up my y/nlando chances

fan rumoured girlfriend?? i thought they were just friends ↳ fan that's what they both say, but they're always very close whenever they've been seen out together ↳ fan i'm pretty sure there was like a super grainy photo of them kissing but you can't really tell if it's either of them ↳ fan hey how about we don't speculate on people's love lives???

fan y/n has been absent from social media for like a month too ... its so over for us y/nlando'ers

fan her instagram is girlstagram! from what i could see before she went private, she posted a selfie of her and lando and they looked very close ↳ fan damn the fbi needs to hire you or smth

liked by bffstagram, estebanocon and 65,928 others

y/nstagram thuggin it out (i've listened to your best american girl 34 times today i think bffstagram is about to smother me with a pillow)

fan um who hurt my bestie ???

fan whoever hurt y/n must die at the hand of my sword

fan lando norris i am in your walls FIX THIS

bffstagram i would never smother you xx also come out of ur room it is boring as FUCK out here ↳ y/nstagram damn cant a girl go through it in peace? ↳ bffstagram absolutely not, i have wine and nibbles get out here NEOOWWW or i'm breaking into ur room ↳ y/nstagram the door is open babygirl

fan ik this is a parasocial friendship but are you ok y/n? ☹️ we love you ↳ y/nstagram oh sweetie ❤️ i'll be fine, sometimes you just gotta be a lil sad y'know? thank you for asking, ily ❤️ ↳ fan ily, take care of yourself 🥺 ♥️ y/nstagram

estebanocon chérie, i don't know what's wrong but i hope you're ok! lets grab coffee soon, flavy misses you! ☺️ ↳ y/nstagram thank u este 🫶🥺 text me when you're free! tell flavy i love her 💗 ↳ flavy.barla i love you too 💕 ♥️ y/nstagram

fan no lando like, i have one (1) fear ↳ fan do not even speak that into the universe

fan after f1gossips post, i have my speculations ↳ fan dude, if he fumbled y/n he really will be lando nowins

liked by flavy.barla, francisca.c.gomes and 10 others

y/npriv absolutely not thuggin it out lads

flavy.barla chouchou (sweetheart) 💔 that's it, me and este are taking you out for lunch tomorrow ↳ y/nstagram nooo don't let me ruin your date time!! ↳ flavy.barla nope it's already done! este's booked that little restaurant you like on pl. du casino ↳ y/nstagram le salon rose?? oh i could do a little weep, i love you guys 😭 ↳ flavy.barla we love you so so much y/n 💕

lilymhe i will hit him with my golf clubs ↳ y/nstagram i haven't even mentioned anyone? ↳ lilymhe we all know their name rhymes with bando borris ↳ y/nstagram wdym we all know? who else knows? ↳ flavy.barla ... me ↳ alexandrasaintmleux ^ ↳ francisca.c.gomes ^ ↳ lilynzeimer ^ ↳ heidiberger_ ^ ↳ carmenmmundt ^ ↳ kellypiquet ^ ↳ iamrebeccad ^ ↳ y/nstagram ok ok i get it damn

kellypiquet want me to ask max to rear end him with his race car? ↳ y/nstagram as if max would ever be behind lando ↳ kellypiquet 😳😳😳 ↳ y/nstagram i may l*ve him but i am also a realist ↳ y/nstagram ok no i do feel bad

y/nstagram uploaded to their story

[caption 1: love of my life, apple of my eye, the thelma to my louise 💖 @/flavy.barla] [caption 2: damn stole my girl from right in front of me 😔 @/estebanocon @/flavy.barla]

seen by landonorris, flavy.barla and 67,394 others

flavy.barla mon ange (my angel), you know you're the only one for me 💕 ↳ y/nstagram tell that to your giant of a boyfriend :(

estebanocon i'm not a giant 😠 ↳ y/nstagram stop reading flavy's messages weirdo ↳ y/nstagram but on a real note, thank you for dinner, i really needed it ↳ estebanocon of course, i'm not sure what lando's done but we hate seeing you so sad ↳ y/nstagram who said it had anything to do with lando? ↳ estebanocon whenever me and flavy have an argument she pulls out the mitski lyrics, i know the signs ↳ y/nstagram that's different, you and flavy are dating ↳ estebanocon and you and lando aren't???? ↳ y/nstagram what? no? we're just friends ↳ estebanocon oh mon amie naïve (my naive friend) friends don't look at each other the way the two of you do

landonorris can we talk? seen

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anyone interested in a part 2?

[andypantsx3]

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑣

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike.All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, knotting, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 7.6k | chapter 4 of 4

Then

“Shouto duty,” was the first thing Touya grumbled as he emerged from his house.

A little shadow with red and white hair peered out from behind him, big eyes staring up at you. Shouto was dressed in a periwinkle t-shirt and khaki shorts in the late spring heat, and he was nearly vibrating with excitement. You reached out reflexively to pat that fluff of hair, and Shouto seemed to lean into your touch like a cat, probably starved of affection from his fussy older brother.

“My lucky day,” you said, grinning at the way it made Touya roll his eyes.

Shouto nearly launched himself off the steps, looking quietly thrilled to be tagging along. He shoved himself in between you and Touya as you walked, as if unable to bear Touya’s proximity to you, making Touya bark out an annoyed, “Oi, watch it.”

Shouto ignored him, turning to you. “Y/N, I have something to tell you.”

You looked down at him curiously. “What?”

“I lost a tooth,” he said, staring up at you seriously. You laughed, knowing most kids would have smiled to show off their tooth gap, but Shouto had always been a little bit more withdrawn, though he was fairly open around you.

“When?” you asked, ignoring Touya’s scoff. “Did the tooth fairy come?”

Shouto nodded. “Last night. I am adding the money to my inheritance for you.”

That made you laugh again, and you bumped his shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Shouto. I think you should buy yourself something with it though. Especially in this weather—it’s good popsicle weather.”

Shouto looked like he was seriously considering this. “Do you like popsicles?”

You nodded. “Definitely.”

He seemed to pocket that information, and you hid a fond smile. That kid was too sweet for his own good, when it came to you. You wondered when his little case of older-brother’s-friend worship would end. You hoped not for another few years, at least.

“Fucking finally,” Touya said when he caught sight of Rumi and Keigo at the end of his neighborhood, his booted steps growing faster, as if eager to get away from the two of you.

You didn’t mind—Shouto was easy company.

“Oi!” Keigo called out to you, waving a skinny arm. You accompanied Shouto over, watching with a little bit of self-satisfaction when Shouto ducked a hair ruffle from Rumi, the look on his face almost reminiscent of Touya.

You were still his favorite, it seemed.

The usual round of arguments commenced about what to play now that all of you were united, Touya snottily vetoing everyone’s suggestions—except, notably, Keigo’s. Eventually you settled on hide and seek, something Shouto could participate in too, since it didn’t involve convoluted rules, and established a set distance you could go.

Finally Shouto was dubbed the first seeker, and the rest of you took off into the surrounding neighborhood.

You immediately beelined for the sprawling oak at the edge of the neighborhood, its thick, leafy branches the perfect place to conceal yourself. Touya, Keigo, and Rumi had long caught on to the fact that you were almost always to be found up a tree, but Shouto hadn’t played this game with you before.

Thirty seconds and one bark-scraped palm later had you settled in your hiding place, just as you caught Shouto’s shout from afar, “Ready or not, here I come!”

You quieted your breath, listening for the sound of his approach. This late in spring, the cicadas were already roaring. The leaves rustled around you in the breeze and you could hear some other band of kids shrieking and laughing, far in the distance.

It was nearing ten minutes on by the time you heard the thump of Shouto’s sneakers approaching, and you could just make out that distinct mop of bright hair through the branches. He poked around behind bushes, peering at eye level, but didn’t seem to think to look up for you. You watched him hunt through the surrounding area, then dash off when you heard a distinctly Keigo squawk not too far away.

You were nearly asleep on your tree branch when you heard his return, and you sat up quietly to watch him again. You were impressed that he seemed to know you were somewhere nearby.

As you watched him rifle around, you wondered if you should drop a hint, just because he’d been so sweet to you earlier. He’d been so adorable insisting he’d save you his tooth money.

You deliberately rustled a branch, leaning on it so it made a loud creak.

Immediately, Shouto’s head snapped up. Two mismatched eyes narrowed in on you, and his face seemed to brighten when he saw you. A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth.

“Caught you,” he called up to you.

You stuck a leg down tauntingly. “Not yet.”

Something passed over Shouto’s face, and his gaze seemed to sharpen. “I have, too.” You could almost hear a foot stamp in his voice.

You grinned. “Not until I get down.”

A determined look settled across Shouto’s features, and he prowled over to the tree. You watched him jump for a lower branch, catching it securely before hefting himself up. His arms were skinny, but his movements were sure, intent. In no time at all you were helping lever him onto your own branch, pulling him up alongside you.

“I caught you,” Shouto repeated, settling a proprietary hand on your arm. His hand was warm, and his fingers caught your wrist tightly.

You smiled. “I let you catch me by making all that noise, you mean.”

A tiny frown pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I knew you were around here,” he said, something almost like a pout in his voice.

You laughed. “I did notice you came back. Those are some good tracking skills—although don’t forget to look up. I’m usually always up a tree, when it comes to hide and seek, and Touya and the others I think have caught on too. They’re probably up their own trees somewhere.”

“I do not care about finding them,” Shouto said. His straightforward tone startled a laugh out of you.

You settled back against the branch, Shouto still gripping your arm firmly. “Should we let them wait, then?” you asked, grinning. “I bet Rumi will come out on her own pretty soon, she’s so impatient.”

Shouto nodded. “I will stay here with you.”

The sincerity of the statement warmed you, the way Shouto’s serious little proclamations always did. He was too sweet for this earth. “Then shall we discuss which popsicle you’re going to get later? I have some recommendations.”

Shouto nodded seriously, and you launched into your nonsense, pleased. The leaves rustled around you, the breeze cool and pleasant against your skin. It felt like time stretched out around you, thick like taffy, slow and lazy and easy in the late spring breeze.

You thought absently that wished you could have a million more moments, Shouto the easiest company beside you, just like this.

Now

The morning of the run dawned warm and dry, sunny with a light breeze.

It was perfect hiking weather, and that was the only thing that kept you in good spirits. You tried not to think about Shouto—about how he was going after someone today, how you’d possibly seen him for the last time before he did. He’d said he’d find your tree, but there was really no guarantee his omega was going to run in the same direction as you.

You ate breakfast on the couch with your mother, listening to her excitedly chatter about your prospects today. You hammed it up a little bit, pretending you had any interest in being chased by an alpha, so that you could milk it later and avoid promises to commit to next year’s run. You hoped it would be enough of a deterrent for her—every year you grew older without a mate, she seemed more desperate to find you one.

You repacked your bags, readying yourself to board your train back to the city tomorrow, feeling mournful. Then you spent the rest of the morning finishing up the small things your mother had let go while you were gone, YouTubing your way through a door knob repair, and some weather stripping replacements. You lifted her air-conditioning into the window, swearing and sweating the whole time and wishing you had even a fraction of Shouto’s easy alpha strength.

After everything was finished, you packed up for the run, placing all your snacks and the sandwich Shouto had helped assemble into a small backpack, stuffing in a water and a book after. Then you scrounged around in your clean laundry for some hiking clothes, settling on leggings and a tee-shirt, no reason to try to impress anyone.

It was late morning by the time you ducked out of your house and started the trek to the preserve on the edge of town. Throngs of people were already gathered when you got there, alphas and omegas alike crowding the entrance. An overwhelming mixture of scents washed over you, the sweetness and florals of the omegas, the tang and spice of the alphas, even the small muted underwash of a few betas.

The overstimulation was nostalgic, and brought to mind your first few runs—the anticipatory hope you felt, the determination not to get caught for some one-time mating with an alpha who wouldn’t prove to be your life mate. It had been years, and you knew the outcome already this time, but some small thrill of anticipation thrummed in your veins regardless.

You kept to the edge of the crowd, sprawling out on the grass until the organizers called for the omegas and running betas to come forward to their starting mark. The alphas and remaining betas would be called to the mark a half hour later, to follow their intended targets into the preserve.

Then the whistle was being blown, and the crowd of omegas around you surged into the forest.

The first hundred meters of the preserve were a tangle of wild trees and overgrowth—omegas typically stayed on the trails until the forest opened up, several paths intersecting and leading away into hills and towards a pond, with the last one stretching towards the coast. This was your usual route and you followed it until the trees thinned out, then stepped off the path to tromp through the woods in the direction of the coastline.

You kept a brisk pace, wanting to get as far in as you could before the alphas were let in. Eventually the spruces and firs gave way to mostly coastal scrub pines amid tall grass, and you could smell the ocean through the trees, hear the crash of the waves against the rocky outcroppings.

You stepped out of the woods along a small coastal path that stretched for miles, and followed it a few minutes more until it flattened out. There was a small meadow laid into the coastline, spanning several square meters of pale seagrass and flowering bushes, shaded by an enormous willow tree—your target.

The meadow had a beautiful view of the shining blue waves through the barren scrub trees, but more importantly it was out of the way, little known to people who did not frequent the coastline trails. The willow was the perfect cover, its trailing fingers and dense greenery more than enough to hide one disinterested beta.

You ducked through the leaves, latching onto one of the lower branches and heaving yourself up. It had been years since you’d climbed anything—the city not exactly chalk-full of great climbing trees—but you were pleased to find it just as satisfying. You scrambled up into the canopy, testing your weight against your designated branch, finding it still held you easily.

Perfect.

You immediately rewarded yourself with a granola bar, settling onto your branch and chewing contentedly, pleased with the temperature. The sun was hot, but in the shade of the leaves and the salty breeze drifting in off the sea, it was perfectly comfortable.

You’d just gotten out your book to read, flipping to the spot you’d last left off at, when the chirp of nearby birds stopped. The meadow seemed to grow quiet around you.

You sat up, alert, at the soft tread of a bootfall close by. Your breath froze in your lungs. An omega, looking for a place to hide? Or some alpha?

Except then a long-fingered hand parted the hanging tendrils of the willow, and a familiar head of scarlet and white hair was ducking inside the canopy.

Embarrassingly, your heart swelled. Shouto had made time to stop in before finding his omega.

“Shouto!” you shouted down, pleased.

Shouto’s face tipped up to you, a tiny smile on his mouth. He looked especially good today, you thought, a navy tee shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, baring the flesh of his biceps, a flush on his cheeks from the warm spring sun. He looked a little taken apart, windswept like he’d run here, and you furiously stamped down on the flash of heat in your tummy.

Nope. No.

“Y/N,” Shouto intoned quietly, his eyes glittering up at you. “Caught you.”

You were momentarily taken aback by the sound of something unfamiliar in his tone, some strange intensity in his voice and expression. It sounded almost like it meant something to find you here, something more than a momentary pitstop on his way to his omega—but of course that was ridiculous.

You waved down at him, smiling and sticking a leg down tauntingly like when you were kids. “Not yet.”

Shouto’s eyes narrowed, a flash of something predatory tinging his handsome features.

In the blink of an eye, he crossed to the tree, dense muscle coiling and pulling beneath his tee shirt as he pulled himself up. This time he needed none of your help, moving with a panther-like grace. He pulled himself onto the branch immediately below yours, close enough that it put him at eye level with the bottom of your chin.

Then he reached out and snared your ankle in one large, warm hand, a smug sort of glint in his eye. The follow up caught you went unspoken.

Another laugh bubbled up out of you. “Alright alright, this time you got me,” you agreed, flexing your ankle in his hold.

Shouto’s mouth turned up, clearly pleased, but he did not let go. A thumb stroked softly along the hollow beneath your ankle bone. A surprised shiver caught you, sliding up your spine.

“You, um, got here so quick,” you said, trying to think past the sudden fuzz of static in your brain. You hoped your voice sounded impressed and not embarrassingly breathy. “Did you at least note which way your life mate went?”

Shouto’s head tilted, his bangs falling into his eyes as his thumb petted across your skin again. “I did.”

You nodded approvingly, tensing against another shudder. “Did they come out this way? You’re probably the first alpha to make it out here but you won’t want to waste too much time.”

Shouto’s mouth twitched, those heterochromatic eyes trailing down your face. “No time spent with you is a waste.”

That made your face warm. You tried to prod him with your foot, but Shouto’s grip was firm. “You’re going to want to save the charm for your life mate, mister.”

“I am,” he said simply, tone sincere.

You felt your brow furrow—now what was that supposed to mean?—when suddenly Shouto leaned forward, abandoning his grip on your ankle. His hands found the branch at either side of your hip, trapping you inside his reach. You stared down at him, stunned with his sudden proximity.

You felt suddenly a little caged in, your breath pulling up short. What was he—?

“Will you come down to me?” Shouto asked, eyes intent on yours.

The ask felt significant, though you had no idea how. And he was so close, so focused on you.

But you had no clue exactly what he would need you to come down for. Maybe he wanted to split lunch or something? You had your sandwich in your bag, and it would be easier on the ground, you supposed.

Although Shouto probably shouldn’t go running around on too full a stomach, especially if he—with his omega, after—if they…

You found you couldn’t think it, your mind shying away like you’d prodded a nerve.

Really, Shouto should be going soon, before any ranging alphas made it this far out and sniped his life mate before he got to them.

With that thought, however, some selfish thing recoiled inside of you. You desperately craved just a few more minutes with him—this achingly familiar boy, this mind-numbingly beautiful man—before he wasn’t really yours to think of anymore. These were the last few moments you’d get to spend with him before everything changed. It took less than a second to make up your mind.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “I’ll come down.”

You shifted, gathering your backpack and maneuvering off your branch carefully. Shouto gave you just enough space to get down, a hand finding your waist as you steadied yourself. He shadowed you down, close at your back to make sure you didn’t slip.

He was acting the consummate gentleman—but there was a strange tension about him, something about the way he moved and the intensity with which he was trailing you. There was something expectant about it, something almost impatient.

Maybe he needed you to hurry up so he could get going. That was probably it.

You turned to your backpack as soon as he guided you safely to the ground. You’d barely gotten it unzipped, however, when Shouto suddenly crowded into your space, startling you.

You stumbled a reflexive step back, breath whooshing out of you when your back connected with the trunk of the willow. Shouto followed, still watching you with that unnerving intensity.

His fingers dipped under your chin, softly turning your face up to his. His gaze was serious—more solemn than you had ever seen him. You went still in his grasp, heartbeat rabbiting in your chest.

What was with him today?

“Shouto,” you said slowly. “Are you… alright?”

Shouto leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. His slow exhale ghosted over your mouth, thumb stroking across your jaw. It sent a swarm of shudders down your spine, and you suddenly weren’t breathing at all.

“I have dreamed of this moment a thousand times,” Shouto said, his tone reverent. It was almost a whisper.

His tone implied there was something incredibly significant about this moment, but you could not for the life of you think of what. Especially not with his face so close, clouding up your thoughts.

You felt your brow furrow against his, and you opened your mouth to ask him what on earth he could be talking about.

Except before you could, Shouto’s hands took either side of your face. And then he bent his head—and pressed his mouth to yours.

All higher thought immediately evacuated your brain, leaving only a sudden zing of panic and the horrible, wonderful excitement of Shouto’s mouth on yours, of Shouto’s strong body so close to yours. Rough bark scraped against your back as Shouto’s front slotted warm and firm against your chest, and the feeling of all that strength pressed so tightly to you made you dizzy.

“Sho–-? Whuh—?” you said, slightly muffled into his mouth.

But Shouto only took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, soft and wet and so unbelievably hot your brain short circuited. Every single nerve ending in your body lit up as you realized Todoroki Shouto had his tongue in your mouth, and that he was kissing you so thoroughly and meticulously it felt as though this was the last kiss he’d ever be allowed. You heard yourself let out a gasp that turned into an embarrassing moan as he pressed harder against you, pinning you between himself and the tree.

Your mind felt like it was melting, Shouto’s mouth doing terrible things to your thoughts’ coherence. Your hands went to his shoulders, and you found yourself opening up to him, every inch of your skin hot. Every flick of his tongue, every brush of his lips felt better than you could have ever imagined, and you were helpless to do anything but let him have you.

Your thoughts were a puddle when Shouto finally let your mouth free. All you could do was stare up at him, shocked.

“Y/N,” Shouto said, his eyes searching your face. “You came down for me.”

His handsome face wore an expression you hadn’t ever seen before as he regarded you, something almost—possessive? His hands had slid to your waist, his touch hot through the material of your shirt.

Your brain swam. Words, what were words? “I—? Uh, yes—?”

Shouto seemed to understand you weren’t getting his point. “‘If I’m not an alpha, and I have to hide somewhere, I’m going to find the best tree in the preserve and go up it and not come down until I find my life mate,’” he said.

It sounded like a quote, and it took you an embarrassingly long moment to realize it was something you had said, years and years and years ago, when you were both kids.

Was he saying—? But that was absurd. No, there was no way. You hadn’t—he wasn’t—

“But you’re Shouto,” you groped around your thoughts for logic and reasoning. “You’re Shouto.”

Shouto watched you patiently, a white eyebrow raising slightly.

“You can’t mean—?” you sputtered. “No. You’re Touya’s baby brother. I’m too old for you. The first time I held you, you were a baby.”

Shouto pressed impossibly closer to you, a long-fingered hand winding its way into yours. “I am not a child, Y/N. And you are not that much older than I.”

You struggled to think through the feeling of his body pressed to yours. You knew it. You knew he wasn’t a child. But all the same, you’d spent long enough telling yourself he’d been meant for someone else. Long enough convinced that you were too old for him.

Long enough that you were absolutely certain this had to be a mistake.

“You’re off limits,” you told him, trying to press him back. Shouto did not budge, however, as solid as stone under your hand.

“You are my life mate,” he said. He raised your joined hands to his mouth, kissing over your knuckles. An electric jolt went through you at the feeling of that mouth on you again, firm and warm. “I have known my whole life. I am off limits to all but you.”

A storm of emotion churned in your gut, everything from guilt to disbelief to pleasure to relief. To hear it said so plainly, after all this time—you are my life mate—by a man who was already so beloved to you. By a boy you���d loved as a friend, a man who you wanted to love as more.

But you couldn’t—he had to deserve better.

“I won’t take advantage of you,” you insisted.

A small smile pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I am not a child. And I am an alpha besides. Your alpha.”

You fought down a furious flush.

“But Shouto there’s so many things–!” you insisted. Beyond being older than him, beyond being a staple in his life since he was young. You were quickly realizing so many of the promises he’d made when he was younger, he actually meant.

“Your inheritance—I never meant to accept that from you for real. And your family, they would not like that I—”

The rest of your words were muffled in Shouto’s mouth, as he bent his head and kissed you again. A flick of his tongue turned even that into a muffled squeak instead. Why was he so good at this?

“Much of my family understands what it means to pursue something singularly,” Shouto said against your lips. “What it means to give everything you have in service of pursuit.”

Your stomach flipped. The Todoroki single-mindedness that you had been convinced had skipped right over Shouto. Suddenly years of solemn watchfulness over you, years of following you like a shadow, years of sharing all his toys and his thoughts and promising to take care of you—it all made a terrible, perfect sort of sense.

Single-mindedness. But not as destruction, as Enji’s and Touya’s had been. As devotion—as thoughtfulness, something so uniquely Shouto you wanted to cry.

God how had you missed this?

You rallied yourself for one last defense.

“Shouto. At the very least you need to consider if you’re making a mistake. Alpha-beta couplings are nontraditional—maybe your senses are off here. Maybe because I’m a beta and I was around when your brain was still forming and you liked me then it feels like there’s something but—”

Shouto’s grip on you flexed, and suddenly his determined expression flickered, a crease forming between those perfect brows.

“Do you see me as a child still?” he asked.

You shook your head. Not since you’d seen him prowl across the Todoroki kitchen, miles of sleek muscle flexing, that perfect campfire scent fogging your brain, tall and gorgeous and unmistakably alpha. And especially not since you’d come to understand the expanse of his life—the home he’d made, the job he had, the goals he’d taken.

“Then do you… not want me?” he asked.

Your heart immediately sank, aching with the soft flicker of hurt that crept across his features.

Your hands had shot out to hold his face before you knew what you were doing.

“Shouto, of course I want you,” you found yourself saying. “Who wouldn’t want you? You are perfect. You are so kind and have always been so good. You are sweet and funny and so beautiful it hurts to look at. Of course I want you. But I don’t want to hurt you—”

“Then say yes,” Shouto insisted.

God you wanted to. You wanted to. You had been so jealous this whole week, you realized, of whoever his life mate was going to be.

The realization crashed into you like a wave, knocking you off balance. You wanted all of Shouto’s time, all of his attention, wanted to curl up in his apartment on that plush couch with him and all but bodily fuse to him, never to come apart again. You wanted to spend a million afternoons cooking in that kitchen, running lunches to him at the firehouse, kissing him, laughing with him, indulging in him—in how kind and sweet and good he’d always been.

Your face must have said it all, because Shouto was crowding back into you.

“I am going to be so good to you, Y/N,” he promised, his mouth drawing closer.

You shivered. Some part of you still felt like you needed to resist him, needed to make him see. But the other part of you, the largest part, wanted to melt in his embrace. Wanted to let him kiss you and kiss him back, wanted to thread your fingers in that fluff of hair and sink into the relief of his companionship.

Shouto hammered the final nail into your coffin with the unerring precision of a boy who’d known you for twenty years.

“Trust me to take good care of you,” he said, his voice dipping to a low whisper.

And that was it—the refrain from all those years ago, before you’d ever understood what he was promising you. Even if you were uncertain about everything else, you would always be certain about Shouto’s care. Shouto’s inherent goodness.

Surrendering, you let yourself fall.

“I do,” you told him. “I trust you. I—always will.”

Then you closed your eyes and let him kiss you.

You could feel Shouto’s soft smile against your mouth, feel a renewed intensity in the way he poured himself into you with his next kiss. You almost sagged against him in sheer relief—the relief of knowing, against all odds, that your life mate had found you even across the years that had threatened to separate you.

Shouto kissed you with a startling vigor, leaving you breathless against the willow when he moved down to your neck, pulling your tee shirt wide to suck several very insistent markings into the hollow of your throat.

You leaned into the rough bark as he mapped his way lower, and lower, only startling when he dropped to his knees before you, pressing his face into the crease of your hip.

Your heart shot into your mouth, a shock of heat licking up your spine. “Shouto!” you stammered.

Shouto only uttered your name into the fabric of your leggings, the material thin enough that you could feel the heat of his exhalation on your skin. One of his hands came up to take your calf, the other creeping up into the band of your leggings, carefully pulling it down.

You watched him as he did, stomach fluttering.

He gently helped you step out of your leggings and panties, leaving you bare and vulnerable to him. You would have been more embarrassed if it wasn’t for the way his eyelashes fluttered appreciatively, and the immediate way he ducked his head to press his mouth right to your core.

You muffled a moan into your palm, thunking your head against the tree trunk.

You could feel Shouto’s slow smile as he hefted your thigh over his shoulder, hands grasping your waist. “Mine,” you heard him utter, soft and low, before licking right over you, possessive and deliberate. It made every inch of your skin flush hot, every nerve ending come to life under his mouth.

You could still hardly believe what was happening, even as you muffled more sounds into your palm as Shouto worked you, with the attentive diligence he’d always done everything when it came to you. You could feel those mismatched eyes on you, cataloging your every reaction to what he did.

He learned all too quickly exactly what you liked, and you were a writhing mess within minutes. Shouto pinned you to the tree with an iron arm across your stomach as you arched and screamed, not letting up until you’d come against his mouth, chanting his name like an oath.

He looked very pleased with himself when you were done, his hair ruffled from your hand, face flushed.

He looked too good to be real.

“I want—Shouto, please—” you said, nearly incoherent but apparently utterly shameless now that he’d had you.

Shouto got to his feet to kiss you again and you flushed when you could taste yourself on his mouth. “Come home with me,” he murmured, tone low.

“You don’t want—?” you said.

Shouto shook his head. “Not here. I’ve imagined this a thousand times, how I wanted it to happen. I’ve thought about what you deserve. I’ve thought about how I will not want to separate, after, not even to take you back home. Come home with me first.”

Fire spread across your cheeks at the idea of Shouto imagining it with you, over and over again. The way he said home, like it was both of yours.

“Okay. Okay yes,” you said, breathless.

Shouto helped you back into your leggings and gathered up your abandoned pack, which you’d apparently dropped and forgotten entirely the moment he’d kissed you. He held your hand in his the whole way back through the woods, occasionally cocking his head or scenting the air, and then taking a long detour around some place, like he didn’t want to share your presence with whoever else was in the woods.

The walk was long, but so easy in Shouto’s company, even with this new dimension of your relationship settling itself between you two. It was frighteningly easy, in fact, after everything.

You talked about everything and nothing, reliving the entire week together, Shouto sharing that he’d hoped you’d see him as a man, had taken the time right up until the run to try to be sure. Ears flaming, you’d shared that you’d been gone for him the moment you’d seen him in the doorway of the kitchen. Shouto’s smug look immediately mopped up any of the reflexive embarrassment you felt sharing that.

By the time you made it to Shouto’s you’d also managed to shoot a text off to your mother, and an emergency extension of your time off to your workplace.

Shouto was on you as soon as the door shut behind you, catching your noise of surprise in his mouth.

Your arms came around him, and he walked you back to his couch, following you down onto it and laying himself out over you. The weight of him made you shiver again, the heaviness of all that muscle anchoring you down.

Shouto kissed you absolutely boneless into the cushions of his couch, hands wandering everywhere, skimming under your shirt, calluses catching on the fabric of your leggings. Everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire, your nerves singing with pleasure. Shouto seemed to be trying to take his time with you, but you could sense something underneath that, his usual layers of patience eroded.

Feeling brave, you let your hands wander to the buttons of his pants, working them open. Shouto’s breath left him in a hiss as you wrapped your hand around him, feeling him hard and hot and velvet smooth in your palm.

“Ah… fffuck, love,” he muttered into your neck. He chased it with the soft scrape of his teeth, groaning when it made your grip tighten on him reflexively.

His hips flexed, sliding him through your fingers, flush and full. Butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach, and a hot streak of arousal licked up your spine. Your own hips shifted, lifting up into him, and you realized with a sudden desperation that you wanted him inside you, didn’t want to wait another second.

“Shouto please, please, please,” you found yourself babbling, stroking firmly down the shaft of him.

Shouto’s eyes were dark when they found yours again. “Anything, I would give you anything,” he said, his voice tight.

“I want you inside of me, please,” you said, your face burning with the admission.

The sheer elation flashing across his handsome face quelled any more embarrassment. In what felt like barely a breath, Shouto had you bare to him once more, flinging your leggings and shirt somewhere towards his kitchen. He covered you again, fitting himself between your thighs with another appreciative groan before pressing in.

You were so wild with want that he slid home easily, despite his impressive size. His skin burned hot against yours, and he felt so perfectly right over you, inside of you, that you had to fight down something like a sob.

Shouto looked equally as overwhelmed, staring at your face rapturously. “I have loved you my whole life,” he said, his tone wondering. “You are finally mine.”

Your entire body went hot with his declaration. You had not realized until today that you loved him too. But now that you did, it felt like everything made sense, that all was finally right.

You managed to gasp out as much between Shouto’s thrusts, as his hips bucked into yours, slowly at first, and then faster, more sure. He kissed you everywhere—your face, your neck, your shoulders, layering in soft bites like he could not help himself.

“Say it,” he groaned, mouthing at the underside of your jaw. “Please say it.”

“I love you,” you said. A yelp escaped you when Shouto suddenly seized you around the waist, rolling you on top of him and holding you to him as he levered the two of you upright. The position in his lap only made him sink deeper inside of you, and you hissed with the feeling, your fingernails digging into his back.

“Ah, fuck—Shouto!” you cried.

Shouto’s hands on your waist guided you with an easy strength—your head spun with the reminder of his power, the reminder that you had an alpha—your alpha—inside of you.

“Going to take good care of you,” he panted into your hair, pausing to kiss the shell of your ear even as the snap of his hips undid you. “Going to take such good care of you.”

Your fingers flexed on him, and you could feel your toes curl. You did not know what to do with all of the emotion welling up inside you, the well of your pleasure almost overflowing. He ground up into you, making your eyes nearly roll back in your head, and you fought down a scream when the pad of his thumb pressed to your clit, heightening every sensation.

“Oh Shouto, please—” was all you could manage.

Shouto looked enraptured, drinking in every change in your expression. As you squirmed and writhed under his touch, you felt him start to swell inside of you.

Both apprehension and arousal swirled inside of you, a beta’s body a little less adapted to knotting than an omega’s. But the firm circle Shouto’s thumb was drawing on your clit, and the low murmur of his voice in your ear, began to drown out any other thought.

“I have you, love,” Shouto said. His mouth dragged across your throat, leaving a sucking bruise along the column. Your nails scrabbled at his back as he swelled even further inside of you, starting to catch on your walls and make it harder to press back down on him.

“I have you,” Shouto said again, his voice rough with pleasure. The reassurance that he did, and the knowledge that he was barely managing his own pleasure struck you like a bolt of lightning. Something inside you unraveled and came loose, and you muffled a cry into Shouto’s broad shoulder as your orgasm slammed into you like a tidal wave.

A low swear escaped Shouto, and his knot swelled even further. His hands suddenly seized tight on either side of your waist, holding you down on him as he thrust up into you. You felt a sort of pressure you’d never anticipated, so overwhelming it was nearly painful—but then Shouto’s knot slid into you.

Shouto groaned into your neck, biting down hard. You writhed over him, your pleasure wringing you out until finally you slumped against him, shivering. Shouto eased back, propping himself up on the arm of the couch, you stuck to his chest like a sweat-slicked barnacle.

“That was—so much more intense than I ever imagined,” you said, when you’d recovered your faculty for human language.

You could feel the curve of Shouto’s smile against your neck. “For I, as well,” he said. “Though I had imagined it a great many times—we still have many other fantasies I intend to live out.”

You were embarrassed to feel yourself tighten around him. Shouto hissed, leaning back to pin you with a look—then looked more smug than you’d ever seen him.

“Like that, do you, love?” he asked.

The pet name made your ears heat, and you couldn’t help but pinch him. “You used to be so sweet, when did you get this fresh?” you demanded.

“Fresh is the least of what I intend to get with you,” Shouto informed you seriously. “I take my duties as a child bride very seriously.”

Your jaw dropped open, and you pressed back from him, gasping when it shifted him inside you. “You—! You heard—?”

Shouto’s smile was far too handsome and self-satisfied to be allowed. “That is when I knew I stood a chance.”

Your face burned. You couldn’t believe him. “You’re a menace.”

Shouto leaned into a press a kiss over where he’d sunk his teeth into you, butterfly-light. The touch of his mouth was warm and his campfire scent washed over you, fuzzing your thoughts. His mouth moved up to catch yours, and you let him kiss you until you realized you’d started to squirm in his lap again.

Several minutes later he had you coming on his knot again, locked against him and muffling the sounds of your pleasure into his neck.

He looked, if possible, even more satisfied, and you lifted a hand to thread through the strands of his hair, silky and damp.

“I can’t believe this is real,” you said, several orgasms having made you loose-tongued. You rubbed a strand of his hair between the pads of your fingers.

Shouto turned his head to drop a kiss to the base of your palm. “We have time enough to make you believe it, love.”

Another butterfly took wing in your stomach at the pet name. You wondered if you’d ever get used to hearing him say it.

“I’ll have to figure out my work—I don’t know if they’d let me work remotely all the way from here?” you said, thoughts suddenly shifting. You sort of doubted your company would make the exception for you, and a pang shot through your heart at the idea that you might have to leave Shouto to work in the city on weekdays. At least until you found another job, which might take months to arrange.

You did not want to be separated from him, now that you’d let yourself have him.

A hand caught your chin, thumb smoothing along your jaw. “I do not think you will have enough time,” Shouto said, a slim brow raising slightly. “What with the bookstore opening.”

You stared at him, wondering if you’d just had some sort of auditory hallucination.

“The—what?” you asked.

“The bookstore opening,” Shouto said. His mouth made the shape of the words exactly, and so it could not be that you’d hallucinated. But—

“What bookstore?” you asked.

Shouto’s mouth pressed into a deliberately flat line like he was trying not to smile.

“Yours. Downstairs,” he clarified—which did not clarify at all.

Your mouth dropped open against his fingers, your eyebrows shooting for the moon. “My—? Downstairs—?”

Your mind scanned back over the events of the last twenty-four hours, the first time you’d caught sight of the shop downstairs again as you’d followed Shouto home. The way it seemed so well-maintained, the windows glinting crystal-clear in the soft evening light. Your eyes reflexively dipped to the blonde wood of Shouto’s floor, the very same that had been installed across the floor of the shop, and an understanding suddenly dawned on you.

“I remember everything you have ever told me,” Shouto had said when you mentioned you’d been in love with the shop downstairs.

“No way,” was what left your mouth as you glanced back up at Shouto, disbelief rising.

Shouto was watching you carefully, his handsome face serious. “Your name is on the deed.”

A wellspring of emotion rose up inside you like a geyser, and you slammed yourself back into Shouto, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “Shouto—I. You didn’t need to—there’s no way I can accept—this is incredible, you’re incredible—but I’d be taking advantage—I can’t—”

A warm, long-fingered hand slid up your spine to rest on the back of your head, holding you against him. “I have always been yours,” Shouto murmured. “Everything I have has always been yours. If it is too much now, we can wait. But I, and everything I have, will always be yours.”

You blinked, embarrassed to realize you’d started dripping tears into Shouto’s shoulder. Shouto didn’t say anything, fingers petting through your hair as you tried to fight the emotion down.

“I promised to take good care of you, and I intend to,” he said. Pressed against him, you could feel the way the words rumbled in his chest.

You closed your eyes and shoved your face in his neck, letting him hold you to him. Everything about today felt too good to be true, but you knew with absolute certainty that Shouto had always been too good to be true, himself. And yet you’d told him you trusted it, when he said he’d take care of you.

And you did—you realized you would always trust it, trust the beautiful boy you’d known all your life.

“I’ll need to pay you back on your investment,” you said some minutes later, when you finally found your voice again. You leaned back to look Shouto in the face, trying not to be embarrassed about the drying tear tracks.

“There is no need,” he said, eyes finding yours.

You realized you were still in his lap, though his knot had softened, and you thought you might be able to separate now.

But now you had other plans—and an investment you wanted to enthusiastically return.

“I insist,” you said, leaning forward to mouth at Shouto’s neck.

You caught the flash of his eyes widening, and his head fell back as a sharp breath left him. “I—see,” he said, his voice growing rough as you sucked a careful mark into the skin of his shoulder.

You smiled against his skin. “You will,” you promised, feeling bolder than ever. It felt like you were daring to believe it, that you’d found your life mate, that you really got to have him, that he’d loved you as long as he’d lived.

You wanted to return all those years of love, now that you loved him too.

“I’m going to take good care of you too,” you informed Shouto, hips already flexing over his.

You felt him start to grow hard inside of you again, and he turned his head to catch your mouth. You could feel his smile against your lips.

“I trust it,” he said, his voice dropping low.

You smiled too, grinning against your lifemate’s mouth, intent on proving yourself worthy of that trust.

Though perhaps that could wait until you’d delivered some of the many fantasies it sounded like he’d stored up. There was no reason to rush.

You had the rest of your life together, after all.

[oflgtfol]

really great being aro and the aro community has given me a lot over the years. but the past year or so has become so annoying

[ynbabe]

We don’t hate each other ୨୧ Arthur x fem! reader

Y/n was Ollie's oldest friend, growing up with him as he raced his way up to formula one, somewhere in between she found Arthur Leclerc, found him a massive fucking pain in the ass that is until something changes when Ollie debuts in Carlos Sainz Ferrari.

A always, comments and requests are always welcome! lemme know what y'all think of this!

Warnings: curses, lime

y/nl/n

y/nl/n GET THIS MAN IN A FERRARI ASAP 💪 💪 💪 😮‍💨

Username they're relationship is so important to me actually

username arent they just friends?? username girl you believe that? LOOK AT THEM THEY'RE LITERALLY MARRIED username theyre 18 go touch grass pls 😭

username GET THAT MAN IN A FERRARI!!!

Username shes so real for that bow, ollies so cute 🥹

olliebearman thank you for the very serious pictures of me, a very serious, very profession man

y/nl/n "very serious, very professional man"🤓 shut up you literally cried in my arms when you got called olliebearman i'm telling my pr officer to block you username did what in whose arms now?? username oooh so hes in love love

arthurleclerc Way to go Ols!

y/nl/n gtfo my post arthurleclerc gtfo off my fyp y/nl/n block me bitch arthurleclerc too much effort, cry olliebearman guys you're in public 😭

username whats with Arthur and Y/N? 😅

Username they're competing for Ollies love Username bro you wrong for that 😂

arthurleclerc

arthurleclerc to MY bestfriend, congratulations on making it to Ferrari and f1! You deserve the best! Hope my brother treated you well.

username SHOTS!! HAVE!! BEEN!! FIRED!!

Username he know he wrong for that first photo

Username okay wait. How do both Leclerc have a Wattpad ass gay romance is it genetic??

Username bro all capped the my 😭

username mans petty as hell

username @/y/nl/n me personally, I wouldn't take that

username hes stealing your man girl go get him!!

oliiebearman Thank you Arthur! Yes he did!

arthurleclerc ur welcome ols ❤️ username @/y/nl/n were waiting for you boo username its the red heart for me Username Charles come get your brother!!! he's cosplaying you and max on main again

y/nl/n Congrats Ollie!! love you 🥰 (Not gonna make this abt myself like some other girls)

arthurleclerc revoking ur paddock pass btw 🥰 Olliebearman ... I'm blocking you both 🥰

username mans done with them 😂

You rolled your eyes as you saw Arthur's comment on yours, how could he be so childish. Forget it, you reminded yourself, today is for Ollie and Ollie only.

You waited in Ollie's driver room till he was done with the debrief, you'd go out to celebrate with him and his family later. His trainer had given him a pass on the diet, after all, scoring points in F1 was no joke.

You jumped off the chair you were lounging in, ready to hug the man as you heard the door open but to your disappointment, it was only Arthur.

You groaned as you saw the boy and he scowled in return. You never knew how your rivalry began. One moment you were visiting Ollie for the first time at Prema and the next you were in a screaming match with a Monagasuque man with the cutest accent.

"What are you doing?" He asked, rather, demanded.

"Waiting for my friend," you replied with the same annoyance in your voice, "What are you doing here?" you accused, stepping towards him.

He pulled a face, closing the gap, "Here to support my friend, you know cause we can actually stand each other,"

"Hah, sure, at least I'm not jealous of my friends, you know cause they actually make it into f1," you shrugged, knowing it was a low blow.

His face morphed into anger as he pushed closer towards you, "You need to shut up," he spoke in a low voice, you'd be scared of the taller, much stronger boy if you weren't doused in anger yourself.

"Make me then," why did you say that- Oh shit.

Your eyes widened as he kissed you, making both of you stumble back and fall on Ollie's driver room bed. You groaned as your back hit the mattress, the older boy breaking the kiss, looking down at you in concern.

"O-oh, my god! Y/n I'm so sorry, I don't know wh-" he began rambling but you couldn't let him win, could you? So you kissed him back, letting your hands run through his hair.

He led one hand to your waist, letting it fall under your shirt, he hissed at the warmth your skin radiated under his palms.

"Oh my god, OH MY GOD," Someone yelled, making Arthur push off the bed, and fall on the floor.

"Ollie this isn't what it looks like," he explained from the floor making you frown.

"It isn't?" you asked making him turn to you.

"No, it is," he explained to you, then turned to shocked Ollie in the doorway, "I mean- it is," he tried to explain.

Ollie paused for a moment, "On my bed, really?" he replied, disgust in his voice.

You picked up the pillow on his now messed up bed, throwing it at his head, "Shut up,"

He laughed as he ducked, "Hey, at least none of us had to intervene," he confessed making you and the boy who was now getting up off the floor groan in defeat.

olliebearman

olliebearman never make out in my room again, I beg you

Y/nl/n sorry I stole your boyfriend, Ols

arthurleclerc you are still the love of my life, y/n's just a friend olliebearman DO NOT START THIS AGAIN

Username HUH?

username chat is this real rn? username fr thought they hated each other username bro said he was going to get his Wattpad enemies to lovers one way or the other

username Charles Leclerc it's your turn now.

charlesleclerc So all the ranting actually led to something?

y/nl/n he talks about me?? arthurleclerc NO I DIDN'T! Charles shut up or I'll tag someone you rant about. Charleslecler y/n changed you i dont like this relationship anymore username WHAT DO YOU MEAN??? Username First we get Arthur x y/n and now we are getting Charles read like filth 😭

trying something new, thoughts?

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Allure

Part One:Sunshine

❥MATZ x fem reader

Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa. The most known and feared alphas of the new generation. It took two dozen elder alphas to subdue them and stick them in the world's most secluded prison- hidden away in the mountains. The prison that sweet little omega (Y/n)'s works at.

Knuckle Velvet (Part Two)

Smoke (Part Three)

➯a/n: i've always wanted to write a story i would like to see as a movie or show, and i very much enjoy supernatural and dark romance, so i made this ! it does get very dark so please read the warnings and take care of yourself first and foremost. i am very proud of this, i hope you enjoy 💕

✃ "Because you're... alluring."

✫彡wordcount: 9.3k

♫"Hey, you should leave that young thing alone, ain't no sunshine when she's gone, only darkness everyday." - Flower Face (original by Bill Withers) ♫ Allure Sountrack

(>ᴗ•)♡´･ᴗ･`♡genre: smut, YANDERE, a/b/o au

ಠ_ಠWARNING/content: DEAD DOVE I MURDERED THAT BIH

chapter specific: literally what have i done, not beta read(ironically), criminal MATZ, alpha MATZ/omega reader, forget everything you know about werewolves, so much world building, extremely yandere behavior, talk of attempted child murder, class division of werewolves, panic attacks, vulgar language, mind control, lots of scent stuff, unhealthy relationships, ptsd, flashbacks and nightmares, physical violence, manipulation of others dreams, supporting character death, forced soul bonding, forced marking, reader implied to have mental health issues, murder, gore, violence- all that good stuff. THIS IS NOT A NON CON FIC ALL EVENTUAL SMUT WILL BE CONSENSUAL.

⁂perm taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg

⁂fic taglist: @potatomountain @spooo00oky

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

˚➶ ｡˚ PART ONE ˚➶ ｡˚

You hate weekdays. That much is true for a lot of people. You like to think your reasoning is especially valid.

Every Monday through Friday like clockwork, 6:30AM you walk into the prison. That on its own wasn't so bad. You lived only ten minutes away; the gothic building looked over your village in tandem with the mountains. You could see it when the weather was clear, even from your bedroom on the edge of town. You were no longer afraid of it like when you were a child.

You are, however, afraid of the newest prisoners.

New arrivals didn't usually rock you. This is the only prison in the country fit to hold lycans, after all. They all got transferred here eventually. From beta's who were just stealing to eat, to alphas who used their powers on humans, to those who believed in the old ways and fed on humans.

You had to interact with them all face to face.

You weren't excited for that particular aspect of your job this week.

You made your way through the double doors and greeted the security guard, your friend Hyolyn, as you went through the metal detector. It went off on account of the scent blocker that was embedded in your neck. She chuckled and switched it off so it stopped its incessant beeping.

"Don't laugh at me!" You threw a smile her way as you got your small purse from the plastic bucket she slid towards you. She doesn't bother to check your bag. She knows you well enough to know you wouldn't bring in any "fuck shit", as she would say. "You alpha's don't have to worry about accidentally spewing scent everywhere."

"Thank goodness for that, this place would stink to high heaven." Her unintentional reference to the new arrivals makes the air turn stiff. She could tell you were on edge immediately. "They aren't all that scary," she lays a comforting hand to your shoulder as you fiddle with the long strap on your crossbody bag.

"I heard one of them killed Alpha Greene... you think that's true? That guy was huge, I saw him at The Thing last year, I almost peed myself cause he looked at me-" You stop your own rambling, taking a deep breath and letting it out as a shaking sigh. "I don't want to go in there. Honestly, why can't we install a laundry chute or something, fuck."

"I'll follow you up, I c-"

"No, no, it's visiting day. You need to be down here. You know Chungha? Her daughter is visiting today. Don't want you to miss her." You offer a sad, tight lipped smile, but that doesn't trick her instincts to protect her weaker pack member. She knows you too well to be tricked.

"You just scream and I'll be there. Either of those cocky fucks lift a pinky in your direction and I'll gut them. They don't deserve to see a trial anyway."

A small exhale in the form of a chuckle lightens her protective instincts, she can tell you feel more at ease with her promise to be right there at the slightest hint of trouble.

"See you, Hyolyn."

"Later, babes."

You wave your fingers with a smile as the elevator doors slides shut. As soon as they clunk together, you let it fall and crouch with your head in your hands, taking in deep and slow breaths as you try and force all of the rumors you've heard about the two newest inmates away from your head.

The older alpha of the duo was the first born in this generation. They're always powerful. But he was born to two bloodthirsty rouges. Born in sin and blood lust.

The younger alpha was born just some months after, to an arranged marriage that was purposefully formed to make powerful children. They surely regret that now. Some say the man has the strongest, sharpest claws since the first lycan in Talbot Castle.

When the elevator dings, you're already upright and have that strong facade on that you put on when you're clocked in.

˚➶ ｡˚

You start with the familiar. "Hey, Chungha," you tap on the silver bars of her cell, "hand 'em over." She smiles as she stands, stripping the sheets from her cot and holding them through the bars for you. "Thank you," you draw on with a tug on your lips that matches hers.

"Yunnie in town?"

"Mhm," you hum as you fold the blanket before dropping it in the large basket on wheels, "she came over for stew, I made sure to feed her good and well, don't worry."

You know it was probably problematic, but you couldn't help it. Chungha came here three years ago on a charge for battery, and over those three years you became sort of friends with her.

The battered in her case was her grandfather. When her five year old daughter, Jiyun, started to show signs of being an omega- he left her in the snow to wither away. She managed to survive until her mother came home, and said mother was furious.

She was lucky she didn't charged with attempted manslaughter.

"She said she'll be here first thing."

"Thank you," she had a heavy pull on her voice. You don't have the emotional connection to other wolves like an alpha or beta did. But it was clear to anyone she was being sincere. "You're a good woman."

"Don't mention it, Yunnie is good company. Oh," you start to wheel the basket away when you remember something. You reach into the purse that you had set on the handles. "She made this at art class, asked me to give it to you so it didn't have to wait in processing."

It was a small, cruelly made ceramic bowl in the vague shape of a heart. It was clearly made by an eight year old, but made with love.

"I owe you."

"Just keep working on that parol work." You said lightly and blew a kiss as you moved to the next cell.

    The rest of your work nearly cleared your mind as you went from cell to cell, floor to floor. Omega's were on the second floor. Beta's on the third. Alphas on the fourth. High security on the fifth.

     It's on the fourth level that you begin to feel those nerves that you had just worked away. The scent was becoming stronger. They didn't put them on blockers? Maybe they didn't think it would be worth it. Everyone knew that they were the worst of the worst, they didn't even try to hide it. They would undoubtedly be put to death. Why waste two perfectly good, expensive, blockers?

     The basket of used sheets is nearly full, accumulating into a weight that makes you put your back into it as you push it into the elevator.

    Your index finger reaches out, and before you can stop yourself you've pressed the button to the fifth floor.

       You blank out until the door opens again. Your teeth are eternally grateful for the gum between them so they don't grind themselves into dust. The mint flavor does little to calm your nerves.

     The only thing that makes you come back to your own head is Changbin. He's a big, buff beta with a gun full of silver bullets on his work belt. He won't let them hurt you. His smile washes away a lot of the nerves.

    But the growl that rumbles against the walls makes them return ten, one hundred, one thousand fold. You don't dare say a word. A deer in headlights until Changbin places his hand on the small of your back. "Go on, don't give them the satisfaction of scaring you. They aren't going nowhere no time soon. Take a look."

     He motions you deeper into the hall, florescent lights buzzing above you, matching the jittering feeling in the deepest pit of your stomach. It smells too strong. Too much. You're about to fall to your knees from the weight and you haven't even come face to face with the near feral criminals.

    Changbin opens the doors at the end of the hall.

     They've definitely gone all out to keep them in place. Two large cages placed next to each other in the middle of the enormous room. Made of pure silver and wrapped in wolfsbane. The unpleasant smell of the plant makes your nose twitch. A ring of blood ash surrounds it. Only omegas can pass through blood ash, and now you start to realize why they sent you.

    You want to curse the warden, but the second you open your mouth, a loud cackle sounds out from one of the cages.

     Changbin's hand twitches at the gun attached to his side.

    "Oh wow," the smaller alpha chuckles, eyes closed, head tilted back, as he sniffs the air. "I didn't expect that." More manic giggles slip past his lips.

    You haven't even looked up to see them and you want to cave in on yourself.

    "What are you rambling about, huh?" The guard next to you shouts, making you flinch instinctively.

     "That sweet... sweet, smell," he moans. You can hear him shuffling. "From a peppy little spit fuck omega."

   You gasp abashedly, and now two laughs ring out. You want to wonder how they can smell you. Your insurance provides the best scent blocker in the country. But you're too scared to breathe, let alone think.

      "Shut up," Changbin groans, he can feel you tense next to him, "don't piss me off, Kim."

    "Awe," a new, rumbling voice makes you cower the second it reaches your ears, "this your mate? Hm, no... you wouldn't bring your mate here. You're not an idiot. Then, say... omega." You don't make a move to look when he addresses you, you stay looking at Changbins grip on his gun, silently.

     "Omega, come!" Your feet move for you, and that manic laugh almost makes you wet yourself as you realize that your wolf is making you move toward them without your consent. You stop just outside of the blood ash, where you know you're safe.

     "Changb-"

     "No. I'm the one you're speaking to."

   Changbin seems to be weighing his options, eyeing the men as they eye you.

    "Why are you here? You a shrink?"

    You shake your head.

   "You a lawyer?"

    Again.

   "She works here, dumbass, look at her scrubs," the younger speaks, and you nod subconsciously, to which he giggles, "what can we do for a pretty little thing like you?"

    When you refuse to speak, the guard does it for you. "She's here for your sheets today. Get used to her."

     You hated that this was your job, but it was easy and accessible, and available for omegas. Werewolves are clean freaks. Every day you had a different cleaning task, but you didn't complain. Not until right now- you wanted to rip out the throat of whoever's idea it was to not shoot these criminals on sight.

     "Ah," he hums, and you can feel his eyes raking your body. You can feel both of their eyes. "Not too bad of a sight to get used to. Huh, Hwa?"

     "Mh, that's right... can't wait to get my hands on her."

Your head snaps back to Changbin.

"Awn, she thinks he's gonna help her!" The high pitched giggles bounce around in your head. "Oh, little omega~"

The saccharine coo finally pulls your eyes to the men in the cages.

If you thought you knew what fear was before this moment, you were wrong.

The two strongest criminals in the country, staring you down like a piece of meat. It doesn't matter that they are the ones in cages of silver and wolfsbane. You are the one who feels cornered.

You can immediately feel out their dynamics. The taller one is the older one, quiet and still in his cage as he sits in the center. Shaggy, shining hair framing his face and neck like an elegant piece of lace over a brides face. He has a sleeve of tattoos on one forearm, a thick tattoo on his neck. Eyes glowing a deep, blood red, as he tries to read your entire story with only a look in your direction.

The giggling one is less intimidating, only by a hair. Chemically lightened locks pushed back messily, letting his entrancing features shine in the light from the narrow windows high on the walls. He has tattoos as well, but they seem few and far between. His eyes are human for a moment before they meet yours. Instantaneously, they flick black.

The knot drops from your throat and you let out a small, pathetic, squeak.

Changbin breaks your staring contest with the alpha, shouting orders at them. "Take the sheets off your cot and set them outside of your cage. Do not attempt to touch her, I will shoot you."

    Neither criminal makes a move to follow his orders, both simply staring at you.

A low growl is emitted when the older alpha finally snaps up, tearing the sheet off the sorry excuse for a bed in one fell swoop. The younger follows his lead, shoving their sheets through the bars that are wrapped in the poisonous flower.

You look to the guard, and he nods, "go." With his finger twitching at the gun ready to pull it, you jump over the dark red ashes and into the wolves den, snatching the sheets up as quick as possible and dashing away, out the door before they even get a chance to lock in your scent up close.

The giggles follow you all the way to the elevator and ring in your head even as the thick metal thunks shut.

As you take a deep breath, you notice the sheets are gripped to your chest, your claws drawn subconsciously in your panic and ripping them up. "Shit!" You let out a curse and shove them into the bottom of the basket so you don't have to smell it as closely on the long ride to the basement.

˚➶ ｡˚

The lingering wafts of your fresh scent are long gone, nothing to distract the alpha's from their caged boredom and bubbling rage over being caught. "I'll have that runts heart in my hands by the end of the month." Hongjoong groaned, to no one in particular- he knew Seonghwa was too deep in thought from their recent revelations. "Fucking back stabbers. They're more pathetic than a bitch in heat trying to get off with a dildo."

The thought hit his mind as soon as the words left his lips.

The thought of you, legs spread with your hand dipped low, trying to satisfy your primal urges and-

"Stop that." Seonghwa growls, kicking the bars of their shared 'wall'.

"Settle down!"

"Oh, like you weren't thinking it!" Hongjoong rolls his eyes, a scowl on his face as he crosses his arms. "Your ruts coming and you don't want your-"

"I said stop," he nearly roars, grabbing Hongjoong's state issued orange top and ripping it with his claws as he pulls him forward.

"I know you want her because I want her too." He whispers, smirking at the telltale signs of desire and bloodlust in his mates eyes. Red swirling around the brown of his human eyes. "Imagine how good she'll smell when we take out that stupid blocker. We'll be drowning in her scent." He moans, grabbing his wrist, "I get the honors, my claws are sharper, anyways," he draws them quickly, digging them into his skin as if to prove a point.

"I can use my teeth, mark h-"

"Oh, will you two stop? Love of God..." The guard in the large room slaps his book down on the rickety table. "What is there possibly for you to be fighting about? You're about to be executed, you know that right? No jury in the world will let you walk, especially the human half."

Their frustrations turn to the man, letting each other go. "Ah, you think so?" The older croons, dragging his index over his bleeding wrist and bringing it to his lips, sucking it clean before he continues. "We won't be around these parts long enough to meet the jury."

"What do you mean by that?"

Hongjoong covers his mouth when a laugh slips past. Seonghwa simply smirks as he sits cross legged, eyes locked with the guard as he licks his wound.

"What do you mean by that?!"

The blonde man breaks out in a fit of laughter. The brunette simply flashes his bloody canines in a twisted smile.

˚➶ ｡˚

You spent the whole time doing your daily tasks trying to hype yourself up to go back up to the fifth floor.

You usually went top down, four to one. Nobody has ever been on five before.

You go bottom up today, starting at Chungha with a full basket of freshly washed sheets. She prattles on about her visit with Jiyun, and how she's so thankful for you.

You choose that as your focus point for the rest of the work day, even as you press the button to the fifth floor.

You think back to the first time you spoke to Chungha, she was a crying mess, unable to sense that you were an omega like herself. She cried and cried and cried as you held her hand through the bars of temporary holding. She cried for her daughter, for cursing her with the shame of being the weakest link of any pack. When she looked up and saw your eyes, barely glowing, she cried more.

She apologized profusely, but you reassured her that her words were true, and you hadn't been offended. You told her that, in fact, she was the first to ever share your feelings of what being an omega really meant. It meant loneliness beside anyone but other omegas. Fake relationships born with people who only stuck around because of their primal instincts to either prey on you or protect you. It meant facing the fact that you were outcasts from both of the world's dominant societies. Outcasted from humans for being a werewolf. Outcasted from werewolves for being weak. So weak, in fact, that blood ash didn't even think of you as a wolf.

That night, you drove four hours to the next village over and looked after her daughter until her aunt had room. You remember the first thing the girl said to you. She didn't speak that whole day, surely in shock from the past few days events. But when you tucked her into the motel bed, she spoke as soft as a ghost, "sing me a song?"

You hum it to yourself now, the soft sound reverberating through the metal around you until the door opened.

You wheel the basket with you this time, like it will protect you as you approach the open doors, already feeling the unwavering gaze of the criminals.

"Hey, dolly~" Hongjoong, you had learned when you took a peek into their files, purred your way.

You didn't give him the satisfaction of responding verbally, but he saw the goosebumps on your arm as you reached into the basket, stretching on your tip toes to get the last two sheets.

"You never shut up do you, Kim?" The guard sighed with an exhausted tone, making you smile as you slowly made your way to the ring of red dust.

The throaty rumble from Seonghwa, the older, taller wolf, makes that smile drop to the depths of Hell.

The new guard seems to notice your anxiety, eyeing you up- in a much less predatory manner than the caged men. "Go on, 'mega. I'm watching them."

A bang on the metal bars makes you glue your foot right back where it came from. It's the blonde one, "you shut the fuck up!"

"No, you shut the fuck up! I'm the one with the silver bullets!"

All of the yelling is making you tremble, Hongjoong and the guard going back and forth. "She isn't your omega!"

"She ain't yours!"

Seonghwa watches with a sinister smile as you back away from the ash and the guard, calling to you quietly, "hey."

The soft tone of his voice makes you raise your eyes, but not your head. His eyes don't hold that threatening and dominating red from before. They're a soft brown color that reminds you of a beautiful dark oak in the morning sunshine. "What's your name?"

"(Y/n)..." your tongue moves without your consent, fresh blankets held to your work scrubs.

You desperately want the guard to notice this trance you're in, and grab you out of it. You want to do it yourself, but you can't do anything but admire the beauty of the criminal who has you hypnotized.

"You're a pretty omega, y'know? What color is your wolf?"

"Black..." It's a slur off your lips, barely registering in his sharply tuned ears over the yelling that continues to fill the room.

"Mine too. What's her name? His is Akma."

"Solis."

"Very pretty. Is she fast?"

"Yes."

"Does she want an alpha? A mate?"

"Yes."

The guard finally notices your raised gaze, affixed to the infamous, unlawful, man. He puts his gun back in the holster quickly before gripping your shoulder and forcing you to turn around. "You idiot, didn't anyone ever tell you not to look a first born in the eyes?"

"Sorry. I'm sorry." No one had ever told you that, actually.

Both of the criminals share a smirk as the man from your pack attempts to calm you. It wasn't hard for them to figure out you were an alpha-less village. They could smell every single wolf in five miles, and not a single stench from a wolf even nearly as strong as them.

There was, however, you. A honeyed smell that filled their guts with the primal need to rip out the eyes of anyone who dared look at you.

The guard couldn't be more wrong. You are their omega. You just don't know yet.

"Go and give these fucks their sheets, then get the hell out of here." The man shoved you, making you jump clumsily over the ash so you didn't break the seal.

He yells at them to back up, and they do so without a fight.

You shove them both in at the same time before running back out quickly, grabbing the empty basket and dragging it with you, the sound of the wheels scraping with the force of your panic echoing in the near empty room.

"You guys get off on scaring defenseless girls?" The guard scoffs, not expecting an answer as he drags the chair out of the room and slams the doors behind him.

Seonghwa lets his facade fall the second the door shuts, falling to his knees and grappling at the sheet like he's a starving man with the last piece of food on Earth. Hongjoong watches for a moment in confusion until the scent catches up with his weaker nose. Then he's quickly falling in the same position.

"It worked, the guard was so easy to distract," Hongjoong chuckles, face buried into the sheet that smells vaguely like you from your time spent holding it. "What did you learn?"

"(Y/n), a black wolf named Solis," he pauses, eyes rolled back as he takes a deep breath. They're red when they re-open. "No mate. It's really her."

"You think we should have told her?" Hongjoong inquires, looking through the bars.

He's never seen Seonghwa on his knees for anyone but him or the moon.

"No," he shakes his head, turning to lock eyes with him. "She'll figure it out when I mark her."

"When I mark her."

He rolls his eyes at his defiant nature, knowing full well he won't disobey his orders no matter how badly he wants to do something.

In a dog eat dog world, the strongest was the most powerful. Unlike their human neighbors, werewolves don't decide political or social standing by money or family name. They decide based on who comes out on top in a battle of the body and of the wits.

It had been determined years ago, when they were just young rebellious pups, that Seonghwa was the alpha. A fight in the woods under the moon had set it in stone between the two.

He could have ripped Hongjoongs throat out right then and there, but now, 13 years later in the present; they're bonded for life.

Sometimes he still sees Hongjoong as that 12 year old boy under his teeth, still snapping and growling even as he bled out with tears in his dark eyes, fighting to survive purely out of spite.

"You can mark her first," Seonghwa speaks quickly, turning his back as he puts the sweet smelling sheet on his cot.

He smiles at the man, a quiet thanks spoken through their bonded souls.

˚➶ ｡˚

Tuesday, they don't see you until much later in the day, but they bask in the sight of you opening the door with a broom and tray in hand, smiling at Changbin. You'll be here for a while, it's a big room.

"Hey, Binnie," you whisper to the beta, and Seonghwa has to bite his tongue.

Binnie? Ugh.

Hongjoong isn't so polite, "hey, Dolly! We don't get a hello?" You barely peek at him, eyes flicked from him right back to the floor in a millisecond. He knows you noticed his pout when he hears the smallest 'hello' tremble by your lips.

You start in the corner, headphones attached to your walkman with your favorite song on repeat to try and soothe yourself. Bill Withers calming voice blocks out every word of the teasing alphas, but you can still feel them mocking you and picking at you.

You don't dare sweep anywhere near the blood ash on the floor. One less precaution in place was one more thing to worry about.

"Bye, Binnie."

He does growl that time, eyes narrowed on your back until the door shuts.

˚➶ ｡˚

Wednesday, you have a frown on your face. "Three days in a row?" The guard Hongjoong got in a yelling match with, Merle, greets you as you come into the cavernous room, "bad schedule huh?"

"No kidding," you sigh, feet slightly hesitant to pass the dust border, "I'm here to fix your shirt. It's state property." You don't look at them, but they know who you're referring to.

They act like they don't, though. Just to hear more of your voice. To make you wriggle under their attention. "Sorry? What do you mean?"

You look and point to Hongjoong, his collar ripped from Seonghwas grasp. "State property."

"Ah, of course." He grins like a jackal, pulling it over his head and sticking his hand out of the bars just in the slightest. "On one condition."

You pout, eyes on the shirt which is just far enough away that you'd have to step closer. And it's the cutest fucking thing they've ever seen.

You look back up at him, silently asking. "Sit and talk with us. The guards here are no fun!" His laugh makes you jump back further, he sounds like a mad pirate.

You look over to Merle, who just shrugs, "just get it over with so these guys will shut up. They're only talkative around you, they need an audience for their antics."

"We won't bite," Seonghwa chuckles with his teeth exposed, making you shiver.

"Fine, give it here." You take a single step forward, palm out infront of the blonde.

When you grab it and go to race away like always, his claws wrapping all the way around your wrist stops you, sharp edges threatening to slice your skin down to the bone. You scream your head off, silenced when Seonghwa coos softly, "sit with us, and talk."

"Let me go..." you plead, eyes frantically flicking to Merle, whose gun is drawn to Hongjoongs head from the border of the ash, waiting for him to take one more wrong move so he can rid the world of one of its greatest criminals.

"Sit, omega." You do so, slowly lowering to the floor with your wrist and life still in Hongjoongs hand. "You have your sewing kit with you, I can hear the buttons hitting the needle. So sit, stay, and talk while you fix it."

Once again, they're the ones caged in. But you're the one who's stuck.

     One look to Merle tells you he probably wouldn't help you even if he could get to you. He lowers his gun as your tailbone hits the concrete floor.

     Your thin work scrubs do little to fight the cold of the old flooring, one reason of many that you shake as you reach into your purse and get the small tin box.

     Hongjoong releases your wrist and sits mirrored to you, hands perched on the bars in the gaps of the purple vine flower wrapped on them. Seonghwa comes to the corner of his side of the split cage and breathes in deeply through his nose, eyes locked in on your every movement. "So you're essentially the errand lady? Maid?"

      "Yes..." You murmur under your breath as your fingers work to thread the needle, slowly backing away until you're out of reach, but still stuck in the blood ash with no one to rescue should the men infront of you decide to rip their cages open. You only stop backing away when you hear a warning growl.

     You don't care to see which it came from, you just want to do this as quickly as possible and get far, far, away. They could have chose anyone to focus their annoying efforts on. Changbin, Merle, the warden. But no, just your luck.

      "You live in the village, right? Were you born here?" Seonghwa continues to do the talking as you carefully fix the shirt.

      "Yes. And no."

     A small hum from the one in front of you is a sign they want you to continue. "I was born to an overpopulated pack. They kicked me out when I turned eighteen. Our old alpha took me in." The hitch in your voice is a clear sign that it's a sore topic. And Hongjoong continues to poke the wound.

      "How did they find you?"

       "Woods."

       "Woods?"

     You can't help the small growl of frustration, lip curling as you look up. "Woods."

     The reaction is one you wouldn't have expected from a normal person, but then- they aren't normal.

     They laugh, cooing over your gesture of anger. Compared to them, you seem like a teacup puppy. "My, my," the brunette chuckles breathily, "is that Solis coming to play?"

     "At least she can," you snap, sent to the back of your own head as your wolf tries to defend you, "she isn't a caged mutt."

    Hongjoong breaks out into a manic fit of laughter, while his paramour is the opposite: his eyes flick red before your own, sharp teeth on display in a show of dominance over your smaller ones that are subconsciously bared at him. "Watch it, omega." He spits his words with venom, "I won't be so nice when I get out of here."

     You rip the extra thread with your claw, kicking the shirt across the floor so it sits at the bottom bar of Hongjoongs cage. His chest still wracks with laughter, watching as you sit up in a low squat so you're still level with the alpha.

      It's clear that you aren't currently you. Your wolf has control of your mouth and body, crouched in a position akin to that of a dog ready to pounce as you hiss your words, "I'm going to laugh in your face as you hang."

     "Aw, is that how dear old alpha died?"

     "Cut it out!" Merle screams disinterested, eyes glued to his flimsy magazine.

      "I heard he got gutted~" Hongjoong giggles, watching the color flicking in your eyes.

     "I'll gut you!" Your threat only makes him laugh more.

      "(Y/n)!" The voice of Hylyon breaks your wolf away from you immediately, falling to your bottom and crawling to the sound unwittingly. "You fucking idiot, Merle!" 

     She reaches over the blood ash and pulls you over the ring, letting you collapse into her as she drags you away, still throwing profanities at the incompetent guard. Hongjoong is laughing loudly. Seonghwa yelling at you to come back. The elevator cuts of his roar, the last thing you see through your blurry vision is his fist making a dent in the silver cage.

You fall onto the floor of the metal box. Thoughts flood your head too quickly for you to swim though them, making you drown and try to escape by releasing the pain with tears. You don't even notice when your friend turns her key in the elevator to make it stop in its tracks, you only see her when she sits right infront of you.

"Babes, calm down, I've got you," she reaches out slowly and places a hand on your leg, slowly rubbing her thumb over your knee.

"I can't go back up there... they're too strong, they make me feel like I'm suffocating," you splutter through gasps, "I'm too weak!"

"Hey, hey, you're spiraling!" She opens her arms and pulls you into her, letting you sob into her uniform. "In and out, girl," she holds the back of your neck securely, almost instantaneously making you calm. "I got you... I got you..."

You sit there for a good while, crying into her shoulder as you sort through your wracked brains.

Your alpha was gutted. Right in front of you. Because of you.

Unbeknownst to you, their tuned ears are still listening in, the elevator stuck within their ear shot as you begin mumbling your favorite song to yourself through tears.

˚➶ ｡˚

The sound of claws slicing through the skin on your back rings in your ears. Though, you can't feel it. Your eyes are locked in on your own claws, dug into the hardwood floor of your humble home to keep yourself from being dragged.

     You've been here a million times before.

     Blood pooling off of your body and onto the frigid surface below you. Teeth sharp and bared to the moon though the open window, begging that she might let you survive. Eyes aglow with your instincts as your wolf tries with every fiber of her being to turn, but she knows it's no use.

     The distorted voice above you drips with mocking venom, a chuckle as its owner realizes you can't even fight back like other wolves might: by letting your wolf fully transform.

     The wind blows through your curtains, washes your body in the artic breeze. The snowflakes on your windowsill are so delicate, all of their features fade into a blurry mush as they make contact. They melt, dripping down your wall.

     This time it's different.

      You're turned over, gaping wounds slammed into the floor as always, but when you look up to your aggressor it's different.

      His eyes aren't the yellow of a rouge, but the red of an alpha. His hair isn't that unruly blonde curl that you pulled at frantically, that you can still feel on your finger tips when your hands are unoccupied. It's long, shining, soft looking dark locks.

       You fall through the floor into another time, another place.

     Face first into the snow: your hands, shaking with adrenaline, do little to catch you.

       You don't remember this.

       This isn't right.

       This isn't your nightmare.

       You find yourself in a clearing in a forrest, the densely packed trees creating a bubble of nature around you. "(Y/n)?"

      You whip around, coming face to face with an unfamiliar man. Almost face to face. If he weren't floating a few feet in the air.

     His legs are crossed under him, hands facing palms up on his knees.

      "Don't worry. You're only dreaming." He speaks calmly as he floats around you in a circle, like a shark examining its potential prey.

     You follow him with your feral gaze, that familiar feeling of an adrenaline crash quickly approaching.

You know you're only dreaming. You've had that last dream more times than you can count in the past three years. It always plays the same. But not this time. You're only slightly thankful that you don't have to witness your alphas death again, but the gratefulness is overshadowed by confusion.

"Are you an angel?" You whisper, watching the man's soft and rounded features as he comes to a stop in the air in front of you and gracefully lowers to his feet.

"I can be, if that's what you want me to be. I'm only here to watch your dreams, fight off the nightmares."

"Why?" You feel distant from your body, watching powerlessly as your hand takes his, letting him lead you out of the clearing and into the darkness of the woods.

It disappears around you, warping into a spring day on a familiar path.

"A favor for a friend."

With the snow gone, you're in your spot, your old towel on the dewy grass with a book laid atop of it and the soil beneath your feet as you approach.

"Enjoy."

The hand vanishes from your own, leaving you alone on the side of the path. You look for him. But he's just an eidolon, watching you from the sky where you can't see him.

You warily take a seat and pick up the book.

˚➶ ｡˚

They don't see you again through the week. And when the next Monday comes by, their sheets are removed while they're in the showers.

Hongjoong sighs from his place on the floor, for the tenth time in the past half hour.

"Hong-"

"I miss our omega!" He whines, cutting him off.

Seonghwa stands from his cot, slowly lowering to the floor next to their shared bars. He lays flat on his back, mirroring Hongjoong as he tilts his head to look at him. "Soon." Is the only word he utters.

He reaches through the silver bars, ignoring the sting as the fresh wolfsbane brushes his wrist, and takes his hand.

The both of them look up at the ceiling through the bars of their enclosure.

Your scent is long gone from the room, and their noses can barely pick up on it through the rest of the village and prison.

"I want out of here," Hongjoong whispers, so lowly that the guard can't hear him from outside of the door, "when are they coming? Your bond with them is stronger, I can barely feel them..."

"Soon." He repeats, "very soon, Joong."

˚➶ ｡˚

Tuesday you manage to talk your coworker into sweeping the top floor, and you rejoice in the freedom of not being under the alpha's gazes. You've worked out a good schedule to completely avoid seeing them, and it's made your job feel like it's back to normal.

You can still smell their power wafting through the AC, but it's bearable. You distract yourself in your free time by making excuses to be on the second floor with Chungha and the other omegas.

Today, that excuse is 'omegas need physical outlets too', and the warden let you bring up buckets and brushes so you could all scrub the base boards.

"Oh, I've got one!" The omega to your left speaks, lifting his brush in the air in a eureka moment, "Texas Chainsaw Massacre or... Halloween?"

Chungha scoffs with a smile as she scrubs away to your right, "are we including sequels? There's like a billion!"

"No, stand alone original," Beomhan goes back to scrubbing as he continues, "both of them are classics but which one is a better classic?"

"Halloween is the classic slasher, Texas Chainsaw is like psychological horror," you chime in as you dip your brush into the bucket, sitting on your calves as you take a breather. "I think it's not fair to compare them... but Texas Chainsaw, definitely."

They laugh along with you, and Chungha shakes her head, "Halloween has more rewatchablity. You don't want to see Sally go through that more than once, but Laurie Strode fights harder and it's more like, yeah I'll watch her kick ass again."

"Cinematography in both is so beaut-"

The lights above you flicker before they shut down completely. People start muttering their concerns, quite a few of them looking your way. "Don't worry!" You hop up and get your keys from your pocket as you make your way to the locked stairwell. "I'll go and see what's going on, keep scrub-"

A loud siren echoes in the brick walls, shocking you all to cover your ears.

Everyone looks to you for answers, and you don't have any as your brain starts throwing theory after theory at you.

"It's okay, go back to your cells! Shut them behind you!"

They listened, however grumpy about it. The cell doors locked automatically when they were closed.

"Hey, what's going on?" Chungha asked over the clanging of the cell doors. The two of you, along with Beomhan, were the only ones left after a moment.

"Go back to your cell, Beomhan, hurry."

"No, what's happening?"

     The sirens cut off and leave you in a pregnant pause for a moment as you simply try to calm yourself.

A deafening scream ricochets through the air vent next to you, scaring you into their arms as you all stare at it.

Usually, the air flow covered the echoes throughout the floors. But with no power, you could hear everything- albeit muffled.

Yells and shouts. Gunshots. Growls. Unidentifiable chaos. And above all, your ears tuned in on a rumbling, calm voice through it all.

"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone... It's not warm when she's away..."

Your eyes widen as theres a bang at the stairwell door. "Go, go!" You grab each of their wrists, dragging them into Chungha's cell. You slam it behind you and let down the sheet she has over it, backing away and staring at it as you hear the door hit the wall behind it with the force it's slammed open.

"(Y/n), what the hells happening?!"

     You slap your hand over his mouth and bring a finger to your lips. The other omegas on the floor are all making a ruckus, and you can only hope that it will confuse that unfortunately familiar voice so he can't find you.

˚➶ ｡˚

The beta in the large room ignores Hongjoong as he continuously asks after 'the pretty omega'.

He just sweeps and sweeps, finally understanding why you hate coming up here. He has his back turned to the cage, and consequently, to the windows.

High on the tall walls, the narrow glass is opened from the outside. Seonghwa smirks, and gestures his head to it. Hongjoongs gaze follows, and he has to slap a hand over his mouth so he doesn't laugh.

A skinny figure is sliding its way in through the window sideways.

He drops to the floor as silent as a mouse, landing on his knees and grinning wildly up at his alphas.

Hongjoong throws his head back in preemptive relief, while Seonghwa is watching with a similarly wide smile as the man walks straight through the blood ash, breaking the circle with the tip of his shoe.

The worker still has his back turned as the lock on Seonghwas cage is picked with a long claw. He doesn't even know what's happening as the next thing he knows, he's thrown across the floor.

      Blood ash knocks up around him, coughs wracking his body as he looks up to his assailant.

      Park Seonghwa, newly freed from his cage, looks down at the worker with his eyes glowing red.

     "Now usually..." He begins, crouching to be face to face with him, "I'd go through this whole place just for the fuck of it and cause some beautiful chaos. But I'm looking for someone."

     "(Y/n)?" He stutters out, backing away only to knock into Hongjoongs legs. Stuck between the two criminals, he chooses his own head over yours. "The second floor! Sh-she's on the second floor!"

     "Let's go get our omega, Joong."

      Nonchalantly, Hongjoong draws his claws and slices the neck of the worker. He hops over the gurgling body and follows his mate with an ecstatic giggle.

      He wraps his arm around the skinny man's shoulder, "Wooyoung! Our savior~" He ruffles his hair and laughs as he groans.

     "You guys know I've got your back. Seonghwa told me about your new omega, you seem excited," he mimics the alphas smile as the eldest of the trio opens the doors.

     The guard on duty, who happens to be Merle, looks back with wide eyes.

"Yes, oh yes!" His eyes roll to the back of his head, touching the stitches you made on his shirt. "Oh, you'll love her, she's a feisty omega just like you."

He makes a run for the fire alarm at the end of the hall, but Seonghwa is faster. The beta is tackled to the floor.

"I'm glad you both will have a buffer, tired of you always at each other's throats during ruts," Wooyoung laughs, looking down at the guard as they pass.

Seonghwa had simply torn out his throat with his bare hand and made his way to the elevator, holding it open with an impatient glare.

The door closes behind them and the only sound is Seonghwa's heavy breathing.

"You're real eager, huh?" The omega breaks the silence, "San should be coming in any second to block the main door. No one will get past him. The rest are in the village, just as we planned."

"Good, she'll need somewhere to rest before we take off....Fucking idiots, thinking they can cage us." He groans, eyes flicking to the number above the doors as it dings.

       3? "Fuck."

     The door opens and the woman on the other side takes a moment, nearly walking in before she notices the crimson liquid dripping from Segonhwa's hand.

      She makes it halfway through the hall before Hongjoong pounces on her, fighting her effortlessly as if she's a rag doll. The guards run to try and save her, but it's too late for the unfortunate woman, and they just signed their own death certificate as well.

       Seonghwa and Wooyoung make quick work of them, but their plan is already foiled as the lights flicker to a halt and leave them bathed in dim light of the setting sun in the few windows.

      The alphas fall to their knees as their sensitive ears are bombarded with a loud, incessant siren.

      "Wooyoung!" Hongjoong screams over it, "go turn that shit off!"

      He nods, taking the keys off a mauled guard and dashing to the stair well, leaving it unlocked behind him.

     Hongjoong crawls to Seonghwa, collapsing into his chest with his teeth clenched and palms over his ears. His ears were always more sensitive.

     His partner places his hands over his, thumb running over his own. He looks down with his eyes glowing red, meeting pure black.

He leans and kisses him deeply, all teeth and bloodlust, trying to merge their souls until the sirens cuts off.

Their foreheads rest together, ignoring the chaos of the beta's around them yelling to be released.

"Are you ready?" Seonghwa whispers, gathering another set of keys from the fallen workers. He throws it to one of the locked in prisoners, a smirk on his face. So much for not creating chaos.

"Let's go," Hongjoong holds the door to the staircase open and lets him go first with a dramatic bow.

It takes one scream to start the havoc. The entire prison is filled with the sickly sweet sounds of caged animals with a taste of freedom. Gunfire and howls bring a smile to Seonghwa's lips as he sings out,

"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone... it's not warm when she's away..."

He hums the song with a wide grin as Hongjoong kicks the door. It takes only one more kick before it slams open and bangs against the cement wall.

The omegas in their cells are all yelling at them, at one another, in general.

Hongjoong kicks one of the many buckets on the floor over and groans, "here I was thinking she'd make it easy. I guess we'll have to go cell to cell!" A small spike of a heartbeat in his ears makes him smirk, following the sound that he memorized the first time he'd heard it.

Seonghwa follows him, immediately zeroing in on the same cell. He comes to stand infront of it, his breath making the blanket behind the bars sway slightly.

You see both pairs of orange slip on shoes and you feel your heart stop in your chest.

You cower further into the corner with Beomhan as Chungha stands in front of you. The sheet is grabbed from the outside and ripped away, making you all shriek.

"Were you playing hide and seek?" Hongjoong giggles, throwing the blanket to the side with his eyes never leaving you, a scowl growing on his features as he notices the way you're curling into another wolf. "You should know better than to hide from your alphas. Come on out."

You shake your head, gaze lowered as you hold onto the back of Chungha's uniform.

"(Y/n)," the saturnine man speaks, "come here."

"No, leave us alone! Leave me alone," your voice cracks despite how strong you want to appear.

"If I have to drag you out of here I will be very angry. Just come on, do us all a solid."

"No-"

"Open the fucking door!"

"No!"

The cells were built to hold lycans, which means lycans shouldn't be able to get in... right?

"Fucking-" Seonghwa hits the bars, leaving a dent and making the three of you jump.

Hongjoong leans on his tiptoes and whispers into his ear, and whatever he says makes his eyes begin glowing a murderous red.

He slowly wraps his clawed fingers around the bars, and the way Hongjoong backs up makes your stomach churn in anxiety of what's about to come.

And it was warranted anxiety.

With a loud growl and a single tug, he rips the silver bars from their cemented place in the wall, causing a large crack to form.

"Holy shit!" Beomhan screams, arms wrapping around you tightly.

Chungha is ripped from the small room and tossed all the way across the room, back colliding with the wall and leaving her unconscious.

You yelp as Beomhan meets a similar fate, torn from your grasp and out into the rec room like he's a mere bag of trash. You see Hongjoong approaching him with his long black claws out and proud, but your vision is blocked by the large alpha infront of you.

     Your hips back into Chungha's small desk, and your hands clamber around, landing on something small and solid.

     You swing it at his head and he ducks, grabbing your wrist and dragging you out of the small cell. You manage to swing again, making contact with his head. The small ceramic bowl shatters into pieces and leaves him only temporarily stunned, glaring down at you.

      "Fucking stop," he growls quietly, shoving you to the floor.

       He lets you shuffle away, only because Hongjoong is right behind you.

     The blonde chuckles, pulling you back up by your collar and crashing you face first into one of the round steel tables bolted into the floor. "Ow!" You yell out as your head makes contact, fighting against him with all your might, but it's fruitless.

     He kicks your feet apart and stands between them, leaning his chest over your back. You can feel his nose against your neck, over the healed skin above your scent blocker. You snap your eyes shut and do the only thing you can thing of.

     You can't fight. Begging to these men would be useless. You can't disappear into the floor like you wish you could.

     "Please, Selene," you pray to the moon, tears slipping past your shut eyes as you feel the claws of the mad man on your neck.

       You cry out as the other worldly sharp nails slice into your neck, slowly and almost surgically. His other hand is cupped on the back of your head, keeping your head pushed into the cold metal. "Shhhh," he gushes above you, "it's okay."

      Seonghwa sits at one of the bolted stools and rests his head to mimic yours, cheek on the table. "We'd've been more gentle if you listened, omega."

       Between the tips of his claws, Hongjoong holds your small alloy scent blocker. Almost instantaneously, your natural scent floods their senses.

     Their deep rumbles of pleasure make you snap your eyes back shut, missing the way Hongjoong stomps on the device.

     "Fuck," the wolf behind you curses, body pressed close to yours like he wants to fuse together, he places his hands in yours and tells you, "you might want to squeeze."

    "Wh- ah!" Your scream echoes over all of the other chaos as his teeth sink into your left shoulder, and you do just that. Your clawed hands squeeze around his, sharp nails knocking together as you hold on like his hands are the only thing keeping you from slipping to the underworld.

       It feels like a million pins and needles washing over you, leaving you paralyzed in place as he purrs into the wound, making your bones vibrate.

     A warm, comforting hand on your cheek makes you force your eyes open. Seonghwa smiles sweetly, like he isn't witnessing one of the biggest crimes in the lycan community.

      Forcing someone to be your mate for the rest of your mortal lives.

     "Breathe, omega," his words make you realize you're holding your breath, and you let it out as a sob. "That's it," he hums, rubbing his hand down your head with all the gentleness he's capable of.

        Hongjoong pulls away with a moan, resting his head between your shoulder blades as he catches his breath.

     Your wolf is already calling for her mate, howling in the back of your mind as you cry.

       "Don't worry, we'll take good care of you." Seonghwas words have little time to register in your adrenaline filled head as he turns your head the other way and climbs up on the table.

     It hits you when he moves your ruffled shirt away from your right shoulder. "No! No!" You find yourself with two million pins and needles in your body now, squeezing Hongjoongs hands all over again as Seonghwa sinks his teeth into you at an excruciatingly slow pace.

They're bigger, or maybe they only feel that way because your body is on fire. You sob freely, feet stomping pathetically to cope with the pain.

What little comfort you find in Hongjoong squeezing your hands back is washed away by the simple fact that it's him. That blood from his claws drips onto your skin.

It feels like a century later that the older alpha finally pulls away, a bellow of pleasure as he runs his thumb over the wound: making you jump.

"Your turn, omega."

The weight of their bodies is gone, but you can't bring yourself to move. Out of fear, maybe. Pain, perhaps.

"You know what happens to wolves who don't finish the bond." Hongjoong purrs teasingly, knowing full well that you will have to mark them back least you want to suffer at the hands of the moon herself.

A life with them was better than being turned inside out and left to the elements. Just barely.

You lift yourself on shaking arms and nearly fall as you turn. You would have if not for Hongjoong catching you. He lifts you back to the table much gentler, letting your legs dangle as you sit on the table top.

"Why... why me?"

"... Have you heard of Harry Talbot?"

"Harry Talbots a myth... what's he got to do with your fuck shit?"

"Harry Talbot was the first wolf that could smell his mate. He could tell just by her smell, they were meant to be." Hongjoong slots his way between your legs, smiling down at you with his bloody teeth, "her smell called to him. It wasn't just good. It wasn't a normal scent. It was...alluring."

You were growing dizzy, head spinning.

"Strong alphas can sniff out their true mate. And, baby, we're the strongest that there is."

You have to force yourself to swallow. Have to remember to breathe.

"Why? Because you're... alluring."

That's the last thing you can register before your world turns dark.

˚➶ ｡˚ PART ONE END ˚➶ ｡˚

[intomybubble]

OH MY GODDDD

they did it! they kissed! they’re officially dating! their marriage isnt a sham anymore

Holy shit. I swear after reading other romance manga/manhwa where it takes forever for a real move to be made like this, this is just majorly surprising omg

[ozzgin]

Can I have yandere Aka Manto x Reader? I see you write Japanese myths, cuz why not?

Yandere! Urban Legend x Reader [Aka Manto]

You never know when you're going to meet your soulmate. It could be on a beach at sunset, on the last bus home, in the elevator of an office building...Or in a public bathroom after you just finished your business. Nevertheless, this urban legend monster has its eyes on you now.

Content: gender neutral reader, urban legend, part horror part comedy, gore!, monster romance

"Are you deaf? It's occupied!" you shout one final time, giving the door a swift kick to emphasize your presence. That's what you get for using a public restroom. Your coworkers had convinced you to try out another bar after the company dinner, and you might've had one too many cocktails. Thankfully most of the drinks were watered down, although it is exactly because of this detail that you're now hovering above a toilet seat with a full bladder. On a Friday night, in the partying neighborhood of the city, so it could explain the persistent stranger - possibly even drunker than you - who keeps rattling the lock of your stall.

To your horror, the handle begins to turn, and you hear a click. You scramble to get up and secure the door, but it's too late. With your pants halfway down, you gawk at the bizarre individual squeezing his way in: a tall figure wearing a red cloak and a mask. "What the Hell?" is all you can mumble to yourself, awkwardly gathering your garments in order to preserve your remaining ounce of dignity. Out of all the things to happen tonight...Alright, calm down. It's most likely a crackhead. You cast your eyes down and focus on the floor tiles, with patterns strategically chosen to hide as much grime as possible.

Pretty. Almost too pretty to kill. He might just take his time with you and savor the moment. Of course, you'll have to answer his question first. With bureaucratic efficiency, he pulls out two rolls of toilet paper and extends them to you. "The red one, or the blue one?" he asks with theatric gravity. What in the Avon samples Hell is this, you think, fidgeting nervously and avoiding any eye contact still. If you ignore him, he should lose interest.

A minute passes in heavy silence. His ghastly arms begin to tire, so he lowers them with a disappointed creak of the joints. "Y-you have to pick one", he insists. Damn it! Perhaps you've been told what to do if approached by mischievous spirits like him? Ignorance means you keep your head, though he was hoping for a gory night of entertainment. You can almost feel the intense stare coming from behind the eerie mask. The tension becomes unbearable, so you finally decide to push your luck. You will not spend the night stuck with a deranged pervert looming over you in a public bathroom.

Without further delay, you shove him aside and open the door. He lets out a surprised hum, observing your daring gesture and almost expecting you to run for your life. To his even greater shock, however, you stop to wash your hands with a relaxed whistle, completely unbothered by his presence. What happened to the fear, the terror, the dread? You peek at his reflection in the mirror, and your lips curl in a mocking grin. Maybe it's the alcohol finally hitting your nervous system, but all you see right now is a pathetic charlatan who tried to intimidate you with literal toilet paper. A good-for-nothing scoundrel interrupting the innocent from their much-needed bathroom break.

In fact, the more you consider your situation, the more your chest puffs with outrage and bravery. You pay your taxes, you help the needy, and this is how your civic deeds are rewarded? By having your stream cut midway? Unbelievable. Unacceptable. No other soul shall suffer your fate tonight. "Wretch!" you cry out, turning towards the aggressor and continuing your demands: "Evacuate the premises at once!"

You might not understand it yet, but your act of defiance has sealed your fate. The hooded monster smiles, relishing the words that have closed the gap between your fragile body and his blasphemous claws. You have spoken to him; thus, he can do with you as he desires. And yet, his murderous fingers hesitate. Your entrails should be splattered across the rarely polished porcelain by now. What's holding him back? He tilts his head in contemplation, but any intention to ponder his feelings is quickly discarded once a loud shriek pierces his ears.

As it turns out, someone else had been using the neighboring stall and was alerted by your little argument. Their finger is pointed at the cloaked creature, features twisted in disgust and fear. "Can't you tell we're busy?" The mysterious man inquires sarcastically. On second thought, this should be enough to satisfy his cravings.

With a snap of the fingers, the frightened bystander is torn apart by invisible hands right before your very eyes. Their limbs detach with surreal ease, and blood splatters everywhere in hot, sticky bursts. In your petrified daze, you are reminded of nature documentaries: blurry snippets of sharks trashing their victim around, fleshy chunks coming undone from the violent handling. Within seconds, the bathroom is quiet again. The walls and ceiling are drenched in fresh blood, and occasionally, fat droplets collapse into a puddle with resounding echo.

It all falls into place. The hooded creature claps its hands, startling you back into awareness. "That's what it was!", he says with enthusiasm. He approaches you with quiet steps, cushioned by the meaty remains coating the floor. He places one hand over the mask, removes it, and gives it a shake as if to clean off the crimson fluid. You involuntarily gaze at his face, taken aback by the handsome traits. Is this the appearance of a ruthless ghoul who butchers mortals for amusement? You wouldn't believe it if it wasn't for the hot trickle of foreign blood trailing your skin.

"I think I've fallen in love with you", he confesses with a wide, saw-toothed smile. You feel a clawed finger tracing your cheek affectionately. "Well? What're you so silent for? You were quite cheeky a moment ago!" he continues tauntingly, gripping your chin and forcing you to look up. "Or have you seen what happens when you misbehave? No, no, darling, I'd never! There are other ways in which I can ruin you."

You're suddenly very cold. With dry lips, you eventually open your mouth to speak: "I'm not leaving here, am I?"

"You could, but that would make me very upset."

[evnseokz]

{ ☆ breaking the ice - p.sh }

pairing: closed off! sunghoon x f. reader

contents: somewhat reserved sunghoon (at first), lowk down bad sunghoon, jake is an extra in this, kind of typical guy saves girl party scene, smut at the end, dry humping, making out, a little fluff, mostly just sappy romance, maybe slight angst if you squint

based off this request here

a.n: tysm anon for the request!! i hope i did it justice. i focused a lot on the plot and dialogue in this one, w.c. 2.6k

MINORS DNI

sunghoon had always been the silent anchor of his friend group, the one who seemed to glide through life with an effortless coldness that both intrigued and confused those around him. He rarely piped up, preferring to observe from the background, his thoughts hidden behind a mask of nonchalance. it wasn’t that he didn't care; rather, he found solace in the quietude of his own company.

up until you entered the scene, invited by his friend jake for a casual lunch that would unknowingly disrupt his carefully maintained solitude. at first, sunghoon regarded you with mild indifference, his responses curt as you attempted to chip away at his icy exterior. but as the days stretched on, you began to see each other more often, and your laughter filled the spaces he had always left empty. something in him began to shift, tugging at the corners of his guarded heart.

——

flash forward to a couple weeks later, jake was throwing an afterparty for some event he held previously that had to do with his band. he held the party at his house, as it was big enough to withstand the amount of people he invited. sunghoon was standing, leaning against the wall of the crowded abode, his drink in his hand as he scanned the room. laughter and music mingled in the air, but his focus was solely on you. you were standing by the kitchen island, chatting animatedly, a bright smile lighting up your face. but it wasn’t just your smile that held his attention; it was also the guy next to you.

“come on, just a little more fun, right?” the guy said, his fingers brushing against your arm in a way that made sunghoon’s blood boil. sunghoon recognized this guy, everyone knew he had a reputation as a smooth talker and troublemaker. the kind of guy who toyed with people like you for fun. “maybe we should just stay here?” you replied, your tone playful but laced with uncertainty. sunghoon’s heart raced at the sight of you inching away from the kitchen. “aw, don't be like that,” the guy laughed, leaning in closer. “i promise it’ll be worth it.”

sunghoon could see you visibly stiffen, clearly uncomfortable with the situation, and he couldn’t take it anymore. ‘hey!” he pushed off the wall, his legs carrying him across the room with determination. “what’s going on here?” you turned, surprise flickering in your eyes. how long had he been watching you? “sunghoon! we were just—“ “just what?” he interrupted, trying to keep his voice steady. “you were about to go... where?”

“just to the bathroom,” the guy interrupted with a smirk. “no harm done.” “yeah, well, its not a good idea,” sunghoon shot back, stepping between you and the guy. “you don't need to follow her, man. she can find it on her own.” “relax, it’s just a quick walk,” the guy said, crossing his arms, his bravado oozing. sunghoon felt the heat rise to his cheeks. “not with you. not ever,” he spewed. you looked between the two, confusion mixing with concern. “sunghoon, it’s fine. really,” you say, seemingly trying to ease his growing frustration.

“no, its not fine,” he insisted, his voice rising slightly. this is probably the most you’d ever heard him talk. “you don’t know what they say about this guy; he’s bad news y/n.” sunghoon pleads with you. the guy chuckled, but it was an empty sound. “a little jealous, huh? cute."  “call it what you want,” sunghoon said, his gaze locked on you. “but im not letting you walk away with him. not like this.” your expression shifted, realization drawing. “sunghoon, i appreciate it, but i can handle myself.”

“maybe you can, but i don't trust him.” the words spilled out, raw and desperate. “you deserve better than some guy who only sees you as a piece of meat.” a silence hung between them, heavy with unspoken words. sunghoon took a breath, his heart racing. “i want to be the one who gets to know you. not him.  you’re worth more than this.” your gaze softened, and for the first time, sunghoon saw something flicker in your eyes—maybe understanding, maybe something more.

“okay,” you said softly. “let’s stay here, then.” sunghoon exhaled, relief flooding his body, but he didn’t take his eyes off the guy who was still lingering around. “and you can back off.” his gaze stern as he looked him in the eyes. the guy rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of wariness now. “fine, whatever. your loss."  he spoke childishly as he walked away. sunghoon turned to you, searching your face. “i meant what i said,” he said softly. “i know,” you replied, a hint of a smile creeping in on your face. “thank you for stepping in.”

“i just—“ he hesitated, heart pounding with a mix of fear and hope. “i don't want to lose you to guys like him. i want to be the one you trust.” your expression shifted again, this time filled with something deeper. “then show me. show me you’re the one.” sunghoon nodded, feeling a spark of courage ignite within him. “i will. just give me a chance.” he took your hands in his as he spoke, his gaze softening as he looked you in the eyes.

“i never dubbed you as the jealous type,” you giggled, eyes gleaming up at sunghoon. one of his hands reached behind his neck to scratch nervously. “me neither,” he laughs with you. silence falls upon you two, awkwardness suddenly seeping in. you take a sip of your drink, and look around the room. not quite sure what to do next. sunghoon rocks on the balls of his feet, also unsure of the next move he should make. suddenly, a very tipsy jake stumbles his way over to the two of you. “hey guys! what’re you up toooo,” his words slur slightly as he speaks, placing himself in between the two of you, an arm thrown around each of your shoulders. you and sunghoon glance at each other nervously, not sure what to say. “uh, i think we’re actually about to head out!” sunghoon says quickly, pursing his lips afterwards. you nod in agreement as jake lets out a loud whine. “alreadyyyyy?!” he pouts. sunghoon laughs at his friend before pulling him off of your shoulders. he looks him in the face and grabs the red solo cup in his hand, and setting it on the counter. “i think you should call it a night too,” he says. jake shakes his head no before stumbling off again.

sunghoon pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, clearly disappointed in his friend. “he’ll crash eventually,” you snicker. sunghoon laughs with you before reaching out and grabbing your hand in his. “so, about heading out?” he asks, and all you have to do is nod before he’s pulling you through the sea of people and out the front door. “did you drive?” he asks. you shake your head no. “i took an uber,” you reply. sunghoon nods in satisfaction. he rocks on the balls of his feet again, suddenly becoming hyperaware of the fact that you are alone together right now. “do you maybe wanna come back to mine?” he asks, his voice shaking with nerves. “i’d very much like that, yes,” you beam up at him. he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding before beckoning you to follow him to his car. he opens the passenger door for you, letting you sit down before leaning across you to buckle you in. your breath hitches in your throat at the proximity, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils as he stands back up. “t-thank you,” you say coyly, toying with the hem of your skirt. sunghoon nods a quick no problem before shutting the door and walking around to get in the driver's seat.

the ride to sunghoons apartment is quiet. sunghoon focused on the road in front of him while you watched the night sky out of the window. once pulled up to his place, he unbuckles and gets out of the car, headed over to the passenger side. you unbuckle your seatbelt before he even opens the door, afraid his smell in such close proximity to you will drive you wild. once the door is open, you scurry out of the car, almost tripping in the process, but luckily sunghoon was able to grab your arm, steadying you. “easy there; don't want you getting hurt,” he says, playfulness in his tone. you curse yourself for immediately blushing at his words. he closes the car door before heading into the main doors of his apartment building. you follow along closely behind him. he stopped in front of the elevator, pressing the up button. now its your turn to sway on the balls of your feet. after what feels like forever, the elevator finally dings, and you both enter. you watch sunghoon as he presses the number three button. the doors close, and here you guys are again, in awkward silence.

you stand next to each other as the elevator moves between floors, and you let your gaze fall upon the boy next to you. you had always found sunghoon attractive, but that attraction has skyrocketed since his whole hero moment at the party. the elevator dinging pulls you out of your trance, head snapping forward. sunghoon let you step out first; your heart was racing. you walked beside him as he guided you to his apartment, his casual confidence making your pulse quicken even more. “so, this is your place?” you ask, glancing around as you approached the door. “yeah, just a simple apartment,’ he replied, smiling. he opens the door and gestures for you to enter. “make yourself at home,” he beams, following in behind you.

you looked around the place in front of you, taking in the modern decor and the faint woodsy scent that lingered in the air. “it’s nice. cozy,” you breathed. sunghoon chuckled, closing the door behind him. “cozy is the goal. would you like something to drink?” he asks. “water is fine,” you smiled to him, watching as he moved around the kitchen. as he filled two glasses, you couldn’t help but admire the way he moved with ease, letting your gaze fall to the way his back muscles tensed as he moved. he turned to face you, leaning against the counter, a playful smile on his lips. “so, where should we start?” he trails off nervously. “well, what do you wanna know?” you reply. his eyes shine as he looks at you, “anything. everything.” heat rushes to your cheeks as you look at him, his desire to know more about you sending butterflies straight to your tummy. 

“well… one time i tripped and fell into a fountain during a school trip,” sunghoons laughter echoed through the room. “oh no! did you get wet?” he questioned through his chuckles. “absolutely drenched, i had to walk around the rest of the day in a soggy shirt.” he leaned closer, his eyes sparkling. “i think that’s hilarious; i wish i could’ve seen it.” you both laugh for a moment before silence falls upon you again. you look at him, “aren’t you gonna tell me one of your embarrassing moments?” a nervous chuckle leaves his lips, a sheepish grin forming on his face. “once i thought i was being smooth at a party and accidentally spilled my drink all over someone. turns out, it was the birthday girl.” your laughter floods sunghoons ears, his heart swelling at the sight of the smile on your face. “that’s definitely pretty embarrassing!” you continue to giggle, teasing him slightly.

he begins to move closer as you laugh, the air between you two shifting. “yeah, i wasn’t very popular that night,” he says, his voice softening. “but i guess i can be a little clumsy.” “maybe it’s just because you’re too busy being charming,” you say to him, meeting his gaze. he took another step towards you, his expression suddenly serious. “i don’t want to mess this up, you know?” desperation in his voice. “mess what up?” the sudden topic change is confusing you. “this,” he says, glancing at the space between you two, then back to your eyes. “us.” the weight of his words hung in the air, and you could feel a thrill run through you. “i don’t think you could mess it up.” your chest heaves as you look up at him. anticipation is coursing through your bones. “really?” he asks, stepping even closer, your breaths mingling. “what if i wanted to kiss you right now?” your pulse quickened. you contemplate for a second on what to do, but quickly come up with an answer. “then you should.”

sunghoon hesitated for a moment, searching your eyes for reassurance. then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. the kiss was tentative at first, a soft exploration that quickly turned heated. you melted into him, your hands finding their way to his hair as his fell to your waist. his tongue swiped along your bottom lip, asking for entry, which you granted. your saliva mixing as you moaned into his mouth. the two of you shuffled around the room as you kissed. finding yourself in front of his couch, he goes to sit down, and you follow, only breaking away for a split second as you straddle his lap before connecting your lips again. his hands are resting on your hips, and you lightly grind down on his lap, earning a groan from him. you bite at his bottom lip, pulling slightly before letting go, breaking the kiss, but only so you could continue to pepper kisses down his jaw and neck.

he moved his neck, giving you more access as you bit and sucked slightly on the skin. small groans left his mouth, his hands beginning to guide your body on his clothed erection. a moan fell past your lips at the sensation, your assault to his neck stopping as you focused on the pleasure you’re feeling between your legs. you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning your forehead against his as he continues to grind you on his lap. small pants are coming from your mouth, as well as groans from his. he drops his head down, taking his turn to trail kisses along the exposed skin of your collarbones and chest. you roll your head back, a moan leaving your lips. one of sunghoons hands travels up to your face, bringing you back to lean against him, fingers caressing your cheek ever so slightly. you lean into his touch, whines leaving your lips as you chase your high. his hand falls back down to your hip, helping you in quickening your pace. the texture of his jeans hitting your clit in just the right spot to send you over the edge, your body trembles as your high washes over you, head thrown back as sunghoon helps you ride it out. his own orgasm followed shortly after.

both of you are a panting mess, and sunghoon can’t help but hold you tight against him, hugging you gently. you tighten your arms around him, enjoying the comfort of the boy in front of you. you pull away for a moment to look eachother in the eyes. a smile forms on both of your lips as you chuckle breathlessly. sunghoon is the first to speak. “that was. wow” you giggle at his words, fingertips fiddling with the hairs at the base of his neck. “i think we need to do that again sometime, maybe with less clothes,” you joke. sunghoon is smiling from ear to ear, thinking about how lucky he is to have you here right now. “maybe so. but how about a proper date first?” he says. and you nod eagerly.

“i’d like that.”

.

..

…

[hannieehaee]

can you pls do a ot13 reaction where they both have a crush on each other (y/n and member) so there’s kind of a tension between them ? ^^ thank you so much!!

having a mutual crush on each other

content: implied friendship, mutual crush, some embarrassment lol, etc.

wc: 796

a/n: hope u like it<33 love writing them with a crush its so cute</3

masterlist

seungcheol -

very bashful any time you're alone together. finds it impossible to look into your eyes without shyness overtaking him after finding out his crush was mutual. sometimes he'd have the courage to flirt with you, but he'd usually start blushing when you flirted back. the image of the two of you interacting would be sickening for the members to see as the two of you avoided eye contact and made pathetic attempts at hitting on the other.

jeonghan -

fully aware of your crush and just having fun with the whole 'will they wont they' of it all. will blatantly flirt with you at times or act overly soft at other times in order to make you as aware of his crush as possible. however! he would wait for you to take the first step, simply enjoying being chased after rather than doing the chasing itself.

joshua -

constant suggestive stares and comments that leave you blushy and breathless, making you shy away from even holding eye contact. he gets such a thrill from knowing you like him just as much as he does you, so he always creates this tension that has you looking forward to the next time you interact.

jun -

a little on the shyer side but still makes his crush clear with subtle affections. there's always this very sweet and subtle back and forth between you. not super outwardly spoken but still clear about his intentions through his loaded stares and shy touches of your hand. everyone around is aware and finds your interactions adorable.

soonyoung -

too shy to ever make a move so the only tension between you is him constantly running away from you whenever any sort of allusion towards your or his crush is brought up. cannot physically be in the room any time the two of you are alone because he has no control over his blush or the emptiness of his brain any time he sees himself having to interact with you one on one.

wonwoo -

contrary to popular belief, i think he'd be soooo flirty and engage in back and forth with you any time you interacted. upon realizing his crush was mutual, he'd always be seeking you out, flirting, bantering, and just always making conversation with you to keep himself as a constant presence in your life. sometimes intimate one on one's would even come up between you.

jihoon -

oh god so shy and kept to himself. even though he knows you like him back, he's still unsure on how to proceed, creating an awkward tension whenever he had to take the reigns in the conversation. would depend on you (or maybe the other members) to keep things going or else he'd malfunction.

seokmin -

he'd act just like a friend but in a very charming way, always opening doors for you, holding your hand, giving you friendly affection but with an edge of romance hidden in there. would be so easy for you two to fall into a 'when will they' situation bc everyone knows you're into each other and feeding into it way more than friends would.

mingyu -

constant tension between the two of you lmao. he'd be flirting with you nonstop, feeding into any reaction he got out of you. if you were shy and bashful, he'd flirt even more to get you blushing even more. if you flirted back, he'd match your energy and keep hitting on you until the two of you landed in an even more

minghao -

confident and a little cocky about his crush, always giving you these suggestive looks and soft touches to ensure you're very aware of his feelings for you. lives off your reactions and reciprocations to his affections, creating an intense aura whenever you two were near each other.

seungkwan -

despite his outgoing personality, he's still a little on the shyer side when it comes to expressing his interest in you. will sometimes get a surge of extra confidence and flirt with you, catching you off guard and feeding into a cocky side of himself that only ever came out when he noticed his effect on you.

vernon -

very chill and subtle about his interest but still making it quite obvious. knowing you like him back, he'd occasionally make very direct mentions of his feelings for you, loving how blunt he could be about it as you occasionally responded in a similar manner. would probably wait a while to ask you out officially, enjoying the subtle back and forth.

chan -

even though im a sub!chan and shy!chan enthusiast, i think he'd hit it off with someone he liked very easily. would be easygoing and smooth in showing his interest. would shamelessly flirt with you and always have the perfect response when you'd flirt back.