#and if you refuse to be drawn properly...

[solanj]

Learn to draw Heinrix or die: the challenge ("Die" seems a much more likely outcome with the way it's going so far, tbh) This one was supposed to be a study of a Jeremy Irons shot, but for some mystical reason while Irons looks similar to Heinrix (in my eyes at least), whenever the picture started to look like Irons it stopped looking like Heinriix at all. So at this point there is not much similarities left to either of them, but, well, at least it started to resemble Heinrix at least a liiiiitle tiny bit

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part four.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4.6k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), sex work, pet names, alcohol, mentions of drugs, jokes about death Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part three. / return to part one. | masterlist

Night comes around.

You do not call.

In fact, you don't call the Scout Services Hotline a single time that whole weekend.

As you scroll mindlessly through social media in your bed, fluttering between apps without retaining a single word or meme, your cell phone weighs heavily in your hand.

Don't call.

Just don't call.

It isn't like you're devoid of things to do.

Going out is an option.

Being around people may help your mood — but you don’t feel like unearthing from your snuggie poncho.

Putting on a movie can be a great distraction — but you know your attention span would barely last through the opening credits.

It was him.

Right there.

Right in front of you.

Levi from Scout Services, alive and in the flesh, holding your phone.

No amount of mental gymnastics can make you doubt otherwise. 

He has a voice like no other; one that haunts your day dreams and soothes your nightmares, one that brings this sudden urge to do better for yourself—

Ironically, to be independent and strong on your own.

Which, actually, really fucking sucks now that you’re stuck with the decision to totally disappear from the gym, too.

(Kind of thwarts the whole ‘new me’ chest-puffing you’d started Friday with.)

So you make a final decision:

You still have to go to the gym Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.

Even if you say nothing, keep to yourself, remain a shadow, you have to go.

(There’s a fragile line drawn in the sands of reality. You can toe the edge, but you refuse to. This is his livelihood. You’re not delusional to believe you’re a main character exception.)

Coincidentally, Levi goes every day, too. 

Your stomach flip-flops with the unsettling realization that your perch on a treadmill actually gives you a perfect vantage point to watch him as he sets his station up every morning.

Meticulously he sets towels down to place his shaker bottle and water thermos down, as if worried the ground hadn’t been cleaned overnight.

He even takes the disinfectant cloths and cleans every dumbbell he lines up neatly before starting his workout.

The dark-haired man truly is less-than-average in height, which isn’t a turn-off to you in the slightest, but his arms — his goddamn arms.

Levi wasn’t kidding when he told you that he could pick you up.

He could probably pick two of you up, one arm each.

They’re so toned, his forearms veiny from morning dehydration.

Training vigorously in his own world, not once does he notice that you’re the bumbling idiot that’s tripped on the treadmill (see: a few times) from dissociating.

Hell, he hasn’t a single fucking clue that you’re close enough to yell across the room to him.

Would he know?

That you’re Scarlet.

His, in some made-up world.

(Does your voice stand out in a sea of lonely people?)

The cleaning ritual extends to his cooldown, where he properly cleans each piece of equipment before nestling it back in its place.

Levi sits on his phone for a second, dropping down to a bench to scroll — text messages.

(Damn it, have you really resorted to minor stalking?)

As soon as he stands, though, you drop your chin to watch your sneakers rhythmically pass one another on the treadmill belt.

He passes like a ghost, evaporating into the men’s locker room without a word.

This is torture.

You miss him.

But you still refuse to call.

Can't — because in another world you may be his, but in this world, he is not yours.

.

.

— —

.

.

    Tuesday night rolls around and you decide you hate life.

Annie, Eren, Reiner, and Mikasa are already there by the time you walk into the downtown hotspot.

The boys as well as Mikasa are still in their suit attire from work, their ties loosened at their necks. Annie’s in a hoodie and jeans, clearly much more interested in having a comfortable evening.

If the emptied shot glasses are any indicator of the plans for this evening, then you steel yourself for one hell of a Wednesday.

You glide through the busy crowds of the bar towards the group.

Bodies upon bodies crowd this place — it’s never not a zoo at this hour, no matter the day. Saying excuse me would only waste breath. 

A live band croons on the far end of the smoky bar, forcing everyone to talk ten decibels higher just to hear the conversation.

(Can’t you turn around and go home while you’re ahead?)

In the sea of people, a pair of emerald green eyes over by a cluster of tables in the right-hand corner catch your movement. They widen, recognizing your face, and a lopsided grin of surprise follows.

“Holy shit, she left her cave!” Eren yells, holding up a cheap beer in salute to your arrival.

(Thanks Jeager, you little fuck.)

You don’t hear what she says, but you can see Mikasa’s lips part in tandem with a sharp elbow jab straight to his ribs.

Eren instantly falters his salute, souring in pain.

“I know. Don’t be so shocked,” you state to your colleagues, leaning up against the circular high-top table. “Am I the last to show?”

“Nah, you’re right on time. Armin and Jean’re on their way,” Reiner grunts, holding onto a comically small cosmopolitan in his rather large hand. “Sasha’s on babysitting duty with Nicco.”

You look around the bar for any other familiar faces.

“And Connie?”

“Passed out,” Mikasa supplies. “Took edibles after work.”

“There’s no chance in hell anyone’s waking him,” Eren snorts. “Fucker’s toast.”

Reiner sighs. “For what it’s worth, Jean tried.”

“No, Armin tried,” Annie corrects, finally piping up. She holds something on the rocks — brandy? Whiskey? You can’t tell. “Jean just laughed and kept trying to draw shit on his face.”

“You didn’t see the Snapchat he sent?” Eren asks after a gulp of his beer.

You shake your head, knowing damn well you’ve avoided using your phone for the last several days. 

Missed texts, abandoned tagged tweets, your streak in your mobile game ruined — anything so you wouldn’t be tempted to click that little number.

Damn it.

Enough wallowing.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink,” you state, disengaging with the table. “Anyone need anything?”

From your peripheral, you see a familiar mop of blonde hair walking towards your group. At his side is a much taller man sliding through the crowd, navigating the shorter one to the tiny table you’ve commandeered from the masses.

Armin and Jean.

Reiner and Annie shake their heads.

“Nope, I’m solid.”

“Good here.”

“Eren’s got the next round of shots,” Mikasa flatly states. “You’re fine.”

“Ha, hell yeah!” Eren exclaims, before he settles into a confused pause of silence. His head whips to Mikasa, blinking twice. “Wait, what?”

You don’t stick around for that aftermath.

Squeezing back into the lion’s den of people, you try not to get hit with any too-full beverages or waving hands.

You manage to weave and duck, eventually finding a small empty corner at the edge of the bar.

Success.

You rush to claim it before someone else can, your forearm on the wooden surface. 

Holding up two fingers to get the one of the three bartender’s attention, she nods once to acknowledge she sees you — she’ll get there eventually.

Two empty stools are available, so you scoot onto the one closest to the wall while waiting for your turn and drop your purse onto the other while you situate yourself. 

It’ll likely take a while if the busyness of the staff has anything to say about it.

An hour.

All you need to do is last one whole hour.

Chat a bit, mingle a little so everyone at work doesn’t think you’re a total goddamn recluse, then you can go—

“Is this seat taken?”

A question sounding to your left breaks your train of thought.

The seat.

The one next to you, where your purse lay.

Way to go, dumbass.

You answer on autopilot, not thinking twice about it.

“Oh — shit, yeah. I mean, no! No it’s not. I’m sorry.”

As your torso turns to grab your purse off of the deep red stool, your eyes drop to make sure nothing spills out of it.

“Hold on, let me just move—”

Your chin lifts to find yourself staring eye to eye with Levi.

Wait.

Levi?!

His cheekbones look even sharper under the warm hue of the bar lights overhead, lips parted like he was interrupted in asking a question.

The whites of his eyes grow more prominent with every passing second, making the blue-gray color of them stand out in stark contrast to the black curtain of fringe falling against his temples.

The realization that you spoke — that he’s seen your face before — seems to be hitting him like a goddamn freight train.

Your blood runs cold as your own eyes round.

“...my stuff.”

Weakly you finish your thought, wishing for nothing but death right now. 

Maybe a stranger, like a secret agent with wicked strength, will simply rush the bar and put you in a headlock and knock you out. 

Maybe your drink will be poisoned. 

You’re happy for anything so long as it’s swift.

Levi grunts in acknowledgement, slowly finding a spot on the empty stool beside yours.

Both of you swivel towards the bar, staring ahead.

Silence.

For what feels like hours, neither of you speak. The noise of the bar becomes overwhelming.

Somehow the surrounding voices feel amplified when you’ve lost your own. 

It’s trapped between a thousand apologies and half a dozen explanations that sound worse than the one before it.

You need to get up.

Excuse yourself out. 

Leave.

You won’t get your damn drink, but that’s fine so long as you’re not here.

“How’s your phone?”

Eventually Levi speaks, and you find yourself wishing he hadn’t. 

The effect of his voice is even worse in person — so buttery smooth, the gravel much deeper in his chest now that there isn’t a phone receiver to dilute it.

“Not… damaged,” you reply cautiously.

“Good.”

Another stretch of silence passes, and you forget about ordering drinks altogether.

Your eyes drop to view his folded hands, how the veins protrude even when resting.

His fingers are slender, strong, and hate yourself for yearning.

You have to apologize.

This is crossing a line.

You need to—

“So—”

“I’m canceling my subscription.”

You blurt a fraction later than Levi, proclaiming your innocence before he can ever condemn it.

When you meet his steely eyes, they squint with curiosity.

From the crown of your head to your chin, he assesses in a serpentine pattern before eventually finding your eyes once more.

“How come?” he asks, leaning further against the bar top.

“I— how come?”

You repeat his question in surprise.

Wildly gesturing towards the space between you with your hand, you snort.

“Uh, because that’s the right thing to do in this circumstance? Because seeing you in person is borderline unethical?”

He hums at that, not giving you much to work with.

“And for the record, I did not stalk you to this bar.”

“Didn’t think you did.”

“I’m actually here with friends—”

“Why didn’t you say something?” 

Levi interrupts, seemingly unbothered by your rambling. 

“At the gym. I can make an educated guess and say you knew it was me from the second I opened my trap, but you didn’t say anything.”

Why isn’t he freaking out?

Shouldn’t he be freaking out?

Just as you open your mouth to continue professing your innocence, the bartender walks over and points to you.

“What can I get you?”

You blanch, no longer remember how to order drinks. 

“I—”

“I got her tab,” Levi interrupts casually, tapping his index finger into the counter. “Two hard seltzers.”

Then he has the audacity to glance your way.

“Pineapple, right?”

Holy shit, he remembers your favorite flavor?

Is this a flex?

(It kind of feels like a flex; a way to say I know you, I was there.)

“...pineapple’s fine,” you murmur in return, hesitant.

The bartender doesn’t waste another second to rummage in the mini fridge on the other side of the bar for two slim cans.

For another agonizing thirty seconds, neither of you say a word.

He raises his chin to watch whatever sport’s game is playing overhead on the television.

You stare at your mirrored reflection in the bar backsplash.

This is real life.

The man you’ve spent hours talking to over the phone to, getting off to, is sitting right beside you, yet he isn’t trying to create distance.

If anything, he’s buying you a damn drink and asking you why.

Why didn’t you say something?

“I didn’t say anything at the gym because that would have been extremely inappropriate,” you finally argue under your breath, keeping the conversation strictly between you. “What would I have said? ‘Oh hey, guy I've paid to talk to on the phone every single night for the past week. Isn’t it crazy that I actually go to the same gym as you?’ That’s so creepy.” 

When he says nothing, still staring at you, you continue to bury yourself into a deeper grave.

“I mean, I thought you lived, like… a billion miles from me. Maybe from another planet.”

His brows pinch with amusement. 

“On Mars, or…?”

Oh.

He’s joking.

He’s actually joking about this.

You turn your chin, brow furrowed. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, and you have to force yourself to maintain eye contact.

“I wondered why you looked so scared of me on Friday. Thought maybe I smelled like shit from my workout.”

No, you want to say. Unfortunately it was the goddamn opposite.

“So you’re not…”

“Worried you’re a stalker trying to dox me because of my job?”

Levi blatantly finishes, and you wince.

Clearly he notices your embarrassment, because he sighs and relaxes his shoulders.

“I’m more pissed that you didn’t call all weekend, but then again, that’s the nature of the job.”

You both watch each other for a moment as the bartender returns, passing you both pineapple hard seltzers to nurse.

He pushes your can to your hand, nudging the icy-cold aluminum against your thumb, then picks up his own.

“The nature of the job?” you repeat, and he nods.

“People get bored. Run out of funds. Novelty wears off fast.” 

Levi shrugs, sipping his drink. 

“Just because you like talking to someone doesn’t mean they stick around. Wouldn’t blame 'em — shit gets expensive quick.”

“I just…”

You trail off, fighting to find the correct words to say.

“...I thought it wasn’t right to call again, knowing I knew what you looked like, so I didn’t.” 

Explaining yourself makes your tongue feel sluggish, like you were caught red-handed in a crime you didn’t know you’d committed until hindsight.

“I can leave you alone,” you decide to add, holding your drink tighter. “Like I said, I’m here with my friends and… after all, you were doing your job. A great job. You’re kind of the reason I’m even here in the first place.”

Levi’s brow knits, and your eyes widen.

“Not like that!”

“Pretty shit at asserting yourself even in person,” he murmurs like it’s a cheeky inside joke, and he sips once more. “So how am I the reason?”

He’s not angry.

Hell, he’s conversational.

Not the least bit worried about how you’ve both managed to get here.

Might as well be honest.

“Because I decided to stop being a little less scared of the world,” you confess softly. “It— That’s why I got to the gym so early on Friday. I wanted to start doing strength training, like how you talk about how much you love it. And… I thought, maybe, I’d spend more time with friends. Get out there more. Be more assertive — beyond right now, obviously.”

The dark-haired man’s expression smooths at that in a mixture of recognition and surprise.

The slide of his brow is beautiful, and your heart squeezes at the sight of an animated Levi in the flesh, just as you pictured.

“Do you have to go back to your friends right now?”

At first you don’t quite register his question, but then it causes butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

He looks left to right, as if trying to find your troop of buddies, before returning his attention back to you.

“You don’t… want me to leave?”

Levi shakes his head.

You feel bolted to your stool, unable to move even if you wanted to.

Simultaneously you sip your drinks, keeping eye contact.

It feels intimate.

Too intimate.

“So, then…” You start slowly. “What does this mean?”

“Well,” Levi begins, mulling it over in his head. “Means the whole provider-client relationship has basically gone to shit. You know my face, now I know yours.”

“Right.”

“Then again, that professionalism was already well into a shit pile way before Friday morning.”

You blink, not following. “Huh?”

“There’s nothing in the company policy about what to do when you stumble into your client at the damn local gym, but there sure as hell wasn’t anything about…”

Levi trails off, clenching his jaw in debate.

“...about crossing the line I practically leapt over. I’m good at my job because of my detachment, but this was the only time I bordered on unethical myself. That wasn’t fair to you, and I’m sorry.”

Sorry.

Levi… was sorry?

The words blurt faster than you can stop yourself. “Why the hell are you sorry?”

His eyes widen with a budding uncertainty.

“I�� just said I crossed the line?”

“When?”

“On the phone?”

“Okay, duh, but when?”

“Our last session.”

“So that was real.”

Levi actually got off to your voice.

If you weren’t in such shock about sitting here face-to-face with him at a local bar, then perhaps your ego would have, in fact, made a crash landing on Mars.

He considers his next words very carefully. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be.”

Then he sips more before shaking his head.

“Look. It’s… a job a friend of mine got me. I’m not a real-life Casanova or any of that shit. Hell, most of my time was spent training punks to fight in a boxing ring, so I never had the energy for relationships or dating.”

You can't hide your surprise. “You were a fighter?”

He makes a noncommittal face.

“Loosely. Personal trainer, training in general — fell into it after I got out of the service.”

“Right, you were in the army,” you murmur, and the edge of his lips upticks at your recollection.

“A couple of months ago the gym I worked for went under, money got tight, so I thought I’d try it out. Guess everyone says it's hard to teach an old dog new tricks, but bossing fighters around and fielding horny-ass callers ain't all that different."

Levi turns his chin just so to regard you under a wispy black fringe.

“I can usually predict what someone wants. The people that call this hotline shit, they’re in and out."

He takes a pause.

"You, though — the second I picked up your call, you threw me through a goddamn loop.”

You use your nail on your index finger to absently scratch the side of your thumb, attempting to process everything he’s telling you.

"First night we spoke, actually, I ended up at this very bar to contemplate why the fuck I wanted you to call back. Didn't want you blowing your money on it, obviously, it's overpriced and ridiculous, but — it clearly shook me up enough for me to take then ten-minute walk in the middle of the night in the first place."

Ten minutes.

That length of time strikes something in you.

“So, your… office building isn’t far?” you slowly ask.

Levi shakes his head. “No, no office. I work remotely. Kind of the reason why I took the gig in the first place. I wouldn’t do this shit if I had an audience in a damn two-by-four cube.”

You’re not sure what possesses you to confess it, but you point past your shoulder. 

“My apartment complex is actually six blocks down the street.”

Ten minutes away, is your implication.

His hand had raised to sip from his seltzer can, but it halts immediately.

His eyes narrow. 

“The complex on Junction Ave?”

“Yeah," you say.

“Right across from—”

“The Reiss deli.”

That narrowed gaze shoots wide. “You’re shitting me.”

“You say the word shit a lot.”

“Baby, I live there,” he blurts.

“Wait, what?”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to nearly pop out of your skull.

(You’re too shocked to even process what he called you.)

He huffs in a brief laugh, shaking his head.

“You gotta be fucking with me.”

“I’m not! Wait, you live in the same building as me?”

“You said Thomas was your goddamn mailman,” Levi states. “Do you know how many fucking Thomas the Mailmen there are in this world? I didn’t think we’d have the same one.”

Holy shit.

Oh, holy shit.

You sit up taller in your seat. “Wait, what floor?”

“Sixteenth.”

“I’m on the tenth!” you exclaim in your shock. “Holy shit, so you…”

Have been right above me this entire time.

Your phone buzzes, ruining your train of thought. 

Reflexively you look down to see the preview of Annie’s message over your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Did u die?

Right.

You’re here with friends.

���Friends wondering where you are?” Levi inquiries at the sight of your growing frown.

“Yeah, give me a sec.”

You swipe the screen north and type a reply.

[ME]: Talking to someone. Be over in a bit.

Annie’s reply is immediate, and you turn your phone from Levi’s view in mortification.

[A. LEONHART]: 🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

[A. LEONHART]: WINGMAN??? NEED????

[ME]: NO! Do not come over here!

[A. LEONHART]: ok ok ok noted

[A. LEONHART]: i’ll keep jaeger to the left end of the bar

“Looks urgent.”

“Huh?” 

You shoot a glance back up to Levi, who’s now angled towards you with his cheek squished against his clenched fist. His elbow props him up on the bar top. 

“No! No. It’s just my friend Annie. She — is actually the one who gave me the number to that hotline in the first place,” you confess.

Levi hums in that delicious way you’ve come to crave. 

“I don’t want to derail your evening. I’ve already taken you away from them for a while.”

Your heart is hesitant, but it grows despite yourself. 

“If you want me to stay, then I’ll stay,” you quietly state. “I… liked talking to you. I mean, beyond the whole — you know.”

He nods once, setting his drink down. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t want you to disappear, either. My job’s not exactly corporate. Not many people can separate fantasy from reality. With you, I never had to bullshit what it was, but…”

Levi trails off, sighing heavily.

“...but I also understand if it’s just a fantasy, for you.”

Something nestles itself between the lines of his words. 

Something he isn’t saying outright, sussing out if he has any right to try.

“Do you really mean that, Levi?”

That sigh turns into a curbed huff, smile fleeting but enough to bring your stomach butterflies. 

“Damn. Sounds nice, hearing my name in person.”

Oh, sweet Jesus.

You could scream into your damn seltzer, but you decide to play it as cool as you possibly can.

“So Levi’s your real name?”

He nods.

“Not creative enough to come up with an alias."

Levi shifts, rolling out a shoulder.

"But to answer your question, I’m saying I… yeah, I mean it. I wouldn’t mind asking you out for coffee sometime, given we seem to run on the same gym schedule as it is. Just didn’t know if you wanted to leave it at the hotline and call it a day — no pun intended.”

Are you seriously hearing what he’s saying right now?

Does Levi want to step out of a fantasy and into your reality?

Your lips part with a million questions only to end up blurting a very stupid one: 

“Are you single?”

That earns a bark of a laugh, causing his head to gloriously drop back, exposing his neck.

(All you want to do is sink your teeth into it.)

“Yes. Very,” he promises. “Are you, still?”

“Very,” you promise back.

“And my job doesn’t bother you?”

You haven't quite gotten that far, logistically, but it's only a coffee.

He isn't asking to marry you.

Besides, he talks about it like any other office job. You can't find any ill feeling toward it.

“Work is work,” you argue with a one-shoulder shrug. “Sure, it’s unconventional, but… I’m so used to not knowing what I want, or second-guessing what’s good for me, and I don’t think I’ve ever second guessed a damn thing with you.”

Bringing the seltzer back up to his mouth, Levi smirks against the can, mulling something over. 

You smile in return, sipping your drink.

It's the truth.

He may not really know you, but he knows you.

Just as you're beginning to think you know him.

“Well, if you don’t get too wasted with your friends tonight—”

He steals a ballpoint pen from a dampened closed check from his left side.

Then he snatches a napkin from one of the bartending stations with lemons, limes, and straws.

Hunching over, he scribbles on said napkin, before turning a cheek to you.

“—and you end up going to the gym tomorrow morning—”

Levi then sits up taller, folds the napkin, and reaches for your hand resting on the bar top. 

His skin is smooth. 

Heated. 

Your entire body melts to his whim as he turns your wrist over, palm facing up.

One by one his fingers unfurl your fingers, nestles the napkin in your hand, then closes your fist for safe keeping.

“—give me a call.”

Leaving a twenty on the bar counter, Levi lets go of your hand to slip off of his stool.

You say nothing as you watch him give you one last once-over, expression full of admiration, before turning into the sea of people.

A call.

Flexing your hand, you uncrinkle the napkin to read the number etched black on white.

Not the Scout Services Hotline.

No — his number.

Your attention flies back to the original spot where you've now properly abandoned your friends, but you know they'll forgive you for your absence.

Annie knows.

She'll cover for your abrupt disappearance.

On autopilot you yank out your phone, bypassing the texts from your friends, emails from work, and tap the little telephone icon.

Zero through nine appear.

Hastily you type the number, hesitation long gone, and press send.

One ring.

Two.

By the third, it abruptly cuts. You hear shuffling in the background. Cars beeping.

“Hello, Levi Ackerman speaking.”

Levi Ackerman.

Knowing his full name warms your heart.

Standing from your stool, you rise to your toes to search the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Levi stands there on the sidewalk, holding his phone up to his ear.

“Hi, Levi. It’s formerly Scarlet.”

Immediately he turns to the bar, searching the very same window.

Searching for you.

You smile to yourself.

"My schedule just opened up. I know it's a little late for some coffee, but..."

Trailing off, your teeth catch your bottom lip.

Be selfish.

"Are you free for some tea now?”

.

FIN

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

How are we feeling, Hotliner Nation? I teased that this may not be the end of this story. I'm not against writing a sequel, whether to continue the immediate story or time skip, but I wanted to see what people thought before I spoke too soon. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed our hotline journey together.

In the meantime I invite you to follow me here or subscribe to my AO3, as I have other projects in the works (including finishing the final chapters of my canon-based amnesia au with Levi, Silver Underground.)

The last two months have been such a wonderful journey, and I thank every single one of you for engaging the way you have. I never anticipated such a frenzy when I started P4, so sincerely, from the bottom of my heart - thank you for the comments, reblogs, inbox mssgs, etc. Every reblog gives this writer wings.

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |11|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Talks of injuries, talks of killing, talks of attack

Word Count: 2.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

You sat on a bed in the ambulance as you got stitched up, again. For the second time, in one day, you had to have your wound from the previous day restitched, then on top of that you needed the wound on your leg stitched. For once you got lucky and the cut on your arm didn’t go deep enough for stitches, the medic just cleaned it and wrapped it.

Much to Sam’s displeasure you refused to go to the hospital, again. You were fine though, you had a slight limp at the moment but once you got used to the pain, you’d be fine, you just needed to walk it off. Besides, you couldn’t waste time going to the hospital, it would take too long and two attacks in a day meant Ghostface could do it again. You weren’t about to leave Sam and her friends alone just to get properly patched up.

You hopped out of the ambulance with a groan, clenching your jaw as you tried not to focus on the pain that radiated throughout your leg. You walked off, trying not to flinch with each step. You looked down, pulling at your shirt as you took in the new blood stain from your torn stitches, which wasn’t nearly as bad as the blood on your pants from that stab wound. If people didn’t know you had literally just been attacked, they’d probably assumed you committed a murder.

“Survived to tell the tale again,” Kirby said, approaching you just like last time. “Seems Ghostface got some hits in,” she tilted her head, gesturing at the bandage on your arm.

You held up your arm, giving the bandage a look, then scoffed. “Cheap shots,” you said with an eye roll.

Kirby gave a knowing hum. “That’s how he does things.”

“I’m learning that,” you mumbled.

You would be prepared next time. The first time, you didn’t have anything, but you caught him off guard, until the second one appeared. The second time you were caught off guard, forced to run into a territory filled with civilians, you won that one, but you didn’t finish the job. And now the third time, you were once again caught off guard, without weapons, your only priority had been to make sure the others got away, taking Ghostface out was your second priority. The fourth time would be different, you would make sure of it. The next time you went up against Ghostface would be the last, for every single one of them.

“You got everyone out,” Kirby said, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Not everyone,” you whispered. You looked across the way where you saw the coroner wheeling Quinn’s body out on the stretcher. A sheet was covering her face, but you knew she was under there. Bailey looked distraught as they stopped next to him, allowing him to say goodbye one last time.

You narrowed your eyes, Bailey was crying over his dead daughter, there was nothing out of the ordinary, it was the reaction anyone would expect from a father. Bailey had been the first on the scene this time, by several minutes before anyone else, as if he was already on his way there. There was a chance that was the case, he could have been coming by to see his daughter or update everyone on the case. There was something tugging at the back of your mind though, telling you not to take it at face value, Bailey was the last to arrive after the bodega attack, but the first on the scene to the apartment, which happened to be when his daughter was murdered.

You furrowed your brow; you and the girls had gone back to the apartment right after the attack. The only person who had left the apartment was Ethan, you knew the twins wouldn’t let some random stranger into the apartment, besides Quinn’s hookup, who was found dead in the bathtub. That meant Ghostface had to either have been in the apartment the whole time, which was improbable, there was no way he could have stayed hidden for so long. The other option was that he got in another way, possibly through one of the windows, which meant he had to climb up the fire escape. Your eyes tracked the fire escape from the ground up to where you knew Sam’s apartment was. The ladder wasn’t pushed down but the dumpster was close enough that if Ghostface jumped up on it he could have pulled himself up onto the ladder. It still should have made enough noise for someone to notice, but no one did, not until the phone call came in.

“I should get to work,” Kirby said. You nodded and watched her walk off towards the crime scene.

You looked around the area, seeing Chad with Mindy as she got patched up in the back of another ambulance. A medic checked out Anika right outside the ambulance, but you knew the worst Anika probably had was a concussion from being slammed into the wall. Sam and Tara weren’t too far from the ambulance as they talked to an officer. You noticed Danny standing off to the side by the gate and decided to walk over to him.

“Hey,” you said, giving him a nod.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, nodding at your arm.

“It’s nothing,” you waved it off.

“Almost bleeding out it my apartment doesn’t seem like nothing.”

You chuckled, you couldn’t help but nod. The cut on your arm and the tearing of your stitches really was nothing. The real issue was the stab wound on your leg, the knife had gone deep and was bleeding quite a bit before the medics got to you. Honestly, if you didn’t get help when you did you would have most definitely bled out, not that you were going to mention that to Sam or anyone else, but it was definitely something you should have gone to the hospital for.

“I just wanted to thank you,” you said. “That ladder stunt was crazy,” you smiled, shaking your head. “But it was fucking brilliant man.”

Danny chuckled and scratched the back of his neck like he was embarrassed. “Me? What about you?” he gestured at you. “Jumping from the middle of the ladder? Now, that,” he pointed at you. “That is fucking insane.”

You couldn’t argue with him there. That was one of the craziest stunts you had ever done, and you had jumped out of planes and helicopters before, though you always had a parachute. You were bleeding out, the ladder was unstable, if you had missed, if you didn’t fall to your death, you probably would have broken most of the bones in your body.

“Do you need a change of clothes?” Danny’s question caught you off guard. “I got some you could borrow since you look…” he gestured at all of you. You looked down at your bloody self, you wouldn’t be able to go back to your house and change again.

“Thanks,” you said. “But I got some in my car,” you pointed to your vehicle down the street. “But can I change in your apartment?” Danny nodded.

You made your way over to your car, fighting through the pain that shot through your leg at every step. You opened the back door and unzipped the duffle bag you kept back there; you made sure to always have a change of clothes and anything else you would need in your car. You grabbed your spare plain black t-shirt and black cargo pants. You were sure you’d look rather intimidating walking around in all black, but you needed to be ready for a fight.

You followed Danny up to his apartment, grimacing at the pool of blood on his hard wood floor. You would have to make sure to pay to get that cleaned up, you knew how hard blood was to get out of things. The cops had walked the apartment when they first arrived but because the attack didn’t happen there, they finished up after a few minutes and made their way over to the actual crime scene.

You made your way into Danny’s bathroom to quickly changed. You pulled off your bloodied shirt and had to do a double take when you caught site of yourself in the mirror. You were in great shape, spending most of your time training, when you weren’t deployed, but your body had been through a lot. The stab wound on your side and the cut down your arm was nothing compared to the rest of you. Even the wound on your leg didn’t seem like much. Your body was litter with scars from knife and gun shot wounds, all the times you almost died. You subconsciously brought a hand to the tattoo over your heart, it was the insignia of army special forces, with the initials of your teammates throughout. As your finger brushed over the tattoo you could feel the scar underneath, the bullet that should have killed you.

You shook your head, pushing the memories down as far as they would go. You couldn’t be thinking about that, Sam needed you at your best, you couldn’t let your own trauma get in the way of that. You gripped the sink until your knuckles turned white and kept your eyes pinched shut until you had completely pushed everything away. When you looked up again, you recognized the soldier in the mirror, the one that would do whatever it took to make sure the mission succeeded and right now the mission was saving Sam and her friends. You quickly threw on the clean clothes and made your way back down to the others.

“You fuck with my family, you die,” Bailey said just as you walked out of the apartment.

You furrowed your brow as he talked to Sam. You knew he was upset; it was natural for a father to want revenge on his daughter. However, it hadn’t even been an hour since Quinn was killed, it didn’t make sense for him to be so cold and logically already.

You made your way over to Sam and Tara’s side just as Gale Weathers walked up. “I’m glad you’re okay,” Gale said.

“Don’t even start,” Sam snapped.

“I’m not here for that.” Her gaze flicked to you; you could tell she still wanted to ask you questions but she didn’t.

“Bullshit.”

“Truly,” Gale tried again. “Off the record,” she rolled her eyes. “I found something you’ll all want to see.”

Gale didn’t say what she wanted to show everyone, she just said it was connected to Ghostface. Sam and Tara began gathering the others, you couldn’t help but furrow your brow when Ethan appeared. Chad kept flicking a glare at him, you weren’t sure what happened while you were changing but if Chad was suspicious of Ethan, then whatever happened certainly couldn’t have been bad. Once everyone was gathered you all made your way to the location Gale sent.

You stood close to Sam as everyone gathered at the front of an alleyway, as Gale explained the two kids from Tara’s class who were killed rented the building. It was broad daylight, making an attack unlikely but not impossible. Attacking someone during the day was a risk, higher probability of being seen, but it was unexpected, it was a way to catch the target off guard.

Gale and Kirby argued over how Gale found the place. You knew Gale was a good reporter and reporters had the habit of finding things they shouldn’t, but the fact that Kirby didn’t know the place existed was concerning, considering she was in the FBI and specialized in Ghostface cases. You glanced over everyone else, Chad stood next to Ethan, who had his hands shoved in his pockets, looking uncomfortable and out of place as usual. Mindy had her arm wrapped around Anika, whispering something in her ear. Anika hadn’t said a word since the attack, she just had a distant look in her eyes as her entire body shook. You had seen that look plenty of times, in soldiers after their first fight, in survivors after an attack, it wasn’t easy to get past, but everyone did eventually, with time.

You followed the group down the alley, with Gale leading the way. Gale swiped a card, unlocking a large metal door at the end of the alley. The door led down a dimly lit hallway, the dated red wallpaper was peeling, revealing the stained drywall underneath. You looked down, there was a thin dark red carpet to match the wall, though you could feel how sticky it was every time you lifted your foot. You came to a stop, furrowing your brow as Gale swung open a door and stepped into a metal cage of some sort, before swiping the card again and opening another metal door.

“What is this place?” Mindy asked.

“Just wait,” Gale said, before disappearing. She walked off to the side, a second later there was a loud click that echoed throughout the room, and then all the lights came on.

You couldn’t help the way your mouth fell open, it was some sort of old movie theater. “It’s a shrine,” Gale said as she rejoined the group. You looked around, seeing she had flipped the breaker.

“Holy shit,” Mindy whispered.

The theater was filled with display cases, all of them full of stuff you assumed was from previous Ghostface attacks. It even seemed that whoever created the shrine dressed up mannequins in the actual clothes from the killers and victims, at least that’s what you gathered from the bloodstains on the clothes in question. All the displays led straight to the stage, and in center stage was a set of nine Ghostface costumes, each of them in their own special display case.

You walked through the displays, your eyes scanning over all the information. You had heard bits and pieces from the news over the years, but you never knew it was anything like this. Whoever these new people were, they clearly had done their research, they seemed to have planned everything quite thoroughly. Everything from all previous Ghostface attacks was in one room, that definitely wasn’t a coincidence, you knew something bigger was at play, everything was too easy.

Kirby said she had been investigating the two college kids, they were stupid enough to get on Kirby’s radar before they ever even killed someone. Yet, this place was apparently theirs and hidden so well even Kirby couldn’t find it. On top of that, even if they were rich kids, there seemed to be too much evidence, there was no way they got everything by simply bribing cops.

You stopped at one of the displays, there were sketches of Sam and Tara. You figured it must have been from the attack last year. In the display was also crime scene photos, and photos of Tara. You flicked your eyes to Tara as she made her way up the stage towards her sister, just based on the photos she had endured one hell of an attack. Your eyes then fell on a picture of some guy, smiling at the camera, the nameplate at the bottom read ‘Richie Kirsch’ Sam’s ex-boyfriend. You wrinkled your nose at the picture, you didn’t know the full story, didn’t know anything about the guy, but you didn’t like him from a simple photo.

“So, what,” Chad said. “Someone killed these guys and took over?” you made your way up to the center of the stage where everyone else had already gathered.

“If this were a normal Stab movie,” Mindy said. “This would be the killers lair.”

“But this isn’t a normal Stab movie,” Kirby said.

This wasn’t a movie at all. You might not have been used to this whole thing, but you didn’t get all the movie references. This wasn’t a movie, even if some psycho was inspired by a movie, this was real life, real people died, and Ghostface was just a normal guy behind a mask. You wouldn’t deny that the place certainly looked like a lair, they were definitely right about that part. The idea that two kids created the whole space, only to end up dead and have someone else take up the Ghostface mantle and know about this room just didn’t seem plausible. All your senses were telling you to take nothing at face value, that there was something deeper going on.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess

@luvwanda @rqizzu @riyaexee @bella423 @rayisaknight

@assgradiangod @canyonyodeler

[mellosdrawings]

Can we hear more about the N2 squad? I love them :)

(Side note: Can we get a Trey doodle in your style? I just want to see what he looks like drawn by you. Love your drawings!)

(Side note p2: you can ignore the first side note if you wish!)

More about the N2 squad uuuuuh *check my notes*

Leona sleeps in very weird positions like a cat and often kicks his legs around. He's also a furnace so it's not rare that he ends in the middle of a cuddle pile, especially since he likely won't get up at all during the night.

(It's not rare that Jamil and Vil complain about having been kicked during the night)

Jamil and Leona regularly play chess together. Jamil picked up on the rules very fast but still can't quite win against Leona. He regularly has false joys before Leona inevitably crushes all his hopes because he just refuses to go easy with him.

Vil grooms both Jamil and Vil to de-stress. Paints their nails, brushes and styles their hair, plays dolls with them whenever they agree to try out clothes or jewelries for him. He doesn't want to change them but his love language is just... grooming. So that's what he does.

Jamil was a bit shy about it at first but he certainly doesn't dislike it. Leona playfully fights him a bit about it before he just gives up and lets him do whatever he wants.

Leona and Vil go back a year or so already. They've dated on and off, been sex buddies, broke off in big flourishes, etc. They only properly settle together after they bring Jamil to the mix. Despite being his own kind of mess, Jamil works well to glue them all together.

At one point Leona brought Jamil to help in his club coz there was a few sick guys and they couldn't train properly because of low numbers. He knew Jamil was good at flying but turns out Jamil is actually really good at Spelldrive so now he regularly kidnaps him to play together.

Vil (and Rook) love to watch them fly around and have fun. (Plus those clothes are so cool looking please who wouldn't be in love?!)

(Side note: Hm, well, I have a little Trey in Spelldrive getup from the AU I'm preparing about my and @the-fab-fox 's OCs?)

(I'll draw him more in time, promise <3)

[yxxdel]

𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐇𝐎𝐓 FT. SAE ITOSHI 𖦹°‧ ** you can’t bear physical contact during summer, it’s just too hot. your boyfriend think otherwise.

W/C : 1.3k

C/W : none, pure fluff, reader is feeling insecure (?)

A/N : first fluffy post hihi

𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 a lot of things.

He hated weak and annoying people; he hated when his body was too exhausted to train; and he hated when someone raised their voice at him.

But one of the things he hated the most, was the summer. The air was too hot to even breathe, his clothes stuck to his body due to sweat, he couldn’t train properly and the list went on..

But if he hated summer so much, it was for one particular reason.

Sae preferred the cold weather, not only because it matched his personality but also because he could be near you all the time.

Your cute eyes looking up at him and asking him to warm your hands— he loved that. He loved wrapping his arms around you and kissing your red nose.

So yes, Sae hated summer just because he couldn’t be close to you.

Every time he tried to hold you, you gently pushed him away, saying that you were too hot.

So here he was, sulking like a baby on the couch as he was watching one of his previous games.

Yet he couldn’t concentrate; his mind was always drawn to you.

He let out a sigh as he leaned back against the sofa, closing his eyes. Sae didn’t consider himself clingy, but when you refused to kiss or hug him ?

Damn, he was like a child.

Hearing your footsteps, his body immediately rose as he saw you walking toward the kitchen, in underwear.

Well, him too, he was shirtless and in short, and was slowly melting because of the weather .

He titled his head to the side slightly, his teal gaze admiring your curves.

He called your name in a small whine, walking behind you as you put your empty glass on the counter, smiling.

“What is it, baby?”

You noticed his pout, something unusual.

But when he tried to wrap his arms around you, you put your hand on his chest and gently got away from his embrace.

“See? You don’t love me anymore.”

Sae crossed his arms as his tone was cold, like always, but still soft in a way he only used for you.

You giggled as you shook your head, grinning because you found him so cute.

“I love you, Sae. It’s just that I can’t bear the heat of your body right now. I know you want to cuddle, and I’m sorry.”

He only scoffed, grabbing your wrist to bring you closer. He rested his chin on your bare shoulder, his arms wrapping tightly around you.

“You can take it, it’s not like you’re gonna die.”

He mumbled, not even caring if his body was starting to get hot too.

He wanted your touch, so he will get your touch. Winter, autumn, spring, and summer.

Your cheeks started to become red, both from the sentence he used and the sudden wave of heat running through your body.

You smiled, grabbing his shoulders.

“Sae, baby, I’m serious. Plus we’re both sweating, I mustn't smell good. “

The midfielder only pulled you closer when you tried to push him away again, shaking his head.

“No, you don’t smell bad.”

For him, you always smelled like a delicate flower. Like tulip. He didn’t even know why, since you didn’t own any perfume with this scent.

Maybe it was something psychological for him.

You couldn’t help but smile, finding it adorable how needy he was for your touch. Caressing his scalp, you sighed.

“Alright, let’s take a shower together, alright ? So you can hug me without the risk of me fainting.”

He immediately raised his head from your neck, his eyes narrowing.

Oh, Sae liked that idea.

“Ok.”

He then took a step back, leaving you with the space you needed.

You inhaled deeply, showing him a sweet smile. You noticed his eyes running down your body, and you felt yourself blushing again.

“Can I kiss you now ? Or in the shower ?”

His question surprised you, and you chuckled.

“You can do both, but wait to be under the cold water to actually kiss me.”

He immediately stepped closer the moment you agreed, but his face stopped inches away from yours at your last words.

With a frown, he asked you:

“What do you mean ‘actually kiss you’ ?”

Your fingertips trailed from his collarbone down to his chest, like a feather, and it made him shiver.

“Well, you know. Kisses with you always end up with your body on top of mine, so I can only give you a peck right now.”

You could laugh at how random the conversation ended up, but you loved it. He crossed his arms, his stoic expression staring down at you.

“Then from now on, I will hate your peck.”

You laughed, clearly amused about how much he looked like a child behaving like this.

“Is that so ? So I’m not going to give you my small kisses before you go training, or when I leave the house ?”

Sae stayed silent for a moment, evaluating the situation with his tongue pocking his cheek.

He then simply leaned in, turning his face slightly so you were facing his cheek.

“I changed my mind. I want the small kiss now, and the big kiss for under the shower.”

Shaking your head, you leaned in and met his skin with your soft lips. Stepping back, you bit your lips as you saw his ear became the same color as his hair.

“Let’s go then, a cold and long shower awaits us.”

He grabbed your wrist as you walked toward the bathroom, following you like a puppy with a small smile tucking his lips.

Inside the bathroom, you were now curiously more shy.

It wasn’t the first time you and Sae took a shower together, but each time it still made you nervous.

What if he didn’t like your body ? What if he saw you the way you saw yourself ?

Those questions ran through your mind all the time.

Oh, but foolish you were for thinking that.

Sae adored your body; he worshiped every single inch of it. Either it was your chest, stomach, thighs, or ass, he wanted to kiss it all the time.

Yes, he loved your body, but that wasn’t what he loved the most. Because, above all, he loved you.

Sensing something wrong, Sae held your hands in his, his lips flying above your skin.

In a heavy silence, he left a trail of soft kisses from your knuckles to your shoulder. Without breaking eye contact, he gently grabbed the strap of your bra and pulled it down slowly.

When both of you were naked, he held your chin.

“Look at me, love.”

And you did because, of course, you trusted him.

In the shower, he cleaned your back and you did his.

The cold water soothed both of you during the hot summer.

His pink hair stuck to his forehead because of the water, making him even more attractive.

“And now, do I get my kiss ?”

He said it teasingly as he gently pushed your back against the shower wall, his finger putting away the hair in front of your eyes.

Closing your eyes, you kissed him. He let out a faint groan as he deepened the kiss, his hands exploring your body.

Well, he missed you—it has been only two days—but he still missed your body. Like the touch-deprived person that he was.

Further in the day, after the shower healed you from the heat of your apartment, you were both lying in bed.

You randomly remembered that you bought a big ventilator; Sae almost killed you for that.

You turned it on in the bedroom so your needy boyfriend could finally cuddle with you.

So here you were, his arms wrapped around you and his face on your chest, sleeping like a baby.

So no, you weren’t on the ‘what Sae Itoshi hates’ list, but on the contrary, you were on the ‘rare things Sae Itoshi likes’.

And you were at the top of that list.

© yxxdel 2024 — all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, or redistribute my work without permission.

[p3achfilm]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈- in the midst of july, your partner proposes a road trip, which initially goes smoothly until you both find yourselves lost. as tensions rise along with sexual desires, the situation becomes more…sticky

𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈╰┈➤ connie x black y/n

𝒸𝓌ׂ╰┈➤ wordy plot,car sex,oral sex,praise, choking,fingering, dirtytalk,unprotected sex, fingering,18+

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ׂ╰┈➤ 4k

!

“admit it, connie—we are totally lost!” you muttered in exasperation, slapping the big map onto the dashboard, your eyebrows drawn tightly.

your phone lost service hours ago as your determined boyfriend drove deeper into the desert terrain. you observed the map without understanding a single thing. a painful throb pulsed through your head, either from the pounding stress of being lost or the relentless california heat.

the sun's heat kissed your glistening brown skin, and you were glad you’d applied ‘black girl sunscreen’ on both yourself and your boyfriend before you set off.you knew that when connie had suggested a road trip, some bullshit was bound to happen.

the first problem was the choice of transport,connie’s car.a white 1992 chevrolet camaro rs ,notorious for breaking down more than running.the second issue was that the heating and air conditioning didn't function properly, and california's heat was relentless.

the final issue involved the mysterious sputtering and jerking it did at times. you’d have to get into the driver seat to steer while connie pushed from behind. it was practically a death trap. you suggested driving your car, but connie refused.

you wanted to challenge him,but when you looked into those puppy-dog hazel eyes, you couldn’t say no.

having been childhood sweethearts with connie since preschool, you'd think you would be used to it.yet, after all these years it still tugged at your heartstrings.you vividly remembered that fateful day you fell off the swing.loud wails of despair upon seeing scraped skin and a rip in your new pink dress. a tap on your shoulder caused you to seize your sniffles and turn around, eyes settling on a boy with short hair.

he had grabbed your hand and helped you up, presenting a flower from behind his back with a 'tada!'. it seemed ridiculous now, but back then it left young you absolutely smitten with the boy.

from that moment on, you two were practically joined at the hip. you guys went through all of middle, elementary, and high school together. freshman year, connie had finally decided to ask you to be his girlfriend. you two landed your first apartment together right after high school, and you couldn't be more happier sharing your own space with your partner.

your gaze landed on the picture of connie and you,photo tucked into his speedometer.

that night felt like yesterday—you remembered the thunder and how scared you were. you called connie and told him that your parents weren't home and you were scared, he immediately reassured you. his sweet voice assuring he’d be there in ten minutes. that night had consisted of snacks, face masks, and making love.

you thought it was adorable that he'd printed off the picture you guys had taken that night, even turning it into a charming little polaroid.

“we’re not lost.” connie insisted, bringing you back to reality.

“right, any moment now we'll have to face inbred mutant freaks.all thanks to your dreadful navigational skills,“ you pulled down the sun visor and inspected your appearance. your makeup was creasing around the corners of your mouth,you frowned.if you had known it would be this hot, you would've opted out on a full face.

thank god for sweat-proof lace glue.

connie gave you a side-eye as you used the beauty blender to smooth out the creases. snapping the sun visor back, you glared at him with raised eyebrows and folded arms.

“you’re so fake,when were you gonna tell me i looked like a greasy pizza?” you questioned.

“i don't understand what you're getting at.you look beautiful as always,” connie reassured his girlfriend. he genuinely meant it; you were beautiful to him. your dark hair pulled into a ponytail, sides pulled out to frame your heart-shaped face. you attempted to intimidate him with a look, but your big doe eyes and pouty lips made you appear more like an annoyed puppy.

you wore an orange sundress that hugged your curves and accentuated your figure. you had chose not to wear a bra and connie could see the outline of your nipples. those large hoops he loved to play with dangeled in your ears.your lips shone with a clear gloss, lined with a brown pencil accompanied by butterscotch and cinnamon roll butter gloss.

connie squinted at you.

“actually, you do look a bit ugly”

you rolled your eyes at him and turned toward your window, letting the wind refresh you with its breeze.

“come on, lighten up! i'm kidding“ connie grinned and playfully poked your side.

“just trying to lighten the mood baby.” he said as he continued to poke you.each time you slapped his fingers away he would purposefully swerve the car. you sighed, believing the car might blow its head-gasket from the stress, and reluctantly shifted your focus to the man who’d been bothering you.

hunger gnawed at your stomach and caused it to growl.if only connie hadn't gotten you two lost.a juicy burger would already be in front of you,your mouth drooled at the thought.

“yeah me too.” connie mumbled at your stomach.

with his gaze remaining on the road, connie placed his warm hand on your thigh, causing your stomach to somersault. you didn't realize your fascination with hands until you started dating connie in high school.

you ruled it out as a fetish because you only liked his hands. they were large and veiny, with neatly trimmed nails finished in clear polish. connie cared a lot about his appearance, which you found endearing and sexy.

and just like that, your cunt was watering and you were horny. fearing you'd soak through your dress due to the lack of underwear, you squeezed your thighs together tightly. connie noticed you fidgeting and glanced over, his face flooded with concern.

you see connie and you had placed a bet during an argument two weeks ago. the two of you agreed not to have sex for a month, and whoever gave in first had to do the dishes for three months.

he had called you a spoiled bratty nympho freak that couldn’t keep your legs shut. just because you liked a little sex here and there didn’t mean you were a nympho. you would prove him wrong.

connie sure hadn’t made it easy for you to keep your hands to yourself, strutting around the apartment shirtless with that beautiful toned body. his sweats always hanging teasingly low, just enough to reveal trimmed pubes and a sculpted v-line.he’d oh so conveniently have to squeeze past you occasionally and you’d feel his dick in your back.

you’d be making breakfast and he’d wrap those inked arms around you. soft kisses peppered along your neck as he held you close to him.

it was driving you nuts not being able to touch him.

“you okay babe?” connie’s voice intruded your thoughts.

“im fine, just hungry“

you weren’t lying, you were hungry for meat. just a different kind of meat.

“let me pull over and we’ll look at the map together.there has to be a diner somewhere around here.” connie frowned. he felt bad that you were hungry because it was partially his fault. he blamed the other half on the poorly written map.

you had offered to pack a couple of sandwiches and other various snacks for the road, but connie insisted it wasn’t necessary. he’d planned for you guys to stop at an array of diners.he thought it’d be fun going to different places to eat, but he didn’t expect he’d get so turned around. they’d been driving for eight hours, two of those hours bickering about their location.

connie seemed to loom over you at six four as he spread the map across the hood of the car, muscles flexing as he doodled on it with a pen. you gulped, looking at him.you were standing behind him so you were free to gawk in secret.

his eyebrows were pushed together in concentration, jaw clenched as he rested his body against the car hood. he wore a black compression shirt, and you could see every fucking muscle he had under there. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was teasing you with the black sweatpants he had on.

he knew they were your favorite.

each time the wind would blow, you’d get a hint of his smell, husky with a hint of spice.

it was fucking intoxicating.

you wished he would fuck you right here on the hood of his car. you didn’t care if people would see you getting your poor pussy pounded by him. you just needed him.

connie snapped in your face.

“y/n,are you even listening?”

“of course” you lied, acting like you weren’t daydreaming about connie pulling your dress up.he rolled his eyes at you, annoyed that he’d have to repeat himself.

“i said i know where we are, there’s a diner forty minutes from here” connie repeated, rolling the map up and tucking it underneath his arm.

“good, let’s get back on the highway” you muttered in embarrassment at having been caught staring like a creep.

you two were back on the highway, his hand placed on your thigh. the car had been moving for what seemed like ages, and you couldn’t take it anymore.you were bursting at the seams in sexual frustration.connie was right, you were a fucking sex addict and you needed him.

you unlatched your seatbelt and leaned over the armrest, a gasp leaving connie’s lips as you opened the fly of his sweatpants and pulled him out. bastard knew what he was doing, he didn’t even have underwear on.

“i knew you’d crack you fucking nympho, now suck daddy's dick. show me how much you missed it” he rasped, one hand burying into your hair and the other grasping the wheel. your mouth watered at his pink glistening tip, and it was clear he had been struggling to refrain himself as well.

you just had had happened to crack first.

you licked your lips,holding the base of his dick and swirling your tongue around the tip.

“a-ah shit,missed this mouth s’much.” he groaned out, clutching the steering wheel. he wasn’t sure if it was safe to be doing this while driving, but he didn’t care.

the way you were swallowing and choking on his cock had him mewling out in pleasure. his tip hitting the back of your throat repeatedly, and you nearly threw up but held it down. if having the back of your throat bruised meant you were going to get your pussy stretched out, you didn’t care. your face was a saliva covered mess as you slurped and sucked.

“mm’ you’re sucking my dick so fucking good,like the little slut you are” connie cooed rubbing your back reassuringly. tears prickled your eyes as connie violated your throat,a wet slurp sound each time your mouth lowered onto him. you decided to give your poor throat a break and grabbed his dick with both hands, stroking and twisting at the same time.

his eyes snapped closed in bliss as he forgot he was driving, his head resting back against the headrest. connie suddenly jerked forward as the car began sliding off the road, you continued stroking him, and he whined as his tip dripped pre-cum. you knew it was risky doing this, knowing there was a chance connie could lose control of the wheel. but you didn’t care you were going to suck him dry. it was his job to watch the road, not yours.

“s-shit i almost crashed and you’re sucking my cock like a whore.” connie groaned in bliss. he was nearing his end with each tug of your soft hands on his dick,he found it harder and harder to control the car. he wanted nothing more than to buck his hips into your mouth and use you as his personal pocket pussy.

he veered to the side of the empty road and shut off the car. instantly he grabbed your head with both hands, all you could do was open your mouth wide as he used you for his pleasure. cries of bliss left his lips as you choked repeatedly, disgusting wet noises filling the car.

with one last buck of his hips, his salty sperm was spurting down your throat.”ugh” connie gasped out as you sucked him through his high, licking every drop of cum from his dick until it was clean.

he almost snapped the seatbelt trying to get it off,ordering you out of the car to which you happily obliged. he tugged his shirt off, and you almost fell to your knees.carved abs heaving as he recovered from his recent nut,tan skin glistening beautifully in the sun.

he placed the shirt on the hood of the automobile so it wouldn’t burn you, you heard his sweatpants fall to the ground, and you knew he was about to rock your world.

it had been two whole weeks since you felt him inside of you.

and you yearned for him.

a smile crept onto your face as he hiked your dress up, hands flat on the hood of the car.a small whimper leaving your lips as he forced your cheek against the hood.he pinned your arms behind your back leaving you to his mercy.

“this is what you wanted, right?” he husked, a loud crack of his palm against your ass. you bit your lip as you almost screamed. “you wanted me to hike your dress up and fuck you.you don’t think i saw that look in your eye? so slutty,” he hissed, hand cracking off your ass again.

you cried out.

you could do nothing as connie spanked you, your ass was red and sore. yet, you craved for him to continue. you wanted to be punished for giving into your needs.a whimper left your lips as you felt his tip glide across your twitching clit, he groaned in pleasure as he glided himself between your wet cunt.he wasn’t even in you yet and you were leaking.

“look at you, so fucking needy” he said breathy.

he was right, you were needy. and you needed him.

“connie!” you screamed as he pushed his thick length into you, stretching your walls.he wasted no time fucking your pussy, pulling all of his dick out except the tip,just to slam back inside of you. mewls of pleasure fumbled from your lips, connie using your pinned hands to leverage his thrust.

you were too blinded by the rough pounding to care if people saw you with your ass tooted in the air as you got fucked. fucked,like the nympho you were.connie felt so good, a soft thudding filling the air as he rocked his hips into you.

his hand ran over the ‘connie♡︎’ tattoo on your ass, and he smirked, my crazy ass girlfriend he thought. maybe you were delusional, but you admired your man, and you loved tattoos, so it was only right you get his name tatted.

“b-baby!” you sobbed as he angles his hips, pushing deeper inside of you. connie’s thrusts were unrelenting and painfully pleasurable . his sexy grunts drove you crazy, and you begged him to release your hands so you can rub your throbbing clit.

“please, p-please let me touch myself!” you plead, tears streaming down your face. he delivered a few more hard thrust then freed your hands. you braced one hand on the car hood, other circling your tingling bud in time with his thrusts.

"mm, fuck me harder!" you gasp. he grips your ponytail with one hand, other on your back for support as he plunges into you. your eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy as a wave of pleasure tightens in your stomach.

connie’s head lulls back as he fucks you aganist his car,you feel so good around his dick.you’re wet and tight and it’s got his toes curling.he couldn't believe his sex addict girlfriend had him out in the open,fucking her.

"y-y/n.” connie groans as you work your hips on him. he grasps your ass with enough force to leave a mark. a rush of pleasure mixed with pain floods over you.

you nearly shout as he matched your rhythm, your butt bouncing off his toned stomach with a slap slap slap.

"fuck! right there” you cry out in bliss, teeth digging into your lips as his tip prods into your g-spot. you’re helpless beneath him, he takes full advantage of the situation, using all his pent-up sexual frustration onto you.

his balls slap against your ass as he pounds his hips into you.you looked so breedable to him,mouth agape, eyes shut in bliss.he imagined how sexy you'd look pregnant,stomach swollen with his seed.

you were wrapped around his twitching cock so tightly it made him shiver.

"connniee." you drew out,elongating his name. his intense movements made your head spin.

a rush of curses spilled from your mouth when the knot in your stomach gave way.

“let it all out love. cum on this dick” connie urged, still thrusting.he remained deep inside you but moved slower.you trembled at his steady rhythm,crying out as he fucked you through your orgasm.

his thumb clumsily found your clitoris and your back arched as he massaged the bud in circular motions. you were so sensitive but lacked the energy to protest as he had his way with you.

his erratic thrusts indicated he was on the brink of his own orgasm. his legs trembled underneath him before he abruptly pulled out, releasing spurts of cum onto the hot gravel with a deep groan as he stood stroking himself.

"fuckkk.” he drawled out.

in sheer exhaustion, you pulled your dress down still laying face first on the car.your eyes peered over at connie.his sweat-slicked body looked divine, dick still standing high and proud, wanting more.

“i’ll take that in my mouth next time” you purred,finally finding the strength to stand.”i wouldn’t doubt,freak” connie stated cupping your cheeks, making your lips pucker.

his normally hazel eyes seemed darker, filled with desire. you could sense he wasn't finished with you by the way he looked at you like a piece of delectable meat. he practically dragged you to the car,shifting the seat back as he sat down. you quickly straddled him, eagerly pulling up your dress once again.

with trembling hands you held the base of his twitching cock. his body tensed and he moaned softly, his low eyes watching you position him at your wet entrance. you rubbed his sticky tip against your wet folds making his already weak legs shudder.

he knew you were teasing him, which only made him more aroused. precum dripped from his tip as your wet folds continually slid across him. his head rolled back against the headrest when you finally sank onto him, hands gripping the leather seat in bliss as he stretched you once again.

"y/n." his deep, husky voice resonated like music in your ears.his hands sliding down the curve of your back as you adjusted to his size. he could tell it was slightly painful for you and as much he wanted to buck his hips up deeper into that pretty little pussy, he refrained ,not wanting to hurt you.

"doing so well, princess” his praise filled your tummy with butterflies. you rested your hands on his shoulders for balance and started sliding up and down.a surge of confidence filling you as his whines reached your ears. his stomach clenched as you wrapped perfectly around him,tight, wet walls clinging to him intimately.

he felt intoxicated by your touch, absolutely enamored with the way you fucked him. no other woman had ever made him feel this way. you had him wrapped around your pretty little finger and you knew it.

passionately, you rode connie at a consistent speed, your wet pussy squelching each descent of your hips. he looked irresistibly sexy with his mouth slightly open in pleasure, a hint of drool escaping from his lips.

who's the sex addict now? you thought.

“ooo baby, your pussy feels so good!” connie cried out, his face scrunching as you grind onto him sloppily. you leant down and kissed his lips, his hand latching around back of your neck. as your tongue danced against his.

"o-oh f-ucking me so good.” you breathed shakily into his mouth while he bucked his hips beneath you, the vehicle rocking wildly as you two went at it.

connie’s mouth devoured yours sloppily, leaving your lips swollen.you groaned softly when the all-too-familiar tension built up in your stomach.

"your greedy little pussy is eating me up” connie sputtered.

you were creaming on his dick now, you were so fucking horny and he was so hot.your head fell back in pleasure, one hand playing with your nipples while the other held his shoulder.you were so wet that occasionally he’d slip out and his dick would rub against your clit. a shaken moan leaving your lips each time it happened.

“wet ass pussy,so messy for me.i can’t wait till’ i clean you up” he murmured in that deep sexy voice.with one more thrust of his hips you came.a cry emitting from your lips as you welcomed your sweet release.

the sight of you cumming on his dick pushed him over the edge ,his hands cupping your thighs lifting you off of him.his dick twitched as cum spurted onto his chest.

a drawn out shit falling from his glistening lips.

a giggle left your lips, “it’s so much!”

you leaned over to grab napkins from the glove compartment,cleaning him. connie chuckled, “it’s your fault.that tight ass pussy does something to me” he breathlessly huffed out.

you felt your cheeks warm up.

“get in the back—i wanna clean you up”. connie gently demanded tapping your thigh. you slid into the backseat as he made adjustments for extra space.by this point, most of your makeup had melted away, and you were grateful for having packed makeup wipes in your bag.

you snapped out of your thoughts as connie parted your legs, gently cradling each thigh with his hands as you lay on your back. half of his large frame jutted out of the car, and he knelt on his pants so the rough gravel wouldn’t scrape his knees.

your pussy watered as he began placing kisses on your thighs,starting from your gold ankle bracelet with a ‘c’ charm on it, to right above your pussy.

you stiffled a moan as his middle and index finger pushed into you,thumb fiddling your clit.

"i-it’s sensitive!” you cried out, hands cupping your titties as your legs shook prematurely. you felt his fingers pull out,his mouth now on your wet cunt, lapping you up.

your head felt heavy and you couldn’t stop it as it fell to the side.your back arching as a guttural moan escaped from your lips, his tongue flicking over your pussy folds now.

“you taste so fucking good” he spoke, pausing after each word to take a slow lick with his long tongue. you whimpered and squeezed your eyes closed as you felt him pull your lips apart, revealing your pretty pink throbbing clit.

his eyes glistened,looking like he'd just hit the jackpot. without a second thought connie latched onto the sensitive bud. all you could do was whine and squeeze at his shoulders,his strong arms holding your squirming body in place.

"c-connie! you choked out," you're eating my pussy so good”

he moaned into your pussy, fingers back pumping in you with a nasty squelching sound. he curled his fingers each time he hit the base of your walls. dried up tears streaked your face and your lips trembled with pleasure, pussy pulsating around his fingers as your eyes rolled back in bliss.

you almost snapped your legs closed as you felt him brush against g-spot again, arms pulling you down further onto his face.

“i-i’m close, so fucking close” you gasped as his fingers fucked you. you were embarrassed to be cumming this fast but connie knew how to work your pussy. he knew your body like the back of his hand. his tongue was back on your poor little clit, and you realized he was spelling his name.

c o n n i e

as soon as he spelled out the last letter, the knot in your stomach snapped once again.your body convulsed with pleasure, legs clamping closed.connie talked you though your high, placing kisses on your ass as he traced the stretch marks on your thighs.

once you had calmed down you opened your eyes to see connie tugging his shirt back on.your tired eyes met his and he smirked.

“good to have you back princess, let’s go eat i’m fucking starving”

“agreed” you huffed.

“also, you’re on dish duty for three whole months”

“whatever, it was worth it” you shrugged.

“nympho freak.”

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭🍒

＠ ᴄɪɴɴɴ4ᴍᴏɴ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ.ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ sᴛᴇᴀʟ ᴏʀ ᴍᴏᴅɪꜰʏ. ᴍᴡᴀʜ, ʙʏᴇ♡︎

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

This is the end guys :')

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

cw: modern au, chronic pain, one vague suggestive joke

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Remus woke before dark this morning. Your hair tickled his cheek, and he realized that you’d drawn closer to him in the night, your body half on top of his and his arm curled around your shoulders as though to keep you there. Remus’ other arm was asleep, trapped beneath Sirius’ ribs. Somehow, on a twin bed, the three of you had managed to get close enough that there was room to spare. 

He didn’t move, but something about Remus’ waking must have caught your attention. He saw your eyes open through the darkness. You’d likely already been rousing, as he had, your body gearing up for a practice that wouldn’t be taking place today. You turned your face up to see him, and the two of you shared a fond, sleepy smile. Then you kissed his chin and went back to sleep. 

It had been a late night. Not the bad kind, but it left you all tired nonetheless. After a long day of talking to press, shaking hands, and celebrating your silver medal (not gold, but Remus reasoned that it wasn’t such a bad thing to lose to the undisputed best skating duo in a generation, and after some pouting even Sirius had agreed. When you stood next to Virtue and Moir on the podium, you’d looked so starstruck Remus was worried you’d faint) you’d been eager to be alone with each other. You’d talked until nearly morning, tenderhearted conversations that perhaps might have taken less time if you’d all been less easily distracted by each other or if Sirius hadn’t made that joke about his parents that made you fall off the bed laughing. Remus can’t bring himself to regret the detours. 

Neither of you seem to either, though Sirius laughs when you yawn in line to drop off your baggage at the airport.

“What is that, five yawns since we’ve left?” he teases, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and smushing a kiss to your cheek. “Poor girl.” 

“Shut up,” you mumble, leaning into his side. “I’m not used to being up all night like you are.” 

“Well, you’d better get used to it, baby.” 

Your brow wrinkles. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

Remus laughs, giving Sirius a little shove. Sirius responds by bumping his hip into his own suitcase, forcing Remus to readjust his grip. You shoot Sirius a condemning look. 

In the spirit of good coaching, Remus had volunteered to carry your bags. He’d been more concerned with getting you and Sirius into bed over the last few days than ensuring you were properly stretched out, so when you’d both complained of soreness this morning he felt the need to make it up. You had completely refused and said you’d carry your own, but Sirius had relinquished his hulking suitcase readily; he did, however, insist upon massaging and kissing Remus’ hip for twenty minutes before they left for the airport to prepare it for the journey. 

“Don’t worry,” Remus tells you. “You’ll have plenty of time to sleep in after today.” 

You blink. “No practice?” 

“I think you deserve a couple of days off.” 

“A couple?” Sirius raises an eyebrow. “We just won silver at the Olympics. I’d say we’re due a week at least.” 

Remus eyes him, biting back a smile. “Maybe four days,” he says. 

“God, four days.” You blow out a breath. “What are we gonna do with all that time?” 

Sirius makes a pffting sound. “Like you won’t be at the rink anyway.” 

“Like you won’t be there, too.” 

“Take some actual rest,” Remus chides, ignoring the ridiculous warmth in his chest; it’s obscene how listening to your teasing has become such a comforting familiarity. “You’ve been working hard, you need it.” 

“Alright, Coach,” Sirius says with mock solemnity. “If that’s what you think is best.” 

Remus looks at you. 

You roll your eyes, relenting. “Okay.” 

“Good.” He smiles, winding an arm around your waist and tugging you from Sirius’ hold to press a kiss to your head. 

“Hey!” Sirius protests. 

You laugh. The warmth in Remus’ chest flares again. It’s odd to think about the person he was when he left home to coach you two, and how much has changed since then. Remus had been grieving, a years-long grief, focused only on what he lost and uninterested in trying for anything new. He’d been lonely without knowing it, isolated and purposeless, but you and Sirius had defied his expectations in every way imaginable. He thought he’d simply coach you, take you to the Olympics, and go home. Now, Remus’ sense of home is different than what it was before. 

He wants to stay with you. He’ll coach you and Sirius for as long as you’ll have him, and if someday he’s not what you need anymore he’ll find someone else to coach. He thinks he’ll need to get an apartment instead of an Airbnb, someplace to unpack his things and make his own, preferably with three chairs at the kitchen table and a bed big enough for all of you. He wants to continue feeding off the energy of you and Sirius in your element, readying you for competitions, making you the best you can be. Maybe eventually Remus will get back out on the ice, too. Not like he used to, never to compete, but maybe just for fun. It doesn’t sound so daunting when he imagines skating with you and Sirius alongside him, there to catch him if he falls. 

You’re looking up at him with a small, curious smile. Remus realizes he must be looking mortifyingly in love. “What?” you ask. 

“Nothing.” He kisses you, partly because he wants to and partly to watch your smile bloom in full. It does, and Remus relishes the feeling. Like standing in a pool of sunlight. 

“Oi.” Sirius glares, relaxing only when Remus kisses him, too. He grins and takes another for himself, delivering a playful nibble to Remus’ lip. “That’s more like it.” 

“We’re going to give the woman at the counter a heart attack,” Remus notes. “She looks terribly confused.” 

“Probably just starstruck,” Sirius says without looking. 

“Oh, shit!” You smack your forehead. Remus and Sirius both frown, Sirius taking your hand in his to prevent further damage. “I was going to steal one of the Olympic mugs from the dining hall, and I forgot. I need to find a souvenir.” 

“Ooh, should we get shirts?” Sirius’ expression turns eager. “Something like I went to the Olympics and all I got was this stupid t-shirt.” 

Remus thinks of the silver medal in Sirius’ backpack and actually guffaws. Both you and Sirius beam at him. “I think you got a bit more than that.” 

You laugh and loop your free arm through Sirius’, drawing both boys close. “That’s true.” 

[revelboo]

True Romance Pt 7

Seeker Trine x Reader

18+ content

• “I can do it myself!” You hiss, flight or fight fully triggered as you try to launch yourself out of Skywarp’s servos and back to the safety of the desk. Knowing full well that’s there’s nowhere to hide and that one of them is just going to catch you again. That you’re probably the equivalent of a talking hamster to them, but still. You can’t make yourself cooperate for community shower time and being gawked at naked by the three of them. What little pride you have left from being a glorified pet, is screaming at you to the tune of death before dishonor.

• Even though the fall isn’t that high, when you launch yourself out of his servos, hit the desk, stumble and fall, then immediately bolt, Skywarp’s spark constricts. “This isn’t negotiable, you stink,” he snarls, shaking off the worry that you might have broken one of those tiny bones. Wings flared out in embarrassment because Star and TC are watching you evade him. Because for being so tiny, you can move when you’re properly motivated.

• “Enough,” Starscream vents tiredly as Thundercracker fidgets beside him, wanting to intervene. He really didn’t think you’d get so distraught about being washed, but Skywarp has a point. “Come here.” Shouldering up beside Skywarp, he lays his palm on the desk and glowers down at you. Watching you raggedly breathe, body tense and those eyes angry. “Now, little one.” And shoulders slumping, you slowly approach him and rock to a stop in front of his servos. Refusing to climb into his palm in one last little act of rebellion.

• Finally. Wings easing as Starscream picks you up and strides past them toward the private wash racks attached to their habsuite. A boon because of Star’s status as SIC that’s especially welcome now since they won’t have to risk you being seen by the other Decepticons. Thundercracker really can’t understand why you’re being so difficult about this as you wrap your arms around yourself and sulk. Eyes almost panicked when Star grips the bottom of your covering and tries to tug it up off your body. And it clicks as he watches your very doomed struggle to not give up your covering. You’re embarrassed. Swearing nonstop as Star finally wins the brief struggle and strips your covering off.

• And they’re all staring at you as you shuffle so your back is to them as best you can and cover yourself with your hands, shoulders hunched in defeat. Honestly, your nakedness is probably as interesting to them as a hairless cat. Because you’re not a person to them, you’re a pet that talks. “All that fuss,” Starscream mutters as he cradles you to him and reaches to touch the controls for the water. And the warm, almost too hot water is wonderful. Almost worth being gaped at. Tipping your head into the spray, you startle at the feel of a servo sliding over the curve of your hip and up along the bottom of your ribs.

• “Soft all over,” Skywarp murmurs, grinning when you swat at his servo. Your little face even redder than it had been. And you’d stopped covering the apex of your thighs to smack him, giving him a glimpse of you. Ignoring Star’s frown as the SIC uses a servo to rub your wet hair and both hands lift to shove at him, a leg shifting for balance. Hears the surprised sound TC makes on Star’s other side.

• You’re outnumbered. Starscream staring down at you, his expression almost surprised as you realize what you’re doing and try to cover yourself again. Only to have Thundercracker stroke along your spine. Giving up and just sitting in Starscream’s palms with your knees drawn up against yourself, though you’re sure you just flashed all three of them trying to stop Starscream from messing with your hair. Trying your best to ignore the three of them as you just wish you this was over already as you scrub at your skin and hair, while trying to keep your bits covered.

• Under the coverings, you’re shaped curiously like a tiny, delicate protoform. And while Starscream had noticed the similarities between you and them, the differences had always snagged him. Watching your mortified attempts to wash, he flares his wings out protectively, using his wingspan to nudge his brothers back so they’ll leave you be, because that embarrassment bothers him. Ignoring it as Skywarp shoots him an annoyed look and drifts into a stall further from him. Optics narrowing as the other Seeker frees his spike and grips himself, Starscream turns more toward Thundercracker in annoyance, but not before he sees your little eyes widen in shock.

• Face hot, there’s no unseeing that. Or forgetting it. Because your giant alien robots have all the equipment and you have no idea why. But you can hear Skywarp growling softly. Not wanting to look, but unable to stop yourself from peeking over your shoulder like a voyeur as he pumps his fist. His head turning to catch you staring and just grinning at you as his hips rock. And then Starscream is flaring his wings again, firmly nudging your head away with a servo against your cheek. Seeing Thundercracker watching you before glancing at Starscream. And his jaw is clenched when you look up at him, clearly unhappy as you all get to listen to Skywarp snarling as he strokes himself.

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[biolumien]

hello!! I loved your rooftop smoke fic so much oh my goodness could I ask for literally anything hoshina I would love to read more of your works... It would make my day if hoshina fell first/if he was the one hopelessly in love but anything that is easier to write for you I would love to read

ALSO PLS FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS IF ITS NOT EXACTLY IT FOR U!!! TYSM IN ADVANCE

notes: bwahhhh omg… thank you for liking my first work…  i havent written hoshina before… but uh. i hope this is good. same reader-insert from last time for this one too!

hoshina falls first (or tries not to, because to love is to be known)

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader i turned it into kind of a character study, forgive me word count: 1103

let’s get this right off the bat, to clear any misconceptions. hoshina’s not a romantic. he doesn’t fall for anyone first. he’s built up the demeanor of a sly, wily little fox not because he wanted to, but because he had to. tread lightly around others, and they will never know what lies in your heart, the insecurities that bubble and eat at you alive. never let them know how you feel, because as soon as your inherent, weak-willed intent is shown, you’ll be devoured alive.

well.

that’s what hoshina tells himself, anyway. 

it’s what he has to remind himself of constantly when he sees you.

you’re not allowed, he reminds himself, to get under his skin. not in any mean way, not in the way where you play up his insecurities–except you do, don’t you? you don’t mean to, but he gets the impression that if he were conventionally stronger, more impressive, that he’d deserve your attention, the small smile that crosses your lips and lights up your eyes when you see him, the faint exhale of breath when you see him–he’d deserve that if he were better. if he were just simply better, he’d deserve it. he’d feel worthy of it.

hoshina’s not a romantic.

he signed up for a line of very dangerous, practically suicidal work knowing it might mean the death of him.

all to prove that he was worth something.

he’s not the ashes you throw away, he’s a brilliant ball of fire, can’t you see–but he needed to prove that he could shine alone, under his own merit. he didn’t need anyone, except he needed mina to get him into the third division anyway. 

he didn’t need you, except he kept making excuses to get close to you, and not even in any particular suave way. hoshina practically pines for your affections and attention, but the key thing about it is that he refuses, in a way that’s either very cute or insanely frustrating, to make it seem like he’s making the first move. fleeting kisses he shared with you, he never properly initiated himself–he’d stand there, make a big show of leaving, and you’d pulled him by the collar to kiss him. 

but at the very least you seem to be accommodating about it, in any case. you sometimes end up preparing him a cup of tea when you go on break, as if instinctually expecting him.

hoshina wonders if he’s pavlov’s dog in this case–drawn by you, trained to behave around you.

he doesn’t know how he feels about it.

“you keep coming here,” you say to him one day in the lab. at your desk is a wide variety of papers–notes on chemical formulas for bullets, the blueprints for one of mina’s new absurdly-large guns shoved haphazardly under a stack of notebooks, a coffee cup clasped between your hands, and you blow some of the fresh steam off. “i’m starting to think the captain’s going to find you slacking off.”

there’s a sardonic smile on your lips, but hoshina’s gotten better at reading you. you’re happy to see him–he can see it in the tiny way you fidget a little bit when he takes the spare coffee mug from your desk, finding it full of coffee already. does he feel his face softening, his drawn-up shoulders relaxing? no, surely not. he’s better than that. he won’t be influenced by you–and yet. and yet. 

“you have a lock on your door if you don’t want to be disturbed,” hoshina says simply, taking a sip of the coffee. black with a single spoonful of sugar in it, because as much as it was impressive to drink your coffee purely black, hoshina quite frankly couldn’t take it. and he’d built as much a complex around that, too, as if a simple coffee preference might define how worthy he is of love. respect. the works. he watches you, sees dark under-eyes from days of restless work and the writer’s bump on your middle finger, and feels his heart squeeze.

god, he hates it. does he? does he hate it? is he insecure about that? does he hate that he doesn’t hate it? does he hate that by pining for you, by forcing his way into your life, that he’s created the rumblings of his own downfall? no. the worst part of it all is that he can’t hate you. can’t hate the way you watch him, and he wonders if you’re watching him the same way he observes you–like a prey animal, almost, twitchy and nervous, in an attempt to grasp at feeble understanding. 

“if you keep coming back here, i’m going to assume you’re in love with me,” you say.

and you have no idea what those words do to him, really. you don’t know, because hoshina has learned to obscure most of his emotions, at the very least. 

so why does his face feel so hot?

“hm.”

he can’t even come up with a proper retort. you’re staring at him expectantly, as if waiting for the classic hoshina quip–a cackle or giggle, a casual slap on the table with a you wish! attached to it. but it doesn’t come. hoshina stands there, gagged for a moment–and suddenly his grip on his coffee cup feels a little weak.

“hoshina.”

he wishes the smile on your lips didn’t trigger some gut instinct of delight in him.

he’s better than this, damn it. he’s better than this.

your smile quirks up the corners of your cheeks, and there’s something like a shy flush across your skin. and–

“i wish i could take a picture of your face right now,” you say. “you look like you’re coming down with something.”

hoshina scoffs, the sound a little more high-pitched than he’d like for it to be.

“you wish,” he says. 

“so are you?” you press. “in love with me?”

hoshina stares at you–there’s a sudden tightness in your shoulders that wasn’t there before–you’re worried about his answer. and despite it all–his bravado, his hatred of the mere idea that he might rely on someone else–that he would ever need someone to know his heart, that he might be cowed and tamed like a dog–

he loves you.

he doesn’t want you to be worried about the surety of his answer.

“yeah,” he says. “i love you.” and when that sudden tightness in your body language disappears, he finally finds the strength to quip, “just don’t faint over me, alright?” 

and when you reach out to hit his shoulder, he grasps you by the wrist and pulls you in to kiss you.

[bucknastysbabe]

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW//age gap, grooming, manipulation, no one is properly nice, Criston being crazy, Targtower!reader, canon era, anxiety and panic attacks, sibling strife, Alicent is tired, isolation, angst, sad ending, innocence/corruption kink, slight religious kink, v!fingering, oral, frottage, pnv!sex, lots of tears, I was emo okay and no I did not rush the ending no I did not-

WC: 9.5k (idk what happened oops)

Taglist: @arcielee @bambitas @aemonds-holy-milk @lovelykhaleesiii @starogeorgina @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @sugarpoppss2 @fairysluna @jamespotterismydaddy @elaratyrell

Being Alicent’s second daughter, the third of Viserys, your political pawn status was minimal in youth. You minded your own and listened, a constant shadow behind your mother. The queen was your idol— she was strong, devout, and loved deeply. It was your siblings who were willful, dragon blood coursing through their veins that made her fraught.

Somehow it felt you didn’t get any dragon blood. Your egg had refused to hatch, your eyes an ugly dark purple. The worst was that you had red hair. The hair of the Hightowers. You'd been born too late and too plain it seemed. The feeling of being strange led to shyness plaguing you. Hence why you’d clung to your mother’s skirts, she made you feel safe and beloved. Any closeness with your siblings dissolved as time wore on. Alicent apparently didn't mind, even if her child was manufacturing her own isolation.

Aemond devoted himself to scholarly learning, training in the yard, and flying on Vhagar. Helaena seemed to rather keep to herself, stitching beautiful works and catching her lovely insects. Aegon— he embraced hedonism and you’d leave it at that. You had been close with Daeron when he was a babe, loving on your little brother. Then Alicent sent him to Oldtown.

Ser Criston and your mother seemed to be the only presence you were around most of your childhood. You loved the white knight dearly, he’d bring you little gifts and swing you around as Alicent prattled on about something. He was so handsome and chivalrous, always a kind word upon his lips. Just the thought of the oath-sworn knight made you grow flushed and giddy.

You’d hide behind Ser Criston's white cloak when your father occasionally took interest. Viserys seemed annoyed at your shy demeanor, asking Criston to bring you to him. It was dreadful, he was decaying and his rotten smile was frightful. You would weep and shake, turning toward your mother or Criston. Looking for an escape.

The king would frown. He sniffed, “Here Cole, take the girl, Hightower as they come hm?”

Criston’s jaw clenched before he sighed, “Come on princess, we have appointments to keep.” You had grabbed his hand and left— ignoring Viserys' muttering. It brought a feeling of uselessness to your young heart. At least Daeron was bettering himself in Oldtown. The Kingsguard scoffed, “I wouldn’t appreciate sitting in his lap either. He will always have eyes for your half-sister, do remember that. Your mother has your interests in mind.”

“I understand, Ser Criston."

When Alicent was sleeping or tending to the matters of the realm, you oft sat with Ser Criston as he guarded the queen. He would tell you about his youth in the Dornish Marches, harrowing tales of battle and blood. One time as a child you grew so frightened you hopped in his arms. He laughed and petted your hair, “You’re alright, no vulture kings shall get you. Not with me here.” His smile was bright, and his brown eyes lit with humor.

You hid a picture you’d drawn of you all grown up, a beautiful maiden holding hands with Ser Criston. A dragon would be there too. Fantasies plagued your innocent mind, courtly love between a princess and her loyal white knight. Nothing like the isolation and tension that brought strife to your family. Everything was perfect and happy. Everyone loved each other. Stupid, stupid, silly you.

As you matured into the early stages of womanhood, your shyness and frayed nerves did not abate. In fact, fits of crying and shaking began to afflict you. Tourneys, balls, and weddings made your stomach turn and hands grow clammy. The Maester had given a tincture for fits and fears such as these, citing a ‘hysterical disposition.' The tincture was diluted milk of the poppy.

You were half-dazed and daft but no longer weeping through an entire feast. Small victories.

At three-and-ten you visited Dragonstone, bonding with the gorgeous Silverwing. As you flew around the island, tears streamed down your face. It was beautiful, so very beautiful. When you landed, your white knight and mother clapped, proud of their favorite princess. Even Aemond gave a word of applause. Rhaenyra watched with a strange look, further back. You refused to acknowledge her, you had heard all you needed to know about your elder sister.

Later, Aegon had japed with a sloshing goblet, “Ah, I was beginning to think you were a bastard dear sister. Maybe a lord will take an interest now.” Ser Criston had cuffed the lad on the ear at that, Aegon squeaking an apology.

The knight consoled you afterward, gloved hand tilting your chin up. His dark orbs bore into your own, his thumb swiping your tears. He stated intently, “Never, never for a second think you are not true-born. My princess, you are just beginning to blossom, you’re Targaryen as they come. I will defend that claim until my death.”

Your heart skipped a beat, tears welling up as you hugged the older man, thanking Ser Criston for his kindness. He was stiff at first, then gloved hands came to rest at your shoulders. He called you blossom after that, the pet name never failed to make your cheeks flush. Alicent took great pleasure that you had kept to their sides instead of wandering off to find whatever to abate the stress of being Royal. She would sniff occasionally, "Do remember what white signals, virtue."

Ser Criston named you the Queen of Love and Beauty at six and ten, a tourney Otto and Alicent schemed for you to get a suitor. Although the suitors were cracked in the helm and knocked on their ass. Criston was rather vicious this tourney, winning the melee and joust. You chose not to dwell on the blood splattered on his shiny armor, for it caused wicked thoughts. He grinned with red lips, offering the crown.

Aegon rolled his eyes, quipping something foul as he guzzled his wine. Viserys had apparently glared at the knight, mouth twisting. You smiled and blushed, feeling like a silly child again. The handsome marcher was consuming you more and more. Eyes that saw you wholly, his little blossom.

Later in the evening, many lords or heirs were at the feast for your sake. They did not seem interested, casting wary looks. You decided it was partly your nerves and shy nature, the glaring knight at arm's length was no benefit. You made one connection that night with a son of the Arbor, a sweet-faced Redwyne lad. His name was Meryn, that was the extent you knew. Grandsire seemed to be pleased with your choice. Criston's dark eyes lingered in your mind. Meryn had dark green eyes and straw-blonde hair. He would be alright if you had to, Meryn was courteous. You swallowed down bile at the thought of living so far away.

You’d become so struck with Cole you had begun to lie awake at night, purposely ignoring the desire that coursed through blue veins. He had said that a true, chaste maiden did not give in to carnal pleasures. Your mother said that self-pleasure was sinful and wicked. You'd read the Seven-Pointed Star, the Stranger would fondly take fornicators down to the seven hells.

You agreed, feeling sinful if your womanhood ever throbbed. Innocence remained a quality of yours, Viserys liked to call you his Septa daughter to Daemon. You’d rather be a Septa than a whore. Aegon had doomed himself already. You hated when he spoke so vulgar at the table, you had to look away in disgust.

Aegon crushed your entire world, in fact. The pair of you had ridden to the Dragonpit to ride Sunfyre and Silverwing. You rode in silence, Ser Arryk and Erryk behind on guard. The stilted awkward air between Aegon and you seemed to thicken as the Dragonpit loomed closer. Your elder brother blurted “Are you still infatuated with that preening peacock Cole?”

You stiffened and stared, aghast, mouth agape.

Aegon’s full lips smirked. He laughed “Oh, you still are. I forget you follow him and mother around the keep like a shadow. You’re six and ten, you don’t want to fuck a lordling? Or are you saving it for Ser Cole?”

“Stop it, he’s kind and a good knight. You should respect our Kingsguard, he keeps mother safe.”

Hot tears began springing at your eyes as Aegon laughed harder, that horrid shrieking giggle. One of the Cargyll’s snorted. Aegon always made you feel so silly and childish. You sniffed angrily “What are you getting at Aegon?”

“Sorry sister, sorry, it’s just- hah! It’s just your white knight’s cloak has been likely been dirtied since I was born. You do know the rumor don’t you?”

Your heart began to patter uncomfortably against your chest. Ser Erryk always carried your medicine— you did not wish to take it as you were trying to fly. Aegon leered with a grin. He spoke in a low murmur, “He hates our dear half-sister so, we know that. Rumor has it Cole sullied his oath as he took her maidenhead. She spurned him later. Then your ‘white knight’ beat Laenor’s fop lover’s face in wrath at her wedding.”

Your legs and hands began to grow numb from sheer panic. You cried, “No, you are lying! Why would you say such dreadful things?” Shakes began, as tears leaked down your red cheeks. The prince noticed your state and sighed, “No one knows if he truly did. 'Tis not strange he became mother’s sworn sword after one night hm?”

Your vision swam. No, no, no— you couldn’t believe that. Ser Erryk rode up next to you, beckoning you to open your mouth. He yanked you onto his horse, chiding Aegon, “Shut your mouth about that, you know how she gets. I have to return all the way to the keep!”

The prince shrugged, offering a weak apology, face a rude smirk.

Ser Erryk sighed, “He’s a prick. Talk to your mother about Ser Criston. Back to the keep we go, just relax.” You felt like your chest had compressed into a tiny box, shaking and panting. It couldn’t be true. You would speak to your mother immediately. The tincture began to soften your muscles, eyes lolling as you slumped onto the Cargyll twin. Erryk murmured, “Can’t wait for this shite show with the marcher.”

You were still in a hazy lull, the movement of the horse and Ser Erryk’s familiar lilt leaving you in a poppy-laden stupor. He’d ridden into the courtyard, carrying your limp frame into the castle, barking at a squire to take his horse. You mumbled, “Mother, need her.”

“I know, princess.”

Ser Criston’s voice made your poppy laden eyes flick upwards. The knight demanded, “What the hell is this? Did you dose her with the entire phial? Where’s Prince Aegon? Give her to me.”

Ser Erryk bit back, “She asked for the Queen, Ser Criston. Not you.”

You nodded softly, Ser Criston’s brows pinching together, his lips thinning in anger. He snapped, “I’ll take her to the Queen, give me the princess. Seems you can’t follow the maester’s directions, Ser Erryk.”

“No. Trust me when I say this Cole, Aegon brought this on. He was telling your ‘blossom’ all about,” the man whispered something to the marcher. Criston’s face paled, a stricken look over his features.

The door opened without further protest, Ser Erryk laying you upon the plush settee, curtly nodding. He exchanged words with the Queen. Criston remained outside the door, dark gaze peering from afar. Your mother’s wide eyes and familiar green dress hovered in your vision. She stroked your hair and sighed, “Dear girl, what did Aegon say?”

Your sluggish hand gripped her own, glazed eyes meeting brown. You whimpered “Tell me he was lying. Just tell me Aegon was lying about him.”

Alicent’s lips pursed, turning to gaze at the lingering Cole. She ordered, “Ser Criston, please shut the door.” Even through the medicinal haze, the man looked downright fearful. The door shut with a soft click. Your mother’s attention was back on you, kissing your forehead.

“About who? Take your time.”

You moaned in anguish, “Ser Criston. He broke his oath to be with her?,” you sobbed, “He lies, he can’t, mother please!”

Alicent’s eyes flicked to the door once more. She bundled your frame into her arms, lifting your limp body up. Her soothing voice murmured, “Ser Criston is a good man. He loves us dearly. He is sworn and would die for us, my dear.”

You wept, “Tell me the truth.”

“He had a moment of weakness. Ser Criston was merely a few years older than I and Rhaenyra. She manipulated his good heart and bewitched him. That is all. He did not break his oath.”

You stared at your mother, unsure if she was lying while the pristine image of Criston darkened. Was it hurt? Jealousy? Childish affection gone wrong? There was nothing to do but softly weep in your mother’s arms before sleep took you. Supper was provided when you awoke, only Alicent caring for you.

She never lied to you before. Your mother cherished you too much to lie.

Right?

You faced Ser Criston again. The ache in your chest throbbed— but you would give him grace. He was devoted and good to you. His worried look made the apprehension die down. The knight grabbed your shoulders, eyes piercing as he frantically spoke, “Blossom, my princess, please. I have been distraught for days. What can I do?”

You stared at him, mind conjuring a response, feeling like a bratty child overreacting. His leather gloves squeezed again to draw your attention. It took everything in your weak heart not to babble and weep. This man was sworn to chastity and the Faith, yet you craved him like nothing else.

“Aegon just shocked me. This is a lot to process. I-I didn’t know anything about that, oh, ordeal.”

He seemed to sag, guilt wracking his handsome features. Ser Criston pulled your small form inward, chin atop your head. He murmured, “It is a stain that shall never be washed. Your mother saved me. I grew stronger from the failure. It pains me more now that you have learned the truth after so long. I should have let you know.”

You nodded against the steel plate of his chest, resigned.

You let him hold you— unsure of your intense feelings. The Red Keep was a web spun of lies. Even Ser Criston was caught in the horrid trap. You would remain to trust him, his affair with Rhaenyra was before you were even a thought. Still, your gut churned with uncertainty.

Criston murmured, "I shall never fail you again, sweet blossom."

You had distanced yourself from Ser Cole, protecting your own heart selfishly. He was upset and had been striving to gain your once devoted affection. It wasn’t hard to avoid him as war came in on Dragonback. They plotted and planned, too busy for Helaena to mourn. Aegon was raging at all times. You remained in your rooms, nervously awaiting Syrax or Caraxes to show on the horizon. Dracarys. Dracarys, the voices sang in your head.

They were always in the Council Chambers.

You’d been in your room, feeling madness creep at the edges of your mind. Shadows in the corners, fire on the horizon. A knight stood guard outside day and night, sometimes your mother would come sup with you. All she could do was tiredly ramble and apologize. You held her softly one night as she cried, how alone and useless she felt. You could empathize with that. At least in your room, you were safe from those fits. Sometimes.

Then your grandfather left. Criston was now Lord Commander and Hand of the King. A small ceremony was held in the throne room, Aegon strutting around like a peacock. You knew he was as scared as the rest of the Keep. Alicent sighed to you, “My darling, stay strong, you must.”

The man you had grown up with, the fancy of your girlhood, looked frightening with his chain of gold hands, lips curled up in pleasure. His eyes flicked toward you, entrancing. The newly appointed hand smiled with pride. You looked down and away, shaking hands clasped together. There was no reason for tears about this. Yet, the titles muddled and twisted your preferred concept of the loyal white knight.

War had truly begun with armies on the move around the realm. Criston, Aegon, and Aemond set off to Lord Staunton at Rook's Rest.

After the incident at Rook’s Rest, Criston returned colder, Aemond with the crown, and Aegon charred half to death. The now powerful marcher was paired with his protege, they could conquer and perhaps win this war. You were frightfully alone again, Alicent moved into Aegon’s chambers. Nothing new you supposed, yet your heart hurt.

About a week after the return, you were summoned to the Hand’s Tower. Criston sat at the desk, war plans drawn up. His hair was shorn, a beard grown in. The soft part of you ached at his bruised and nicked face. You awkwardly curtsied and murmured, “Lord Hand.”

“Don’t call me that, Ser Criston is fine,” he said, a hint of aggravation to his hoarse voice.

“Sorry, Ser Criston,” you apologized. He seemed like a different person sitting where your grandsire once sat. He beckoned you over, closer and closer until you were at the edge of the desk. He looked tired, sad, and beleaguered by his position. You murmured, “You requested me Ser?”

He sighed, leaning back in the supple leather chair. Criston’s eyes were achingly wet as he stated, “Do you still despise me so? All I think about is you, your safety, and how I can keep my blossom alive and well. After Rook's Rest, I began to remember my priorities."

You whimpered softly, the months of being alone and overlooked had taken their toll. You missed him dearly. Taking a few sighs, mouth quivering, you whispered. Whispered only so you may not sob. Your dress was bunched up by your distraught hands. Inwardly, you cursed yourself for being weak.

"I have been so…isolated. I don’t leave my room and all I can do is stare at the window and...and and hope I don’t!”

You clamped your jaw shut as your voice grew higher with emotions. Hot tears ran down your cheeks now— brought on by the outburst. Criston made a soft noise, pleading, “Blossom, come here. To me. You know how I hate to see your tears.”

It embarrassed you how fast you climbed into his lap and wrapped your arms around his shiny armor. The man cooed, cradling your frame and nuzzling your hair. His hands gripped into your curled legs— you didn’t care. It felt so good to be with him.

“There we are, poor princess, why are you crying blossom?”

His dark brows were pinched in concern, gaze quizzical in nature. You refrained from staring at his lips. One of his warm hands pressed into your back, rubbing up and down. You focused on that, tucking your face against the warm crook of his neck.

“Take your time princess, I’ve got you. Too sweet for this dreadful world.”

Ser Criston’s soothing words and hands, his gentle tone could almost lull you to sleep. It felt like an hour had passed, soaking in the moment. You blinked a bit, feeling syrupy sweet in his arms. He asked “Blossom, are you feeling better?” A soft little jerk of your head was the response before you pulled back to look at him.

“I feel better, thank you Ser Criston. I grow fearful,” you frowned at your words, “More fearful than usual.”

He cocked his head, seeming to mull over the words. The man sighed, “I haven’t done a good job of prioritizing your protection. These are arduous times.” Criston thumbed your cheek, sliding down to tilt your chin up. He murmured, “Tell me the truth. I feel a piece of me has returned. You cannot spurn me again, I need you my blossom, more than anything to keep going.”

His agonized eyes and the tiniest little warble at the end of his sentence melted your fears. This was Ser Criston— he’d done right by you, only second to your mother. Even then, he knew you in a way others didn’t. Something behind the mad little princess who cried at feasts. Criston saw qualities none seemed to perceive.

Making eye contact you admitted, “I missed you too. I- I had a hard time coming to terms. I was sickened with envy, picturing that…my sister, having Ser Cole’s heart,” you placed a hand over the white cloak on his shoulder, “I know it was a mistake now. I grew up thinking you were, Gods, the knight out of tales. Gallant and true. It was swept out from under me and I behaved as a child. You're only human.”

Criston’s jaw gritted, frustration crossing his features. He hissed, “If I could take my honor back from that viper I would. But I chose to be fooled, a young idiot. I know what it feels like to be truly loved now. Unconditionally.”

He licked his lips, “Knowing that I hurt you, hurt me. I prayed and prayed. I don’t know if I can be that knight for you, my dear blossom. But I can be the knight that gives his life for you, his heart and soul. You were merely hurt, I can understand why. But the Seven answered my prayers," he beamed, "You’re still here, with me. As it should be.”

Unconditional. He wasn’t wrong. You’d love Criston even if his cloak was stained black. He loved you. Only you. Prayed for you. Your heart swelled, pumping with excitement. At least that's what it seemed he said.

“Oh, Ser Criston, I, I love you.”

His face morphed into a pleasant look, eyes alight with happiness. You moved to straddle him, pressing yourself closer, your cheek pressed to Criston’s dark stubbled one. The knight rumbled, “I love you, innocent love for my little bud, now a blossoming young woman. You’re mine, to cherish and to love. Understand that. Just us.”

He squeezed your waist as you sighed, “Yes, yes Ser Cole, I am yours.”

“My perfect little Princess, the Gods are smiling upon us.”

You nodded along, smiling helplessly, more tears welling as your lips pecked his cheek. Criston turned his head to gently capture your lips, a chaste little peck. You shivered in his embrace, smiling as your noses nuzzled. He was chivalrous was he not?

Soon after you had spoken your feelings for Ser Criston, he wanted you moved into the Hand’s quarters. Said it was safer and you wouldn’t have to stare at the dreaded horizon that brought many a nightmare and fumbling for your tinctures.

It was done quickly, your garments and belongings now intertwined into the man’s quarters. He had the Lord Commander’s room too and pledged to sleep there for your comfort and honor. The knight was sweet and kind, letting you sit upon his lap as he wrote letters, amended decrees, and even kept you there when Aemond arrived to discuss battle.

Your brother looked shocked at your presence, a thin brow arching. He huffed, “Sister, I believe it would be best if you left us to the battle plans.” You nodded, the ingrained behaviors to follow orders hadn’t dissipated. Criston held you tight on his lap, remarking “She’s family. You think your sister to be a turn cloak?”

Aemond grimaced and sat down, his hair swinging as he glared. The crown of the Conqueror laid upon his brow. The crown that belonged to ailing Aegon. Criston poured some wine and handed it to the stiffened Prince Regent, opening the discussion.

You merely sat back and listened, your knight occasionally asking for your opinion. “I don’t know why you would not seek the high ground there,” you offered while pointing to the Westermen’s location. Jason Lannister would be slaughtered. You read up on historical battles now and then.

Aemond’s scoff and Criston’s noise of contemplation shut you up. You knew you were here to please your knight. Make him feel comfortable and less alone. You padded off toward the bed as they talked into the night, ignoring Aemond’s sharp questioning.

A kiss on your lips awoke you, blinking the sleep out of your eyes. The marcher seemed irritated and sleepy, now clad in a white shirt and thin breeches. He sat upon the downy bed to pet your hair, muttering, “Ignore your brother. He thinks he is the king right now, is all. But the hand pulls the strings.”

You shrugged, “He sees me as a distraction I suppose.”

Criston nodded, dark eyes rolling as he gruffed, “You are my motivation, blossom. He will learn to embrace your presence. Now, I have had a long day. I wish to hold you,” his face grew soft, “Is that okay with you dearest? Say no and I shall leave.”

Scooting over you pulled back the warm blankets, Criston crawling in with a sigh. You cuddled into his frame, the marcher flipping you around so he could press the length of his body to your own. He sighed in your ear, “Much better. Soft and sweet. Thank you for trusting me." He placed his chin on your shoulder, humming in contentment, tanned arm wrapped around your stomach.

The voices of the past screamed at you. So be it.

Criston now laid by your side every night, gentle and kind. He'd awaken you with a kiss and that saccharine smile. You fell deeper and deeper in love. His touches grew more frequent, keeping you by his side around the keep. Any snide comment was met with an equally acrid reply.

You'd been invited to sit in at council meets. Your mother seemed surprised, rushing to you, hands clamping down on your arms. She whispered, "What are you doing here? You should not listen to this, it shall give you a fit." You indicated the satchel at your hip and replied, "Ser Criston said I could come along, since I am able of mind and body I should have a say. He has stuck up for a Princess when everyone else has discarded me."

You did not mean to come off as harsh. Ser Criston's affections had bolstered you as of late. The dowager queen's eyebrows raised as her lips turned into a pursed frown. Alicent bit out, "Are you his kept woman now? I raised you better than this." Your mother drew closer to hiss, “Ser Cole loves you. Ser Cole is overstepping his boundaries as the Lord Commander. Lord Hand Criston sees you as his pretty little pet. Do take heed, princess.”

You frowned, chest tight with hurt, childishly scoffing, “Ser Criston cares for me. You’d rather sit and plot than visit your daughter? I’d like to visit Helaena with you, mayhaps Aegon. Don’t lecture me, your grace.”

Aemond called the council, breaking up the heated moment between you and the green queen. You took a seat to the side, watching and listening raptly. Alicent’s eyes flickered between you and Ser Criston, displeasure upon her pursed lips. He eyed her back, furrowing his brows. They had known each other so long the pair could speak without saying a word. Aemond and Lord Lannister prattled on. Worry began to pool in your belly, a shaky hand shifting to the pouch on your waist for comfort.

You could glean the wracked state of the Realm from the terse meeting. Daemon was at Harrenhal and men were gathering. The Hightower host led by a relative and Daeron approached from the south. Cregan Stark’s winter wolves were coming with a cold vengeance and desire to die in glory, grizzled grey beards that they were. You swallowed, mind a bit scattered pulling the pieces together. A crazed Greyjoy was on the loose and the Triarch had been called in. All-out war.

The meeting was adjourned. Aemond would leave soon for Harrenhal. Criston would join him later, much to your fear. Your white knight immediately came to your side, holding your elbow tenderly, “I must have…some words…with her grace. I’ll see you back in the tower?” You nodded, eyes panning toward Aemond getting an earful from your mother. Nerves began to prick— you kissed Ser Cole’s cheek and nodded. He smiled softly, gloved hand caressing your cheek as he murmured, “Sweet girl, relax, it will be fine.”

You may have dropped some of the diluted milk into your wine, hands shaky. You were going mad waiting, waiting, waiting. Mind-spinning rationalizations appeared to ease the rising panic. Your mother had no say anymore, it was Aemond and Criston in charge. If Aegon wasn’t bedridden he likely would not care. Ser Criston would not leave you, he loved you, yes.

The door swung open, clattering against some furniture, startling you upon the settee. Criston was pissed, anyone could see as much as the vetted knight masked his emotions. His eyes were dark, jaw clenched and his teeth audibly ground. He stopped in his tracks, running a hand through shorn hair. You warbled “Criston?”

His furrowed brow and wide eyes turned to you, sighing and stalking forward. The knight dropped to his knees, hands cradling your cheeks. Criston fumed, urgency to his tone, "You’re mine. You shall do as you please. I shall do as I please. I have the right, I'll leave my position as Kingsguard if the oaths are displeasing, you understand sweet girl? I need you to understand you’re my Princess.”

You held his gauntlets to nod, eyes wide upon his visage.

“Say it for me. Say it so I know it to be true. Now.”

Your eyes glossed over with tears. He was in quite the mood. Criston's dark eyes were wet, and desperation laced his roughed voice. Your hands curled around that cold chain of hands, lips frantically moving, “I am yours. Your princess. Nothing shall change that. I swear it on the Seven. I swear it on my heart.”

“I godsdamn love you blossom,” he growled, taking your lips roughly. Criston pressed himself into you, dominating the kiss. His hands moved down to your rear, jerking your hips flush to his own. You cried out, the dark-haired man swallowing the noise, tongue lapping against yours. His lips were insistent, and needy, leaving you breathless. You'd never felt Ser Criston so rough with you, it was intoxicating.

Shivering at his gruff words, you could not help from sliding your arms around his plated neck to moan. Criston pulled back, murmuring, “No one shall keep you from me, I’ll fucking kill them. I may do as I please now.” His lips trailed down your cheek, jaw, to your neck. All you could do was whine as he sucked and nipped little marks, big hands massaging the flesh of your ass. He nosed further down to your décolletage; greedy hands pausing at the neckline.

Lust-blown eyes met your own. You nodded, panting, “Please. Please. Take me as you wish.” His eyes scrunched shut, mouth swollen and wet as those covetous hands of his jerked your dress down, carelessly tearing the silky fabric. You yelped, never having been exposed like this, nerves sparking like wildfire. Criston’s lashes fluttered as he groaned throatily.

“Oh- fucking seven hells, precious girl,” he almost whined, nuzzling into your breasts. You seized up, unused to the carnal touches. Criston yanked off his black gloves to grab handfuls of the tender flesh, still on his knees for you. That seemed to abate the ever-looming presence of your neuroticism. He was submitting, lavishing lush kisses on your fiery skin.

You tightened your legs around his armored waist and cried out when calloused thumbs began to tenderly circle around your budded nipples. He watched your face, lips curled and eyes ever hungry. Criston murmured, “Sweetling, so responsive. Never had your pretty teats touched. Good, good, only me.”

You nodded in haphazard jerks, Criston pulling at one nipple and playing around with your other breast, big hand massaging. His kissing grew closer to the darker skin, lips closing around the bud. You mewled and squirmed, head thrown back to moan. He hummed around your nipple, flicking his tongue across the peak. Criston grew rougher, nipping before pulling off with a lurid pop.

The knight growled, moving onto your other breast. A shiver wracked your frame, your swollen peaks exposed to the chilly air felt like a white-hot line of arousal bolting down between your legs— throbbing and uncomfortably slick. You babbled, “Ser, Criston, Criston, wha-what?”

He chucked darkly, suckling a mark on your sternum. Criston hummed “You like that? Little princess needy for her knight?”

“Love, oh, love it, thank you,” you simpered.

He rasped, nose nuzzling into yours, “Of course…I take care of my blossom don’t I? Sweeter than sin.” His hands placed themselves atop your smaller ones, brown eyes begging. Criston breathed "Blossom- wanna feel you, help me out of this dreadful cage?" Once again mute- you began to unbuckle straps and buttons, exposing more and more skin.

"So good to me. Divine, ah, don't know how I was blessed with an angel."

You helped him out of the chest plate, leaving Criston to undo his white and gray gambeson. You were carefully putting the pieces on his armor stand, the man humming your name. Looking back, Criston smiled softly, his scarred and tanned torso exposed. He beckoned you over, cocking his head in surprise when you dropped to your knees.

“What are you doing, your grace?” Criston's lips curled up in amusement, dark orbs searching your serious expression.

Holding those inky eyes, you helped his boots and thick socks off. Criston threw his padded tunic to the side, cheeks growing flushed. He softly murmured, “Answer me, a Princess should not be on her knees like this.” His hand cupped your cheek, a smirk mirroring your own. You quipped, “Is it bad to be on my knees for you? I am merely serving an important man to the realm.”

You watched his face darken, eyes catching a glint to them. He swallowed, hand on your face tightening. Criston rasped “Is that it? Just merely service? Dirtying your knees like a woman of the night. Does my blossom want to be bad? Behave wanton and licentious so? Forget your maiden's day vow, hm?"

His words made your face grow warm. It was as if he was speaking your fantasies aloud. For once to not be the strange princess— nervous, wrong shade of hair, and overtly pious. No, you wanted to let go. No more being held back by others and your own swirling fears. Ser Cole soothed those aches. You wanted the keep to whisper more about how the littlest one was openly Ser Cole’s pretty blossom, driven from her mother’s teat at last.

“I- I want to make you feel good,” you murmured with blotchy cheeks. It was not necessarily a lie, but if you began to ramble about the lustful feelings you feared you may not stop or disgust the man. That simply couldn’t happen. Not after how far you have come with him.

“You lie to me blossom,” he teased, “I know exactly what you want. What you crave. To think the old king thought you to be a Septa. C’mere then, no more games”

You watched him unlace his light breeches, exposing his dark curls and full prick. A moan slipped from your lips at the sight, lust pounding your body in waves. The knight's cock was heavy and flush, the dark tip weeping. You squeezed your thighs in excitement, licking your lips. Criston’s tan hand jerked at the taught flesh, rumbling, “Needy little blossom.” It was almost funny how he stated it like a simple fact, yet you were on the edge of combustion.

“Y-yes! Please, want it so, want to be your bad girl, the bad princess…please,” you grew shy again after blurting out, “I- in m-my mouth Ser.”

Criston’s expression changed from playful to predatory, dark eyes narrowing a bit. He rasped, “Mhm, filthy little thing. I shouldn’t encourage this behavior. Especially as your protector.” As you shuffled forward to grab the thick flesh he stopped your hand, his amusement facing heady desire. You sulked, “Wanna learn so I can please you Ser.”

Ser Cole seemed content, enough to lean back on one arm, eyes roving to your tits and wide eyes. His other hand stroked himself one more time before shoving two fingers to your lips. You opened dutifully for the intrusion, eyes rolling back in bliss.

Criston’s princess was a dream, a godsdamn dream. He pressed the pads of his fingers down on her tongue, watching her shiver and whine. He soothed, “Settle now, I’ll teach you how. But I need my sweet girl to settle down. Focus on my fingers. Nothing else.” She nodded, wet lashes upon her cheeks now. Her hands were neatly placed in her lap.

He took the still moment to reflect, idly rubbing his cock. She was well trained. Helaena was the same in her mannerisms unless she grew distracted. Before Criston even remotely began to have romantic feelings, his blossom had always held him ensnared. She was horribly timid and clutched to Alicent’s skirts, then began to seek him for comfort. The white knight earned her trust with a trinket he bought in town. A small Yitish jade dragon— to place upon her bedside table. She still had it there, pristine and well-kept.

Criston was not sure when his protective nature slid into desire. It began with jealousy, perhaps around her name-day celebration and resulting tourney. Alicent and Otto were looking for a mate. Something twisted deep within his chest. Criston did not want the sweet thing to leave the castle. Get wedded and bedded by some callous lord or idiot heir.

Her smile after he routed the competition brought great happiness to his heart. That twisted thing in his chest swelled with a possessive pride that soared past his normal feelings for Alicent's children. He hated the feast. The princess was shyly speaking to a young Redwyne lad. The Arbor was too far away for his liking. Yet nothing panned out. He couldn't beat a boy for being kind.

Criston strapped his back bloody and raw for a fortnight as penitance. He could not imagine being a snake slithering around waiting for her. He already knew she held affection for him. Thus prayer would work, and he would be a good, pious protector. Alicent made a small comment and he withdrew from being too close. Those woes seemed to be gone by the time she turned eight and ten— leading to now.

The sweet, blossomed woman was dozing around his fingers now. Criston purred, "Such a good princess, just likes to be bad. That's okay, you deserve it, so kind for helping me out." She softly whimpered and drooled as he pressed upon her tongue.

"Gorgeous, being good for me."

She whined in response, pretty lashes fluttering. Criston almost lost her affection once. That dreadful day with Aegon and Ser Arryk telling him to stand down. He could have wrung his neck. But fear overcame the anger. The knight knew she mustn't gain access to that horrid secret. Criston prayed and prayed and prayed, mutilated, and prayed that Alicent would keep the truth hidden. Something in the uncomfortable hairshirt worked, his blossom forgave him, and the Gods had granted him a boon. Certainly, she was meant to be his then?

Criston blinked out of his reverie, asking gently "Blossom, are you with me?"

She looked like she was under her poppy tinctures. He smiled a bit, the princess blissed out from Criston alone. Eventually, she nodded, trying to speak around his digits. He sighed, "I think I've changed my mind, why don't you come sit in my lap? Must be chilly down there."

The blossom whined when Criston pulled his fingers out, mumbling, "Yes Ser, yes, whatever you need." She clambered onto foal-like legs, Criston guiding her to the plush leather chair. The man easily pulled her frame atop him. He hissed lowly as her ass pressed against his aching cock. Fighting the feeling, he nuzzled into reddish waves, lips quirked up. The knight whispered "You've always been such a pious one. Did you ever touch yourself?"

She shook her head slowly, body melting into Criston's. Her hands wrapped around his bigger wrists. The princess whimpered, "No, never, I would not dare. It is sinful," she paused for a long time, "Right?" Cole chuckled, one hand of his rubbing soothing circles onto her side. He teased "We're together now, I prayed for it, the Seven smile upon us. How can it be sinful if you're touching yourself for me? The Seven-Pointed Star says you may indulge with a paired soul."

He grabbed her chin to emphasize his point, her innocent eyes making his cock hurt "I would say we are paired souls. Do you agree?"

"You know it to be true, you always have," she stated.

"Good. I'll touch you instead, so you may remember this and feel better when I am away."

He bunched her woolen dress, exposing her plush thighs and untainted maidenhead. Criston inhaled sharply, fingers digging into the wrinkled cloth. He could see her slick and aroused, flesh darkened with need. The man gritted his jaw in restraint, he would treat the sweet girl like the delicate blossom she was. Her eyes were still upon him, dark and wet, skin flushed. Ser Cole could feel the tacky way his cock was plastering itself to her ass with his prick leaking the way it was.

"Does it please you?" came her tiny warble.

Criston groaned, "Yes, yes, more than anything yes...Hold your dress up now. I...need to take care of you sweet blossom. My needs can wait." She sniffled and clung to her raised layers of dress, head shyly tucked away as she panted. The Hand gripped the giving flesh of her thigh, coaxing her to open wider with a gentle coo. The redhead shivered in response, breasts bouncing as her breath hitched.

"Have you been this wet for me before?"

"Mhmmm," she whined, hiding her embarrassed look.

"Need you to watch blossom, or you won't know how," he stated. He could feel her gaze watch as Criston's spit-slick fingers cautiously slid across her opening. She mewled in response, gasping, "Ser!" He hushed and laid tiny lush kisses, easing her heightening fears. "Slow and gentle, breathe for your knight," came his rasp.

"Ser, Cris- oh heavens, oh what is that? S-so good!"

He laughed, "A special place the mother gave you, the maiden bestowed for naughty princesses like you to rut on and make a mess. You're making quite a mess, all wet and needy." She moved back against his swollen prick, Criston's eyes fluttering. His princess babbled, "'S for you, m'not, not, naugh-ty." He assured her she wasn't, now narrating his way down to her entrance.

"Your sweet pearl is fun to play with, but most green boys don't know how to work a woman's body. I'll let you take your own pleasure too."

The tips of his fingers slid into her wet warmth, tight and silky smooth. They both gasped into the room's silence, Criston groaning in contentment. He slid further in, minding her reactions. Maiden above she was tight. She planted her feet on the leather chair, her dress falling back. Criston was taken aback as she breathed, "Want to touch you, not this silly dress."

"Seven Hells, you'll send me to an early grave..."

Her hands held onto his forearms as Criston began to delve into her cunt, easing her in with rhythmic slides. She was growing restless, cute tits bouncing with every heave of breath. He would surprise her with the sweet spot. The marcher curled his fingers upwards, dragging against the soft ridged area.

He smirked as her chest hitched once more, a small confused noise leaving petal lips. Criston playfully crooked his fingers back and forth as watched her whine and squirm raptly. The man whispered against her ear, “Feel the heel of my palm? Go on, use your hips.”

Criston’s smirk broke into a smile as she rode his hand and fingers, shyly at first. The princess’ hips twitched tentatively, her slick cunt moving against Criston with ease. He nuzzled her neck, pressing more little kisses as she sped up, fingers digging into his arms. The knight found himself mumbling between kisses, “Good…so good..thassit’.”

His blossom was rutting hard now, huffing between her broken noises. Cole could feel her tighten around him, even one of her pretty tits under his hand was budded and tight. His dark gaze noticed her thighs were quivering as she grew frantic with pleasure, crying Criston’s name. It made his heart swell. Yet the deep-seated craving wasn't met by the hand of the king.

“Mine. Say you're mine. Before you come. Now.”

Her hips stuttered and ground down hard, the princess throwing her head back onto Criston's shoulder as she cried, "I am yours, only yours, forever yours Ser Cole! Hnghhh- oh my gods! Please!" She looked up toward him, begging softly, riding his hand, her ass rubbing Criston's prick to near completion. He demanded her release, gasping as the innocent m thing squealed and gushed all over his hand, grabbing onto him for dear life.

She sobbed in pleasure, sending a gut punch to Criston's own throbbing balls. He gripped down on her with his free hands, squeezing her soft hips as he rutted with heavy grunts, blinking and gasping for breath as he emptied all over her clothed backside. Criston moaned her name, pressing his sweating forehead to her shoulder, inhaling their mixed scent. He rasped, "Lovely blossom, just lovely, I'm so proud of you my love."

She stared with swollen eyes, the prettiest smile upon her lips as she said, "I love you Criston."

He would take that memory to battle with him. Else the man feared he'd pick her up and abscond. He was too deep, had too many scores to settle, dying with a name worth living for. Yet. Yet, she was always there, waiting for him. Ser Criston shut his ever-spinning mind down for the evening.

Criston was leaving for the Riverlands in the morn. He'd kept you by his side for the last week or so. It did not matter where— the throne room, the barracks, his tower, even the council again. People stared and remained silent. Alicent had refused to speak to either of you and Aemond looked at you like a common whore. It did not matter when you had your love.

Ser Cole was insatiable in the bedroom since he brought you to a peak with his fingers. He'd taught you how to suck him, rub him, how to get off on his thighs or tight stomach. Every night you'd lain in a mess of sweat, tears, and come. Nothing was finer than taking a sensual bath afterward, soaping each other up between slow kisses. You were in love, truly, but at such an awful time. You prayed the gods would give him back to you. You feared what would come of you when he left. The thought of death was too much.

Your white knight was in a forlorn mood tonight, holding you tightly. You rubbed his thigh and consoled Criston, "I have a dragon you know. I shall be fine." He grimaced and rolled over to face you, handsome face twisted with emotions. The marcher asked, "I hope you think me to be good and kind even after this all. Don't let me die in vain."

"Don't talk like that," you chastised, frowning.

He grumbled further, sinking into his foul mindset, barbs upon his tongue. A tense argument broke out between you two. Criston ended it by shoving himself atop you and bursting into tears. He gritted, "I am, fucking hell, reconsidering everything now. I must go on. I must face my reality, we both should. But it...hurts! It fucking hurts! You have to grow up now! I've left you in your pretty gilded cage for too long!"

You blinked in shock, his tears hitting your face. Criston seemed to deflate, apologizing and weeping, "M'just scared, I can't leave you alone, I can't. You're all I need. Oh gods forgive me." This was the side of the marcher you knew few had seen. Vulnerable, real, human. Criston huffed into your neck, his hands digging into your waist.

“You’re not wrong-“

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Whether you did or not, ‘tis true Criston. We must face our fates whether that be now or later. I must prepare my own dragon to defend the city. You must go lead our troops. I can’t sit and weep the rest of my life.”

He gazed with wet eyes, red rimmed and dark lashes clumped. You caressed your knight’s cheek, murmuring, “I want you to have me before you leave. The gods never promise anything.”

A soft noise fell from his swollen lips, Criston readjusting himself between your lax thighs. You thought idly about giving him your tincture with the way the man was shaking. He rasped, “They don’t, not the Stranger. I want to make this…good.” Criston’s lips trembled as he pressed them tenderly to your own, balancing himself on an elbow. You wrapped your arms around his wide shoulders, opening up.

The kiss spoke of the utter fear in the air. Long drags of tongue and sucking of lips, no urgency in the sacred moment. You arched into him, suckling gently on the tip of Criston’s hot tongue. He groaned, hips twitching against yours as he tilted his face some, lips dancing yet insistent. You grabbed some of his dark hair, crying out when he nipped your lip. The man ate up your noises, hands greedily roving your body.

“I love you,” he spoke, voice wobbly.

His lips moved down your jaw and neck, sucking at that sensitive place below your ear.

Criston’s cock had grown flush and heavy between your legs, twitching with need. Your own desire began to drip with slick and pounded with blood flow. You rocked against him with a whine, Criston’s eyes flicked to you with a sly smile as he ground back. You threw your head back in pleasure as he massaged and lapped at your tits, sucking at your tits with desperate noises.

Once again you yanked at his hair and Criston moaned, pausing to take your lips again. He murmured, urgency to his voice, “I’m going to stretch you out blossom, as best as I can, wan’ you to feel good. Feel so good.” The urge to cry bubbled up but you nodded along anyways, spreading your legs like the good princess. His good princess.

Criston hitched one of your thighs up around his waist, the other he held out. The man inhaled at your tender mound, eyes black as the coal on his sigil. You shivered involuntarily at the feeling of those sculpted lips sealing around your pearl, sucking ever so softly. One of your hands slapped down on the bed as you whimpered, thighs tightening. His calloused fingers swiped at your slick cunt, diving in two off the get.

It wasn’t painful— you’d gotten quite used to two fingers from your lover. But he pumped a couple of times before stretching his fingers outwards. That was a new feeling, a bothered whine elicited from the sensation. Criston flicked his tongue a couple of times and that was forgotten as hot licks of pleasure bundled up in your belly.

His ring finger slid in, a new feeling, a bit of a pinch. Criston rambled, “Breathe love, breathe, doing so good for me. The most obedient princess, wanton for her night. I wish you could see how much of a mess you’re already making.” He smiled at your keen of arousal and embarrassment, three fingers stretching your tight walls. He dove back down to flick, suck, lick at your pearl— relentlessly so.

Your hand not trying to rip the bed gripped his short hair, thighs clamping down now. He was abusing your other gifted place, curling his fingers as if to bring your release forward. Wet noises of his hungry mouth and ravenous fingers filled the room. He grunted, hips jerking to a standstill when you whimpered, “So close, closeclose, I love you, oh stars Criston.”

He didn’t cease his movements as you felt goosebumps arise across your hot skin, sweat beginning to bead up as pleasure rose and rose. Your lower stomach was a tight cord, ready to come undone, winding tighter and tighter. All you could do was mewl and squirm, enslaved to his ministrations. You gaped, breath going staccato, whining through your nose.

The coil snapped.

You fell apart in a flurry of shaking limbs, mouth wide open yet not a peep coming out. It was intense and fiery, the flames of carnal delights searing you. Criston moaned softly, “Ah- gorgeous blossom, made a mess all over.” He licked his swollen lips and wet chin, cock beaded and bobbing between trim thighs. You watched in a haze, feelings the subtle burn from his beard brushing your delicate skin. It felt delightful to you— the dull throb.

“Want you, please, want your,” you paused, “Want us to be truly together.”

Criston nodded, hand on his prick, precariously sliding atop your limp form. He slicked up the head of his already weeping member with your own essence, eyes rolling back at the sensation. Criston nuzzled against your face, promising to make you feel good. He seemed to grow more emotional, taking his time with sliding the blunt head around your entrance.

Carefully holding wide shoulders you tried to relax your nervous body, going limp when his cock breached your tight cunt. Criston shivered, pushing forward a bit more, gasping out. “Princess, are you okay? Hm?” Worried brown eyes flitted around as he met your eyes. You nodded in a slow jerk, it was uncomfortable but more foreign than anything. The man pushed in further, your inner walls stretching to accommodate his thick cock.

There it was, a pinch inside. Your chest went a little tight, nails digging into his shoulders. Criston’s mouth opened but you surged forward to kiss him, thighs and heels urging the man on. You’d never wanted anything else but this, right now. He moaned deep and long, holding himself from going too far. Inch by inch he settled, the pair of you panting into eachother’s mouth. A pregnant pause settled over your connected forms, his eyes upon yours. Brown and plum.

You didn’t have to say it again— it was felt.

Criston gingerly pulled out on a soft whine, pushing himself back into your cunt. Then again. Over and over until he built up a pace, mouth hanging open as he groaned helplessly. The friction was delicious, the pain blending away to fall into deep pleasure. Your nails clawed at his back some, keening your lovers name as he began to fuck you in earnest.

You felt so fucking full and satisfied, Criston’s gorgeous moans urging you to fuck back onto his fat prick. Useless babbles left your lips, “Full, oh, oh you feel s’good.” Criston whined wetly against your neck, feverishly kissing and sucking as he grabbed your hips to get a better angle. His beard rubbed your neck and collarbones raw— another reminder of his love. The marcher’s chest heaved as his hips and balls hit your skin, leaving nothing back as he gave in.

“Godsdammit, hah, sweet blossom, taking your knight so well. Made for me, swear- swear it.”

“All for you.”

He bit down on your neck, thrusting at a breakneck pace. The dark haired knight couldn’t quit from rambling or moaning, eyes scrunched shut as your tight pussy milked him. You squirmed under his heavier body, Criston’s chest hair rubbing against the delicate skin of your breasts, your nipples aching from the friction. Your nails drew deeper scores into his back. Tears pricked at your eyes.

Once again you were at the precipice.

Why did this feel like the last?

Criston whined as his hips stuttered, cock twitching deep inside. His tactful thrusts were mismatched and sloppy, the firmness of his voice chipped away to quavering emotional whimpering. You tightened further, your cunt spasming in waves as you felt the familiar throes burn deep inside. So good it hurt. The pair of you came undone together, sounding like a pair of young lovers squealing and crying. Thick ropes of his cum painted your insides, another shiver crossing your frame.

Would it be so bad if his seed took?

Criston fell down to his side, cock slipping out in a mess of spend and blood. He grabbed onto you tightly, tears slipping down your cheek. Your own tears mingled with his, you absently petting dark hair. He laughed blithely, “I shall bear your wounds proudly, hmph.” You pointed out your neck, agreeing to do the same in case you were needed.

“I’ll pray for you my love.”

“And I you.”

Many winters and summers later, barflies would say you could catch glimpses of a ragged white knight asking where his blossom was, down on some road south of the Gods Eye. The ghost would never know she perished in dragonflame, best that he didn’t, if anyone even knew what the apparition was talking about.

[star2fishmeg]

Hiiiiiiii can I request smut #64 with Quinn pleaseeeee

Thank you for requesting <3

SMUT #64 "Oh, you like that?"

📞 dialling…

Her thighs burned, sweat dripping down her temples, between the valley of her breasts, sticking their skins together as her nails dug angrily into Quinn’s shoulders. She’d begged, begged him until tears pricked in her eyes, walls clenching around his cock, but he still refused to touch her, refused to help the poor woman out as her energy depleted, her once ruthless bouncing on his cock becoming languid cries for assistance. His arms over the back of the sofa, eyes burning into hers as she whimpered pathetically for him.

“Awe, does my pretty girl want some help?” He teased, feeling her grip on his shoulders loosen.

“Please, Quinn, please touch me.” She mewled, “Please fuck me, m’sorry.”

“And what are you sorry for?” 

“Being a brat, m’sorry for teasing you at dinner.” She tried to roll her hips, but she was exhausted from his torment.

His lips quirked into a smirk, hands finally running along her thighs and wrapping around her hips, gently guiding them along his cock, drawn-out moans easily slipping past her lips and echoing around Quinn’s living room. 

“I didn’t quite catch that; you’ll have to be louder.” His fingers gripped either side of her jaw, forcing her to look him in the eye as she gave him a look laced in keen lust.

“M’sorry for teasing you at dinner, Captain, won’t do it again,” she mewled out, louder than before and finding a burst of energy in the way his grip loosened on her face and tightened on her hip. That dominant glare he held softened, and she felt his cock twitch inside her, “Oh, you like that? You like when I say that, Captain?”

“Fuck-” he hissed, throwing his head back, hips callously bucking up into her hard and his hand fell back to her hips, thumb, rubbing firm circles over her clit just how she’d been sobbing for, spreading her slick over the pad of his thumb. Something about the way it rolled off her tongue just shot straight to his dick, maybe it was the act of only he could take care of her, or maybe he was a giver. Either way, he was a simple man and when his girl needed pleasing, he would be the only man to do so properly. 

Lulling her head back, a small giggle escaping from her, shockwaves washed through her as Quinn’s hips rutted up into her cunt, almost doing the work for her as if he was back to doing the duty he knew best: taking care of people.

“Need you, Captain, need you to take care of me, make me cum.” She wailed, emphasising on his title and rolling her hips into the gratifying pleasure of him playing with her deprived clit, “Captain, always so good, fuck me so good!” 

He bit the inside of his cheek, attempting to stifle his groans but the way she clenched around his throbbing cock, dragging against her wet and warm walls like an embrace tailored to fit him, his face burned when he viciously submitted to moaning out her name, grunting with every thrust. Who knew Quinn found carnal fun in hearing ‘Captain’ from her voice, crying out for him, would have him crumble into mush underneath her.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Scottish Sam

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Magda wants you to wear her jersey

It's not very often that Magda gets to see you in her jerseys.

You wore Pernille's Wolfsburg and Denmark one easily. You'd had, on special occasions like the World Cup, worn Magda's Sweden jersey. You'd never willingly worn her Chelsea one.

You'd complained about everything when she used to force you into it. The size. The feel. But most of all, the colour.

Your aversion to Chelsea was something she had grown to live with but, now that you were at Bayern, Magda hoped you would wear her jerseys more often.

There was a strong sense of pride that she could never properly explain when she saw you in one of her shirts like she could imagine the woman you'd become in your own professional jerseys. There was something about it that just made her turn to mush which was why she was glad the Bayern jersey had red.

Red was your favourite colour. She blamed it for the reason that you were drawn to Arsenal in the first place but now she was sure that it was going to work in her favour.

Of course, that all came crashing down when she walked into the locker room to find you wearing a Bayern jersey that wasn't hers.

It wasn't Pernille's either - the only other person she could tolerate you wearing.

Instead, you were wearing Sam's.

You were standing in the woman's cubby too, arms crossed over your chest as you oversaw the other girls milling about waiting to go onto the pitch.

You look a bit scary like that but only a little because you're the same little girl who still slept with your stuffed toys and complained about eating fruit.

Sam's grinning as she looks around, showing anyone who would listen what you were wearing.

"Did you have to let her wear that?" Magda groans," I had a plan, Pernille!"

"It wouldn't have worked," Pernille laughs," She has opinions now. You can't trick her as easy as before."

"We'll see."

As Sam helps you get down, Magda pulls her jersey out of her bag and clears her throat.

You look over at her, wandering closer because Momma has your keeper gloves and Maria and Anna said that you can train with them and Cecilía today.

"What's that?" You ask.

"A Bayern jersey."

It's your size and you look at it suspiciously. You pull at the one you're already wearing. "Why?"

"Well, I thought you'd like to wear it."

"I'm wearing one now."

"But this one is special."

That catches your attention and you shuffle closer. "Why's it special?"

"Because," Morsa says with a flourish," It's mine."

Your interest waves and you move back to Momma. "Oh. That's boring."

Momma laughs and Morsa hisses at her," Pernille! It's not funny!" She turns back to you again. "It's not boring. We can match!"

You huff and stare at Momma. "Do I have to?"

She laughs and cups your cheeks. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to." She helps you slip on your keeper gloves and turns you around so she can fix your hair.

You're facing Morsa now, who is looking between you and the little you-sized shirt in her hand. You stare unblinking at her as Momma runs a brush through your hair and begins to braid it back.

Morsa sighs before tucking it back into her bag and waving a teasing finger in your face. "I'll get you in that soon, Princesse. Just you wait."

You stick your tongue out at here. "Nu-uh!"

Morsa sticks her tongue out too and Momma finishes your hair.

You go towards where the keepers are waiting before you freeze and turn back to Morsa, tugging on her shirt.

"Morsa," You say," You have to take a picture."

"How come?"

"I want to show Australian Sam my new shirt."

Magda bursts out laughing, her ego suddenly soothed by your desire.

You'd never once in your life worn Sam's jersey, Chelsea's Sam of course. You'd always refused, running away whenever she tried to ask you and screeching whenever she came near you with it.

It was always funny to watch and Sam had to try and convince you from a distance.

You never accepted though and Magda's ego suddenly feels fine again now she knows you want to show Sam that you're happily wearing Scottish Sam's jersey.

"Alright," Magda laughs, positioning you so you're looking over your shoulder with a smile as Sam's jersey in seen clearly. She snaps the picture.

"You have to send it to Australian Sam," You say," Okay?"

"Got it, Princesse. Go on off to training."

You grin and nod, running off towards the Bayern keepers, who lead you outside.

"You're not actually going to send it to her, are you?" Pernille asks and Magda's answering smile is all the explanation she needs. "Magda!"

"What?" Magda asks innocently," I'm just respecting Princesse's wishes. There's nothing wrong with that."

Pernille rolls her eyes but doesn't argue anymore and Magda takes this as her chance.

SAM 😈 wtf???? you can't let her do that Magda!!! where's the loyalty???? get that girl into my Chelsea jersey this instant!!!

[gremlingottoosilly]

Kruger's sister being a literal starving artist x Konig. Often times spending her money on paints and stuff while neglecting herself.

One of the main reasons you still live with your older stepbrother even as you both got well over 18 is your total financial irresponsibility. You're the type to blow your entire paycheck on a new set of paint, on her brushes and materials - refusing to get something cheap or work with older materials, your entire savings would be dropped on a new graph tablet. You know you will have a roof over your head, and you even occasionally get some money from commissions and selling your art...still, you struggle to get by. Konig doesn't understand art. He doesn't like it, for the most part, and doesn't see the point in just going to an art gallery and staring at pictures of dead people and already abandoned places just to feel...something? He didn't understand how to look at art properly, so he just ignored it for most of his life. Then Kruger sweeps some of your older pictures that you wanted to put on a garage sale - and Konig is swept off his feet. He stares at the canvas - something about sea, or maybe mountains. Maybe even people, made with such care and talent that even a wood-brained bastard like him knows that you're good. You now have the biggest fan. Requesting his portraits from you - he is shy, awkward, he can't sit for longer than a few minutes so you bark at him to just stay still if he really wants for his picture to be drawn, and he can only get himself to sit calmly if he stares at the way your fingers move and your facial expressions change as you draw him. He pays you so much more than your paintings are worth - you can finally afford nice things, cool things. Proper painting materials, maybe even a new tablet... Konig could be nice and pay you double the rate for nude paintings too - even as you're too fucking shy to look at him, cock standing proudly and leaking on the small cloth he used to cover himself with(it's not working, of course not) and you almost cry in shame. Poor girl, you'd have to work to get your money - you're only lucky because at least he is not forcing you to touch him. Yet...

[tired-teacher-blog]

Virgin Pro hero Deku who -despite being a little over thirty- is still clueless as to how he should speak or act around girls.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who is unable to maintain a steady relationship or even keep one going for over a couple of weeks because it never feels right.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who doesn't believe in casual hookups like one night stands, even with the countless admirers throwing themselves at his feet.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who's a hopeless romantic, spends most of his free time fantasizing about a perfect future with the perfect woman and building scenarios after scenarios of the happy life he dreams of having. Only, he can never assign a face to his perfect lady because he is yet to encounter her.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who wishes to one day have a kid of his own, a thought that often visits him but leaves a bitter aftertaste behind, as he is nowhere near it.

Virgin Pro hero Deku whose mind went completely blank for a millisecond before spiraling out of control the moment he saw you as he found himself inexplicably drawn to you, and his pathetic state only worsened since he didn't know how to properly approach you.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who spent weeks following you from afar, has finally found the face to his once faceless perfect woman.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who is a total klutz, was unaware of your eyes following him back, nor of the shy smile appearing on your face everytime you sensed him nearby.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who could not muster up the courage to talk to you, almost passed out the day you spoke to him for the first time.

Virgin Pro hero Deku whose palms became clammy and throat became dry— the moment you stood face to face with him, only nodded to your suggestion for a cup of coffee together as he did not trust his voice around you yet.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who soon came to realize that a mere glance from you is more lethal than the deadliest of villains he encounters daily.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who was certain you are the one for him the moment you laced your fingers with his and pulled him closer for a shy kiss goodnight as you both stood on your doorstep.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who kept smiling like a fool afterwards because the feeling of your lips against his own was addictive, he wanted more but was too shy to ask, regretting his cowardice the moment you walked into your house and closed the door behind you.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who rewinded that moment in his head all night long as he laid down in bed, still smiling while tracing his lips with his fingers and wishing you were there with him.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who couldn't believe his ears when the words "I love you" left your lips one evening, so casually, with a giggle following suit. He grabbed your hands and stared into your soul as he wordlessly anticipated to hear it again, and he did.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who stood nervously before you, eyes roaming your luscious curves while watching eagerly as your dress slid down your body and hit his bedroom's floor, fully exposing you to him.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who was lost at that moment between his burning desire for you, and an extreme embarrassment for the throbbing bulge he could not conceal behind his palms.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who dug deep inside his mind for any distraction that could keep him from cumming hard in his boxers as you dragged him to bed with you.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who moaned loudly against your neck while feeling the softness of your velvety walls for the first time in his life.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who refused to cum before guiding you to your own release, the hardest test he lived through as the overwhelming pleasure you both experienced was too much to resist, it was addictive and irresistible, keeping you both awake all night long as you explored ech other's bodies until you no longer could move a muscle, gasping for air and holding onto the other firmly, unfazed by the sticky mess connecting you together.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who's always been grateful you were his first, is now certain you'll be his last as he blissfully watched you walk down the aisle..

Divider by: @/cafekitsune

[anadiasmount]

Could you write something about jude realising he’s in love with you (so just his pov)

Just him alone in his room maybe and after so much time denying his feelings he lets himself feel for a little and then realises there’s no back to normal, he’s completely head over heels for you

wait i actually love this?? lmk what you think for future purposes 🤭🤍

while jude always denied to idea of love, falling in love, being in love, there was certain exceptions he made just for you. only you. how he could deny that bubbly and tingly feeling when he saw that smile crawl up to your face?

hear you constantly gush, praise, and adore him about how incredibly he was to you. what you didn’t know is that only you were the only one he was doing this too. he should’ve seen it coming after the first month of him in madrid, new, afraid, yet excited to take on his first season.

while jude sometimes felt shy, with you it was like being a whole complete person. his friends would see it, mom and dad, he’ll even jibe was asking what made this new persona in him suddenly change. it was your effect.

yet here was jude sulking with the biggest frown on his face, his thumbs brushing against the screen debating whether or not to send you a message or just say fuck it and call you. jude knew you would be busy studying on a saturday night, especially since your mid terms were coming up. thinking about how you forced him to help you study your flashcards and he took the whole act seriously.

jude felt out of place, and all he wanted was to be with you so desperately. the longing feeling, to feel how you curl up next to him, blabber about the tiktoks you see or your professor who seemed to teach the opposite of what they were supposed to. why did he feel so desperate, the itch becoming more difficult to the point where his chest would begin to pang with pain at the thought of you not there.

“just call her bro, what do you have to lose?” jude’s teammate encouraged over the phone, jude sideyeing him before he gave up and did just that. he typed out your number, wanting to remember it because he never knew when he may need it. the bubble of excitement yet nerves built insides him, jude sipping on his tea before he heard your tired voice.

“hi jude, to what do i owe this pleasure?” you teased, jude holding back a chuckle before replying. “ha ha, very funny. what are you up to right now?” he asked playing with the strings of his hoodie, “i just finished studying for the night, i couldn’t focus properly but it was the same material from this whole week,” you sighed. “is everything okay?” jude asked, practically seeing your nod over the phone. “yes it is now.”

“do you want to come over?”

if jude spent another hour debating he would’ve lost it. but now that you were here, right where he wanted, he wasn’t going to let you go. “okay cookies are made!” you said excitedly, jus expressing behind you and kissing your head. his normal and lovey habit. which you didn’t refuse either. “i picked out a few movies we can watch in the mean time,” he said dragging you to the couch.

jude’s heart couldn’t stop racing. he felt like he could’ve exploded any second now. your scent, the homey feeling, your smile, your touch it was driving him insane. he knew it was beyond playful feelings. he was head over heels for you, and if he didn’t confess now he would regret it later on. he shifted in his spot, making you pull away from him while still watching the tv. “come back here,” jude pouted.

“you’re so needy,” you joked but it was the whole truth. “y/n?” jude’s voice trembled, your eyes drawn to his immediately to ensure he was okay. jude felt a cold tingle spread down his spine, feeling more alive then ever. “what’s wrong-”

“you know you mean the world to me right?” jude started shifting up and getting closer to you, your touch hot against his hands. “i do?” jude nodded, tracing his initials against your skin. “you’re my whole world, y/n…”

“jude stop joking like that,” you pulled away, looking him up and down, but you could tell something felt different from this, from usual times. “i’m not, im being serious right now. i’ve avoided it forever with fear of hurting you or what we have but i don’t care about that now. i’m done waiting and avoiding how i feel,” jude stressed.

“what are you saying,” you asked, jude’s heart wrenching and pounding louder then when he played a game. “i’m saying that i love you and i have for the longest now,” jude said staring into your eyes but all he heard was laughter escaping your lips. “yeah you’ve lost it now,” you got up and went to the kitchen unable to get rid of the gut feeling.

jude was more nervous then ever, your small rejection getting to him more then it should’ve. “y/n why would i lie to you about something like that? you’re all i think about day and night. during training, when i see those silly panda stickers all over my room, or that damn scent you have engraved here,” he pointed to his chest.

“i’m so incredibly in love with you y/n. im tired of just pushing my feelings away because i was being selfish. im ready now, im ready for you. for us. i want to whatever it takes to make you happy with me. all i want is you, you y/n,” jude cried out, his voice pleading the hear him out. to take him out the misery he felt. for you to confess as well.

“jude-”

“y/n please say you love me back… that’s there’s a chance for us, please my love…”

[cobaltperun]

Eternal Flame (13) - Black Friday

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

Spotify playlist

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part

Word Count: 5.7k

-I wanna be happy, could you show me how it's done?-

When Hugh took you to Ethiopia you didn't think you would be spending half the day raking leaves with him. “I thought we were on a vacation,” you said roughly four hours into the manual labor he's been putting you through. Granted, he was right there with you, doing the same thing, so at least that made it fair to an extent. His kids and wife smartly avoided this activity and were in a warm house, drinking coffee and getting to know the locals.

“No harm in some work,” Hugh figured, getting up and wincing as he straightened his back. Oh yeah, he was several decades older than, you frankly you were almost sorry for him right now. “We'll sleep a lot better tonight.”

You did have troubles sleeping, so maybe that’s what he was trying to do.

“Yeah, that's right. Keep finding the positive in everything. I’ll ask you what you think tomorrow, when it turns out that your back is hurting, because you couldn't let a twenty-year-old do a better job than you,” and stupidly you got competitive as well. At least you did things a lot faster since you both wanted to see which one of you could do the job faster and better. As it turns out, being young did have advantages in this particular situation.

“I let you win,” he said as he leaned on the rake, but not too hard though, as you were both afraid that leaning on them properly might make them snap, and that would be an embarrassing way to fall to the ground.

You rolled your eyes, amused by his refusal to accept loss with grace. “So, what's really the point of all this? You've had me working, had me meditating, hell, nearly roped me into doing yoga with you. Come on, spill it,” you said once you began making your way back to the shed to leave the raked before going back to where Deb and Hugh’s kids were.

“You really should try yoga though,” he was trying to change the subject, to avoid answering your question and you just turned to face him, meeting his eyes and just studying him for a moment. And then he slumped slightly, giving in to your silent demand. “I'm trying to keep you occupied, I guess, not sure if that will do any good, but we might as well start somewhere.”

The expression on your face softened as Hugh said that. You could have figured as much. “You're being ridiculous, but I appreciate it,” the truth was that you probably didn't have any idea how to approach what you were feeling and going through either, and he was just scrambling to try and do something. He was making an effort while hoping that maybe one of those things would work for you, and some were actually working.

The first few days he had to pull you to sit down and meditate with him, but this morning you sat down next to him all on your own. For what it was worth you did appreciate spending ten minutes purely on yourself, being in no rush to do anything, feeling no pressure, having no deep thoughts plaguing your mind. It was just ten minutes, and in that brief period of time you could take a moment and relax. Somehow, starting the day like that was good for you, it was making you feel calm at the start of the day instead of tense as you usually were.

And despite the occasional joking complaints you made about the vacation turning into a glorified test of your stamina, you enjoyed yourself. You were gaining a new perspective on life in general, something to help you look at things from a different point of view. And throughout all of that the ring hanging from your neck brushed against your skin and reminded you that at the end of the day this all had to be worth it.

~X~

There has never been a January this miserable in Jenna's life, filled with so much despair and sorrow and exhausting conversations with her family. All of them, mostly her parents, but also her siblings, aside from Aliyah who saw how she was at the airport, were repeating that you weren't good for her. Repeating that she was like this because of you, that she was difficult to talk to, that she was miserable, that she had a short temper and wasn't pleasant to be around, all because of you.

Eventually she just packed her bag and went back to LA, cutting her family time short, because she could no longer take constantly hearing that. The worst thing about it was that it was getting to her head, and she feared that when, and if, she ever got the chance to see you again, that all those words her family kept repeating would end up reaching her. That the moment she saw you that she would start thinking whatever she had with you wasn't worth losing the support of her family.

And yet, as conflicted as she felt, she still often found herself with your shirt close to her and with your jacket around her shoulders as she went and did some small tasks all around her house. She couldn't quite wear it, the sleeves were too long for her, so she just tied the sleeves around her neck and went about her day. She was all alone so who cared if she looked a bit ridiculous.

From what Barbara told her, and she knew Barbara was only giving her the bare bones as far as the information went, you finished filming in Italy and went on a vacation with Hugh and his family. And despite everything Jenna almost felt bitter, thinking you moved on, that you decided to keep living your life with or without her in it, while she was here, having her world falling apart. If it turned out this between you couldn’t be fixed, then yeah, both of you had every right to move on. She just felt, in despair, that you did it way too quickly.

Her doorbell rang just as she finished washing the few dishes she used for her lunch, and she took your jacket off and hung it on the chair before going to her front door. Enrique said he would drop by, and this had to be him, and sure enough when she looked through the camera in front of her apartment building's front door she found him standing there. Jenna quickly opened the door and the front door of her apartment for him, and he came inside, meeting her in the hallway and she just hugged him soon as he was close enough.

“There, there, it's OK, you can cry,” he told her. By now he knew more or less what happened. He didn't know why you began fighting in the first place but he knew everything else. And while she could allow herself to cry in front of him Jenna honestly didn't have any tears left to shed, she spent so many nights crying herself to sleep that she was just tired of crying.

She let go of him and smiled a bit. “Let's just sit down. Do you want something to eat or drink? Anything?” Enrique just brushed her off, showing her he brought hot chocolate to go along, and Jenna was thankful for the a bit of thoughtfulness from someone who cared about her.

“Y/N’s jacket?” Enrique pointed at the jacket hanging from her chair as Jenna sat down.

She nodded. “I miss her,” she confessed softly. You weren’t talking and that was only making things worse right now. “But I don’t think my parents will ever accept her.”

Enrique leaned back in his chair. “Well, I'm here to fix that,” Enrique promised her, and somehow, she believed him. “So, how about you fill me in on the things I don't know,” he asked, and Jenna began. She told him everything she knew, that your parents were in an accident, were left in a coma and that you needed money. That you sold your apartment and that it still wasn't enough, so you went and got involved in a fight club. She told him all of that, and that it wasn't enough, that your parents couldn't be saved, and that you then, despite no longer having to fight, went and fought again, and Enrique just sat there listening taking it all in.

“You know, and this might just be me, but I think it's beautiful. You know, what she did,” his words took her by surprise, she had no idea how he could even come to that conclusion. You went and you hurt people, and you let others hurt you for money. How could that have been beautiful in any way? “Now, hear me out, I know how it sounds. But think about it. Y/N loved her parents so much that she didn't care what she had to endure to try and save them, she didn't get involved in that out of greed or a desire to hurt people, she went and fought because that was her only hope.”

Jenna just sat there, taking his words in. She hadn’t even thought about it that way, in her mind and in her entire family's opinion there was no excuse for what you did, there was nothing but violence in it, even if they understood the circumstances. Well, at least for the period while your parents were in a coma, and you were fighting for them.

“Just think about how much you would have to love someone to be sixteen and willingly go through so much pain, just for a slim chance that you could save that someone you love. Jenna, I've seen the way she looks at you, and you've seen it too. Your parents worry she would end up hurting you one day, but the way I see it there is a good chance she's the person you'll be safest with,” it felt like everything she thought she knew and everything she thought she felt was thrown on its head and changed in an instant. Like there was suddenly some kind of light shining through the clouds and making her see things differently.

“She went back, Enrique,” she fell back on repeating the arguments her parents kept making, afraid that if he convinced her, that she would only break. That she would ignore everything her parents wanted and do everything in her power to rebuild what the two of you had.

“Jenna, she was broken by grief. Y/N just lost her entire family, you said she fought for months to try and keep them alive, and she failed. So, she went and chose an unhealthy coping mechanism,” a lot like plenty of other people, and finally it all just made sense to Jenna, she understood what Enrique was trying to say. Yet it came too late, now it only made her feel worse that she didn't even consider these options, that she didn't even try to understand you and that she just pushed you away.

“I'm too late. I doubt she would ever want to see me again and I can't even blame her,” clearly not all of her tears were dried up, because here she was, crying once again. Enrique just pulled her into a hug, trying to console her and help her through this.

“You don't know that. Hey, we've both seen how she looks at you! I've spent just a couple of hours with her and even I can tell that girl unconditionally loves you!” and yet she went and risked it all over an impulsive reaction and her need to not go against her parents in that very moment.

The phone buzzed next to her, and her and Enrique saw it was from Barbara. “See what she sent,” Enrique encouraged her and Jenna unlocked her phone, and while making sure that Enrique could see it as well, she opened the message. Her eyes widened; Barbara had sent her a photo. It was you, in a place she couldn't recognize, drinking coffee it seemed, and just sitting by the fire with a small smile on your face, but what caught her eye wasn't your expression nor anything else about you, it was her ring clearly on display, hanging from the necklace around your neck.

“See, I told you,” Enrique patted her on the back and Jenna smiled as she spent who knows how long just silently staring at the picture. She stared, taking in the way the fire was reflected in your eyes, the smile on your face was honest, but there was a sense of sorrow in it, like you were constantly missing something. It wasn't the full smile you had when you were with her, and she studied every single detail about you, your hair, your clothes, the way light from the flames and shadows made your skin look, the way you held the coffee cup, firmly grasping it. She noticed the way you were slightly hunched forward, maybe leaning in to listen to whoever was talking to you, and she remembered how you leaned in to listen to her, you always leaned in closer than this. Your attention was always completely on her, and while you were paying attention to whoever you were talking to in this picture as well, she figured at least 10 to 15% of your attention was somewhere else.

And then she got another message from Barbara, and this time it was a video, perhaps taken only moments after the photo. You were silent, just listening and then it happened, you reached up and your thumb and finger brushed along her ring. You glanced down, the longing clear in your eyes, too lost in thoughts to notice you were being filmed.

“See, she loves you! She misses you, she wants you back in her life!” Enrique messed with her hair for a bit and the remark would have seemed like teasing to her a month ago, but now it was more than welcome.

“I still don't know what to do with my parents,” while she could probably convince her siblings that she would be fine, her parents were a whole other story.

“I'll handle them,” Enrique promised her and she trusted him, maybe he wouldn't be able to completely change their minds, but she believed that he would be able to at least make them willing to give the two of you a chance.

“Thanks,” Jenna said, not sure what else to say to show her gratitude. Then Barbara sent one last message for the day. ‘Just figured you should know that Y/N is trying her best. She’s trying to get better, and you are the biggest reason why she's doing that. As you can see by that ring that she refuses to take off unless she absolutely has to.’

And Jenna smiled, a sense of hope, from the conversation she had with Enrique, the video of you she got, and the message Barbara sent, filling her heart for the first time in roughly a month.

~X~

Even with all the energy you've been spending throughout the days, you still struggled to fall asleep, and you really shouldn't be, your days were packed. If it wasn't actually working and volunteering to help people out with Hugh, then it was sightseeing and long walks, and yet as tired as you were by the time you would say goodnight to Hugh and his family, that exhaustion would just vanish the moment you would lay down in your bed. You found yourself struggling to fall asleep each and every night.

You should have known long days of work or walking or some physically demanding activities wouldn't be enough to get you to easily fall asleep. After all, if there was one thing those fights gave you it was almost ridiculous stamina, and you had to admit you were hating that right now. Because no matter how tired or how calm you would be, you just couldn't fall asleep. You've tried meditating, you've tried doing a quick workout, you tried drinking chamomile tea, and yet none of that helped.

You knew exactly what was wrong, you glanced at your bedside table, at the ring Jenna gave you. You only took it off either when you were taking a shower or a bath, and when you were sleeping. You were afraid you could somehow grab the necklace and break it, and then lose the ring somewhere, so you would take it off. And it wasn't that you were missing the ring in particular, it was just that when you were on your own, your thoughts would just wander to the different places, and you had no control over them. You've been thinking about Jenna damn near constantly when you were alone.

Even when you were with other people you knew there was a sense of longing in everything you did, in every laugh, in every smile. You were there and you were happy. You really were doing better, but you just missed her. and you thought it would get better with time, but it didn't. It was just getting worse day by day. You turned in your bed once again for what felt like the hundredth time tonight alone, unable to quiet your mind.

The only thing you wanted was to just call her and see how she was doing, to just know that she was fine. Deep down you knew you left her at potentially the worst possible moment. You saw the desire to reach out to you, and to touch you in her eyes, back when you last saw her. You knew you were leaving her with the family that despised you right now, and you couldn't even begin to imagine just how hard it would be for her to go through all of that on her own. Living alone was in your mind one of the worst ways one could live, but constantly being surrounded by people who disapproved of something you cared about and put you through emotional pain while saying it was for your sake, was way worse than that.

And you despised yourself for leaving Jenna like that, because in the worst-case scenario she wanted to talk to you, but her family wouldn't agree with it no matter what she said. Yet you couldn't do anything about it, you hurt her, you betrayed her trust and you no longer had the right to reach out first. It had to be her, you couldn't force your way into her life, no matter how desperate you were to just know that she was fine.

And deep down maybe you were afraid of what you would do if she wasn’t fine.

And those thoughts plagued your mind. You constantly worried about how she was, how she slept, if she ate enough. Being alone made those thoughts a dozen time louder, and it was almost unbearable.

You glanced at your phone to check the time and tried to figure out what time it would be in Denver, eventually, you figured Barbara would be off work right now, so you went and called her, hoping her voice could calm down your nerves a bit. Besides, you missed your best friend, as much as this vacation helped you, you still wished she could have experienced some of this as well.

As you waited for her to pick up you promised yourself that when you finally come back and when you finished filming with Hugh that you would go and reconcile with her family.

“Babe?” of course she greeted you like that, that dumbass.

“Sure, sure, Babe,” you rolled your eyes. You found it somewhat funny how different things were the last time you called Barbara ‘babe’ back then Jenna heard it, and you had to explain yourself. Now it was much different, and those were just good old times before you went and fucked up.

“I can hear you rolling your eyes,” Barbara laughed, and you were going to take that, because she needed a laugh after helping you pull through those first couple of days after Jenna left. Barbara deserved every chance to laugh and if anyone were to hurt her you would raise hell until she was fine again, which was also part of the reason why you were adamant on sooner rather than later reconciling with her family.

It would also be very strange to suddenly, for example, appear at a celebration of something important happening in Barbara's life and surprise her parents by showing them you were still in Barbara's life. “Yeah, because eyerolls make sounds,” still, it was a bit strange, it sounded like Barbara had you on speaker. “How was your day?”

“Uh, just the usual, you know. Went to work and now I'm just lying around, bored. About to turn on the cheesiest love songs in history,” that was not good news, that meant only one thing, another heartbreak, well sort of, Barbara never took it too close to heart when something like this happened. Especially since she hasn’t really been serious with anyone over the past year.

“Which guy who asked you out ended up being in the closet now?” you would still humor her.

“James,” and that meant nothing to you. You didn't even know the guy existed; this was the first time you were hearing about him.

“How long ago was this again?” you asked, maybe you just forgot since your mind was damn near always on Jenna these days.

“A few months ago, you were filming Scream, meeting the love of your life while I was at the store, meeting James, who, as it turns out, only wanted a girlfriend so his mom would be happy,” she jokingly ranted. “Didn't even get to the first date point, so no harm done,” she may have been complaining, but you were well aware that Barbara didn’t care one bit about it. When someone right shows up he’ll show up, she used to say, and she still believed that. And she was still twenty, she mostly just dated to meet people and if it ended up becoming serious than so be it.

As for you, despite everything you still smiled at the love of your life comment, almost welcoming the teasing.

“I guess that will keep happening, minus finding the love of my life again, doubt that's happening, but you meeting guys while I’m somewhere filming,” considering you were serious about acting now that scenario was fairly plausible. How many things in Barbara and Hugh’s life would you miss with this job? How many times would you only be able to comfort Barbara over the phone? That was the sad reality of your work.

“About that, I think you won't need to find another one,” she said and you sat up abruptly, your heart beating rapidly in your chest at those words.

“What do you mean?” but she just laughed and for a moment you naively thought that she wasn't laughing at you, that maybe there was another reason she laughed. “Barbara, what do you mean?!”

“Oh, nothing, nothing! Don't worry about it! Oh, by the way, I need to go and get,” she paused as if she was thinking of an excuse. “A pizza, yeah, a pizza. I ordered a pizza and it's just about to arrive!” what the hell was going on over there?

“Barbara, you know I know when you are lying!” but she was already saying ‘bye!’ “You come back here and explain yourself, Barbara!” but she just hung up and you stared at your phone, baffled by what just happened. What did you miss?

~X~

Barbara was laughing her ass off and she just sank into the sofa. Your sofa by the way, because of course Barbara would take her to your apartment.

“See, you've got nothing to worry about. You're the love of her life,” Barbara told her with the almost infuriatingly wide grin on her face and Jenna just looked down, her face about as red as a tomato, and she couldn't stop the smile on her face.

For the first time since the end of last year she was actually at peace, and it was almost ironic that it was in your apartment. It was like deep down she could feel your presence around her, even if the apartment was fairly barren from anything personal in it. She could still feel like you were almost right there with her.

“She sounded,” she began, but she couldn't even find the correct word to describe what she noticed. But there was a change in your voice that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

“Like she was struggling, for the lack of a better word,” Barbara offered, and Jenna supposed that would be the most fitting description, though it wasn't quite the word she would use. It was more like you were on the precipice of finally reaching something that she couldn't define, yet she knew it would be important for you.

“I guess,” but she accepted the description Barbara offered.

Barbara gave her a small smile “So, you are going away for filming, right? That's why you wanted to talk.”

This time next week she would already be in New Zealand, about to start filming X, so that would mean she couldn't see you anytime soon. It was a harsh blow to know that she wouldn’t be able to see you for at least a month and a half from now. She didn't think she would be hearing your voice, and while it felt so good while it lasted, it just reopened that wound on her heart, caused by all the longing within her. She missed you so much, but she still wanted your first contact again to be face to face, and in a way she was afraid of your reaction; even if Barbara and Enrique have been telling her that it would be fine, that you still loved her.

“Well at least you’ll both be free after that and then you can figure out when and how to meet up,” that was a comforting thought, that after the filming was done for both of you, you would have the time and space and could actually talk things through. Maybe even find a way to get back to the way things were before because she desperately needed you back in her life.

“How should I approach it?” Jenna asked timidly.

Barbara put a finger on her chin, seemingly thinking about it. “Well, first of all you need to book an entire restaurant, and you have to arrange for a car to come and pick her up, and make sure there are flowers and cookies, and a good movie and some music. Y/N just adores heartbreaking love songs, they need to have soul crushingly depressing lyrics, by the way,” and then she burst out laughing because Jenna was seriously listening to her. “I'm messing with you, Jenna. Just show up. Just like you told me: ‘Hey, can we meet up, I want to talk,’ do the same thing with her. Or if you really don't want to send that message and you want the first thing you tell her to be face to face, then you tell me and I'll bring her somewhere so you can do that. That’s all Y/N wants, just you.”

And that comforted her a lot, that at the end of the day it didn't matter how she would show up, in front of you as long as she did come to talk. “Can we actually fix this?” Jenna asked because Barbara was the only one who knew you enough to give her that answer.

“12 hours,” Barbara said and then just completely stopped. Jenna just raised an eyebrow, not getting what that mean, so Barbara sighed and continued. “That's how long it'll take the two of you to end up in her bed naked, and very thankful the walls of this apartment are thick, not that you'll notice, because you'll be in the throes of passion. I'm telling you right now, that's gonna happen,” she said it with a completely blank face and somehow Jenna got even redder than before, unable to actually respond to that claim in any way.

~X~

With the vacation over, it was time to go back to work, and that meant going straight from Japan to New York to start filming The Daughter, and the first thing you did would perhaps make or break the rest of the process. Everything in the movie rested on the chemistry between you and Hugh, and the first scene had to start building that.

“Action!” you heard from behind the doors. You relaxed your posture, hung your head a bit and made it seem like you had the weight of the world on top of your shoulders, and you were just tired of it. And it wasn't difficult to get into that mental state. You opened the doors with an unscripted sigh, giving away how tired your character must be feeling as you tossed the bag onto the floor and just kicked your sneakers off, not even bothering to put them away properly. Your character was supposed to think she would come back home to an empty apartment, and you already made your way to your character's bedroom instead of at least glancing in the kitchen and the living room.

“Nicole!” you heard Laura's voice from the living room and froze momentarily, almost stumbling over your feet as you scrambled back to put your sneakers away properly and grab your bag. You let the panic in your eyes show well enough without overplaying it.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath, and then took a deep breath as if pumping yourself up to put on a façade. “Hey mom, shouldn't you be at work?” you asked as you leaned into the living room, showcasing the distance between the characters with a wide shot of the living room, with just your head and fingers of your left hand visible, as well as the hint of your bag hanging from your shoulder.

“I came early,” Laura smiled at you, and the smile was perfect, the pain and uneasiness hidden behind the unconditional love of a parent, it was all there in that quick moment that she would be in the focus.

“You arrived,” you tightened your grip on to the doorframe and flinched as if you were about to fall, and then you looked back to see Hugh coming out of the bathroom. You looked back at the hall, where his shoes were and then just looked at him again, as if trying to make sure he was actually there. “Dad?” you said in disbelief, and Hugh looked like he was stuck between being happy to see you and unsure what to expect from you. You leaned away from the doorframe, guarder, tense as you studied him, just as unsure of what to expect as he was.

“Your mom told me you've been skipping school, and I figured we could talk,” he said, and your entire demeanor changed as you glared at him. “Nicole,” Hugh called your character's name, and you tighten your jaw, starting to open your mouth to speak several times, before just giving up and relaxing.

“Sure, come on in,” you said motioning toward your room, there was no bounce to your steps and just for a moment you met Laura's eyes, and she just looked away as if silently saying sorry to you. You just closed your eyes for a moment, briefly letting the pain show on your face while neither Hugh nor Laura could see. As you let Hugh into the room you went and tossed the bag on your bed, not caring when you slightly missed, and it fell to the floor. You didn’t even wince at the slight mess in the room.

Hugh turned on the lights and walked by you, then he just picked your bag up, placing it on the bed with care, while you slumped into your chair. “You should keep your room tidy, when I was your age everything had to be spotless,” Hugh said and picked up an empty bottle of juice your character left lying there at some point.

“You should remember you have a daughter a bit more often, and yet here we are,” you fired back and Hugh’s eyes immediately met yours, only for you to look away and mumble a ‘Sorry’ under your breath.

Hugh sat down on your bed, and you just leaned back, not even looking at him. “I know we haven't spent a lot of time together lately, and I've been thinking that maybe you would like to spend some time with me, meet your baby brother. We can catch up and see how it works out?” he suggested and you looked at him for a moment.

“What about school?” you asked, sure your character didn't go to school for the past month, but it was still the middle of the year.

“We'll figure something out, enroll you in another school. Have you start over,” Hugh said and you nodded not really caring either way.

“Cut!” the director yelled and you and Hugh visibly relaxed. “That's what I wanted! Great job you two! You as well Laura!” he approached you and Hugh. “Hugh, you were right, Y/N can pull this off!” Florian patted you and Hugh on the shoulders and called you over to go over the next scene because the approach he took was to talk to both of you, or the actors involved in the scene, through it and try to explain all the emotions involved in it, as well as let you give him any input you might have as well.

Overall, even though the subject of the movie would be rather heavy, you wouldn't want to do this with anyone else. And from the look in Hugh’s eyes, you figured he felt the same.

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