#and the tone she let exist in her voice when she responded to me with a very uncharacteristic “Oh Katie.”

[kxttqi]

ノ [01] THE START OF IT ALL (t. oikawa x f!reader)

fic m.list . prev

+ content: swearing, suggestive, crack, kys/kms jokes, manga spoilers for timeskip, written and smau

guys i beg ignore the microsoft emojis its a long story 😢😢

[ send a comment under the fic m.list or send an ask to be added to the taglist!! (4/50) ]

the arrival in brazil had been smooth. yachi had booked a cozy airbnb close to the beach, tucked away in a neighborhood where the scent of saltwater clung to the air and the sound of crashing waves provided a soundtrack to every moment. after a quick power nap—just enough to shake off the haze of the flight—you found yourselves walking along sunlit streets, the kind that felt alive with color, on your way to the beach where hinata was set to play.  

you hadn’t expected to feel so at ease this soon. brazil was bright and unfamiliar, but something about it wrapped itself around you like a warm breeze, coaxing you to settle into its rhythm. what you really hadn’t expected, though, was to run into oikawa tooru at a small café on your first morning.  

the café was tucked into the corner of a quiet street, its awning striped with faded green and white, the smell of fresh pão de queijo wafting out onto the sidewalk. you’d walked into the cafe, still shaking the sleep from your bones, when you noticed him.  

at first, you weren’t sure. the early morning light filtered through the windows at just the right angle to make the edges of everything a little too bright, a little too surreal.   

but it was hard to miss the way he carried himself: tall, composed, every movement so deliberate it felt more like choreography than casual habit. he was standing at the counter, ordering something in fluent portuguese that rolled off his tongue like he'd been born speaking it.  

you knew of him, of course. who didn’t? even if you weren’t religious about every volleyball match, his name was impossible to avoid. he was a figure who existed in stories, in highlight reels, in the corners of conversations you only half-listened to. yet here he was, very much real, very much in front of you.  

your gaze must have lingered too long, because as he turned to leave, his eyes caught yours.  

he smiled.  

“hey,” he said, his voice smooth, warm. “i think i know you. you’re… y/n, right?”  

it took you a second to process. oikawa tooru not only recognized you, but knew your name. you blinked, fumbling to keep your expression neutral even as your stomach twisted itself into knots.  

“uh, yeah,” you managed, suddenly acutely aware of how disheveled you probably looked after the long flight. “that’s me. and… you’re oikawa.”  

he laughed, a sound that was annoyingly charming, the kind of laugh that made you feel like you were the punchline to a joke you hadn’t realized you were telling. “small world, huh? what brings you to brazil?”  

you shrugged, trying to appear unbothered, though the weight of his gaze made it hard to stand still. “vacation, sort of. i’m here with a friend for a university project.”  

his eyes lit up, sharp and curious, and you had the distinct feeling that oikawa was the kind of person who could make you want to spill your life story without meaning to. “a project? what kind of project?”  

you explained it briefly—the film project, how you and yachi were here to gather inspiration and maybe even shoot some footage of hinata’s matches. he nodded along, his interest feeling genuine, which only made you more self-conscious under the weight of it.  

“that’s impressive,” he said. “if you need any help, let me know. i’m not bad with a camera.”  

he grinned, but there was something in his tone—half-joking, half-serious. before you could decide how to respond, yachi appeared by your side, wide-eyed and a little out of breath.  

“y/n! we need to leave soon if we want to get to hinata’s game,” she said, her voice cutting through the haze of the conversation.  

you glanced back at oikawa, offering a small, apologetic smile. “i guess i’ll see you around?”  

he waved as you turned to leave, his grin softening into something easier, less practiced. “yeah, see you.”  

the two of you stepped out into the sunlight, the warmth of the interaction lingering on your skin like the heat rising from the pavement. as you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back once. he had taken a seat at one of the decorated tables now with what you assumed were some of his argentinian friends, sipping a latte.   

[ tagging: @stwberri @scoupsworld @x3nafix @kenyuukissme ]

© kxttqi — do not repost, copy, translate or steal my works without permission.

[goldkirk]

I DON'T HAVE TO LIE ANYMORE!

[rafecameronssl4t]

Chosen || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader (love island au)

Summary: (lil backstory) you and Rafe have been a couple since day one and are pretty closed off but a new bombshell has come and chose Rafe for a date and now it’s time for her to choose who she wants to couple up with.

Warnings: angst

Word count: 2,070

A/n: Inspired by the whole ordeal between rob liv and leah in love island usa lol SECOND PART IS HERE

MASTERLIST (love island au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The villa was buzzing with the usual pre-recoupling jitters, and as you sat at your vanity, carefully applying the final touches of makeup, you heard Rafe’s voice echo down the hallway. “Babe,” he called out, his tone relaxed yet filled with that casual affection you’d grown to love. “Yeah, I’m in here!” you responded, smiling to yourself.

Through the mirror, you caught the familiar image of him entering, his sandy-blonde hair tousled, sun-kissed skin accentuating the sharp angles of his face. Your eyes met in the mirror, and the edges of his mouth softened into a smile that made your heart flutter.

“You okay?” he asked, stepping closer and bending down to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder, lingering just long enough to make you feel like he was truly checking in. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” you chuckled, meeting his eyes in the mirror with a playful glint. He watched your reflection intently, as if trying to read your every expression.

“Just making sure,” he murmured, pulling a chair up beside yours. He settled in, crossing his arms, his gaze steady as he watched you apply the last bit of powder. You raised an eyebrow, feigning a casual tone. “Why? Should I be worried? Is there something you’re not telling me about your date with Kayla?” You smirked, trying to keep it light, but deep down, you were fishing for any reassurance you could get.

His hand found its way to your thigh, his grip warm and reassuring as his thumb brushed soothing circles. “No, of course not,” he said, his tone calm yet firm. “I told you everything, and, honestly, I don’t think she’ll pick me. We don’t have that spark—you and I do, though, yeah?” His eyes held yours, his expression open and genuine.

His gaze was steady, his smile reassuring, and despite the flicker of insecurity, you let out a slow breath, his words sinking in and soothing the lingering doubts in the back of your mind. “Okay,” you said finally, a genuine smile breaking through as he chuckled.

“You’re adorable, you know that?” he said, leaning in to press a series of soft kisses along your bare shoulder making you giggle, a genuine, unrestrained laugh that he seemed to crave as he pulled back, grinning. “What are you wearing tonight?” he asked, scanning the room with an approving gaze as his eyes landed on the green dress you’d laid out on the armchair nearby.

“That one.” You nodded toward the dress, and he hummed, his smile widening in approval. “Good choice. It’s gonna drive the others crazy.” “Glad you think so,” you replied, warmth creeping into your cheeks as you noticed the way he looked at you—like you were the only person who existed.

“Well, I’ll let you get ready,” he said, standing up and moving behind you. Through the mirror, you caught yourself staring. How could you not when Rafe looked so... edible. He met your gaze in the mirror, catching your look, and smirked. “Like what you see, Mrs. Cameron?” he teased, his voice dropping to a playful, almost dangerous tone that made you laugh.

“Very much,” you replied, tilting your head back as he leaned down, catching your lips in a kiss that was both soft and full of promise, a reminder of the bond that the two of you had since day one. But before things could get too heated, you gently placed a hand on his jaw, pushing him back with a giggle.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” he said, chuckling as he stepped back. Before he could leave, the door opened, and you both turned to see Kayla enter, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Rafe. “Hey,” Rafe greeted her casually, his tone polite but distant. You watched them exchange brief smiles before looking away, busying yourself with your lip gloss as Kayla approached her drawers.

“Hey, Y/n,” she greeted you brightly, her tone friendly as she settled beside you. “Hey,” you replied with a polite smile. “Excited for tonight?” “Oh, definitely!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’m so ready to sleep next to someone again; it’s been way too long.” She giggled, and you chuckled in response, keeping the mood light even as you fought off a pang of unease.

“Do you know who you’re choosing?” you asked, carefully applying your lip gloss as she fiddled with something in her drawer. She nodded confidently, her fingers tapping lightly as she glanced at you with a knowing smile. “Uh-huh. I knew who I was gonna pick the second I walked in here.”

You nodded, hoping your expression didn’t betray the subtle tightening in your chest. It was in these little moments that the villa’s intensity hit, the constant swirl of emotions and unspoken fears. But as you caught a glimpse of your own reflection, you reminded yourself of the quiet confidence in Rafe’s words, of the unspoken bond you’d built.

~

The night air felt thick with tension as everyone gathered around the firepit, the familiar crackling flames casting flickering shadows across the group. You sat beside Rafe, his arm draped casually over your shoulders. The warmth of his touch had been a quiet comfort, his thumb tracing soothing patterns along your skin—a small reassurance that whatever happened tonight, he was there.

But as Kayla’s voice broke through the murmur of anticipation, her words twisted the air around you, each one slicing deeper than the last. "I'm coupling up with this person because, from the moment we started talking, I definitely sensed that we had potential and that there was a spark there that I want to explore," Kayla said, her tone confident and unwavering as her gaze locked on the group.

Your eyes dropped to the flames, heart pounding, silently willing her words to be about someone else. When she finally spoke his name, “The person I want to couple up with is… Rafe,” the world seemed to freeze. Your breath hitched, and a wave of shock washed over you, cold and biting, despite the warmth of the firepit. Around you, a few gasps broke the silence, the girls’ faces mirroring the same surprise that you felt.

Your eyes darted to Kayla, disbelief clouding your expression, and then turned to Rafe, who sat motionless beside you, his face an unreadable mask as he stared blankly at the ground. “Really? Nothing to worry about?” you said, your voice low but sharp, brushing his arm off your shoulder. Anger surged through you, raw and uncontainable. You’d trusted him, taken his reassurances at face value.

And now, every promise felt like it had shattered between you. Rafe’s shoulders slumped slightly as he raked a hand through his hair, a long sigh escaping his lips as he shook his head. “Rafe, you look surprised at Kayla's decision,” the host, Sophie commented , looking at him expectantly. He hesitated, his gaze finally flickering up to meet Kayla’s. “Yeah, uh—I don’t know what to say, really,” he mumbled, the frown deepening across his face.

“I thought I made it clear that I wasn’t really interested,” he shrugged, but his words felt hollow to you, hanging in the tense air between him and Kayla. Kayla’s eyes flashed with indignation, and she crossed her arms, a hint of challenge in her expression. “Wow, yeah—that’s not how I felt during our date,” she said with a pointed look, and you felt a pang of betrayal twist in your stomach as her words settled over you.

The whole night, the small reassurances Rafe had given you, the gestures, the closeness��it all felt tainted. Sophie's voice cuts through, pulling you from the storm of emotions swirling within you. “Well, Kayla, if you could switch places with Y/n… and Y/n, if you could come stand beside me.” Standing, you avoided looking at Rafe or Kayla, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

You forced yourself to breathe as you stepped away from the firepit, feeling the collective gaze of the group on you. “Y/n, you are now single, which leaves you vulnerable here on Love Island,” Sophie announced. You nodded slowly, your jaw tight as you bit down on your bottom lip, desperately holding back the flood of emotions welling inside you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Rafe looking anywhere but at you, his gaze flickering across the ground as if trying to distance himself from the situation. The sense of betrayal weighed heavily on you, every unspoken word thickening the air between you. As soon as Sophie left, the girls immediately swarmed around you, their arms linking through yours as they ushered you away from the firepit and into the makeup room.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered to Sofia, who gave you a sympathetic squeeze. “Honestly, you deserve so much better than that,” she whispered, her hand rubbing comforting circles on your back.

~

Rafe’s voice was soft but strained as he appeared behind you, his presence looming uncertainly. “Can we please talk?” His tone was laced with a vulnerability you weren’t used to seeing in him. His gaze drifted to your face, catching the redness around your eyes, the remnants of tears. You sighed, dabbing away the traces of mascara that had smudged beneath your eyes.

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about, Rafe.” You shrugged, brushing him off as you tried to compose yourself. “Y/n, please,” he insisted, the desperation in his voice tugging at the edges of your anger. “I swear to god, I was making it crystal clear that I wasn’t interested. I told her, over and over, that I was in a happy situation with you.”

You felt the flicker of an ache under your ribs, a small crack in the wall you’d put up. “Then why, Rafe?” Your voice rose, bitterness spilling over. “Why did she pick you? She wouldn’t have done that out of the blue if she didn’t think there was something real, something genuine, between you two.” Your words struck him, and he took a small step back, almost flinching.

He opened his mouth as if to argue but stopped, as if suddenly unsure. “I don’t know why she chose me,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “But you have to believe me, Y/n. None of this meant anything to me—she doesn’t mean anything to me.” He looked at you, and for a split second, you caught something raw, almost pleading, in his expression.

But the anger and the hurt still clouded your heart. You shook your head, exhaustion coating your words. “I’m just… I’m really tired, Rafe. I just want to go to bed.” You didn’t meet his eyes, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. He paused, the silence stretching painfully between you both. “Right. Good night, then,” he murmured, his voice tinged with a sadness that lingered in the air as he turned and left.

By the time you walked into the bedroom, Sofia was already there, her arms opening for you without a word. You melted into her embrace, the comfort of her support soothing your frazzled nerves. “You’ll be okay,” she whispered, squeezing you tightly before you finally pulled away, giving her a small, grateful smile.

As you made your way to your bed, your gaze involuntarily flickered to Kayla’s. She lay there, already settled in, Rafe’s pillow on the other side, and it made your stomach churn. You slipped into bed, laying in the center, feeling an aching emptiness beside you. Rafe should have been there. His warmth, his steady breathing as you fell asleep, had been a constant.

Then, as if on cue Rafe walked into the room. His eyes skimmed over you for a second before he headed toward Kayla’s bed. The air was thick with unspoken words, unacknowledged feelings, and for a moment, you wanted to reach out, to say something, but you held back, the bitterness fresh in your chest. Rafe leaned over, whispering something to Kayla, though you couldn’t make out the words.

Then, without warning, he grabbed his pillow, stepping away from her bed and heading out of the room. You caught Sofia’s gaze across the dimly lit space, her knowing look meeting your own. She offered a small smile of understanding, and you returned it faintly before letting your eyes drift shut, hoping sleep would bring a break from all the emotions.

next

[littlelamy]

Omg smut request……Shy reader x Rafe with inspo from a scene from Queer with the eye contact. He’s had it with her being insecure how she looks when they are having sex or not letting him see her face (to him she’s the most beautiful woman to exist). She always some what hides it in sneaky ways…say laying her head by his shoulder or whatever. Not this time! Rafe holding her face to his and lots of eye contact and praise…..PLZZZ

parings: rafe cameron x shy!reader

warnings: 18+, smut

you lay next to rafe, heart pounding, nerves on edge as his fingers traced gentle patterns along your bare shoulder. he had this way of making you feel safe, even when your insecurities whispered their usual doubts.

tonight, though, rafe wasn’t going to let those whispers win.

his hand moved to your chin, tilting your face toward him. "look at me," he said softly, his voice low but firm. you hesitated, eyes flickering away for a second, but he didn’t let you go. his thumb brushed over your cheek, a touch so tender it made your chest tighten.

"baby, please. i want to see you."

the weight of his gaze felt like a warm blanket, comforting yet intense. you swallowed hard, your instinct to shy away creeping in. whenever you fucked, you’d find ways to hide, pressing your face into his shoulder, burying your head in the pillow—anything to avoid being fully seen. it wasn’t that you didn’t trust him, it was that the voice in your head was louder, telling you not to be too much, not to show too much.

rafe’s other hand slid along your waist, pulling you closer. "why do you always hide from me?" he asked, his tone gentle but filled with a quiet resolve. "you know you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, right?"

your breath hitched, tears prickling the corners of your eyes. you wanted to believe him, but the years of self-doubt were hard to shake. "i just…" you started, your voice trailing off as you tried to find the words.

"no," rafe cut in softly, shaking his head. "not this time." his thumb brushed over your lips, the pad of it lingering there. "i want you to see what I see. feel what I feel when I look at you."

slowly, reluctantly, you let your eyes meet his. the intensity in his gaze made your stomach flip. it was like he was looking straight into your soul, stripping away every layer of doubt and fear.

"there she is," he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. "my gorgeous girl."

your cheeks flushed, but rafe didn’t let you look away. his fingers threaded through your hair, holding you in place as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before finally capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. "you have no idea how crazy you make me," he whispered. "i love every part of you. every curve, every freckle. everything."

his words washed over you, a soothing balm to the raw vulnerability you felt. his hands slid down to your hips, guiding you onto your back as he hovered above you. his eyes never left yours, their blue depths filled with a mixture of love and desire that made your pulse race.

"keep looking at me," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

your body responded before your mind could catch up, your thighs parting to welcome him as his hand caressed up your side, his thumb brushing the swell of your breast. you bit your lip, the instinct to look away creeping back in, but rafe’s hand was quick, cupping your face, guiding your gaze back to his.

"don’t hide from me, baby," he whispered. "i want all of you. i need all of you."

his cock, thick and hard, pressed against your slick entrance, the heat of him making your breath hitch. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your bodies moving in a rhythm that was slow, deliberate. each thrust was a conversation, each moan a promise.

rafe's lips found yours again, softer this time, a kiss that spoke of reverence and worship. his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes locked with yours as he slid deeper, his breath mingling with yours.

"fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his voice thick with emotion. "you’re so perfect. God, i love you."

the way he said it, like a prayer, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world, made your heart swell. the insecurities that had loomed over you began to melt away, replaced by the warmth of his love, his unwavering gaze that held you captive in the best way.

as the tension built, his hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding that sweet spot that made you arch beneath him, your cries filling the room. rafe’s eyes never left yours, even as you both tumbled over the edge together, the pleasure crashing over you like a wave, his cock twitching as he spilled inside you.

when it was over, he stayed close, his hand gently stroking your hair, his lips brushing against your temple. "you’re everything to me," he murmured. "don’t ever forget that."

you nestled into his chest, your heart full, your body spent, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe him.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @heywardsdoll

[0omillo0]

Oki so Im like searching fics all day long and u said i can request and im never getting enough of ur fics anyways so here luv 💕

Sooo Chan x reader

where maybe reader is already feeling horrible lately. And today smth appens at the studio and chan gets rlly frustrated so he comes home and today yn has been feeling even worse and feels like she can’t even get out of bed but like Chan comes home, not even seeing yns horrible stadium so he lets all the anger out on her wich rlly gives her the last push to like feeling just entirely depressed. Then she is standing crying and totally drained in front of one of the other members door, breaking down totally.

I’ll let the rest up to u, pls make it really really angsty but pls i just need a good lot of comfort at the end ❤️

BANGCHAN X READER

a/n: I’ve already made a vv similar story but I like this one so much better! let me know what you think ♡ also this is for my beloved @hannamoon143 tysm for your request and sorry for the wait!

genre: angst, comfort

The day had already been heavy, dragging you down like you were walking through thick mud. Lately, it seemed every breath took more effort than the last, and today, it had reached a peak. You couldn’t even get out of bed. The weight of everything pressed down on you, making the air feel like it was suffocating. It wasn’t like this was new—this lingering sadness had been with you for days, like a dark cloud refusing to lift.

You curled up deeper into your sheets, staring at the wall. You hadn’t moved in hours, hadn’t eaten, hadn’t done anything but exist in this space of nothingness. The world outside your room felt miles away, unreachable. The only sound you heard was the occasional muffled voices from outside your apartment.

And then there was a slam. You heard the front door being pushed open harder than usual, and you knew Chan was home. The sound of his keys hitting the counter was sharp, followed by a frustrated sigh that cut through the quiet air. You knew that sound—something must’ve gone wrong at the studio. His day hadn’t been any better than yours, apparently.

Your body wanted to get up, wanted to greet him, but you couldn’t. It was like you were glued to the mattress. Even when you heard his footsteps approaching, your body wouldn’t listen.

The door to the bedroom opened, and without looking at him, you knew he was tense. His energy radiated frustration, the kind that made rooms feel smaller, the air thicker.

“God, today was insane,” Chan muttered, not noticing how you barely shifted under the covers. His voice was rough, filled with a mix of exhaustion and irritation. “Everything went wrong. Absolutely everything.”

You bit your lip, the words you wanted to say caught in your throat. Maybe if you said something, anything, it could stop what you knew was coming.

But then he turned, finally looking at you, his eyes glossing over the state you were in. He couldn’t see it—he couldn’t see how you were breaking inside. All he saw was a person not responding, and it made him snap.

“Can you at least say something?!” His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut deep. His frustration had reached its peak, and you were the closest target. “I’ve been dealing with so much today, and you’re just lying there. Not a word, nothing. Are you a fucking emotionless doll??”

You flinched at his tone, at his words. Your chest tightening even more. The tears that had been sitting at the edge of your eyes began to spill over silently.

Chan didn’t notice right away. His anger kept him blind. He sighed. “I’m sorry if I sound harsh, but it’s been such a mess, and I can’t—” His words stumbled to a stop when he saw the way your body shook, the way you were crying silently beneath the covers.

“Y/N?” His voice softened, the frustration vanishing as quickly as it had come. “Hey, hey…” He moved closer, but it was too late. The weight of everything—his words, your own struggles—it all collapsed in on you like a tidal wave.

You sat up slowly, the sobs shaking your frame as you tried to wipe the tears away, but they kept coming. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible through the storm of emotions. “I’m sorry, I didn’t— I just… I can’t…”

Chan’s face fell as he realized what he’d done. “No, Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t see it. I was so wrapped up in my own head that I didn’t see how much you were hurting. I’ve made it worse I’m so sorry—“

But his apology couldn’t stop the breaking that was already happening inside you. You needed to escape, to find some sort of relief from the pressure that was crushing you from all sides.

Without saying a word, you slipped out of the bed, your legs unsteady, and you walked toward the door, each step feeling heavier than the last. Chan’s voice followed you, concern clear in his tone, but you couldn’t stop. Not now.

You found yourself in front of one of the other members’ doors. You didn’t even know how you got there, your vision blurred with tears. Maybe it was instinct, seeking comfort somewhere, anywhere, that wasn’t the suffocating silence of your room or the crushing weight of your mind.

You knocked, barely registering the sound of your own fist against the wood. And then, as if the last string holding you together snapped, your body gave in. You slid down to the floor, your arms wrapping around your knees as the sobs came harder now, uncontrollable, raw.

The door opened, and the blurry shape of someone—was it Felix?—stood there, eyes wide in shock. “Y/N…?” he asked gently, his voice like a balm, but you couldn’t respond. All you could do was cry.

“Hey, hey, what happened?” Felix crouched down beside you, his hand hovering for a moment before gently resting on your shoulder. His touch was warm, comforting in a way that made you feel safe enough to let it all out. “It’s okay, I’m here. You’re not alone.”

His words broke something else in you, but this time, it wasn’t painful. It was a release. The tears kept falling, but his presence kept you grounded, kept you from drowning completely.

Behind you, you heard Chan’s hurried footsteps. He stopped when he saw you on the floor, a mix of guilt and worry etched into his face. “Y/N…” His voice cracked. “I’m so sorry.”

Felix looked up at him, a silent exchange passing between them, and Chan knelt down beside you. “I didn’t mean to—” He stopped, choking on his own emotions, before continuing softly, “I should’ve seen that you were hurting. I was selfish.”

You looked up at him, your vision still blurred, but you could see the regret, the hurt in his eyes. And it wasn’t just because he’d had a rough day. It was because he hadn’t been there for you when you needed him most.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, your voice shaking.

Chan shook his head, reaching out to take your hands in his, his grip gentle, tentative. “No, no, you don’t have to apologize. I’m the one who wasn’t paying attention. I love you, and I should’ve been there for you. I’m so so sorry for calling you.. the way I called you. I’m sorry baby”

You shook your head. “Do you think I’m useless?? Am I just a doll to you??”

Chan realised how much his words hurt you. At this point he felt so guilty, his expression softened, his big glossy eyes looking directly at yours. “Y/Nie, my love, I didn’t mean to say those awful things to you. I understand if you’re not going to trust me anymore, but I swear I love you more than anything and I’ll do anything to make it up for you.. for us..”

Felix gave a small nod and stood up, retreating to give the two of you space. Chan pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours, his breath shaky as he spoke, “We’re going to get through this. Together, okay? I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone.”

And for the first time that day, you felt a small sense of relief, a small flicker of hope. It wasn’t going to be easy—these feelings, this heaviness—but you weren’t alone. Chan was with you, and that made all the difference.

As you sat there, held in his arms, the storm inside you slowly began to calm, the cracks in your heart starting to mend, piece by piece.

“I’m here,” Chan whispered again, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I’ll always be here.”

taglist

@hannamoon143 @intartaruginha

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ SUPER RICH KIDS kim chaewon x reader

❀ ͘ ⴰ previous chapters | richgirl ⭢ that girl (she’s delicious) ⭢ idon’t smoke ⭢ pretty when you cry ⭢ homesick

↳ warnings richgirl!yn, angst (yn is back home), family dynamics, rich kid things, swearing, chaewon is still chaewon, arguing, weight mentions

finally.

you’d think after everything that someone has gone through in this house, stepping back through those doors would be the last thing she’d want. but she wasn’t going to lie.

yn felt at peace.

because in the moon mansion, she could be who she truly was and not feel bad about it.

a rich girl.

“lunch will be ready soon,” jia’s voice broke through the peaceful quiet as yn lay sprawled on her pink towel by the pool.

yn let out a contented sigh, lifting her sunglasses and pushing her hair back. “thanks, jia. what’s on the schedule for tomorrow?”

“you already attended the press conference with your father, so that’s off your list. your brothers will be going to the one tomorrow, so all you’ve got left is golfing with your members.”

the happy, serene soundtrack in yn’s head came to a screeching halt as she shot up from her towel.

“what?!”

“your mother didn’t tell you? she thought it’d be a good idea for you to invite them, so she reached out while you were out with your father,” jia said, her expression full of concern. she didn’t understand. shouldn’t yn be excited?

“when does she ever tell me anything?” yn grumbled, flopping back down on her towel childishly “jia, during dinner, add a splash of vodka to my mango juice. maybe the alcohol will keep me from flipping the table.”

jia chuckled softly, fondness in her eyes for the girl she’d watched grow up. “when has that ever helped anything? i’ll check on lunch.”

yn groaned as jia walked away. this was supposed to be her escape. chaewon is going to have a field day with this.

it seems like nothing can ever go yn’s way.

dinner was quiet. but that was hardly unusual. as far back as yn could remember, dinner had never been family bonding time

bonding didn’t even exist in this family.

the unspoken rule was simple: eat in silence, speak only when necessary.

honestly, yn found the quiet pretty peaceful. just eating, no forced conversation.

but it seemed like her mother couldn’t stand seeing her at peace—ever.

maybe that was an exaggeration, but yn firmly believed it.

“you seem tense, yn,” jae said, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he took a slow sip from his drink. “something bothering you? got a problem with someone?”

yn gripped her fork tightly, slowly lifting her gaze from her plate. “i do, actually. and for once, it’s not with you, dickhead.”

“language,” their father muttered, eyes never leaving the documents he’d brought to the table.

“oh really, who’s ahead of me?” jae asked clearly liking the banter him and yn are having at the moment.

“I won’t disclose any details just as yet.”

daeun rolled his eyes at his siblings, then, deciding to break the silence since everyone seemed eager to chat, he asked, “so, mom, how was your day?”

their mother beamed at the question, her smile bright and warm. oh, how she adored her son. yn couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“it was amazing, honey. i was just reading an article about your sister’s group.”

“oh, really?” jae responded with mild interest.

“yes! that yunjin member mentioned how she always makes sure the other girls eat and stay healthy. isn’t that wonderful? yn, you have such lovely members.”

as far as yn was concerned, yunjin had never once asked if she was eating properly. but that wasn’t what set her off, she had kazuha who always checked in on her.

it was the nerve her mother had to praise yunjin for something like that—the same person who was the root cause of yn’s so-called “problem.”

“is that why you invited them over tomorrow—without asking me?”

yn hadn’t planned on bringing it up, but her mother’s comment set her off.

her mother furrowed her eyebrows at yn’s tone. “yes, actually. they seem like lovely girls. i was going to suggest you invite those ai girls you’re so fond of, but your judgment isn’t always the best, so i made the decision for you.”

the screech of yn’s chair echoed through the dining room. “i’m not hungry anymore, because clearly no one in this family respects me. may i be excused?”

“sure,” her father said casually, taking a sip of his wine.

“oh, come on, yn! let’s not fall back into those habits,” jae teased.

”fuck you jae!”

“language.”

“you don’t like them, do you?”

yn lifted her head from her pillow, turning slowly to see daeun standing at her door.

“what?”

“the girls in your group. you don’t like them.”

she watched as he stepped forward and sat at the edge of her fluffy bed. “you wouldn’t have reacted that way if it were the girls from sm.”

yn hated how daeun could always read her. they barely talked nowadays, but he still knew his little sister like the back of his hand.

“it’s not that I don’t like them. they don’t like me. no matter how much I lower myself or how nice i act, it’s like they can’t get over the fact that i’m a moon.”

“you lowered yourself for them?”

yn’s eyes flicked up from her lap to see jae standing at the door, disappointment written across his face.

she nodded, feeling a wave of shame. they were raised to believe they were better than everyone else, and here she was, bending over backward for girls who didn’t even like her.

“well, that was your first mistake,” jae said, shaking his head as daeun nodded in agreement.

“you’re dimming who you are to make them feel comfortable, and they’re taking advantage of that,” daeun added, hitting the nail on the head. yn hated how right he was.

“i know you, yn. you’re a bitch—a real one,” jae said with a smirk, earning an eye roll from her. “just be who you are. that’s how you’ll show them. it seems like they can’t stand the fact that you were always going to be successful, idol or not, and they hate that.”

“woah.” yn blinked in disbelief, looking between her brothers. “for once, you two actually make sense.”

“see? a bitch.”

yn adjusted the dior sunglasses perched atop her head, then straightened her pink ralph lauren golf dress before turning to jia.

“why are they taking so long? it’s a gated community,” she complained, tapping her foot as she stood in front of her expansive front lawn.

“patience is key, miss moon. the van is pulling up,” jia replied calmly.

yn felt anxiety creep in but quickly reminded herself of her brother's words. this wasn’t the dorms; this was her turf, the place where yn excelled.

the first person to step out of the van was kazuha, who immediately sprinted toward her.

“zuha!”

“you look so cute! i love your dress,” kazuha gushed, her eyes scanning yn’s outfit she couldn’t help but smile at how relaxed yn looked, she was completely in her element.

“thanks! my dad got it. it’s vintage!” yn beamed.

“of course he did.” yn already knew who that could be.

as she looked past kazuha, she noticed the rest of the girls gazing at her house in awe, it was kinda awkward seeing them, especially after the last time, but yn was just gonna pretend like that day never happened.

yunjin nudged chaewon, nodding toward jia, who narrowed her eyes at chaewon, causing the latter's eyes to widen.

chaewon hadn’t realized someone else was there.

yn couldn’t help but smile at that. “this is jia, the help.”

the girls nodded politely, while kazuha waved, causing yn to furrow her brows. “bow?”

the girls’ eyes widened at the unexpected demand but quickly bowed their heads.

“we treat the help with great respect around here,” yn said sternly . “so take note of that for next time.”

kazuha smiled at yn while the others nodded, a mix of confusion and compliance on their faces.

“so, who’s ready to golf?” yn asked, flashing a sweet smile.

“you guys suck,” yn laughed, watching the girls struggle with their golf swings.

“well, not everyone has been doing this since birth,” chaewon shot back, rolling her eyes.

“you’re so right! it would take a lot to be like me, wouldn’t it?” yn teased, nudging chaewon’s side causing the girl to stumble “your form is horrendous.”

she strolled over to eunchae, adjusting the younger girl’s stance, then moved on to yunjin.

chaewon’s gaze drifted down yn’s body, taking in her outfit of course, she didn’t even know people actually wore dresses like that these days.

she was about to make a snarky comment when a loud shout interrupted her.

“ignore them it’s just the golf boys,” yn said as she corrected sakura’s form.

chaewon rolled her eyes when she heard the boys calling out yn’s name in a flirty tone.

“passed around?”

yn groaned at chaewon’s words. “I’ve only talked to them a handful of times. I barely know them.”

“i talk to the caddy girls a lot, though,” yn added, causing kazuha to laugh while chaewon scrunched her face in distaste.

“do you want my help with your form?” yn asked chaewon, raising an eyebrow.

“definitely not.”

“okay, then continue embarrassing yourself.”

chaewon opened her mouth to argue but was cut off by a woman’s voice.

“yn!”

the girls turned to see yn’s mother approaching, and yn groaned, rolling her eyes. “why is she here?” she mumbled to herself.

the girls recognized the woman—it was yn’s mother.

“hey, ladies! I hope you’re having fun and that yn is being a good host,” she said with a bright smile.

the girls greeted yn’s mom with polite smiles, and she continued, “I just wanted to drop off some cute gifts i got for you all. I completely forgot about them! I had to stop the driver we just left from going to lunch.”

“lunch?” yn asked, the emotion in her voice hard to pinpoint. “you guys went to lunch without me?”

“honey, it’s not a big deal. don’t be dramatic! we were just celebrating your brother’s achievements just an intimate get together that I planned.”

yn couldn’t remember them ever holding something for her achievements, and she had plenty. “right,” yn laughed sarcastically. “i’m always so dramatic, huh?”

the girls exchanged awkward glances; they had never seen yn like this before.

“don’t act like that. god, you’re just like your father,” her mother said, brushing off yn's feelings.

yn clenched her jaw. “is that all? you just came by to drop off gifts?”

“yes, and i wanted to check on you. stop being so moody! just like your dad. my boys are more like me,” her mom said with a smile, prompting awkward laughter from the girls.

“you see how she argues with me, such a daddy’s girl, she looks like a girl version of him as well doesn’t she?.” her mother laughs causing yn to look at chaewon who looks at back at her with a blank face.

“how about you go back to your boys? they’re probably waiting for ‘mommy’,” yn snapped, glaring at her mother.

she had never spoken to her mother this way before, but as she got older, her respect for the woman had diminished. she barely considered her mother a mom anymore.

“yes, i have to go. we’re going shopping to pick out suits for your father and brothers.”

yn felt as if she had been punched in the gut. family shopping—without her? everyone knows yn loves shopping.

“did you plan that too?” she shot back.

her mother ignored yn’s words, stepping back to scan her daughter. “this outfit is cute. it looks good on you. maybe lose a couple more pounds, and it’ll look even better.”

the girls’ eyes widened at her mother’s words, but yn remained unfazed on the outside.

inside, however, yn felt the sting. she tried to pretend she didn’t care about her mom’s opinion, but deep down, she knew she’d spend extra time on her diet after that.

“anyway, I have to go. it was nice seeing you girls! i hope you like the gifts,” her mother said before walking away.

the girls turned to yn, who stared at her mother’s retreating figure before turning back to them.

“I just love my perfect life, don’t ’ I chaewon? now let’s work on your imperfect form.”

[xoxovanillq]

WORLDS COLLIDE

i. meeting

Luke Castellan x f!reader

Warnings- Trust issues, Kissing, She/Her pronouns.

Word count- 1.5k

“Dude, have you seen the new girl yet?” Chris questions. Luke and him are sitting in their respective bunks in the Hermes cabin, taking the opportunity of an empty cabin to chat.

“No, not yet. Should I see her?” Luke responds, his tone inquisitive.

“Yeah, I mean, she’s like, exactly your type.” Chris replies, laying back in his bunk, turning his head to face Luke.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see her soon.” He replies, laying back in his bunk with a sigh.

You trudged into the Hermes cabin, exhausted, and ready to go to bed. It had been a long day, being the new kid at your age felt weird, especially with kids running around with more knowledge of this stuff than you. Everyone was somewhat nice, which was relieving, but no one  really caught your eye, well, until that night.

You laid in your bunk, looking up a bit to see a tall boy, dark curls falling into his face as he quietly studied you.

“You new?” He asks, his voice deep and rich, causing your heart to pound a small bit faster. The boy was pretty, tall, a little bit unsure of himself, but it was kinda cute.

“Mhm, was it that obvious?” You reply, your exhaustion convened through your voice.

“No, no! Not at all! Listen, uh, I’m Luke.” He says with a small smile, moving closer and extending his hand for you to shake.

“Y/N, and it’s all good.” You say, taking his hand and shaking it. You find yourself lingering in the warmth of his hand, reluctant to let go. When you release his hand, you smile softly, enjoying the small connection the two of you had made.

“Well, I should let you rest, but it was really nice to meet you.” He says, smiling as you nod, he then turns away, walking back to his bunk bed.

Luke’s heart pounded as he laid in bed that night, still thrilled after the excitement of your meeting. Chris had been right, you were his dream girl, perfect, exactly who he had always wanted. He couldn’t wait to see you again, to hear your voice, to see your glowing smile. He felt like a giddy schoolboy with a crush, desperate for your attention.

He dreamed of you that night, of holding your hand, guiding you through life at camp. He hadn't ever fallen for someone like this, so fast, so desperate for attention.

When he woke up that morning, he was still desperately excited to see you, wanting nothing more to see your smile yet again.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” He pipes up, sliding up beside you at the archery grounds. He didn't know why he bothered to check on your name, it had been in his thoughts for hours, ever since you told him.

“Yeah, it’s really good to see you again.” You emphasize the really, realizing that you may be starting to form a crush on the boy you had met only days ago.

“Yeah, yeah, um, you- you too.” God, he needed to get it together. He smiled, his heart warming as you smiled back. He watched you for a few minutes, looking at your aim. “Hey,” he suddenly piped up, “can I help you with your position a bit?”

“Oh, that would be amazing.” He quickly stepped up behind you, hands on yours as he moved your body little by little. His breath was hot on your neck, the smell of toothpaste, his shampoo, sun lotion, and sweat filled your nostrils, his own version of summer in a scent. It made you want to burrow your face into his neck, take in his musk.

“Alright, just aim, and shoot.” His voice brings you out of your dreamy haze. You shake your head a little, then release the arrow. He watches it soar through the air, hitting the target with precision. “Good job.” He praises, his voice light. making your insides heat up with both embarrassment and excitement.

“Thank you, really, you don’t know how much better you’ve made this all for me already.” You say with a light chuckle, all he could think about was how much better you had already made his life, just by existing.

“Hey, um, I know this is really random, but the lake, um, there’s a- a dock on it, and I wanna know if you’d want to go watch the sunset on it? Like, with me?” His heart pounds in his chest as he speaks. He was so scared to be rejected, maybe it was lingering fear, that finally trusting something would backfire on him.

“I- I’d actually love to, um, would it just be us?” You ask timidly, fearing that your feelings would be revealed too much, scaring him off.

“Yeah, if that’s alright with you and all.” He replies, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Dude, you actually scored a date with her? She’s been here for like, 3 days, and all the guys are already on her.” Chris said after Luke had relayed the events of your encounter.

“Yeah, I think she’s into me too, I mean, she checked to see if we’d be alone, so that’s a score.” He says with a light chuckle before taking a bite of his dinner. He looked up to see you chatting excitedly with a few girls you had made friends with. It made him happy to see you happy, especially with your new friends.

“Just keep her close, all the other guys here would pounce on her in a heartbeat.” Chris adds, unknowing of how this seemed to spike Luke’s trust issues. He tried to push the thought away, but it was always there, lingering in the back of his head, even as he got ready to meet you.

There he sat, about 15 minutes before sunset, on the dock, fluffing his curls up while waiting for you. He hadn’t dressed up much, just wearing cargos and a black hoodie considering that it would get chilly as the sun went down. His jaw almost dropped when he saw you walk up. You wore a lace cami, pink with lace trim and a little bow, along with light wash, flared jeans.

“Holy shit, you are making feel really under-dressed. You look stunning.” He commented, eyes fixed on the way your eyes seemed to sparkle, even in the low light, as you took your seat beside him.

“I didn’t know what the dress code was for this, so I figured dressing nice would be the better option.” In all reality, you were hoping he’d give you his hoodie at some point in the night. “You look nice too, I mean, you always do.” You say softly, a blush forming across your face as you did.

“Thanks, thanks, uh, can I- is it okay- is it okay if I hold your hand?” He asks tentatively, the way he stumbles over his words makes your heart flutter a bit.

“Yeah, of course.” Your voice is low and quiet, you reach out to take a hold of his hand, shifting a bit closer to him, shoulder pressed to his. Your head leans a bit, and he nods, as if giving you approval to put it in his shoulder. The two of you sat there for a little while in silence, watching the colors of the sun set over the lake. Rich oranges and cotton candy pinks reflected on the lake’s surface. Luke could feel you shiver slightly, and it gave him an idea.

“Hey, if you’re cold, you can have my hoodie.” He offers, looking into your eyes. God, he loved your eyes, all the different colored specks, he could get lost in them forever.

“Oh, yeah, um, if it isn’t too much trouble.” You respond, almost shyly. He quickly takes his hoodie off, his shirt pulling up a bit, giving you a tantalizing glance at his abs. He hands it to you with a smile, and before you put it on, you reach over to fix his curls, now a bit messy.

Luke couldn’t believe this was happening, I mean, he was laying on the dock, watching the sunset with you, you were wearing his sweatshirt, and he was pretty sure you felt the same way about him. As the sun finally set, the stars coming out to light up the sky, he finally decided to make his move.

“Listen, I might be reading this wrong, but I really like you, and-” You cut him off, your lips finally pressing to his. Luke’s body melted, one hand going to your waist, the other to the back of your head to deepen the kiss. He wanted to be as close to you as possible, to melt into you, to burrow inside your heart and live there forever. He almost panicked when you pulled away, clutching your waist in a desperate attempt to keep you close. You just giggled, settling with your head in his lap.

“I think you’ve got your answer, Castellan.”

[6ix9inewiturmom]

She Ours- Christopher and Matthew Sturniolo

Summary: you’re at an LA party and both chris and matt find you attractive…

Warnings: SUMT, THREESOME(not the weird kind ya freaks), P in V, Unprotected (please don’t reproduce), Dom!Matt!Chris, Sub!Reader, Squirting, Oral (M and F Receiving), PARIS (iykyk)

A/N: THIS IS BASED OFF OF P POWER BY GUNNA FT DRAKE 😫😫 ENJOY

My friend Lina was one of the biggest party girls I knew, every weekend was some party she heard about through the grapevine, which typically because I don't get out much she insisted on dragging me out of my house.

“This party better be worth it” I snap walking down the staircase of my shared house with Lina. She let me borrow her outfit: A skintight black dress that barely covered my ass, her adorable red bottom heels, and my jewelry.

“Girl you have the possibility of getting LAID tonight, let's not complain,” she stops to gasp “Maybe if you get laid you'll stop being so bitchy” she jokes.

“Lina you realize you're like the female version of a player right?” I laugh as we walk out of the house together.

As she fastens her seatbelt and starts reversing the car out of the driveway, she responds with a gentle smile, "No, I'm not. I love everyone."

“That's the problem” I chuckle.

Driving on the highway we had our hype music blasting through the speakers of the car, Lina breaks the silence, “When is the last time you actually had a dick?”

I about choked on air when I heard her invasive question, we were best friends so TMI didn't exist in our relationship considering we've known each other since we were 2 years old in daycare, but I was more or less caught off guard. “um I’d have to say probably since I went off the rails and impulsively joined Tinder and had that horrible hookup with that guy. Um shit, what's his name? OH YES TYLER” I laughed reminiscing the times.

“BITCH” she jokingly yells stomping on the brakes at the red light sending my whole body jerking forward. “That was 2 years ago” she whispers

“Yeah but like that man was weird as fuck, so I just thought maybe a guy who wanted to fuck would just pop out of the blue somewhere I don't know, you're a lot better at this than I am” I shrug getting almost embarrassed.

“oh my god, bitch this isn't the 80s you need to catch a dick” We both laugh at her commentary “But let's not catch STDs” her voice trails off as i try to contain my laughter.

After a lengthy journey, we finally reached the venue. As we pull into the parking lot, we are greeted by the sound of vibrant and lively music reverberating through the air. As we stepped out of the car and made our way inside, we were immediately engulfed by the dim, flashing lights and vibrant colors illuminating the area, accompanied by the pulsating beats of loud music that reverberated through the space.

“BITCH I LOVE THIS SONG” Lina yells over the loud music and dragging me to the lit up squared boxes where the song Maneater by Nelly Furtato is playing.

My hips move around to the song, not a care in the world who sees me but alas I nervously look around and see two pairs of crystal blue eyes practically drooling over me. One with slightly longer hair than the other and the other with a tatted arm but they both look the same.

“Y/N” Lina yells over the loud music “YOUR LOOKING A LITTLE TOO HARD” she continues

“Those guys over there keep looking at me” I lower my tone a little trying not to make a scene “They’re kinda cute” I softly smile carefully taking my bottom lip between my teeth and watching them talk amongst each other.

“BOTH?” Lina's eyes widen

“I mean why not?” I shrug my shoulders laughing

“They look like brothers which I mean is kinda attractive” Lina Replies “Just not that weird threesome Shit I'm talking about that trip to Paris if you know what I mean” she smirks shimming her shoulders

“Oh shit” my eyes widen “fuck they're coming over here, WHAT DO I DO LINA”

“Just act normal and if shit gets weird to remember to text me ‘Lemon Jelly Belly’ and ill find a way to get you out of there” Lina smiles as she walks over to the bar to flirt with the bartender

My nerves were heightened to the max watching the boys walk towards me, one of them had this coxky aura about himself and the other seemed nervous but still confident.

“Hello beautiful” the longer-haired one walks towards me coming behind me.

The one with the tatted arm comes in front of me, his smile turns into a smirk as I find my bottom lip in my teeth again.

“I'm Matt, and this is Chris” Matt said smirking down at me.

“We just couldn't help ourselves when we saw the way your hips moved and danced to the music,” Chris says whispering in my ear smirking.

“Thanks for asking my name, I’m Y/N” I snap jokingly

“That's such a pretty name,” Matt says placing his hand on my face and caressing my cheek

My hips started moving to the song softly as Matts's hands made their way to my hips as Chris’ was planted on my ass.

“Can I?” Chris asks as he moved the hair on my neck and became closer to my neck.

“Mhm,” i mumble

“Use your words, sweetheart, Can he?” Matt smirks down at me.

“Y-Yes” i stutter.

“Good girl” Matt’s smirk remains on his face as Chris kisses my neck and immediately finds that sweet spot on my neck sending chills down my spine.

“Why don't we do this In a little less crowded area hm?” Chris suggests

“I don't mind” I softly giggle

“Chris, how are we doing this? We gonna flip a coin to see who gets her first or what?” I could tell Matt was a little antsy and irritated by his brother's greediness.

“She ours,” Chris tells his brother.

Matt’s smirk became more apparent as soon as Chris said those words. Chris grabs my hand as and he guides me up a set of stairs and Matts hands remains on my ass. My eyes meet Linas and to say the least I've never seen her more proud of me. Her eyes are wide and her smile is wider. She's holding up her thumbs nodding her head in approval.

the room was dark, but very warm and had lots of room, the bed had silk sheets, and a lot of posters. “Do you guys know whose room this is anyway?” I nervously chuckle out.

“Happens to be my room” Matt speaks with a laugh

Chris comes behind me moving my hair to kiss that sweet spot on my neck again this time leaving dark purple marks on my neck. Matts's gaze softens as his eyes darken with lust watching how my body reacts to Chris’ mouth against my neck. Matt comes closer to me looking at my eyes first then my lips and sending me a soft but seductive smile before he presses his lips against mine. A soft moan escaped my lips causing him to pull back and smirk.

“Fuck I wanna rip this dress off of you,” Chris says with a husk in his voice practically groaning.

Matt presses the pad of his thumb against my lip running it across my bottom lip. “I just wanna put this pretty mouth to good use” he smirks.

Before Matt could do anything Chris picked me up and threw me on the bed looking in Matt's direction with a smirk.

“Sorry ma I really couldn't help myself” he softly chuckles positioning himself between my legs and rubbing softly up and down “May I?” Chris questions while playing with the bottom of my dress

“Be my guest” I smile looking down at his blue eyes glaring down at my clothed pussy with a small wet patch from my neediness of getting dicked down.

Chris moves my dress up to my mid-thighs and slides my underwear to the side diving right in like it was his last meal on planet earth. Matt on the other hand was too impatient and hard to wait, he removed his belt and his pants and kneeled on the bed beside me stroking his throbbing hard cock beside my face and rubbing his tip along my bottom lip teasing my mouth, finally he grips my jaw signaling to open wider as he slides his cock in my mouth thrusting ever so slightly, watching me please him and get pleasured by his brother.

Chris’ tongue laps around my clit, as my moans r muffled by Matts's cock being shoved so far down my throat.

“Fuck” Matt groans “Prettiests of mouths do the sluttiests of things” he praises as he wipes the tears that started forming in my eyes from the overstimulation.

“You're clenching around my tongue ma, you close?” Chris sadistically chuckles around my pussy.

“Mhm,” I muffle out around Matts's cock desperately in need to release built-up tension.

“Why don't you be a good girl and cum for Chris yeah?” Matt coos as he's thrusting his hips in my throat while having my hair in a makeshift ponytail.

My legs tremble and shake around Chris’ head signaling to him how close I am. “That's it baby” Matt's voice becomes husked.

Chris groans around my clit as his tongue laps around it feeling my cervix spasm over the overstimulation and pleasure that he knows he's giving me. The pent-up knot in my abdomen snaps sending me in a wave of euphoria, my eyes roll back, and my legs shake. Matt trusts into my mouth a couple more times before finishing in my mouth, placing his hand on my throat to feel mg swallowing all of him.

“Such a good girl” matt coos at me with my lips still wrapped around his cock.

He gently pulls out and walks over to Chris who's smiling down at me wiping his mouth with his sleeve. The boys talk amongst each other talking about how they'll share me.

Matt walks over between my thighs biting his lip. “Sweetheart I don't have a condom,” he says almost nervously.

“I'm on the pill,” I smiled up at him as his eyes lit up at my response.

He brings his hand to my mouth “Spit” he demands and I obey.

He uses my spit to coat his dick as my eyes roam from Matt to Chris who moves to place himself behind me placing kisses on my neck.

Matt aligns himself at my entrance pushing slowly. “Oh fuck” I moan out as my back arches off of Chris and my hands grip his for support.

He pushes himself further, completely bottoming out letting a loud groan fall from his lips and his head throwing back “fuck baby, you feel so fucking good” he smiles devilishly as he watches my body react to His movements.

his thrusts become harder and rougher. “god damn” he groans out almost at a whimper. “fuck your pussy was fucking made for me” he looks down to watch himself thrust in and out of me as he notices a bulge in my stomach from him and he smirks and presses down.

“Fuck” I scream out.

Both Matt and Chris smirk and look up at each other “Someone likes that eh?” Chris whispers in my ear using his hand and pulling and twisting at my nipples.

Matt pressed harder on my stomach watching my face contort in pleasure. “Such a fucking whore” matt groans out.

“C-C-C-LOSE” I stammer out.

“I can feel you squeezing my dick so fucking good, let it out baby” he coos not switching up his pace or his movements one bit.

Chris’ hand snakes around my throat giving slight pressure to the sides making me see more than just stars. “Cum for Matt baby, come on you can do it ma” Chris praises in my ear.

A loud squeal escaped my lips as my orgasm hit me like a train and I squirted my juices all over Matt and his abdomen. “There she is” Matt lets a low chuckle out from him. “Hold on for a second sweetheart, you can take it”

His thrusts got sloppy as I became jello in Chris's arms, with one final thrust Matt painted my pink gummy walls white coating them with all of his cum.

“Fucking hell” matt breaths out.

“You did so good” Chris praises, “can you take one more ma?” he smirked up at matt.

My body was tired but alas I nodded with a tired smile. Matt moved to where Chris was but Chris had other ideas, he used my ankles to flip me up so my ass was in the air and my stomach lay flat on the mattress. Chris used his precum and spread it around his dick before aligning himself with my sensitive entrance and bottoming out quickly.

“Fuck chris” i moan out trying to move forward but Chris stopped me by placing his hands on my waist pinning me down to the mattress.

“Someone a little sensitive hm? Can't take me, can you?” he chuckled sadistically.

I bit my lip to muffle my own screams of pleasure. “I-I- I can take it-“I was cut off by Chris absolutely pounding into me like there was no tomorrow hitting spots I didn't know was even possible.

Skin slapping and moans were the only sounds bouncing off the walls. “I ain't gonna last long ma, you're clenching me so fucking good” he groans out forcing my head into the mattress.

“CLOSE” I scream out.

“Come on sweetheart, be the good girl you were for me and cum for Chris yeah?” Matt is positioning himself so he can brush some of the hair out of my face.

Matts's gentle words sent me over the edge and once again, I squirted all over Chris sending him into a state of euphoria and cumming on the spot inside of me filling me up with his seed.

I immediately collapse laying flat on the bed out of breath. Matt ran into his bathroom connected to his room and grabbed a warm cloth to clean up my legs as Chris whispered sweet nothings into my ear about how good I did for both of them.

“You doin’ okay love?” Matt says softly wiping my legs.

“Mhm,” I mumble out.

They chuckle as Matt throws a pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt for me to put on. In my attempt to stand up, my legs gave out.

“Don't tell me you can't walk?” Chris chuckles

“Try to be in my position and see how you feel” I joke making them chuckle.

“Okay okay Chris enough taunting,” Matt says guiding the shirt over my head and helping me get changed.

Chris helped me get my pants on while talking to me about random stuff like 7/11 Bring Your Own Slurpee Day that he didn't know existed and Matt rolled his eyes.

“We just took her ability to walk and change herself i doubt she wants to hear about Slurpee day Chris” matt says carrying me bridal style to sit down on his bed.

Suddenly someone barges into the room obviously drunk. “Wait this isn't the bathroom” it was Lina who immediately saw me and started winking and throwing her thumbs up seeing me curled into bed and in someone elses clothes.

“Who the fuck are you? Get out!” Chris yells “Bathrooms downstairs” he gently closes the door.

“That was Lina…” I shyly say covering my face.

“Who?” they say in unison

“Lina my best friend since we were two, she's the reason I came” I laughed softly.

“yo…you think she heard anything,” Chris says bluntly scratching the back of his head.

“She's weird but not that weird. She's obviously drunk so she'll forget it by morning if she did anyway” I brush it off, and I pat the empty side of the bed for Chris to join Matt and me on the bed where I'm in the middle of both of them.

“You wanna watch anything? I'll let you pick?” Matt says handing me the remote and smiling.

“Wha- bro you never let me pick anything when I’M in your room” Chris whines.

“Shut up” matt laughs in response.

“Yall ever seen gossip girl?” I smirk at both of them

“Nope,” they both say popping the ‘P’

“YAY okay so we gonna watch it and if you have any questions feel free to ask” I smirk getting cozy and comfy in the silk sheets pressing play on the the TV.

“Why am I scared?” Chris says leaning over and whispering at me.

“Shut up and watch” I snap playfully.

HI LOVERS!! im so sorry for not posting this!! ive had writers block and i’ve been on vacation with my family visiting my home town and i haven’t really had time to write or do anything on this fic!! but i hope you guys enjoy it and i love you and thank you for your patience!!

XOXO,

Gabs 🩷

Sjendje

[https-plvr]

Somebody Else

↳ pairing: karina/yu jimin x gn!reader

↳ synopsis: she wanted it to be casual, you wanted it to be more than casual.

↳ genre: angst

↳ warnings: none

playing ♫ Somebody Else by The 1975

I don't want your body but I hate to think about you with somebody else

The café wasn't anything special, just another crowded place in the middle of the city. The buzz of conversation mixed with the faint clatter of cups and saucers, creating a background hum that should've been comforting. For Y/n though, it was suffocating.

“Why do you look like you'd rather be anywhere else?” Yeji asked, setting her drink down and raising an eyebrow.

Y/n gave a weak laugh, stirring their coffee without meeting Yeji's gaze. “Do I? Maybe I'm just tired.”

Yeji wasn't buying it. “You've been tired for weeks, and distracted. Is this about work? Or…” She trailed off, her voice lowering secretly, “...Karina?”

The name alone was enough to make Y/n's stomach churn. “I don't know why you keep bringing her up,” they said, their tone sharper than intended.

“Because you're obviously not over her.”

“I am over her.” Y/n snapped, but the words felt hollow. They both knew it wasn't true.

Yeji sighed, leaning back in their chair. “Look, I'm not trying to make this harder for you, but bottling it up isn't helping. You liked her, Y/n. Maybe even loved her..”

Y/n didn't respond, what could they say? That every day felt like a constant battle between moving on and clinging to the hope that Jimin would come back?

The sound of a laugh broke through their thoughts. It wasn't just any laugh—it was Jimin's laugh.

Instinctively, Y/n's head snapped toward the sound, and there they were. Jimin, sitting at a table across the room, her head tilted back slightly as she laughed at something the guy had said.

Jaewook.

Y/n had seen them together on social media, of pictures of Jimin and Jaewook at parties, at the beach, at quiet dinners that screamed intimacy. But seeing them in person was different. It felt like a punch to the gut.

“You've got to be kidding.” Y/n muttered under their breath.

“What?” Yeji asked, following Y/n's gaze. When she spotted Karina and Jaewook her expression darkened. “Oh.”

“Yeah, Oh.”

“They look happy.” Yeji said cautiously, her voice gentle.

“They do.” Y/n replied, their throat tight.

For a moment, they thought they might be able to get through it. They could sit here, pretend they didn't notice, and let Jimin be happy with Jaewook. But then Jimin looked up, and her eyes locked with Y/n's.

Y/n froze.

Jimin's expression shifted ever so slightly. Surprise maybe, or discomfort. Whatever it was, it made Y/n's heart race in a way they hated.

“She saw you.” Yeji whispered.

“Yeah, no kidding.” Y/n hissed.

Before they could decide what to do, Jimin said something to Jaewook and stood. She was now walking towards them.

“Shit.” Y/n muttered, gripping their cup so tightly their knuckles turned white.

“Do you want me to—”

“No, Stay.” Y/n said quickly.

Within seconds, Jimin was standing in front of them, her presence as overwhelming as it had always been.

“Y/n.” Jimin greeted, her voice warm but cautious.

“Rina.” Y/n replied, their voice clipped.

Jimin gestured toward Yeji with a faint smile. “Hey Yeji.”

“Hi.” Yeji said coolly, clearly unimpressed.

Karina shifted awkwardly before gesturing toward the table she'd come from. “I didn't expect to see you here.”

“Same.” Y/n replied.

“How've you been?”

“Fine.” Y/n lied, forcing a tight smile, “Busy, you know. college, life, the usual.”

“Right,” Karina said, nodding. “Same here.”

There was an awkward silence, the kind that never used to exist between them.

Jaewook called out from their table, holding up a coffee cup. “Hey Rina! They're ready!”

“I should—” Jimin began, gesturing toward Jaewook.

“Yeah,” Y/n said quickly. “You should.”

But Jimin hesitated. “It's good to see you.” she said softly, her gaze lingering on Y/n for a moment longer than necessary.

Y/n swallowed hard. “You too.”

With that, Karina turned and walked away, leaving Y/n to deal with the fallout.

“Wow,” Yeji said after a long pause. “That was...something.”

“It was nothing,” Y/n muttered, though their trembling hands said otherwise.

“Do you want to leave?”

“No,” Y/n said firmly. “We came here to relax, and I’m not going to let them ruin that.”

Yeji gave them a skeptical look but didn’t argue.

Across the room, Karina was laughing with Jaewook again, her hand casually resting on Jaewook’s. Y/n’s chest tightened at the sight. They had been there once, sitting across from Jimin, sharing quiet moments that felt like they could stretch into forever. But forever hadn’t been part of the deal.

“You know this is just casual, right?” Jimin had said one night, her voice soft but firm as she grabbed a fistful of Y/n's hair who was attacking her neck.

Y/n had nodded, even though their chest ached at the words. “Yeah. I know.”

It wasn’t true, they’d hoped that maybe, with time, Jimin would change their mind. 

But it hadn’t.

Y/n stirred their coffee, their mind swirling with memories.

“Talk to me,” Yeji said quietly.

“What’s there to talk about?” Y/n asked bitterly. “She moved on. They’re happy. Good for them.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Y/n sighed, running a hand through their hair. “Of course I don’t. But does it matter? She never wanted me the way I wanted her.”

Yeji reached across the table, her hand resting on Y/n’s. “You deserved better, you know.”

Y/n gave a weak laugh. “Maybe. But it doesn’t change anything.”

For the rest of their time at the café, Y/n avoided looking at Jimin and Jaewook. When they finally left, the air outside felt cooler, cleaner.

“You okay?” Yeji asked as they walked down the street.

.

.

.

.

.

“No,” Y/n admitted, their voice barely above a whisper. “But I will be.”

[dany-is-my-queen]

A QUESTION OF LOYALTY XVIII

Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader, Alicent Hightower x reader

Word count: 3.9k

Summary: When dragons of green and dragons of black dance, you have to choose the color that suits you best. Note: Nearing the finale!!!!

King’s Landing slept, but the castle itself seemed to breathe, its walls whispering secrets to those who dared to listen. The tension in the air pressed heavily against your chest, and you felt a storm brewing—one you had unknowingly stepped into.

A voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N,” came the cool, precise tone.

You turned to see her—Queen Alicent—standing at the end of the hallway. She looked every bit the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, her emerald gown shimmering in the dim light, her crown glinting atop her auburn curls. Her expression was unreadable.

“Your Grace,” you greeted, bowing your head out of respect.

“Out for a midnight stroll?” Alicent asked, her voice calm, but there was an edge to her words.

“I could ask the same of you, Your Grace,” you replied carefully.

A small, humorless smile tugged at her lips. “You’ve become quite the fixture here in King’s Landing, haven’t you?” she said, stepping closer. Her voice lowered, carrying the weight of a confession wrapped in accusation. “How bold of you, to linger so freely between us.”

You stiffened but kept your voice steady. “I have no intention of causing discord, Your Grace.”

“No intention?” Alicent repeated, her words sharp as glass. “And yet here you are, speaking to me in one breath and whispering to Rhaenyra in the next.”

“I never meant to come between you and her,” you said quickly, your voice firm but laden with regret. “Whatever exists between Rhaenyra and me… it was never about you. And certainly never about dividing what was once a friendship.”

At that, Alicent’s composure faltered. For a moment, the queen’s mask slipped, and the raw pain beneath was exposed.

“Friendship?” she said bitterly. “You speak of something long dead, something she killed with her lies and her disregard for everything we once held dear. And now, you, of all people, defend it?”

“I don’t defend anything,” you said softly. “But I see the pieces of what you once were to each other, and I cannot fathom why it must be this way.”

Alicent’s lips tightened. She turned away from you, her voice lowering. “You don’t understand. You couldn’t possibly understand. Rhaenyra takes what she wants without a thought for the ruin she leaves behind. And you—you’re just another piece in her game.”

“That’s not fair,” you said, a spark of defiance creeping into your tone.

“Fair?” Alicent turned to you, her voice rising slightly. “Do you think life in this castle is fair? Do you think I chose this? Rhaenyra and I were once bound by sisterhood, by trust. And now? Now she mocks me, disregards her duties, and drags you into her chaos. And you let her.”

Her words struck a nerve, but before you could respond, Alicent straightened, her queenly composure snapping back into place. “If you truly wish to avoid discord, Y/N,” she said coldly, “then stay out of her bed. And stay out of mine.”

Her departure left you reeling, her words cutting deeper than you cared to admit.

When you arrived at Rhaenyra’s chambers, the air was thick with anticipation. You hesitated at the door, steeling yourself before stepping inside.

Rhaenyra was seated by the fire, her silver hair spilling over her shoulders in waves. She didn’t look up as you entered, but you could feel the tension radiating from her.

“Do you enjoy testing my patience, or does it come naturally to you?” she asked, her voice low and sharp.

“I’ve done nothing to provoke you, Princess,” you replied, closing the door behind you.

She turned to face you, her lilac eyes blazing with frustration. “You’ve been with her,” she accused. “The Queen. Do you think I don’t notice the way she watches you? The way she clings to the scraps of your attention, as if that will somehow fill the void in her?”

“She’s your stepmother,” you said firmly. “And once, she was your friend. This animosity between you two—it’s insane, Rhaenyra. I don’t understand why it must be this way.”

Rhaenyra laughed bitterly, rising to her feet. “You sound just like her,” she said, her tone mocking. “Do you honestly think that woman has ever cared about anything other than herself and her children? She would see me destroyed if it meant keeping her precious Aegon on the throne.” Alluding to the toddler.

“Is that what you truly believe?” you asked, stepping closer. “Because from where I stand, the two of you are doing everything in your power to destroy each other.”

Rhaenyra’s expression darkened. “Are you defending her now?” she asked, her voice laced with disbelief.

“I’m not defending anyone,” you said.

“You think so little of me,” she said quietly.

“I think the world of you,” you said, your voice softening. “But this path you’re on—it terrifies me, Rhaenyra. And now? Now, you’re letting hatred consume you. It’s not who you are.”

“Who I am?” Rhaenyra repeated, her voice trembling. “Do you even know who I am anymore, Y/N? Because I barely do.”

The vulnerability in her words cut through you, and you felt your resolve weakening. But you forced yourself to hold firm.

“I never wanted to come between you and Alicent,” you said quietly. “I never wanted to be the reason for this… madness. But if you keep letting this consume you, Rhaenyra, it will destroy you.”

For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, finally, she looked up at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Do you love her?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, the weight of her question pressing down on you.

Rhaenyra’s lips parted as if to respond, but no words came. Instead, she turned away, her shoulders trembling.

“Go,” she said finally, her voice breaking. “Before I say something I can’t take back.”

You hesitated, your heart aching at the sight of her pain. But in the end, you did as she asked, the door closing behind you with a heavy finality.

They demand loyalty, but neither of them see what this is doing to you.

But these conversations with them never actually took place, did they?

———

You awoke with a start, gasping for air, your chest heaving as though you had just surfaced from the depths of the ocean.

Your mind reeled, struggling to make sense of what you had seen—the faces, the voices, the impossible places. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been real. And yet, the weight of it all pressed down on you like a specter haunting your every breath.

Who was that woman? And what did she mean, “You cannot save them both”?

Shaking, you sat up, clutching your knees to your chest. The Targaryens had often spoken of dreams—visions of dragons, of fire, of doom. Had you inherited some fragment of this gift, or curse, through your bloodline? Or was this simply your mind fraying under the strain of war, grief, and guilt?

Rhaenyra sat at the head of the table, her gaze cold as a dragon’s stare.

“You’ve cost us a dragon,” she said, her tone sharp. “Do you understand what that means, Y/N? What you’ve done?”

Her words struck like a blow. You forced yourself to remain calm, though guilt burned in your chest. “I acted in defense of us, Your Grace,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm brewing within you. “Aemond is dangerous. If I hadn’t—”

“You shouldn’t have acted at all!” she snapped, cutting you off. She stood abruptly, her fury spilling over. “Do you know what whispers are spreading now? That perhaps you still wear green beneath your black. That you’ve done this to weaken us!”

“That’s not true!” you protested, taking a step forward. “I’ve done nothing but serve you ever since you arrived. Make it up to you.”

“Have you?” Her voice was low now, but no less dangerous. “You’ve cost us more than a dragon, Y/N. You’ve cost us faith. Our allies question our strength. They wonder if we are too divided to win this war.”

Her words sank deep, but what hurt the most was the doubt in her eyes.

“You think I’ve betrayed you,” you said quietly.

“I don’t know what to think anymore, You’ve done this before, Y/N,” she said, her tone sharp and cutting. “Sworn yourself loyal to me, only to betray me when it suits you. “She admitted, her voice breaking slightly. “All I know is that your actions have jeopardized everything we’ve worked for.”

“I am loyal to you,” you insisted, though you could feel the ground slipping beneath your feet.

“And yet, I wonder,” she said, her gaze piercing. “You carry secrets, Y/N. I can feel them, even if I don’t know their shape. You keep part of yourself hidden. Do you still carry a banner for the Greens?”

“No!” you cried, the accusation cutting deep. “It wasn’t about them. It was about my mother. About Rhaenys.”

Rhaenyra’s fury faltered for a moment, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

“She taught me to act with honor,” you said, your voice breaking. “To protect those I love, no matter the cost. When I saw Aemond, I thought of everything he’s done—what he’ll do if left unchecked. I thought…”

Rhaenyra’s expression shifted, her anger mingling with something softer—pity, perhaps, or understanding. But it wasn’t enough to extinguish her bitterness.

“Rhaenys was a great woman,” she said coldly. “But she’s gone, Y/N. And you are here. You can’t hide behind her memory to justify your mistakes.”

“I’m not hiding,” you said, stepping closer. “I regret what I did, Rhaenyra. Truly. That’s not who I am—not who I want to be.”

Her gaze remained icy, her doubt a blade to your heart. “You’ve said that before. How can I believe you now?”

“Because I’m still here,” you said, desperation creeping into your voice. “I could have turned my back on you a hundred times. But I haven’t. I’ve stayed.“

Her shoulders slumped, the weight of the war and your betrayal pressing down on her. “Actions have consequences, Y/N. And yours have cost us dearly.”

One thing was clear: you had to find a way to earn back Rhaenyra’s trust, even if it meant sacrificing everything else.

What awaited you there was no respite—only more pain.

Alicent stood in her chamber, her hands trembling as she gripped a letter. She was dressed in simple green robes, a shadow of the queen she once was. The years and the war had worn her down, stripping away the pride and power she once carried.

She turned to you, her expression filled with anger and disbelief. “Do you think I wouldn’t hear about it?” she demanded. “The attack on Aemond—your attack on my son!”

You swallowed hard. “Alicent, I—”

“Don’t you dare try to explain it away!” she interrupted, her voice trembling with fury. “Are you mad? He is my son, Y/N! My boy! How could you… how could you do this?”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” you said, your voice thick with regret. “I acted out of anger, out of grief. I didn’t mean to—”

“To what?” she spat. “To harm him? To weaken him? To kill him!”

Her words struck like a whip, leaving you reeling.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“But you did,” she said, her voice breaking. Tears filled her eyes, though she tried to blink them away. “You’ve hurt me more than anyone else ever could.”

You took a hesitant step toward her. “Alicent, please… I love you.”

She shook her head, her tears spilling over. “And I love you,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “But love doesn’t undo the damage.”

You wanted to comfort her, to hold her and promise that things would get better, but you knew it was a lie.

“You’ve chosen your side,” she said finally, her voice cold now. “And I… I cannot follow you there.”

You stood in silence, watching as she turned away from you. There was nothing more to say, nothing more to do. The gulf between you had grown too wide to bridge, and all that remained was the ache of what could have been.

———

The war had taken a grim turn. News of the First Battle of Tumbleton reached King’s Landing like the toll of a funeral bell. Rhaenyra’s forces had not just been defeated—they had been betrayed. The Betrayer, Hugh Hammer, has switched sides mid-battle, leading to the sacking of Tumbleton. Refugees flooded into the capital with tales of fire and blood, of dragons turning on their own, and of the town reduced to ashes.

When the report reached the Black Council, Rhaenyra’s face turned ashen. She sat on the Iron Throne, her hand gripping the armrest so tightly her knuckles whitened. “The gates of King’s Landing will remain closed and barred,” she ordered coldly, her voice trembling with restrained rage. “No one enters without my command.”

———

The city was restless, the tension palpable as the gates remained shut and whispers of betrayal spread through the streets. You found yourself wandering the Keep late one evening, seeking solace, when you stumbled upon Helaena. She sat alone in a dimly lit corridor, her hands busy weaving a garland of pale flowers.

“Helaena,” you said softly, and her head snapped up, startled.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she murmured, though her tone lacked any real malice.

“I needed a moment away from the madness,” you admitted, sitting beside her. “And you?”

Her lips curved into a sad smile. “I’m always away from the madness. That’s my role, isn’t it? To sit and weave while the world burns around me.”

You hesitated before speaking again. “I never wanted this war, Helaena. And I never wanted you to be caught in it.”

She tilted her head, her gaze searching your face. “But you’ve made your sacrifices. And now… you live with them.”

For a moment, all you could do was nod.

“I wish there was a way to make it right,” you said.

“There isn’t,” she replied softly. “You can only choose to stop making it worse.”

———

The dungeon was dim, the air thick with the smell of damp stone. Corlys sat on the bench in his cell, his silver hair catching the faint torchlight. When he saw you approach, his lips pressed into a grim line.

“You’ve come to speak your piece, then?” Corlys asked, his voice edged with bitterness. “If you’re here to defend her actions, save your breath.”

“I’m not here to defend Rhaenyra,” you said softly, stepping closer to the bars. “I’m here because I owe you an apology—one long overdue. “I’ve made mistakes. I was blind to how far things had spiraled. And I regret it. But that’s not the only thing I regret. I regret letting my grief, my anger, and my confusion push you away after my mother’s death.”

Corlys froze, his expression softening slightly as your words sank in.

“When I learned the truth about my parentage, about my real father…” you continued, your voice wavering, “it was like my whole world had been torn apart. I didn’t know what to believe, who to trust. But you… you were always there for me. You were a father to me, even when I didn’t deserve it. And I was an idiot for not seeing that.”

For a moment, silence filled the space between you. Then Corlys let out a long sigh, the chains on his wrists rattling as he leaned forward. “If I failed you, it wasn’t because I didn’t care—it was because I didn’t know how to reach you when you were hurting so deeply.”

“You didn’t fail me,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I failed you. I shut you out when I should have leaned on you. And now, after everything that’s happened—after Addam—I see how much I’ve let you down. I’m sorry, Corlys. Truly.”

Corlys sighed again, his shoulders heavy with the weight of his own regrets. “We’ve all let each other down, haven’t we? Addam, Rhaenyra, you, me… this war has stripped us of everything we once were.” He looked up at you, his eyes weary but still full of a quiet strength. “But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that regret alone changes nothing. If you want to make amends, you have to act—and you have to do it now, before there’s nothing left to salvage.”

“I’ll try,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “I’ll try to reach her, to help her see reason before it’s too late. But I don’t know if she’ll listen.”

Corlys gave a small, sad smile. “She may not. Rhaenyra’s fear has blinded her, and the walls she’s built around herself are taller than ever. But you have to try. Because if you don’t, Y/N, who will?”

His words lingered in the still air as you nodded, the weight of his wisdom settling over you.

“I’ll do what I can,” you promised, turning to leave.

As you walked away, Corlys’s voice called after you, softer now but no less firm. “And Y/N… no matter what happens, remember this: you were always my daughter. Blood or no blood. And that will never change.”

Tears stung your eyes, but you didn’t turn back.

———

The atmosphere in the hall outside Rhaenyra’s chamber was tense as you arrived. The guards stationed at her door exchanged uneasy glances when they saw you approach. They were hesitant, as if unsure whether to let you pass.

“I need to speak with Her Grace,” you stated firmly, your voice carrying the weight of urgency.

One of the guards stepped forward. “The Queen has asked not to be disturbed.”

“She is certainly not with the council” you asked, your brow furrowing.

The guard hesitated. “No, my lady.”

Something in his tone gave him away. Your eyes narrowed, and without waiting for permission, you pushed past him toward the door.

“Wait—” the other guard started, moving to intercept, but you had already opened the door wide enough to see inside.

The sight before you made your blood run cold. Mysaria was lounging in Rhaenyra’s bed, her bare back to you, the sheets tangled loosely around her waist. Her white hair spilled over her shoulders like silk, and her knowing eyes flicked toward you with a smugness that twisted your stomach.

Rhaenyra sat at the edge of the bed, pulling on a robe hastily. Her face flushed—not with guilt, but with frustration.

“Lady Y/N,” she said sharply, her tone carrying an edge of warning. “You have no right to barge in here.”

Your heart sank, the weight of everything crashing down as you stared at her. “I needed to speak with you. Clearly, I’ve interrupted… something.”

Rhaenyra sighed, her gaze hardening. “This is none of your concern. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Sleeping with a whore? You snapped. Have you truly stooped this low, Rhaenyra?”

At that, Mysaria smirked, seemingly unfazed by the insult. She leaned back against the pillows, her posture almost taunting.

Rhaenyra’s eyes flashed with anger, her cheeks still flushed. “Careful with your words, Y/N. You’re hardly innocent. Or have you forgotten who you have bedded? Alicent Hightower, of all people.”

Her words hit you like a slap, but you refused to flinch. “Alicent is no prostitute,” you countered coldly. “She is nothing like this.” You gestured toward Mysaria, who raised a delicate brow but said nothing, content to watch the argument unfold.

Rhaenyra stood then, stepping closer to you, her voice low and venomous. “You don’t get to judge me. Not after everything. Not after you turned your back on me time and again. Do you think I care what you think of her—or of me? I don’t.”

The words stung, but it was the emptiness in her tone that broke something inside you. She wasn’t doing this because she loved Mysaria. It was a distraction—a way to drown her pain, her regret, her anger. And somehow, that made it hurt even more.

“Do you even hear yourself?” you asked, your voice trembling. “This… this isn’t you, Rhaenyra. This isn’t the woman I…” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “You’re letting yourself rot, and you’re dragging the realm down with you.”

Rhaenyra’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t respond. For a moment, the two of you stood there, the tension between you suffocating.

Mysaria finally broke the silence, her voice smooth and mocking. “The Queen does not need your judgment, my lady. Perhaps it is time you left.”

You turned your glare on her, but you didn’t dignify her with a response. Instead, you looked back at Rhaenyra, your expression softening despite the anger coursing through you.

“I came here to warn you,” you said quietly, your voice laced with exhaustion. “But I see now that you won’t listen. You’ve surrounded yourself with people who feed your delusions instead of telling you the truth. And I can’t keep fighting for someone who refuses to fight for herself.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes flickered, a brief crack in her façade, but she didn’t say anything. She simply stood there, silent and unyielding.

Without another word, you turned and walked out. The echo of it lingered in the hall, just like the ache in your chest.

———

The night felt colder than usual as you walked through the dimly lit halls of the Red Keep, your mind spinning from the confrontation with Rhaenyra. The anger had ebbed. You needed solace, a quiet reminder that not everything in this world had to be so broken.

You found yourself outside Alicent’s chambers before you even realized where your feet had carried you. The guards stationed outside her door gave you a glance but said nothing, stepping aside as you quietly entered the room.

The chamber was peaceful, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the windows. Alicent lay on her bed, her chest rising and falling steadily with each breath. She looked serene, her face untroubled by the weight of the day.

You hesitated at the edge of the bed, watching her for a moment. She was so different from Rhaenyra in this moment—so still, so calm. The storm that had been raging inside you began to quiet, replaced by a tender ache you couldn’t ignore.

Carefully, you sat on the edge of the bed, your fingers trembling as you reached out to brush a strand of hair away from her face. Her skin was warm beneath your fingertips, and your touch lingered, tracing the curve of her cheek with the gentlest care.

Alicent stirred slightly, a soft murmur escaping her lips as her head tilted toward your hand. Though her eyes remained closed, her features softened, as if she recognized your touch even in sleep.

Your heart swelled, and without thinking, you took her hand in yours, intertwining your fingers. The fit was familiar, comforting, as if the world outside these walls didn’t exist. You brought her hand to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles before resting it against your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the stillness. “For everything.”

Alicent didn’t wake, but her fingers twitched slightly in yours, the smallest sign of acknowledgment.

You stayed there for a while, content to hold her hand and watch her sleep. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to feel at peace, even if only for this fleeting moment.

-----------

Taglist: @nnightskiess @loveislove4 @evattude @lethal-minds @sophiexoxsblog @claymoresword @tired-ninfa @glorioushamsterqueen @pinkponycent @newcaptainofsquad9 @pindoris @oh-thats-cute @rxscpctals @laenordeservedbetter @voniikg @toot-is-tired @letlovee-in @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valenciavv @the-camilucha @acidblum @i-nail-jello-to-walls @cone-fused-mind @livingdreams97 @unique0003 @wicked-laugh @lottiemsgf @duckiekong @thecavalrywife @username23345 @simp4women08 @vorsdany

[crescenthistory]

you are my favourite silence

Pairing: Paul Atreides x Reader

Summary: Jessica's lecture and the eventual nightmare-catalysed-reunion, from Paul's tortured, yearning perspective. Based on "in the silence, there is an us".

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: not proofread, angst, hurt/comfort, references to nightmares, intense yearning, descriptions of anxiety and panic, feeling like the world is demanding too much of you, being super in love but not able to say it out loud, cuddling, lady jessica being a c*ckblock/heartbreaker

***

In the face of change, of being pushed into the final phase of growing up, Paul wanted to cling to you like a lifeline. To the gentle rhythm that once existed between him and you, the one he felt becoming more and more unbalanced as the world around dumped expectations on you both. He almost had not noticed it happening at first. You had grown up beside him, a constant presence, and yet now, each time he glanced your way, he was increasingly aware of what could be taken from him. He was only just beginning to grasp how much he cared for you, and the idea that you might feel like you did not belong here, or worse, being shown you do not, made something twist deep inside him.

Sitting beside you in the library, Paul could hear his mother’s words – sharp and pointed, even as he believed they were meant to guide. His whole body felt tense, not because of Jessica’s talk of duty, or the future he would soon shoulder, but because of you. Because he knew what her gaze did to you, how it picked at the part of you that never felt enough. When Jessica moved on to discuss personal relationships, the weight of her underlying meaning came pressing down, and Paul could barely keep his attention on her. His eyes flicked toward you, searching for any sign that her words were cutting too deep. Even when scolded himself, all he could think about is how it would affect you.

He hated this. Hated the way his mother’s eyes would linger on you, as though you were being measured and found wanting. It wasn’t true, but he knew you felt it. He could see it in the way you lowered your head, trying to hide from the sharpness of her tone. His jaw clenched. You were not some distraction, you were his best friend, and that should count for something. You were the reason he could breathe when it all felt either too small or too big.

When the speech was finally over and Jessica left them alone, Paul let out a breath, half-realising he did not listen to a word she said towards the end. The silence between the two of you felt heavy, thicker than it should have been. You should have been able to laugh it off together, snicker at his mother’s dramatics, but he knew you would not do that anymore. He risked a glance at you. His heart sinking at the way you avoided looking back. 

“She didn’t mean it like that,” he said, voice low, unsure how else to cut through the tension. When you didn’t respond, he moved closer, needing to bridge the growing distance. “She’s just worried. That’s all. My mother –”

“Your mother is always worried,” you cut in sharply, and Paul flinched. The tone in your voice was one you rarely ever used on him, only in your worst moments. He knew what it meant. You were pulling away, not just from the conversation, but from him. He could feel it. He wanted to stop it, wanted to reach out and pull you back to where you belonged, beside him. “Maybe she has a point. I’ve been distracting you. I shouldn’t... I shouldn’t keep coming to you.”

No.

Paul’s chest tightened as you began to move, began to slip from his grasp. Before he could even think, his hands moved on their own, gently but firmly gripping yours, desperate to ground you. “No,” he said aloud, his voice more forceful than he intended. “You haven’t been distracting me. You’ve... you’ve been keeping me sane. It’s not the same thing.”

He didn’t have the words. Not really. Not for what he was trying to say. All he needed was for you to understand, to know how important you were to him, but no words were worthy in the moment. His mother could never see it the way he did, she was too caught up in her visions for his future to realise when the only future he cared about was right in front of his nose. She didn’t understand how all the qualities that could make him a good duke were the ones you brought out of him.

He could see your brows twitch in the way they do when you are holding back tears. “But your mother thinks –”

“I don’t care what my mother thinks.”

The words tumbled out before he could stop them, and for a brief moment, Paul felt a surge of panic. He blinked, startled by his own admission that he had not realised rang so true for him, but he didn’t let go of your hands. His grip tightened slightly, and he looked at you, willing you to understand all he could not say. “I don’t care what she thinks about the time we spend together,” he continued, trying to keep his voice level. “She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning, like the world’s pressing in from every side, and you’re just. Alone.”

She doesn’t know you’re the lifeboat. 

“Whenever I’m with you, it’s the only time I don’t feel that way,” he confessed, his voice raw. He was laying it all out, unsure if he was saying the right things or making things worse, but he couldn’t stop himself. It felt like he was pleading a case. “You’re not a distraction. You’re the only thing that keeps me steady.”

He saw the way your eyes briefly squeezed shut, the blush still remaining in your cheeks, the slightly quivering curve of your mouth, all that internal struggle on your beautiful face. It tore him apart. You wanted to argue, he could see that, but something held you back. Paul wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. He felt you giving up instead of giving in, as you softly said, “We just need to be more careful.”

Careful. That word grated against his every instinct. Paul didn’t want careful. He wanted you, the way you had always been – close, inseparable. 

But then you said, “We can’t keep hiding away in each other’s rooms. We can’t... we can’t keep acting like kids.”

Paul’s heart sank, his body sagging slightly as he was giving up, too. Not on you, on himself, on his situation. He rubbed at his face, trying to shake the helplessness threatening to take over. You were right, but it felt painfully wrong.

“But we’re not acting like kids,” he muttered, trying to keep you from slipping too far away. 

“Aren’t we?” you whispered, your voice filled with something that sounded like heartbreak. “We’re literally sneaking into each other’s beds in the middle of the night, Paul. We’re still pretending like nothing’s changed.”

Paul didn’t have a response. Not immediately, too caught up with the ache in his chest as his disturbance turned existential. Why must sharing a close connection with someone, being tethered by someone, be a thing of only childhood? He felt he needed it more and more the older he got. Yet, he knew better than anyone all he had to do and all he had to be, and that it was time to step up to the challenge. But that didn’t mean he wanted to lose this, lose you, at least this part of you it felt he had always possessed. The idea that things had to change, that you couldn’t be the way you had always been – it was unbearable.

“Nothing has changed though,” he finally said, aiming for conviction. “Not between us.”

Deep down, Paul knew you were right. Everything had changed, just not in the way you were currently discussing, and he didn’t know what to do with it. He was not ready to face it. 

When you stood up to leave, the panic flared again in his chest. He wanted to reach for you, to stop you, to pull you back down beside him. Show you why you had to stay. He did anything but, he could only watch as you walked away, leaving him behind with the oppressive atmosphere of the library. His finger tips lingered on your seat as he clung to your promise: I will see you tomorrow. Even that small promise felt like a lifeline made of plastic.

Paul stared at the spot where you left, the weight of the future settling heavily on his shoulders. 

The following weeks, Paul did everything in his power to bury the gnawing unease that twisted inside him. He cherry-picked from his continuing lectures from his mother, trying to keep only the positives and leave out all the doom everyone seemed to hand him these days. The tension that hung between you only worsened in the silence of the castle’s long nights. You had always shared a restlessness after dark, a sort of curse that made sleep seem impossible unless you were together. But after his mother’s warnings about appearances and responsibilities, Paul felt obligated to put distance between you, to keep his emotions in check. At least for as long as you claimed that was what you wanted, too.

God, he hated it.

At first, he tried to do everything right, tried to focus more on his studies, his duties, his pretenses. He could not afford to slip up, not when he was being watched so closely, not when he was meant to prove himself a future Duke. But the more he tried to be the person he was expected to be, the more he felt himself, Paul, not the future duke of House Atreides, unraveling. 

Every moment spent apart from you gnawed at him, like a thread slowly being pulled loose from the fabric of his mind. His concentration splintered; during meetings, his eyes trailed to the door, wondering if you would ever walk in, during training, his movements felt sluggish, his mind always wandering to whether you were okay, whether you missed him too.

The longer you kept your distance, the harder it became to focus on anything but you and the looming elephant that was your friendship.

He soaked up every interaction you had like a parched man trying to survive in the desert. Even something as simple as sitting beside you during meals or brushing past you in the hallways felt like a lifeline. He clung to those moments, storing them away like precious memories, replaying them in his mind when he found himself alone. He knew you still saw each other a relatively normal amount, the amount usual friends dedicate to each other – but it was far from enough.

During it all you kept up your facade too well for Paul’s state. It was like you practiced it all when you could not sleep at night, you were polite, composed, like nothing had changed between you. Paul knew you better, of course. He could see through it, see the cracks forming beneath the surface. The bags forming under your eyes, the strain on your smiles, the flickering of your gaze when met by any member of the Atreides family now. You were just as affected by this distance as he was, but you were better at hiding it from everyone but him. It only made him want to reach out more, to break through that wall, to remind you that you didn’t have to carry this alone.

Paul sat beside you at the long wooden table in the dining hall, trying to act as though nothing had changed. The usual hum of formalities and business between his tutors, his mother, and the few remaining nobles blurred into a background buzz. All of it felt irrelevant compared to the tension sitting between you and him. He tried to tell himself the change was not that large, out of all the seats in the room, you were still sat together. 

He sneaked a glance at you from the corner of his eye. You were sitting perfectly still, your posture as composed and graceful as you had been trained to be, eyes downcast as you picked at the meal in front of you. On the surface, you looked calm, indifferent even, but Paul could see it so easily. The way your fingers gripped your knife a little too tight, the way your shoulders tensed as if trying to make yourself smaller, invisible. It’s not the same.

Despite his appetite having long since vanished, Paul tried to take a bite of his food. Beside him, you sipped your water, eyes flicking up just once to meet his before darting away again. The briefest connection, but it hit him like a shockwave. He was desperate for more of you, the real you, not this version that was carefully packaged to meet the standards of the room.

A thought ran through his head and before he could compose himself, Paul’s foot nudged yours lightly under the table. A small, almost childlike gesture. His heart raced, wondering if you would acknowledge it, if you would look at him like you used to. When you glanced his way, a flicker of a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth, a sign that you were still there, but it withered away fast.

You straightened in your seat, breaking eye contact, your attention turning back to your plate. A clear signal that you couldn’t do this, not here. Not now.

Paul’s stomach twisted, and he gripped his fork tighter, his knuckles white against the silver. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. There had been no distance between you before. You used to laugh together, share inside jokes over dinners like this. You used to sneak glances that said everything without needing words. Now, there was just this unbearable restraint. The longer it stretched on, the more suffocating it became.

He wanted so desperately to just be your best friend again, like when you were younger, when things were simple. When sharing a bed was not plagued by conventions or the expectations of his mother. Back then, it had been about adventure and laughter. Now it was about survival for poor Paul, it was all he needed to secure him. He wanted you to know how much he cared, how much he needed you. 

He remained silent.

When night fell, it became unbearable. Alone in his room, Paul felt the weight of everything pressing down on him—the responsibilities, the expectations, the growing distance between the two of you. Sleep evaded him. Each night felt longer than the last, and the silence of the castle, once comforting, now felt suffocating. 

He thought of you constantly. 

He wondered if you were having nightmares, the way you always did when there were no storms to distract you. You never reacted well to the stillness of nights like this, and Paul knew it. He knew you too well. 

Should I go to her? 

The thought flickered in his mind more than once, the worry gnawing at him more than usual, but something held him back. His mother’s words still lingered in the air between you, but more importantly your words. You asked for space, even if the reasons felt as tragic to him as they did. He could not risk making things worse, could not risk losing you completely by overstepping. Nevertheless, the longer he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the more unbearable the thought of doing nothing became.

The hours drifted on, whisking away into the night air streaming in through his cracked open window. He had zeroed in on the sound in hopes it could form a lullaby, but to no avail. In the silence of his room, he heard footsteps in the hallway.

Before he could finish thinking, he was up and out of bed, hand on the door. He was fully expecting to open the door and be met with a wall of nothingness, forced to face how truly delerious he was becoming, but the possibility of any other outcome made him throw the door open without hesitation. 

His pounding heart all but lit up as he saw you standing in the doorway, almost hidden in the darkness. Surprise was etched onto your features and your hand was half-raised, presumably to knock on the door. A relieved smile made it onto your lips, and Paul briefly wondered whether you were aware, or if it was instinct. He breathed your name as a silent thank you to whatever forces brought you back to his doorstep.

In the half-shadows, you looked haunted, and he immediately stepped to the side to make room for you to step back into his world. He had been waiting for you. Hoping, somehow, that you would come to him, that you still needed him the way he needed you. 

You slipped inside quietly, and Paul closed the door behind you, sealing the two of you away from everything – his mother, the expectations, the fear that had been building between you for weeks. His chest tightened as he watched you, taking in the way your shoulders tensed, the way your eyes flicked to his like you weren’t sure if you should be here.

Paul had never been more certain of anything. He needed you here. 

As if your muscle memory controlled your actions, you moved toward the bed, and Paul followed hot on your heels, not willing to let you get too far away from him. There were no words, but there didn’t need to be. You both knew what this was. 

As he watched you climb into his bed, Paul felt something settle in his chest, something that had been fraying ever since the distance had started growing between you. He slid in beside you, immediately wrapping his arm as tightly around your waist as viable and pulling you close.

The quiet of his room that had just felt so suffocating now felt like a refuge. You were his anchor, his constant. For the first time in what felt like forever, the world outside didn’t feel so heavy. 

He heard your breathing slow as you nestled against him, your head resting on his chest. Without any real thought behind the action, he buried his nose in your hair and breathed you in, feeling every part of his body that was touching yours. He could feel the tremors in your body start to fade, and with them, the knot of worry that had been coiling tighter and tighter inside him began to loosen.

“Are you okay?” Paul whispered, his voice soft, almost afraid of shattering the moment.

You nodded against him, but Paul could feel the weakness in the movement, could feel the words you did not say. In response he held you tighter, his thumb tracing slow, gentle circles on your arm, offering comfort in the only way he knew how.

“I’m glad you came,” he murmured, his voice so quiet it almost didn’t reach his own ears. He had not realized how much he needed to say it until the words were out. “I wanted to come to you, but—” He trailed off, guilt wracking his mind while trying to somehow silence yours. His hand began to trace up and down your bare arm, needing to feel the warmth of your skin to remind himself that you were real, that this moment was real.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice hoarse with emotion. “I wanted to come sooner.”

Paul didn’t say anything, but his heart ached at the truth in your words. You had wanted to come sooner, but something had kept you back. The same thing that had kept him pacing his room, wondering if he should break the unspoken rules and go to you. Although he had always known, being told that the distance was killing you too felt oddly good.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence between you now felt different, like the quiet after a storm, when the air is charged but peaceful. Paul’s hand drifted up to gently stroke your hair, the motion instinctual, as his other hand held your waist. It was one of the most intimate embraces you had had, and it felt so right, to the point where he did not even question it. He wanted to offer you more than comfort, more than just a place to escape your nightmares. He wanted to give you the world, guaranteed safety. Not just a reprieve or a shelter, but a true home, a good life. But the words weren’t there yet. He didn’t know how to say the way he cared for you, that it was more than just… caring. That you were the only person who had ever made him feel like everything might be okay.

Instead, he whispered, “I’ll always be here. I swear it.” It was close enough for now.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim candlelight, burning low. For a moment, Paul’s breath caught in his throat. He saw everything in that look – your fear, your doubt, your hope. Your care. He craved to kiss you, to close the distance that still felt like it hung between you. Instead, he pressed his lips to the top of your head, a tender, quiet gesture that said everything he couldn’t yet.

Neither of you spoke after that. You simply held each other, the world outside disappearing as you both drifted into a peaceful sleep. Paul finally felt safe.

[quokkacore]

FRIGHT NIGHT [jeno & johnny] (m)

summary: your boyfriend has been acting weird. his new neighbor won't stop staring at you. you’ve started having dreams involving fangs and hands that aren’t your boyfriend’s. these three statements are unrelated. probably.

pairings: nerd!jeno x cheerleader!reader, vampire!johnny x human!reader

genre: horror, romance, based off of the 2011 version of fright night with a few things added in!

warnings: sexual content (minors DNI!), general violence, gore, explosions, wet dreams, misogyny, jaemin may or may not be an incel (i'm sorry king), evil aged up johnny (looks about late 30s-40s, is actually like 400 something), vampires, biting, blood, car sex, fingering, dubcon (i <3 the vampire mind control trope), breeding kink, dacryphilia, cucking kind of not really???, infidelity KIND OF NOT REALLY, blood kink, scent kink if you squint?, fear kink, cunnilingus, reader is a cheerleader but no specific body type is mentioned - though she’s described as being physically strong, connecticut

word count: unsure yet! maybe 15k? this current sneak peak below the cut is 518 words!

“Look,” Johnny grunted, eyes much less warm than they had been a second ago, “I’m sure this is all just a misunderstanding. If I can just come in I’m sure we can work—”

“No.” Jeno’s voice was harsh, but from behind him you could tell he was moments away from shitting his pants. The hand holding yours was trembling. “No, you won’t come in.”

“Okay, I won’t come in.” Johnny threw his hands up in the air, before grinning. “Y/N?”

The tension was so thick you could practically feel it in the air as you started to step out from behind Jeno. Your boyfriend quickly followed, continuing to cover his body with yours. “You don’t get to talk to my girlfriend. You need to leave. Now.”

“Very controlling boyfriend, aren’t you? I was talking to her. Y/N. Sweet thing.”

That tone. That voice. Sweet thing. You turned rigid as your body threw itself into contradiction. So many sensations seemingly antithetical to each other bashed around in your skull, your body responding in turn. Every single hair on your body stood upright, but a warmth pooled in your stomach and upper chest. Your throat felt dry, but you swallowed down the lump in your throat anyway. You felt flushed, feverish. Tears burned in your eyes.

“Y-yes?”

Jeno turned to look at you, but froze when realizing your expression. You appeared to be in shock, catatonic, even; his stomach sank as one word came to his mind. A trance.

In your mind, every single of the strange dreams you’d had flashed through your mind. The man whose face you could never see, but whose voice was now unmistakeable. The hands all over your body with unnaturally long nails. The touches and scratches that should have frightened you, but you welcomed. Burning, metallic-tasting kisses starting on your lips before trailing down, down, down. Pain, pleasure, married together in a maiming claim to your body, starting in the side of your neck before spreading throughout. 

The same question the voice had asked you at the end of every single one of them, after he had taken you apart and promised you that you’d be together soon enough.

Would you let me in if I asked, sweet thing?

“Can I come in?”

A tear streaked down your cheek as you met Jeno’s eyes, shaking his head violently. You remembered the first two times you had denied him—tried your damnedest to conjure that version of yourself. Begged to god as Jeno’s chest heaved, watching your mouth move, no sound coming out. 

But she no longer existed. Instead, stood the girl who had replied the third and final time. 

“Yes.”

Johnny’s smile peeled back, dark eyes pooling into black. Two unnaturally sharp, ivory canines glittered in the light. He paused, before his hands grabbed the frame of the door.

A moment later, he crossed, without hesitation, across Jeno’s threshold. He scoffed as Jeno’s eyes widened in terror, and against your will, your body cried out for the older man. 

“You said I won’t,” The taller man pointed out, “You never said I can’t.”

PART I: BIND - OUT OCTOBER 17TH

PART II: BREED - OUT OCTOBER 30TH

a/n: blame colin farrell and my relationship becoming long distance for my comeback. pls comment and/or reblog to be tagged when the first part is updated!

[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

How about a little of fluffy, huh?

Enjoy it <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Summary: you find out about your version and Wanda in another universe.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist

SIGHTS

As you walked back to the camp, water droplets slid down your skin, the night breeze bringing a slight shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. Your mind was in turmoil, recalling Wanda's little show by the lake. The trees seemed quieter, as if even nature was trying to absorb what had just happened.

"Did you really have to do that in front of everyone?" you asked, breaking the silence, but your voice came out hesitant, almost shy.

Wanda glanced at you sideways, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "And what exactly did I do?"

"Oh, come on, Wanda," you said, exasperated. "Lifting that guy into the air, threatening to erase them all from the multiverse? That’s not exactly... educational."

Wanda raised an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised. “What are you talking about? I was perfectly reasonable, if you want to know,” she said, her tone bordering on cynical, as if her threat to erase people from existence was something ordinary and completely justifiable.

"Reasonable?!" you repeated, your voice a bit louder than you intended. "You almost gave the poor guy a heart attack! He’ll never look at a campfire again without remembering you."

Wanda stopped walking, turning to face you with an expression that was both amused and exasperated. "He should be grateful," she retorted, as if explaining something obvious. "If I wanted to, he wouldn’t even remember what a campfire is."

"Oh my god! You’re impossible!" You crossed your arms, trying to look firm, but the way she was looking at you— that mix of unwavering authority and irresistible charm—made your heart race. "You know that’s not the point, right?"

She took a step closer, tilting her head slightly. "And what’s the point, then, dorogaya? That I should have let that bunch of filthy teenagers disrespecting nature go unpunished? I have principles, sweetheart! And none of them can see you like this except for me."

"I’m not talking about me," you replied, but your tone lost strength at the end of the sentence, because deep down, you knew there was something comforting—and, in a way, exciting—about the fact that she had defended you so fiercely.

"Oh, but I am," Wanda murmured, the intensity in her eyes making you feel as though the ground had disappeared beneath your feet. "No one will desire you in my presence. No one will even dare to think about you, and read my lips when I say, darling: I will know what they’re thinking. I always do."

You exhaled heavily, but tried to hide your smile at your witch’s over-the-top monologue. "Wanda… please."

Wanda turned to you, crossing her arms as she tilted her head. "Are you... worried about them?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but she just made a hand gesture.

"Happy?" she asked casually, beginning to walk again as if nothing had happened.

You furrowed your brow, quickening your pace to catch up with her. "What do you mean? What did you do?"

Without even looking at you, Wanda gave a small, satisfied smile. "They’ve forgotten everything, dorogaya."

Your eyes widened. "What do you mean 'forgotten everything'? Did you mess with their minds?"

She shrugged, fingers playing with a strand of her own hair. "Just enough to make sure no one will remember my ‘little show,’ as you call it."

You stared at her, a mixture of fascination and unease growing inside you. "You can do that? Alter memories?"

"I can do many things," Wanda replied, finally stopping and turning to face you. She seemed slightly amused, as if relishing your curiosity.

"Like what?" you asked, unable to contain the question.

Wanda leaned slightly toward you, her eyes shining with that characteristic mix of mystery and power. "Ah, milaya moya," she murmured, her voice low and enticing. "If I told you everything I can do, you wouldn’t sleep for weeks."

A shiver ran down your spine, but you couldn’t help but smile. "Is that a promise or a warning?"

"Both," she replied, laughing softly before continuing to walk.

Unable to resist, you hurried to walk beside her. "You really are something, Miss Maximoff."

Wanda stopped abruptly, making you almost stumble in your hurry to keep up with her. She turned to face you, an expression that wavered between surprise and amusement. "Something?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow as a smile danced on her lips.

"Yes, something," you reaffirmed, crossing your arms with an unexpected touch of boldness. "A force of nature, maybe. Or maybe a goddess with a heroine complex. But definitely something."

Wanda’s eyes sparkled, and you realized there was something more there. It wasn’t just amusement. It was admiration. Fascination. As if she was seeing something in you that intrigued her as much as you were intrigued by her.

"You’re bold," Wanda said, her voice soft but tinged with provocation. "Do you know what happens to people who challenge a goddess?"

"I have no idea," you replied, shrugging. "Maybe you should show me."

Wanda tilted her head, a dangerous yet charming smile forming. "You really want to know what I’m capable of, don’t you?"

"I do," you replied, firm, though your heart was pounding like a drum. "I want to know what makes you the woman you are. I want to see everything you can do. Because, if I’m going to be by your side, I need to understand... you."

For a moment, Wanda was silent, just watching you. Then, she stepped forward, closing the gap between you. Her fingers lifted to trace a slow path along your face, as if deciding how far she would take you on this journey.

"You have no idea what you’re asking for, dorogaya," she murmured, her voice like honey dripping. "My power isn’t just strength or control. It’s chaos. It’s destruction. It’s everything you fear and desire at the same time."

"Then show me," you insisted, your voice almost inaudible, but filled with determination. "If that’s what you are, I want to see it. All of it."

Wanda smiled, but this time, there was something deeper there—maybe a touch of respect. "You’re brave. So brave, lyubimaya. But be careful what you wish for."

She extended her hand to you, her eyes glowing with a deep red intensity. "Come with me. And I’ll show you what I’m made of."

You hesitated for a second, but just enough for Wanda to intertwine her fingers with yours, pulling you with her. "Hold on," she said, her lips curling into a smile that was as terrifying as it was beautiful. "You asked for this."

And then, with an almost imperceptible snap, the world around you began to change.

Wanda guided you with a firm yet strange touch through the veil between worlds. Reality around you unraveled in a tangle of colors and shapes, as if every line that composed the fabric of the universe was being unfolded before you. The air seemed to vibrate, charged with something incomprehensible—a raw, terrifying power.

"Welcome to the Multiverse, dorogaya," Wanda said, her voice soft as a whisper, but filled with an authority that made you shiver. "Get ready, because there’s no turning back."

Before you could respond, the first vision took shape.

The room seemed like it was from a dream. White, smooth, and flawless walls reflected the soft light streaming through large windows. Outside, there was a perfect garden, with well-manicured lawns and flowers of all colors. The house was a reflection of what Wanda seemed to believe was an ideal life: simple, cozy, and full of love.

Wanda was barefoot, wearing a light red dress that swayed with her movement. Her hair was loose, and she appeared... ordinary, but in an almost supernatural way. In her arms, a chubby, smiling baby played with strands of her hair as she looked at him with a tenderness so intense it almost broke your heart.

Vision stood beside her, smiling in a way you didn’t think possible for someone made of vibranium. He looked so human there, so... present. With one hand, he caressed Wanda’s face, and with the other, he held a small music box that played a soft melody in the background.

“This was my utopia,” Wanda began, without looking directly at you. Her eyes were fixed on the scene, as if she were immersed in the memory. “A perfect creation for a perfect life. A home where I could have everything the real world denied me.”

You realized the setting seemed like a reflection of an ideal from the 1950s or 60s — a perfect suburban life, almost like a magazine advertisement. Yet, the longer you looked, the more artificial everything seemed. The flowers in the garden had no scent. The sunlight didn’t warm. And suddenly, you realized there were no sounds from the outside.

“It was an illusion, of course,” Wanda continued, with a hint of melancholy. “But for a while... I wanted to believe it was real. I needed to believe. I did this for Vision. For myself. For my children.”

The scene abruptly changed. Now, the same room was dark, almost in ruins. The baby in Wanda’s arms had vanished. Vision was lying on the floor, lifeless, with a hole in his chest where the Mind Stone should have been. Wanda was kneeling, her hands stained with blood, her eyes fixed on the void.

“That’s when I realized,” she said, her voice faltering slightly. “None of this was mine. I was living a lie. And the truth... the truth was more cruel than any illusion I could create.”

You wanted to say something, but the words felt stuck in your throat. Everything around you screamed of pain, loss, and despair.

“I tried so hard,” Wanda whispered, more to herself than to you. “I tried to be good, I tried to be strong. But the more I lost, the more I became... this.”

You glanced at the woman, seeing tears held back in her large green eyes. Why doesn’t Wanda cry? Why does she keep everything to herself? These are questions you would like to understand and deconstruct with every reason she gives you.

This version of Wanda was a whirlwind of emotions, chaos personified. You saw her in different moments, different worlds, all versions converging on the same point: Vision. He was the center of her universe, and Wanda did the impossible to bring him back — to recreate the love she believed was her only anchor.

In the first scene, she was kneeling in a cold, metallic room, holding Vision’s lifeless body. It was a version of him without glow, without movement. The pale light reflected on her face, bathed in tears that flowed uncontrollably. Wanda murmured softly, almost inaudible, like a desperate prayer: "Please, come back to me. Please..."

You could feel the urgency in her voice, the kind of desperation that defies reason. She tried using her magic, her hands trembling as a scarlet glow surrounded Vision’s body. But it was futile. He wouldn’t return.

"I refused to accept death," Wanda explained, her voice low, as if confessing a terrible secret. "I thought I could deceive fate. That, if I wanted it enough, I could bring him back."

The scene abruptly shifted, and now you saw her in another world, facing a legion of colossal beings, each one more threatening than the last. They seemed to be guarding something — maybe an artifact or a secret she wanted. Wanda was at the center of the battle, her powers turning the ground into lava, the sky into darkness.

"I destroyed entire worlds," she continued, her eyes fixed on the scene. "I fought against those who tried to stop me, against those who said I was wrong. I didn’t care. I would do anything to bring him back."

You saw another Wanda, this time creating an entire world. She stood with her arms raised as houses rose from the ground, people took form out of nowhere, and a perfect blue sky stretched above everyone. At the center of this world was Vision, smiling, alive, as if nothing had happened.

"I created entire realities," Wanda said, a touch of bitterness in her voice. "But none of them were real. He... wasn’t real."

The last scene was the most devastating. Wanda was alone, watching a version of Vision disappear before her eyes. He touched her face one last time before fading into dust, and she remained motionless, as if there was no more strength left in her to react.

"For so long," Wanda said, her eyes filled with a pain that seemed endless, "I thought love was sacrifice. That everything worth having had to be earned with pain. But I was wrong."

She turned to you, the intensity in her eyes as crushing as everything you had just witnessed. "Love shouldn’t be this, right? It shouldn’t be pain, or loss, or despair. But it was all I knew."

You felt your heart tighten. You wanted to touch her, comfort her, but it seemed too small in comparison to everything she had faced.

"You showed me something different," she continued, her voice trembling slightly. "Something I never thought I deserved. You showed me that love can be... healing."

This time, the air was thick with tension as you entered that ruined house, used as a temporary refuge by Wanda Maximoff. The walls were cracked, and the smell of dust mixed with something else: magic, raw and pulsing, like a storm about to explode. The organization that had sent you knew she was dangerous, but you weren’t there as an agent or a heroine. You were there as a social worker, someone who had worked with people who had lost everything — and Wanda Maximoff was exactly that.

She was sitting in the darkest corner of the room, her eyes glowing with an unsettling scarlet hue. There was no apparent pain or mourning on her face; just a dangerous emptiness, the kind that swallows worlds.

"Leave," was the first thing she said, not even looking at you directly.

You didn’t leave.

"I just want to talk," you said, keeping your voice calm, even though your heart was pounding like a drum. "Nothing more."

Wanda laughed — a dry, bitter laugh, without joy. "Talk? Is that what they call interrogation now?" She finally raised her eyes to meet yours, and the weight of her gaze was almost physical. "I don’t need your pity."

"It’s not pity," you replied, not backing down. "It’s... concern."

Suddenly, the air around her shifted. It was as if an invisible hand was trying to grab you, crush you. Wanda raised her hand, and you saw the scarlet threads of her magic dance around her like serpents ready to strike.

"Do you think you can help me?" she whispered, her voice laced with sarcasm and something deeper: pain. "Do you think you can come in here and fix everything with your sweet words? I could end you before you even finish that sentence."

But she couldn’t.

The magic around her shattered like glass, vanishing into the air before it could touch you. Wanda’s expression transformed into something you would never forget: surprise. She tried again, raising both hands, muttering words in an ancient tongue, but nothing happened.

"Who are you?" she asked, standing slowly, her eyes fixed on you like a predator finding something unusual.

"My name is Y/n. I’m a social worker." You took a deep breath, trying to seem calmer than you felt. "And I think you need help."

"You idiot! Who sent you? Are you a witch? How do you know how to manipulate my magic?" she shot angrily.

Your hands were sweating, and you felt a strong urge to rush to the bathroom — but something completely insane inside you told you that you needed to stay.

You took a hesitant step forward, keeping your hands visible at your sides. It was like facing a wild animal, where every movement needed to be calculated.

"I’m not a witch, and no one sent me," you said, your voice calm but firm. "I’m just a social worker. And I’m here because you’re hurt."

Wanda laughed, but it was an empty, bitter sound. "Hurt?" she repeated, taking a step toward you. "You think you can help me? I’m the Scarlet Witch. I don’t need help from anyone, especially not from a... social worker."

"Maybe you don’t need it," you replied, trying to ignore the heat at the back of your neck and the trembling in your legs. "But maybe you want it."

Her face hardened, and for a moment, you thought you had made a fatal mistake. But then something changed. Her eyes lost some of their intensity, as if your words had touched a part of Wanda she was desperately trying to hide.

"Why aren’t you afraid of me?" she asked, tilting her head. "Everyone is. I can feel fear in people. But in you... there’s nothing."

You hesitated, searching for the right words. "Maybe it’s because I see beyond that," you said, taking another step. "I see someone who is hurt, who’s lost so much, but who is still here. Still fighting."

"You don’t know anything about me," she murmured, but her voice was quieter now, almost unsure.

"Then tell me," you responded softly. "Let me get to know you, Wanda."

There was a long silence. She watched you as if trying to decide whether you were real or just another broken piece in her world. Finally, Wanda sighed and turned her back, crossing her arms.

"You’re stubborn," she said, not looking at you.

"I hear that often," you replied, trying not to smile.

She chuckled softly, but it wasn’t a cruel sound this time. When she finally turned to you, there was something different in her eyes. Something more human, more vulnerable.

"If you’re going to stay, then stay. But don’t expect me to trust you anytime soon," she said, pointing to a worn-out sofa in the corner of the room.

"I don’t expect," you replied, carefully sitting down. "So, you can’t kill me with your red power balls, nor read my mind. What’s that supposed to mean?"

Wanda let out a disbelieving laugh, actually incredulous. Red power balls? She thought with a roll of her eyes.

"I don’t know." It was a low murmur.

"Maybe a sign that you should give me a chance…" You said with your shoulders shrugged and a sheepish smile on the corner of your lips.

Wanda could never have imagined that you would keep coming back, again, and again, and again — in fact, neither could you. A not-so-friendly conversation and death threats turned into a tea afternoon where Wanda told you about life in the Avengers before everything; then a lunch on the beach where you told her about how you almost drowned when you were 9 — that day, you saw the most genuine smile she could give you given her current conditions, and you felt your heart beat differently for the redhead. Then a dinner at your place — where you learned to make paprikash just to see her smile and complain that the dish lacked pepper — with wine, where Wanda cried missing her boys, and you were officially classified by her as: "the best shoulder I’ve ever cried on, and believe me, I never cry."

Wanda hadn’t realized how important your presence had become in her life, not until you needed to travel for an important case. She missed you, and that confused her. After all, how could a visit so unpleasant and peculiar make her want... for it to be daily? That you would visit her every day and bring the cinnamon rolls from that bakery on your street that she loved so much. That you would learn more Sokovian recipes just to make her smile.

Then the kiss happened in one of those moments of silence, when words were no longer necessary. You were sitting next to her, watching the sunset through the broken window of the house she called her temporary home. The sky was tinged with shades of orange and red, as if the universe itself was painting a canvas just for the two of you.

Wanda seemed calmer that day. Her shoulders weren’t as tense, and the eyes that always seemed to hold storms had a soft, almost peaceful glow. She suddenly looked at you, and there was something in her expression that made the air feel thicker.

"Why do you stay?" she asked, her voice low, almost a whisper.

"Because I want to," you replied, without hesitation.

She tilted her head, as if trying to understand something that didn't make sense to her. "You're strange," she murmured, but there was a small, almost imperceptible smile on her lips.

"I prefer 'unique,'" you responded, teasing, though your voice trembled a little.

Then, before you could say anything more, she leaned toward you. It was a hesitant movement, as if testing the waters, but when her lips finally met yours, everything else disappeared.

The kiss was everything both of you had imagined it would be — and more. It was soft, but filled with emotion, as if Wanda was pouring everything she couldn't say in words into that moment. You felt her hand move to your face, her fingers tracing your jawline with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of the kiss.

When you pulled away, she looked at you with something new in her eyes: hope. "You're not like anyone I've ever met," she said, her voice barely audible.

"Neither are you," you replied, smiling.

Months later, after your wedding in the Russian summer, when Wanda told you she was pregnant, the smile on her face was so wide it seemed to light up the entire room. You were sitting on the couch of your new home, a place you had chosen together, far from the chaos and painful memories of the past.

"I can hardly believe it," she said, placing her hands on her still-flat belly, but with eyes shining with genuine happiness. "After everything... after everything that happened, I never thought I would have this."

You held her hand, squeezing it gently. "You deserve all the happiness in the world, Wanda. And these babies already have the best mother they could ask for."

The following months were a mix of nerves and joy. You had never seen Wanda so happy. She decorated the twins' room with soft colors, but couldn't resist using a bit of magic to create constellations shining on the ceiling.

"I want them to grow up knowing that the entire universe is within their reach," she explained, smiling at you as she adjusted the details with a wave of her hand.

The day Tommy and Billy were born, Wanda cried. Tears of genuine happiness, as she held the two little ones in her arms. You were beside her, holding her hand, unable to hold back your own tears.

"I never thought I could be this happy," she whispered, looking at you.

"You deserve this, my love," you replied, kissing her forehead.

Exactly seven years later, when Wanda and you were waiting for the pregnancy test to be ready, this time for Seline, Wanda could hardly believe it. It was as if the universe was finally giving back to her everything it had taken before.

Wanda looked at you that day with the same gaze she had in your first kiss — full of love and hope. "You gave me this," she said, placing her hand on your belly, moved by feeling the baby's heartbeat against your skin. "You gave me everything I thought I could never have."

You laughed, wiping away a tear that escaped. "That's not how it works, Wanda. We did this together."

During Seline's pregnancy, Wanda seemed even more radiant than before. She spent hours reading storybooks to the twins, and often you would wake up in the night to find her caressing your belly, softly murmuring in Sokovian.

When Seline was born, you knew your family was complete.

"She's so perfect," Wanda said, with a soft smile as she held the little one in her arms.

"She has your eyes," you replied, feeling a wave of love flood your chest.

And in that moment, as you looked at Wanda and the three children you had brought into the world together, you knew that everything you had been through — all the pain, all the sacrifice — had been worth it.

The path back to the camp seemed almost irrelevant in the face of the intensity that was growing between you. Each step you took on the trail was an extension of what you had shared in that intimate moment, when Wanda had opened a piece of her soul to you. The words she had spoken echoed in your mind, but it wasn’t the words that mattered at that moment — it was the feeling.

You felt a mix of adoration and a deep desire for her, and Wanda seemed to understand this as clearly as you did. But there was something more, an urgency in both of you, as if fate had brought you together once again for another dance, this time with immeasurable depth.

"You asked me to show what I’m capable of," Wanda said, breaking the silence between you. Her voice was soft, but there was something threatening in the way she spoke, something that could only come from a woman who knew the power she possessed, yet remained vulnerable. "Do you still want to love me after all of this?"

She turned her face to you, and her eyes were shining with a mixture of insecurity and provocation. The silence between you seemed to carry centuries of repressed desire, of lost and found loves, as if you both were made for this moment, but had lived countless lives and universes before finally being here, together.

You didn’t hesitate. Your hands rose to Wanda’s face, touching her gently, as if you feared she might disappear at any moment. But she didn’t disappear. She was there. And you, without words, simply looked into her eyes, trying to convey all the love and certainty you felt.

"I want to love you because of all of this," you said, your voice firm, but heavy with something more — a promise, an oath made with heart and soul.

When your eyes met, the distance between you vanished, as if the entire universe had been reduced to this single moment. Time stopped. And deep down, you felt something like the touch of past lives, as if you had been there with her, in some other place, in some other time. Something that transcended everything that had happened, all the struggles, all the deaths and rebirths.

She leaned in slowly, and her lips touched yours with an unexpected softness, as if testing the moment, measuring the intensity of her own desire. But soon, the softness turned into urgency, as if, finally,

Wanda knew there was no turning back. And you, with your heart racing, matched every movement of hers, with the same intensity, with the same hunger. It was as if everything around you had disappeared, and there were only the two of you. No universe, no past, no pain.

The kiss was like a river flowing between mountains, gentle and impetuous at the same time. When Wanda’s lips touched yours, there was no more space for anything — no fear, no doubt, just the need to be consumed by her, to surrender to what fate had already drawn. It was as if everything had been a preparation for that moment. Your souls recognized each other immediately, as if they had known each other since the beginning of time, as if they had met in all past lives, in all universes, in all reincarnations. The feeling of something eternal, something that couldn’t be broken, settled between you.

It was a soft touch at first, a silent exploration, but soon the need for more became apparent. Wanda’s tongue slid against yours, and the tension between you dissolved in the intensity of that contact. It was more than passion; it was a union of everything you had been and everything you would still be. The kiss became more urgent, as if, by touching, you were rediscovering each other, merging. The world around you disappeared, the sound of the rain, the shadows of the night — everything became secondary. There was only the heat of bodies, the exchange of breaths, and the silent magic dancing in the air, reflecting the indescribable connection between you.

Wanda slowly pulled away, as if reluctant to leave that moment. Her eyes were darker now, but there was something deeply different in them. Something deeper than any expression you had ever seen in her before. Something immense, an ocean of feelings overflowing without words. And you knew. You knew that, in that look, she was giving you her soul, all the pain, all the love, all the hope.

She touched your face with trembling hands, as if wanting to engrave the outline of your being into her memory, as if she needed you desperately, as if her happiness now depended on you. Her voice was hoarse, broken, but filled with a sincerity so pure it seemed to tear her very heart apart.

"You are everything I need," Wanda murmured, almost like a plea, like a truth she was finally accepting. The desperation was there, in her eyes, in the tone of her voice. "I never knew what it really meant to live until now... until you."

Those words settled in your chest with the force of a silent scream. And then, without needing to respond, you moved closer to her, your bodies fitting together as if they had always been meant to do so. It was as if, by being together, the entire universe became lighter, clearer.

And in the touch, in the exchange of heat, you knew. You knew that she was desperate to be saved, to be happy, to find a home. It wasn’t just about the love you shared, but everything she wanted to build — a life, a family, a future. That kiss was not just passion: it was a promise. A promise that, together, you could create something that would resist time and fate.

When she pulled her face away slightly, breathing heavily, you saw the vulnerability in her eyes, the fragility of someone carrying the weight of an entire world on their shoulders. But you also saw something more — a renewed strength, a confidence. Because, even with the pain she carried, she knew you were there, by her side, for whatever came.

And you whispered back, with a soft but firm voice, so Wanda would know what you felt, without doubt, without hesitation. "I’m here, Wanda. Forever. And we will build all of this together. As many times as it takes."

She smiled, a smile mixed with tears and hope, as if, at that moment, the world was finally a place worth conquering. You knew their future would be unpredictable, but you also knew, with an almost palpable certainty, that they had found each other for the last time. And that, in the end, was all that mattered.

The kiss that followed was gentler, but no less intense. It was as if, in that moment, you were building a new beginning. The future, uncertain and challenging, seemed promising, because by her side, Wanda had everything she had always needed: you. And by your side, you had everything you had always wanted: her.

And so, in the silence of the night, with the rain tapping on the windows and the distant echoes of the camp, you and Wanda surrendered to this truth. A truth stronger than any magic, stronger than any fate. Because what you shared was eternal, and nothing, no one, could destroy it. The connection between you was stronger than anything that could be said. Stronger than any magic, stronger than any destiny. It was something intangible, yet as real as the air you breathed. Something eternal, that would withstand any battle, any pain.

And so, in the silence of the night, between the distant echoes of the camp and the touch of your bodies still tingling from the intensity of the kiss, you both knew that nothing else mattered. Because, in the end, you were together.

~*~

Oh. I need her.

Tag list <3

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[novaursa]

The Second Daughter (the future)

- Summary: You were born as a second daughter under the watchful eye of a full moon. And just like the moon you were beautiful—and cursed to exist only in the dark.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: eyes of the realm

- Next part: sunrise

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @l3thal-l0lita @ninihrtss @barnes70stark

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was alive with revelry, the floor filled with dancers as the music swelled to joyous heights. Lords and ladies clapped in rhythm, their faces aglow with celebration. At the center of it all, the newlywed couples—Rhaenyra and Laenor, you and Jason—moved gracefully, the splendor of the occasion reaching its peak.

Jason’s green eyes rarely left you as you danced together, his hand firm around your waist, guiding you effortlessly across the floor. His smile was unguarded, a mix of pride and affection, and though the room was crowded, he made you feel as if it were just the two of you.

“I think I’ve surprised a few here tonight,” Jason murmured, his tone light.

You tilted your head slightly toward him, your serene smile unchanging. “Surprised them how?”

Jason leaned in, his voice just above a whisper. “By being the one to marry you. Half of them thought I’d never wed, let alone win the favor of a Targaryen princess.”

You chuckled softly, the sound light as a breeze. “Perhaps they underestimated you.”

Jason smirked, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “Perhaps.”

Before you could respond, a sudden commotion rippled through the hall. The doors to the Great Hall swung open with a resounding clang, drawing every eye toward the entrance. The musicians faltered, their melody dying mid-note, and the dancers stilled as a figure stepped through the threshold.

Daemon Targaryen.

The Rogue Prince strode into the hall as if he owned it. Dressed in black leather with accents of deep crimson, his presence was like a dark specter that descended upon the jubilant atmosphere of the wedding feast. His dark violet, piercing eyes swept over the room, his expression unreadable but for the slight curl of his lips—a smirk that sent a shiver through the crowd.

Gasps and murmurs filled the air as he made his way toward the center of the hall, his boots clicking against the stone floor. The dread was visible, the once-lively celebration frozen under the weight of his unexpected arrival.

Jason’s grip on you tightened protectively as Daemon’s gaze locked onto him. The Rogue Prince stopped just short of the two of you, his smirk deepening as he addressed Jason directly.

“So,” Daemon drawled, his voice carrying effortlessly through the silence. “It’s true. My little star has been given to a Lannister.” His tone dripped with disdain, his eyes narrowing as they raked over Jason. “And not just any Lannister… but you.”

Jason straightened, his green eyes meeting Daemon’s without flinching. “Prince Daemon,” he said, his tone respectful but firm. “I wasn’t aware you’d be attending.”

Daemon ignored the remark, taking a step closer. “When I heard the news, I wanted to burn down Casterly Rock and cut off your head.” His words were delivered with a chilling calm, the smirk never leaving his lips. “Imagine my surprise when I learned it was you—Jason Lannister—who dared to take her.”

The hall was deathly silent, the gathered lords and ladies holding their breaths. Even Viserys, seated at the royal table, looked alarmed, though he made no move to interrupt. Alicent leaned in to whisper something to him, her expression tight with worry.

Jason remained composed, though his hand on yours betrayed a hint of anxiety. “I assure you, Prince Daemon, my intentions toward your niece are nothing but honorable.”

“Honorable?” Daemon scoffed, his smirk widening into something more sinister. “You expect me to believe that? She’s barely come of age, and yet here you are, her husband, her protector. Tell me, Jason, what lies did you weave to seduce her into this marriage?”

Before Jason could respond, your voice broke through the exchange, calm and steady. “Uncle.”

Daemon turned his gaze to you, his expression softening ever so slightly. “Little star,” he said, the nickname carrying a weight of affection and protectiveness. “Do you even realize what’s been done here?”

You took a step forward, your hand slipping from Jason’s to touch Daemon’s arm gently. “I know exactly what has been done. This was my choice, Uncle, and no one else’s. Jason has treated me with nothing but respect and care.”

Daemon’s eyes searched your face, his smirk faltering. “You’re certain of this?”

“I am,” you said firmly, your voice unwavering. “You have no need to protect me from him.”

For a moment, Daemon said nothing, his gaze shifting between you and Jason. Finally, he exhaled, stepping back. “Fine,” he said, his tone begrudging. “But don’t think for a moment that I’ll be far. One misstep, Jason, and you’ll answer to me.”

Jason inclined his head, his expression composed. “Understood, Prince Daemon.”

Daemon glanced at you once more, his gaze lingering with a mixture of affection and unease. Then, with a sharp turn, he strode toward the royal table, taking a seat beside Viserys. The dread in the hall began to ease, though whispers rippled through the crowd like wildfire.

Jason turned to you, his green eyes searching your expression. “Are you all right?”

You nodded, your smile returning. “I am. Thank you.”

Jason exhaled, his grip on your hand tightening briefly before he released it. “He’s certainly protective, isn’t he?”

You chuckled softly. “He always has been. But he’ll come around… eventually.”

Jason nodded, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I look forward to it.”

The music resumed, the dancers slowly returning to the floor. Though the celebration continued, the presence of the Rogue Prince remained a shadow over the feast, a reminder that even amidst joy, the tensions of family and power were never far.

The Great Hall buzzed with the lingering energy of the night’s celebration. The music had softened, the dancing slowed, and the crowd began to thin as the time approached for the brides and grooms to retire. A murmur rippled through the gathered lords and ladies as they realized that no traditional bedding ceremony had been called—a decision likely made out of respect for the King and his daughters.

Jason Lannister stood beside you, his hand resting gently on your arm. His eyes swept the room, noting the subtle nods and murmurs of approval as Laenor Velaryon rose from the high table and extended his hand to Rhaenyra. The Princess of Dragonstone accepted with practiced grace, her expression regal but composed. Together, they descended the steps, moving toward the exit as the room watched in quiet expectation.

Jason turned his gaze to you, his expression softening. “Shall we?” he asked, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You inclined your head, your lilac eyes steady despite their unseeing nature. “Yes, Jason.”

With that, he offered his arm, and you took it, your fingers resting lightly against the fine fabric of his sleeve. The golden lion’s cloak draped over your shoulders shimmered under the flickering torchlight as Jason began to lead you carefully down the steps. The murmurs in the hall grew louder as the lords and ladies turned their attention to the second couple, their whispers a mixture of curiosity and approval.

Jason moved with deliberate care, ensuring each step was steady for you. His green eyes darted briefly to the Lannister table, where his mother dabbed at her eyes once more, and Tyland raised his goblet in silent acknowledgment. A faint smile played at Jason’s lips before he refocused entirely on you.

“You’ve handled tonight beautifully,” Jason murmured as they reached the floor. “Far better than I have, I think.”

You smiled, your voice soft. “You’ve been wonderful, Jason. More than I could have asked for.”

The sincerity in your words made Jason’s heart swell, and he tightened his hold on your arm ever so slightly. The crowd parted before you, their gazes respectful but curious as the Lord of Casterly Rock escorted his new bride from the Great Hall. The weight of the moment was not lost on him—this was no mere formality but the beginning of a union that would reshape the realm.

The corridors of the Red Keep were quieter, the sound of your footsteps accompanied only by the faint rustle of your gown and the distant hum of the city outside. Jason walked at your pace, his demeanor calm and composed, though his heart raced with anticipation.

“Are you nervous?” he asked gently, breaking the silence.

You tilted your head slightly, a faint smile gracing your lips. “Should I be?”

Jason chuckled softly. “Perhaps. I am, a little.”

You turned your face toward him, your smile widening. “I trust you, Jason. There’s no need for nerves.”

His steps faltered briefly at your words, but he quickly recovered, his expression softening. “You honor me, Y/N,” he said quietly. “I’ll do everything I can to deserve that trust.”

The chamber doors loomed ahead, flanked by guards who bowed respectfully as you approached. Jason nodded to them, his grip on your arm steady as he guided you inside. The room was warm and inviting, illuminated by the soft glow of countless candles. The bed, adorned with crimson and gold silks, stood at the center, a symbol of the union now sealed.

Jason paused, turning to face you fully. He reached up to gently remove the golden cloak from your shoulders, folding it carefully and placing it aside. Then, taking your hands in his, he looked at you with an expression of quiet reverence.

“You’re extraordinary,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving myself worthy of you.”

You smiled, your fingers tightening around his. “You already have, Jason.”

Jason’s lips then pressed against yours with a fervor that left no room for doubt or hesitation. The softness of his earlier demeanor gave way to a more primal need, and you met him with equal intensity, your hands threading through his golden hair. The kiss deepened, each breath shared between you igniting a fire that burned away any remaining nerves.

His hands moved to the intricate laces of your gown, deftly undoing them with a surprising tenderness that belied the passion in his kiss. The fabric fell away, pooling at your feet like a silken river. You followed his lead, your fingers fumbling slightly but determined as you worked to undo the fastenings of his doublet. When it finally slipped off, exposing the broad expanse of his chest, your hands roamed instinctively, tracing the planes of muscle and warmth beneath your fingertips.

Jason scooped you into his arms, cradling you as if you were made of something precious and fragile. He carried you to the bed, the silks cool against your bare skin as he laid you down gently. You felt his gaze lingered on you, an expression of awe crossing his features, and sensation of it made your cheeks flush despite the intimacy of the moment.

“You’re breathtaking,” he whispered, his voice husky and reverent.

Before you could respond, his lips descended to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that sent shivers racing down your spine. He worshipped every inch of you, his hands exploring with a reverence that made your heart ache. When his hand slipped between your thighs, his touch was gentle yet purposeful, his fingers ensuring that your body was ready to receive him. Your breath hitched, and you instinctively arched into his touch, the unfamiliar sensation stirring something deep within you.

“Hold onto me,” Jason murmured, his voice a soothing balm to your racing thoughts. His weight shifted above you as he positioned himself, one hand braced beside your head and the other guiding himself to you. You obeyed, your hands gripping his broad shoulders as he began to press into you with an excruciating slowness, giving you time to adjust.

The initial discomfort made you tense, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body struggled to accommodate his. Jason stilled immediately, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss that was meant to comfort and distract.

“Breathe, my love,” he whispered against your lips, his voice steady and calm. “I won’t move until you’re ready.”

You clung to him, focusing on the warmth of his body and the gentle kisses he lavished on your skin. Slowly, the sharp edge of the pain began to fade, replaced by a growing sense of fullness and connection. You shifted beneath him experimentally, and the soft sound of approval that escaped his lips sent a spark of confidence through you.

“I’m ready,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Jason began to move, his strokes slow and deliberate at first, as if he feared hurting you. Your bodies found a rhythm, the pain giving way to a pleasure so overwhelming that it stole the breath from your lungs. His name spilled from your lips like a prayer, and his low groans filled the air, mingling with the sound of your shared passion.

As the pleasure between you built, his movements became more urgent, his control slipping as his desire overtook him. Your hands roamed his back, your nails raking across his skin as the fire within you burned brighter with each thrust.

“Y/N,” Jason groaned, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re… everything.”

His words were a balm to your soul, and you pulled him closer, your lips capturing his in a kiss that spoke of everything you couldn’t put into words. The world beyond the walls of the chamber ceased to exist; there was only Jason, his body entwined with yours, and the unbreakable bond forged between you in this moment.

Soon, Jason’s rhythm grew more urgent, his control slipping as the intensity of your shared passion built to an unstoppable crescendo. His lips found your neck, brushing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, and his voice was a low, desperate growl. Each thrust drew a whimper from your lips, and his name tumbled out in breathless fragments, a prayer to the man who now held your entire world in his hands.

Your body tightened beneath him as you approached the precipice, your nails digging into the taut muscles of his back. The tension inside you reached its breaking point, and you cried out, your voice trembling with the force of your release. Jason stilled for only a heartbeat as your body pulsed around him, his breath catching in awe at the sight of your bliss. Then, as if your ecstasy had been his undoing, he groaned your name, his movements growing erratic.

“Y/N,” he gasped, his voice rough, “I… gods, I can’t—”

He buried himself fully inside you, pulling your trembling body closer as his own release overtook him. His forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in ragged gasps. The weight of him pressing you into the silken sheets was grounding, as though you were the anchor holding him steady even in this moment of unrestrained vulnerability. The room was filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, the scent of sandalwood and lavender mingling with the unmistakable musk of your union.

Jason remained still for a long moment, as though reluctant to separate from you, before carefully shifting to your side. His arms remained around you, pulling you close as his lips brushed your damp forehead. The golden lion of Casterly Rock, who had conquered countless challenges, now held you with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“Are you alright?” he murmured, his voice soft and laced with concern. His hand gently swept over your hair, brushing loose strands from your face as his emerald eyes searched your face for any sign of discomfort. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, a small, blissful smile playing at your lips. “No, Jason. I’m fine. Better than fine.” Your voice was a soft whisper, yet it carried all the warmth of your sincerity. “You were gentle. You were perfect.”

Jason exhaled a breath of relief, his shoulders relaxing as he tightened his hold on you. “You’re certain?” His fingers traced delicate patterns along your bare shoulder, his gaze never leaving your face. “If there’s even the slightest pain…”

“There isn’t,” you interrupted gently, reaching up to touch his cheek. The stubble on his jaw prickled your fingers as you caressed his skin. “You were careful, Jason. You’ve done nothing but take care of me.”

His lips quirked into a soft smile, though his eyes remained serious. “I made a promise, Y/N. I intended to keep it.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned up to kiss him, a lingering press of your lips that conveyed all the gratitude and affection you couldn’t put into words. When you pulled away, his smile had softened into something radiant.

The two of you lay in comfortable silence for a while, the quiet hum of the city outside muffled by the heavy stone walls. Jason’s fingers continued their soothing exploration of your skin, his touch light and reverent. The warmth of his body against yours, combined with the heady scent of lavender and sandalwood, created a cocoon of safety that you never wanted to leave.

“I never imagined this,” you admitted after a while, your voice barely above a whisper. “That this could feel… so right.”

Jason’s brows furrowed slightly, and he shifted to prop himself on one elbow, looking down at you. “Did you doubt me, my love?” he teased gently, though there was no accusation in his tone.

“No,” you replied with a soft smile. “But I doubted myself. I doubted whether I could ever truly belong to someone—to you—like this.”

His expression grew serious, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “Y/N,” he said, his voice firm yet tender, “you’ve always belonged to me, as I belong to you. There’s no doubt in my mind, no hesitation. You are my heart, my light, my everything. Don’t ever doubt your place with me.”

Your throat tightened with emotion at his words, and you nodded, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. “I won’t,” you promised. “Not anymore.”

Jason pressed his forehead to yours, the two of you sharing a quiet moment of unspoken understanding. When he finally pulled back, his lips quirked into a mischievous smile. “Though, if I’m being honest,” he said, his tone light, “I’m rather proud of myself. You’ve made me work harder for this than anything in my life.”

You laughed softly, a sound that made his smile widen. “And you succeeded, Lord Lannister,” you teased. “You’ve won.”

Jason’s smile turned into a satisfied smirk as he leaned down to kiss you again, a lingering press of his lips that reignited the embers of passion. “Then let me enjoy my victory a little longer,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and full of promise.

And as his hands began to roam once more, you knew the night was far from over.

The morning light filtered through the heavy velvet curtains, casting a warm, amber glow across the room. The lingering scents from the night before hung in the air, mingling with the faint freshness of the dawn. The sound of soft footsteps echoed faintly outside the chamber doors before a polite knock interrupted the stillness.

Jason stirred first, his arm draped possessively across your waist. He blinked, his green eyes slowly adjusting to the light, before a faint smile tugged at his lips as he gazed at you. Your hair, disheveled and strewn across the pillows, framed your face, and his heart swelled with a tenderness he could scarcely put into words. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple before the knock sounded again.

“Come in,” Jason called, his voice still husky with sleep.

The door opened, revealing Marna, her weathered face alight with an air of cheerful efficiency. Beside her was Alys, clutching a folded bundle of fresh linens. Their eyes briefly took in the state of the room—discarded clothing strewn across the floor, the disheveled bedclothes—and a knowing smile played at Marna’s lips.

“Good morning, my lord, my lady,” Marna said warmly, dipping into a respectful curtsey. Alys followed suit, her cheeks tinged pink as she avoided looking directly at the bed. “We’re here to set things in order and assist you both in preparing for breakfast.”

Jason sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist, and ran a hand through his tousled golden hair. “Thank you,” he replied with a nod. “Though I fear we’ve left you with quite the task.”

Marna chuckled, her eyes twinkling. “Nothing we can’t handle, my lord. Young love often leaves a mess behind.”

Your cheeks flushed at her words, and you pulled the sheet higher around yourself as you stirred awake. Jason noticed and placed a reassuring hand over yours. “Good morning, my love,” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with affection.

You smiled sleepily, turning your face toward him. “Good morning, Jason.”

Alys busied herself gathering the discarded garments from the floor, her movements quick and precise. Marna approached the bed, her hands deftly arranging a fresh set of linens on the nearby table. “Shall we draw a bath for you, my lady?” she asked, her tone kind and unobtrusive.

“Yes, please,” you replied, your voice soft. “And thank you, Marna.”

“Of course, princess,” Marna said, her smile widening. She gestured to Alys, who nodded and disappeared through a side door to prepare the bath.

Jason stood, wrapping a robe around himself before crossing the room to help you rise. He extended a hand, and you accepted it, letting him guide you to your feet. The cool stone floor sent a slight shiver through you, but Jason was quick to steady you, his hand warm and reassuring against your back.

“You’re more attentive than I deserve,” you teased lightly, your voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Jason smirked. “Nonsense. You deserve far more than I could ever give.”

Marna worked efficiently, stripping the bed of its used linens and replacing them with fresh ones. As she fluffed the pillows, she glanced over her shoulder with a sly grin. “It seems you’ve had a good start to your marriage, if I may say so.”

Jason chuckled, his eyes glinting with humor. “I’d say so, Marna. Though the credit lies entirely with my lady wife.”

You flushed again, shaking your head. “You’re impossible, Jason.”

A soft knock on the side door signaled Alys’s return. “The bath is ready, princess,” she said, her voice quiet but cheerful.

Marna stepped aside, gesturing toward the adjoining chamber. “Go on, my lady. We’ll have everything tidied up here before you return.”

Jason placed a gentle hand on your back, guiding you toward the bathing chamber. “I’ll join you shortly,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple. “Don’t take too long, or I might come in after you.”

You laughed softly, stepping into the warm, steamy air of the bathing room. Alys stood by the large tub, her hands clasped in front of her, ready to assist. Jason lingered at the doorway, watching you with a fond expression before returning to the main room to allow you your privacy.

Marna waited until the door closed behind you before turning to Jason. “She’s a gem, my lord,” she said, her tone thoughtful. “You’ve been blessed.”

Jason nodded, his expression softening. “I know, Marna. She’s everything I could have hoped for—and more.”

The older woman smiled knowingly, her hands deftly folding the used linens. “Then take care of her, my lord. She deserves nothing less.”

Jason met her gaze, his jaw firm with determination. “I will. You have my word.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence as the servants worked, and Jason busied himself dressing for the day. When you finally emerged from the bathing chamber, wrapped in a soft robe, Jason was waiting for you, his hand extended once more. Together, you prepared for the day ahead, the bond between you stronger than ever as you faced the world as husband and wife.

The Great Hall was already filled with chatter when you and Jason entered, the low murmur of voices punctuated by the clatter of dishes and the occasional laugh. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, catching the banners of House Targaryen that hung from the rafters. The lingering scents of roasted meats and fresh bread mingled with the faint perfume of lavender that still clung to you.

Ser Lorent Marbrand followed a few paces behind, his silent presence reassuring. Jason’s hand rested on yours as he guided you forward with a subtle confidence that betrayed his pride. His eyes swept the room, noting the presence of the King and Queen at the high table, alongside Rhaenyra and Laenor, who already looked composed and perfectly at ease. Jason chuckled softly under his breath, leaning closer to you.

“I’d wager their night was far less eventful than ours,” he murmured, his voice laced with quiet amusement.

You turned your head slightly toward him, a faint smile playing on your lips. “Jason,” you whispered, a gentle reproach that made his grin widen.

The sound of your arrival caught the attention of those seated at the royal table. King Viserys, his mood as jubilant as it had been during the feast, waved you both over with a broad smile. “Ah, there they are! My daughter and her new husband,” he called warmly, his voice carrying over the din. The hall quieted slightly as heads turned to watch the two of you approach.

Jason inclined his head respectfully, his demeanor effortlessly composed despite the attention. He helped you to your seat beside him, your chair positioned beside Rhaenyra’s. The princess leaned toward you as you settled, her voice low and affectionate.

“You look radiant this morning,” she said softly, her hand brushing yours briefly.

“And you sound… content,” you replied with a smile, sensing the slight unease beneath her calm exterior. Though Rhaenyra had said nothing, you suspected her night with Laenor had not been as harmonious as your own.

Jason took his seat beside you, offering a polite nod to Laenor, whose smile was practiced but not entirely genuine. Across the table, Queen Alicent observed quietly, her green gown immaculate and her expression unreadable as she poured herself a cup of tea. To her left, young Aegon fidgeted in his seat, his restless energy evident even at the breakfast table. Aemond sat beside him, unusually quiet, while Helaena hummed softly to herself, examining an intricate carving of a beetle she’d brought with her.

King Viserys raised his goblet in a cheerful toast. “To my daughters and their fine husbands,” he declared, his voice brimming with pride. “May these unions strengthen our house and bring joy to the realm!”

The gathered court raised their cups in response, and a chorus of “Hear, hear!” echoed through the hall. Jason reached for his goblet, offering a subtle smile as he glanced at you. His confidence seemed to ripple outward, putting you at ease even amidst the watchful gaze of the court.

Viserys leaned forward, his attention shifting to Jason and Laenor. “Now, I trust you both understand your duties as husbands,” he said with a playful glint in his eye. “The realm will expect heirs soon enough. I’ve waited long enough for grandchildren.”

Jason chuckled, his expression wry but respectful. “Your Grace, I assure you, I am fully committed to fulfilling my duties in every regard.”

Laenor offered a polite smile, though he seemed less inclined to comment. Rhaenyra’s gaze flicked to him briefly before returning to her father, her expression serene but watchful.

“Good, good!” Viserys said with a laugh, clearly pleased. “It does my heart well to see my family united. These are days to be remembered.”

Aegon, who had been poking at a plate of fruit with little interest, suddenly leaned forward, his youthful curiosity getting the better of him. “Will there be dragons at the next feast, Father?” he asked, his voice loud enough to draw a few chuckles from the surrounding lords.

Viserys chuckled, ruffling his eldest son’s hair. “Perhaps, my boy. Though I think we’ve had enough excitement for one week.”

Jason leaned closer to you, his voice low and teasing. “Do you think he’s hoping for a dragon’s egg as a wedding favor?”

You stifled a laugh, shaking your head slightly. “Knowing Aegon, he’d want to fly Sunfyre through the hall.”

The breakfast continued, the atmosphere warm and convivial. Jason engaged in light conversation with the King, effortlessly navigating the courtly politics that underpinned even casual discussions. His charm seemed to win over many of the assembled lords, who watched him with newfound respect.

Further down the hall, Tyland sat with the other Lannisters, including their mother, Lady Leonella, whose expression was a mixture of pride and approval as she observed her elder son. Tyland caught Jason’s eye and raised his goblet in a subtle salute, a gesture Jason returned with a slight nod.

By the time the meal drew to a close, you felt a renewed sense of confidence in your place at Jason’s side. The warmth of his presence, combined with the King’s jubilant mood and Rhaenyra’s quiet support, made the weight of the morning’s attention feel far less daunting.

As you rose to leave the hall, Jason placed a steadying hand at your back, guiding you once more with the quiet confidence that had come to define him. “Shall we, my lady?” he asked, his tone low and intimate.

“We shall,” you replied, your voice soft but firm. Together, you stepped into the day ahead, ready to face whatever awaited.

The clatter of breakfast slowly faded as the court dispersed, leaving behind the hum of softer conversations. Jason’s hand lingered on your back as he escorted you from the royal table, his touch warm and grounding. When you reached the quieter halls of the Red Keep, he stopped and turned to you, his eyes alight with affection.

“You should spend time with your family,” he said gently, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “I’ll find you later.”

You smiled up at him, your unseeing lilac eyes fixed in his direction as though you could feel the warmth of his gaze. “Thank you, Jason.”

His lips curved into a fond smile, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be nearby if you need me. Ser Lorent will see to you.”

Ser Lorent, standing just a few paces away, inclined his head. “Always, my lord.”

Jason nodded, and with one final glance, he turned and strode down the corridor, his confidence evident in every step. You remained for a moment, feeling the lingering warmth of his affection, before Ser Lorent gently touched your arm to guide you toward your chambers where your sister and father would await.

Jason made his way through the winding halls of the Red Keep, his steps carrying him to an open balcony overlooking the bustling city below. The morning sun glinted off the rooftops, casting golden light over the sprawl of King’s Landing. Leaning against the stone balustrade, he let out a contented sigh, a rare smile of genuine satisfaction spreading across his face.

The sound of familiar footsteps drew his attention. Turning, he saw Tyland approaching, his twin’s expression sharp and curious. Tyland’s well-tailored crimson doublet reflected the Lannister pride, and his piercing gaze immediately narrowed on Jason’s uncharacteristically pleased demeanor.

“Well,” Tyland began, his tone as dry as Dornish wine, “I’ve seen that look before, but never when it wasn’t followed by a disaster. Should I brace myself?”

Jason’s grin widened as he turned back to the view, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not this time, dear brother. For once, my smugness is entirely justified.”

Tyland raised an eyebrow and stepped closer, leaning against the balustrade beside Jason. “Do tell,” he drawled, though his curiosity was evident.

Jason glanced at him, his green eyes alight with mischief. “Let’s just say I had the kind of night that poets write songs about. My wife,” he emphasized the word with obvious pride, “is beyond extraordinary.”

Tyland’s brow arched further, a flicker of surprise crossing his otherwise impassive face. “Extraordinary? That’s high praise coming from you. And here I thought your standards were insurmountable.”

Jason chuckled, shaking his head. “She surpassed them all. Every moment of last night was… perfect.”

Tyland smirked, his sharp wit ready as ever. “Careful, Jason. You’re starting to sound sentimental. What will the lords of the Westerlands think?”

Jason shrugged, unbothered. “Let them think what they will. I’ve married the most remarkable woman in the realm, and they’ll see it soon enough.”

Tyland tilted his head, studying his brother with a rare flicker of approval. “It’s strange to see you like this. Genuinely happy. Almost makes me suspicious.”

Jason laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Tyland. I intend to.”

A brief pause fell between them as Tyland’s gaze turned to the city below. “How long do you plan to stay in King’s Landing?” he asked casually, though his tone carried an undercurrent of genuine curiosity.

Jason straightened, his expression thoughtful. “Two weeks, at least. I want Y/N to have time with her family before we leave. She deserves that much.”

Tyland nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Thoughtful. That’s new.”

Jason shot him a playful glare. “Careful, Tyland. Keep that up, and I might think you’re proud of me.”

Tyland smirked. “I’m proud of her for tolerating you. As for you, well… you’ve managed not to make a fool of yourself. Yet.”

Jason laughed again, the sound echoing across the balcony. “Don’t worry, brother. I’ll keep things interesting for you.”

Tyland shook his head, his expression softening despite his words. “Just don’t ruin it, Jason. She sounds too good to lose.”

Jason’s gaze turned distant for a moment, a rare seriousness overtaking his usual jovial demeanor. “I won’t,” he said quietly, his voice steady with determination. “She’s everything.”

The two brothers stood in companionable silence, the city sprawling below them as the morning sun climbed higher. For once, Jason’s smile was free of bravado, a quiet reflection of the happiness he’d found—and his resolve to keep it.

Seated in the private solar where the King often retreated for more intimate family gatherings, you waited quietly, your hands resting on the cool stone arms of your chair. The soft sound of footsteps heralded the arrival of Rhaenyra, her gown rustling faintly as she entered the chamber.

“Good morning, sister,” she greeted warmly, her voice carrying a subtle note of curiosity.

You turned your head toward her voice, offering a gentle smile. “Good morning, Rhaenyra.”

She approached and took the seat beside you, her presence comforting and familiar. Moments later, the heavier footsteps of King Viserys followed, his jovial laughter preceding him.

“My sweet Y/N,” he called, his voice filled with paternal pride as he joined you both. “And Rhaenyra—both my beautiful daughters, together. What more could a father ask for?”

You smiled at his warmth, and Rhaenyra chuckled softly. “A bit of calm, perhaps,” she teased lightly.

A servant entered, carrying a decanter of wine and three delicate cups. The scent of Dornish red filled the air as the servant poured, the liquid catching the morning light. Rhaenyra reached for one of the cups and placed it gently in your hands, her touch careful but reassuring.

“Here,” she said softly, “just the way you like it.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, your fingers curling around the stem of the cup.

There was a moment of companionable silence as the three of you settled. Rhaenyra broke it first, her tone light but edged with curiosity. “So, sister, how did you find married life on its first night? Was Jason… good to you?”

Her question was laced with affection and a teasing undertone, but you could sense the genuine concern behind her words. Your cheeks flushed as you considered your answer, but you smiled, your voice soft.

“He was kind,” you admitted, your thumb brushing against the edge of the cup. “And gentle.”

Rhaenyra leaned back, satisfied, though her smirk suggested she would pry for more details later. “Good,” she said simply. “He’d regret it otherwise.”

Viserys, sipping his wine, chuckled at her words. “Jason seems smitten with her, Rhaenyra. I doubt he’ll give her any reason to complain.”

Rhaenyra tilted her head, smiling slyly. “As he should be. Y/N deserves nothing less.”

The warmth of their protectiveness enveloped you, and you felt a surge of gratitude for your family. Though the court could be a storm of whispers and expectations, here you felt safe.

As the conversation shifted, Viserys set his cup down, his expression turning thoughtful. “Speaking of family, I should mention that Daemon sulked off somewhere in the city last night. Likely prowling the streets as he does when something displeases him.”

Rhaenyra sighed, shaking her head. “Let me guess—he drank too much at the feast and found some reason to brood.”

Viserys laughed, the sound hearty. “It’s Daemon; I wouldn’t be surprised if that were true. He’ll reappear soon enough, storming back into the Keep as if nothing happened.”

Rhaenyra raised a brow, her tone dry. “Perhaps he’ll even have some new scandal to share.”

The thought of Daemon’s unpredictable antics drew a small laugh from you, and Viserys grinned at your reaction. “There, you see? Even Y/N finds her uncle’s dramatics amusing.”

Rhaenyra leaned toward you, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “Let’s hope he doesn’t try to steal Jason away for some wild adventure just to make his warning more clear. I think he’d enjoy tormenting him far too much.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Jason can handle himself.”

“I’m sure he can,” Viserys said with a chuckle. “But let us pray he doesn’t have to, at least not today. For now, let us enjoy this peace while it lasts.”

The three of you sat together, sharing wine and laughter, the bonds of family weaving tighter as the morning sun climbed higher. For now, the troubles of the realm—and the inevitable chaos of Daemon’s return—could wait.

[slaytheday12]

A Night by the Fire pt2

summery: pt2 to a night by the fire, in which walker and reader see each other again after the party.

A/N: pt2 queens pt1

The morning after the party you found yourself laying on Tamara’s couch, a mug of hot chocolate warming your hands. Sunlight came through the window, spilling across the chaos o f her living room pillows everywhere, half empty bowls of chips on the coffee table, and abandoned drinks on the floor.

Tamara sat beside you, scrolling through her phone. The silence between you wasn’t awkward it was the kind that existed between close friends, where no words were needed to fill the space.

"Last night wasn’t so bad, right?" she said suddenly, breaking the quiet. Her tone was casual, but the look in her eyes gave her away.

You rolled your eyes, a small smile tugged at your lips. "It was… fine." Tamara raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Fine? That’s all you’ve got? My friends were nice, the music was great, and you got to hang out with Walker."

You froze, your mug halfway to your lips. "What about him?" She put her phone down, her grin widening. "Oh, nothing. He just told me he likes you."

You nearly choked on your drink. "What?"

"Yep," she said, clearly enjoying herself. "He said you were ‘really cool, super easy to talk to, and—oh, yeah really cute.’" Your cheeks burned as you processed her words. "You’re making that up."

"Am not!" she shot back, raising her hands. "Why would I lie about this? Honestly, I think it’s adorable."

You stared at her, your mind racing. Flashes of last night came back to you the way Walker’s smile lingered just a little longer when he looked at you, the quiet sincerity in his voice when he asked about your favourite things, the way the two of you had clicked so effortlessly.

"What did you say to him?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Tamara shrugged, trying to look innocent but failing miserably. "I told him I’d talk to you. And that maybe we could all hang out again soon."

Before you could respond or properly glare at her there was a knock at the door. Tamara shot to her feet, her face lighting up with mischief.

"Oh," she said, her tone dripping with mock surprise. "Speak of the devil."

Your stomach dropped. "Tamara, don’t—" But she was already at the door, pulling it open to reveal Walker standing on the porch. He looked slightly nervous, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, but his face brightened when his eyes landed on you.

"Hey," he said, his voice warm and soft. "Walker! Come in," Tamara said cheerfully, stepping aside to let him inside. "Y/N and I were just talking about you."

You shot her a wide eyed look of pure horror, but she just grinned at you, unbothered. Walker chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"All good things, I hope," he said, his tone teasing but his cheeks turning faintly pink. "Of course," Tamara said. Then, without warning, she grabbed her phone off the couch. "Anyway, I’ll leave you two to it. I’ve got, uh… stuff to do." She disappeared down the hall, her not so subtle wink making your embarrassment complete.

Walker glanced at you, a shy smile playing on his lips. "She’s… something else."

"You have no idea," you said, shaking your head, though you couldn’t help smiling back.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Walker shifted his weight, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "I, um… I was wondering," he began, "If maybe you’d want to exchange numbers. You know, in case you ever want to hang out or something."

Your heart fluttered, his tone making your chest ache in the best way. "Yeah," you said, pulling out your own phone. "I’d like that." As you typed your numbers into each other’s phones, your fingers brushed lightly against his. The touch sent a shiver down your spine.

"There," Walker said, slipping his phone back into his pocket as his eyes met yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you. "I’m really glad Tamara convinced you to come last night."

"Me too," you admitted. "I wasn’t expecting to meet someone like you." His smile widened, his gaze softening. "Same here."

The air in the room felt different now. Walker was still standing close, his hands resting awkwardly at his sides, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

You could feel your heart thudding in your chest, loud and unsteady, a rhythm you were sure he could hear if he got any closer.

"So," he began, his voice breaking the silence. It was softer than usual, almost hesitant. "I, uh, I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about me just showing up like this."

His honesty caught you off guard. You tilted your head, trying to work out the emotions flickering behind his hazel eyes. "I’m glad you did," you said truthfully.

Walker’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he exhaled a small laugh. "Good. I was worried I’d be intruding or, I don’t know, coming on too strong." A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "You’re fine. Really."

There was a moment of silence It wasn't an emptiness that needed to be filled, but a quiet pause before something meaningful. You glanced down at your mug, the cooling hot chocolate now forgotten, and then back at him. Walker’s gaze hadn’t left you, his expression soft but unreadable.

"You know," he said after a beat, his voice carrying a nervous edge, "last night wasn’t what I expected."

You raised an eyebrow, "Oh? In a good way or a bad way?" His lips curved into a small smile. "Good," he said quietly. "Definitely good. I mean, I didn’t think I’d meet someone like you."

Your chest tightened at his words, and a small smile tugged at your lips. "I didn’t think I’d meet someone like you, either," you replied, your voice a little softer than you'd intended.

Walker’s smile grew, and he took a small step closer, his gaze still locked on yours. The air between you seemed to hum with a quiet energy, and you felt an odd sense of calm settle over you. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice almost hesitent, like he was still unsure of how you felt. "What do you think of me now?"

You felt a small flutter in your chest as you met his eyes. "I think... you’re really cool," you said, your words coming out easier than expected.

Walker’s smile widened, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The space between you felt comfortable, like two people just figuring each other out.

"Same," he said softly. "I mean, I didn’t think we’d click like this."

You smiled shyly, feeling the warmth of his presence. "Yeah, me neither."

Walker scratched the back of his neck. "I’m glad you came last night. I wasn’t sure if we’d have anything in common." You nodded, feeling the warmth in your chest again. "I’m glad I came too."

He took a slow step back, glancing at his phone before slipping it into his pocket. "Maybe we could hang out again sometime? Like, outside of Tamara’s party?" His voice was hesitant, but his eyes were hopeful.

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a little rush of excitement. "I’d like that." Walker’s face lit up, his nervous energy melting as he relaxed. "Cool. Me too."

The moment was simple, but there was something about it that made you feel like this was the beginning of something special, even if you couldn’t fully explain it yet.

Walker stepped back and looked at his phone again, like he was about to leave. But he paused glancing up at you. "So, do you think you'll be at Tamara's next thing?" he asked, his tone light but with a hint of something deeper.

You grinned, feeling a wave of confidence wash over you. "I might just show up. You never know." Walker laughed, and for a moment, everything felt easier, more natural. He nodded and took a step toward the door, but not before giving you one last look a lingering smile that made your heart flutter again.

"Well, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see you then."

You nodded, your own smile matching his. "Maybe."

As the door clicked shut behind him, you sat back down on the couch, your mind racing. The last few minutes felt unreal, but the spark you felt between you was clear. Something had changed, though you couldn’t name it yet.

A/N: did we like it guys and what do we want to see next. Also, should we make this like a cute soft little series.

Tags: @sophand4n4

[winksasleeplesseye]

SUMMARY: Leon is falling deeper and deeper into perceived bliss, but something else is at play. Is he really with you or is something else more complex going on?

PAIRING: Leon Kennedy x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.8k (just about)

WARNINGS: slight smut, noncon voyeurism

[PREVIOUS][MASTERLIST]

"She's an intriguing figure, isn't she?" Thompson's voice cut through the sterile hum of the machinery, clinical yet there was an underlying tone of fascination. But he couldn't control the set of his jaw, perhaps a…hesitation? The observation room was so quiet, a pin could drop and every person present would hear it.

Most all the scientists watched as Leon turned again in his bed, fingers twitching against the sheets, reaching for someone who wasn't there. Brows furrowed, a soft murmur of your name falling from his lips.

"He's predictable. His attachment patterns, but one can see why he is so…enthralled by her," Dr. Morales noted, running a hand in a through line of his vitals as they pulsed with longing. "Let's see how far he's willing to go. Increase the sensory fidelity."

Thompson's eyes lingered on the photo of you, caught in a candid moment as you entered a government building. The tilt of your head as you wore a more reserved smile, less like the figure in their dream reality. Your physical attributes certainly left an impression on anyone you encountered so he could understand this….fixation? Not to mention, your shared history with Leon.

Raccoon City. That's where you had met, shared a connection of some sort. The pictures didn't lie.

The motel you had escaped to, another girl and a child, and Leon. Both of you to one room, them to the others. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to put the pieces together.

He gripped tighter to the clipboard, "This tampering of this nature….it's…."

"Necessary," Morales interrupted, not tearing his eyes away from the screen. Data poured in every minute, every part of it valuable. "Don't you know that when you know your enemy, what drives them…that trumps ethicality? Would you concur?"

Thompson couldn't respond, he shifted his gaze back over to Leon. A twitch, another smile. Breaking through tension that lived on his face in his waking world. Raw, real human emotion displayed in front of them, yet none of the scientists moved from their positions. Eyes laser sharp focused on the data.

A knot formed in Thompson's chest but in the end, he was in no position to question this.

Leon threw on his jacket, one not too dissimilar to the brown one he'd lost in Spain. He figured you'd have liked to steal it from him. "You wear that like a badge of honor," he heard you again, voice laced with playfulness. The sound of your voice cut through the silence of his apartment, his hand lingered on the zipper.

He can't keep doing this.

He audibly groaned, "Give me a break."

It wasn't that he was frustrated by you, just frustrated how he'd come to enjoy the intrusion of the version of you he knew didn't exist. If he were to tell anyone about this….especially Chris, they'd throw him in the psych ward, and Leon and a straitjacket should never be in the same sentence.

Shaking his head, he grabbed his keys and stepped out for the day.

The office was no different than it was the day before, same beige walls and same dull sunlight filtered through the window. Leon's office streamed in some of that light but somehow it didn't compare to how it was with you. While in the midst of his daydreams and repeated routine of paperwork and reports, a knock at his open door caught his attention. He never really liked keeping his office door closed, something in regard to cramped spaces unsettled him.

His eyes turned toward the door to find—oh, for goodness sake. Chris.

Chris was dressed more casual than usual, not wearing his standard tactical gear that Leon had seen so often. Leon fought the urge to roll his eyes at his presence. Did Hunnigan snitch on him?

He wore an awkward smile, "Sorry to interrupt, you got a minute?"

If there's one thing Leon knows about Chris, it's that he doesn't let up so if he didn't indulge him now, the guy would not leave him alone for the foreseeable future. Just the thought of not hearing the end of his lectures was enough to get Leon up. He's definitely letting Claire know that maybe she shouldn't have introduced them.

"What do you want?" Leon questioned, pushing himself away from the desk. He tried not to sound too frustrated but it was seeping through.

Chris' face screwed up momentarily, "What's got you so tense?"

An image came to him uncontrolled, one he'd felt, seen, heard just earlier as he showered. You stood behind him as the water streamed over both of you, your arms wrapped around his bare torso. You rested your cheek against his back, your touch a balm against the weight he'd carried.

"You're always so tense," you had murmured, your voice soft, your hands trailing over his shoulders. He had turned in your arms and kissed you then, slow and unhurried, allowing the world to melt away. The memory still clung to his skin. God, he really needed to get a grip.

"Nothing's got me tense," Leon responded, voice becoming more defensive than he'd like. Way to rouse more suspicion, Kennedy.

"Sure. And I'm retiring next week," Chris wore a half-smile as he stepped further into the room. "I know you probably don't want to hear this, but you look like hell. Have you been sleeping?"

The itch of Chris' gaze on him was like a weight he couldn't shake. The shift in the air was subtle but not subtle enough for Leon not to notice.

Leon fidgeted with his pen, running it between his fingers. "Plenty. I took a great nap during my morning existential crisis."

Chris crossed his arms, sitting in the chair accross from Leon. "Ha, ha. Hilarious. You're not fooling me, Kennedy. I've seen guys walk this line before, it doesn't end well. If something is going on, talking about it can't hurt—"

"There's nothing going on," Leon cut him off, sharper than he intended.

Deep down, Leon is aware he's being a bit of a dick but right now all reason and logic wasn't computing in his head.

Chris sighed, his more relaxed demeanor giving way to something more serious. He leaned forward, as if trying to bridge the gap between them. "I'm not here to lecture. You've got people who'd go through hell for you that you're pushing away. Don't forget that. But just know…I'm here too."

"Thanks, Doc. Should I lie down on my couch now, or later?"

Chris raised a brow. "Your choice, but I'm not writing a prescription for more whiskey."

Leon didn't look up as Chris left. His words sat like a weight in his chest long after the sound of his footsteps retreated further and further away.

Damn it. That was a lost cause.

Chris couldn't shake the feeling in his gut that something was off with Leon. More so than usual.

He hadn't been answering the phone and Leon would at least call him back once to assure him he hadn't done something stupid. It's why he came to the office, better that way so he can't avoid him.

But even a blind man could see how tense Leon had become. Jumpy, even. Leon was never one to be jumpy. He certainly was more of a dick than he usually is, too.

Chris could only walk away from Leon, letting him stew in whatever he had going on. That didn't mean he had no other options. He walked with purpose to the only other person who'd give him something. Hunnigan. The polished, poised woman sat at her desk, fingers flying across the keyboard and screens lit up with reports that reflected off her glasses.

Chris actually hated to disturb her work flow but he had to talk to someone.

"Hunnigan, hey," Chris greeted, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Got a moment?"

She glanced up from her screen, eyebrows raised in surprise but maintained her composure. "Sure, Chris. What's up?"

Chris hesitated. "You…talk to Leon much lately?"

Hunnigan could only scoff, "When don't I talk to Leon? Is everything okay?"

"That's the thing, I'd have thought you knew something. He seems off."

"What's your definition of off? This is Leon Kennedy we're talking about, he thrives on bad decisions and enough caffeine to stay awake for 20 years."

Chris wanted to laugh but decided against it. "Have you noticed anything? He seemed distracted. Denied anything was wrong, but I know him."

Hunnigan paused for a brief moment, a flicker of concern crossing her face.

"Now that I think about it…he did seem a little spaced out a week or so ago. Nothing too crazy. Just looked like he was in another world at the coffee maker. I don't usually tend to point out his appearance but his eyebags had eyebags."

"You think he's not sleeping?"

"That or he's having some late nights. But if you're concerned then so am I." Hunnigan's face softened only momentarily before reverting back to a strong resolve.

"I think we're in agreement." Chris spoke, a more serious tone to his voice. "Can you get me anything you can on his last mission?"

Hunnigan nodded, expression set in determination. "I'm on it."

If there was a point of no return, Leon is sure he'd made it there. The evening began like any other, lulling himself into the dream he never wanted to end.

He'd be lying to himself if he pretended he didn't want all that was offered to him in this dream space, the more he dreamed of you, the domestic life you'd shared with him…he wanted you in his life like this. It was undeniable. He craved it more than anything he had ever craved.

His decisions held no dire consequences in this place. No longer did he hold the fate of the world between his fingertips, they could slip through without so much of a grasp to pick up the pieces.

Tonight, somehow, things seemed more vivid, more alive. And certainly more passionate than all the other times he'd stumbled into moments with you. Your nails scratched down his chest in a way that sent chills down Leon's spine, an almost overwhelming tingle. Your warm breath fanning against his neck—it felt so real, too real. Your front molded against him in a way that made his heart pound. Could you feel how hard it was hitting against his rib cage?

A knot of guilt twisted in his chest, but he pushed it aside, letting your kiss consume him as though it could anchor him here forever.

"Look at that," Dr. Morales said, a grin tugging at his lips. Their connection was becoming more real than they anticipated. Data continuously streamed in as they watched the scene from the monitor. "It's like he's getting more than emotional satisfaction in this…it's almost physical. Like he thinks Y/N is really there in the room."

Dr. Erickson snorted, uncharacteristically. "If you think about it, Mr. Kennedy is getting action…even if it's just in his head."

Dr. Morales head shook as the scene on the monitor continued, juxtaposed with Leon as he laid in his bed. There was no hiding it what was going on. Leon's body responses aligned with the dream. Leon's hands splayed all over your bare skin as he held onto you desperately. This wasn't their intended goal, Leon getting the dream girl and living a dream life. The dreams were meant to test parameters for psychological breakdown. The data was baffling, to say the least.

His heartbeat spiked, body temperature rising the more and more he lost himself in the taste of you. Your fingers tangled in his hair. Jesus, did you know how much that drove him crazy? Without another word, you pushed him down onto the mattress, the springs creaking underneath his weight. Every sound seemed louder in the space of the room. The rustle of fabric as you slowly undressed, the clink of his belt as you pulled it from his body, the hasty breaths between them as he kissed you once again.

He tried not to stare too long as you straddled him but he had to take in all that you were, "You're gorgeous."

Your smile is brief as you brace your hands on his chest, "And you're sweet, but enough talking."

Once ready, Leon guided himself to line up with your wet folds. With one last glance between them, your eyes screwed shut, the breathy sigh that left your lips sent an indescribable feeling through him. Leon wanted this to last but the way you squeezed around his length—shit, this couldn't be a dream.

But even still, his mind nagged him. Was it possible this is all orchestrated? That someone—or something—-was controlling it all?

He tried not to—

"Fuck…" He couldn't think clearly, why did he want to when you were making him feel like this?

On the monitor, not a single detail was hidden, every body part, every sound, every movement—it was all there. Some of the scientists at the monitors turned away, others scooted closer in a sick curiosity.

The sensations he was receiving translated to Leon's sleeping form. Cameras zoomed in as he gripped at the sheets, knuckles turning white as clung for dear life to the fabric. His face, stoic in waking life, was now etched in pleasure—eyebrows furrowed, lips parted, his expression a mixture of longing and ecstasy.

The camera feed zoomed in slightly, Dr. Erickson could see the subtle rise and fall of Mr. Kennedy' s chest as he breathed harder. All the telltale signs of physical arousal. His muscles tensed in response to sensations that weren't really there. His free hand running down your back, judging from the movement in the air where you certainly were not. Dr. Erickson noted a slight tremor in his fingers, as if he really believed you were there, that he was touching you. He could even see Leon's mouth moving, quiet murmurs that the audio didn't fully catch.

Dr. Erickson felt a prickle of discomfort at how intense it had become. Even the auditory data peaked through—your voice, crystal clear as you did not hide your pleasure at all, even simulated. Both of their voices, faces etched in a rapture. Your mouth parted as pleasure overtook you, breaths ragged.

"He's deep in it," Thompson muttered, observing the infrared screen as Leon's body temperature continued to rise. A typical human body displayed in colors in green, yellows, and blues but Leon had red spread across body from his torso to his feet. "His brain waves are almost off the charts. The sensory stimulation is overwhelming—this isn't just a dream to him. His body cannot tell the difference between this and reality. Should we stop this?"

"We interrupt now and we risk damage, let this play out." Dr Erickson instructed, he turned towards his colleagues, some actually taking his spot at the screens for a closer look.

Dr. Morales placed a hand on Thompson's shoulder, an almost wicked smile on his face. "Increase the duration next time, let's see what it takes to fracture his grasp on everything." Thompson could only watch as his boss walked away, he tried to ignore the lurch in his stomach at what everything meant.

The heat surged between both of you, Leon's grip tightening as he pounded into you. Stars burst behind his eyes, letting himself soak in every sensation. He gasped your name as if it might tether him, as if clinging to your hips could keep the world from slipping away.

His movements stilled, a final shudder coursing through him as he spilled into you, a guttural groan passed from his lips.

And like a splash of cold water, Leon jolted from his bed. An ache in his muscles, a warmth in his bones, your breath fanning against him that shouldn't exist. His hands rubbed at his face, trying to rub the remnants of the experience from his mind, running a hand through his sweat-filled hair. His heart hit harder than a drum against his chest, rhythm unsteady.

He lifted the covers off himself. A telltale spot on his sweatpants. His lower half still pulsed from what he had just…felt.

A wet dream? What was he, a 16 year old? He huffed at such an immature act, considering 16 is the last time he had a wet dream.

Something wasn't right. Despite the fire that burned his skin from where his fingers had traced the outline of your back, how the heat flooded his body from the deep, soul-deep release—it had felt so whole, so real…it still didn't feel right. The way his body responded to yours, yours to his. Like they were both there, together, in the same place, in the same moment.

"Just a dream," Leon spoke out loud, as if a mantra. But that didn't explain the feelings in his body that said otherwise. The lingering desire. The heat. The ache. A heavy ache.

Just a dream, that's all it is.

Just a very vivid dream. That makes the most sense.

But, if this was only a dream, why did it feel like someone else was pulling the strings?