#clearing my drafts are you proud.

[immult]

i don't even know what post i was trying to make when i put this in my draft but whatever it was she was correct and i agree with her.

[atsubie]

𝐼 have 𝑡𝑜 say 𝙨𝙝𝙪𝙩 𝙪𝙥 , you know ?! + 𑆪ིྀᩧ𑆠 ٞ 𝅄

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i’m so . excited to write kitsune!geto and merman!sugu and wolf/hunter!sugu you have nooo idea

[ayyy-pee]

𝕆𝕌𝕋𝕃𝔸𝕎

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Part Two of Outlaw Series

Pairing: Outlaw!Suguru Geto x Female Reader Genre: Western AU WC: 8.7k Summary:

“Gettin’ train tickets ain’t easy. Where ya headed?” “Just a few towns over. Goin’ to visit family,” you explain, now more relaxed with him. Something about the way he was able to soothe your nerves makes Suguru feel proud. It also is making him clearly insane, because some sick part of Suguru begins to think he could be your family. If you’ll let him. “What about you?” His brows shoot up in surprise. Why would you want to know about him? “Me?” You nod quickly. “I know you’re…” You lean forward and Suguru mirrors the action as shivers race up his spine when you whisper scandalously, “...an outlaw.”

Story Warning: Train robbery, hostage situation, lying and scheming, profanity bc bitch it's me??, dub-con, Suguru has a corruption kink, needy downbad Suguru, "virgin" reader, guns, smut, blowjob, riding, fingering, spit, thinking about spitting, i love spit, dirty fantasies, titty sucking probably, using ropes, hair pulling (lmfaooooo), threats of violence, dirty talk, inexperienced reader, spit!, overstimulation, humiliation kink, Suguru is kinda pathetic, actually real pathetic, don't get your hopes up idk

Artist Credit: @/tsumusbeloved (on twitter)

A/N: FINALLYYYYY. This has been sitting in my drafts for like 3 months!!! I hope yall enjoy!!!

Tags: @syubseokie @yasu-1234 @cassayeee @glmpsfs @struxkbylightning @aotdump @oidloid @sunnysdiarythoughts @stillseren @lovebittenbyevans @avaatara @elliesndg @luv-kae @megtheebimbo @buttercupblu143 @toffeebrat @kaqua@moggleatlife @candy-s72 @sukunadckrider @xixflower @apchmon

It’s the shrill screech of the metal meeting metal on the train tracks that Suguru enjoys most about his work. How this massive tank of metal carrying so many people can just fly across the country, providing beautiful views of miles and miles of desert sands and mountains. The wildlife roams free on the frontier without a care in the world. And the train just keeps going, filling the sky with thick curls of black smoke.

Yeah, this train has many people on it.

Which means, this train has plenty of goods that will soon be his.

“Ah, you dropped your hat, boss.” A smooth voice speaks behind Suguru, holding open the train door as one other clambers in. Suguru kindly grabs his hat from the man, placing it atop his head as he watches his partner take the last person’s hand, lifting them inside.

It’s a woman, small and with strawberry blonde hair. She grabs onto the man before her. The disgust is clear on her face as her eyes roam along his body.

“Couldn’t pick another day to wear no shirt, Larue?” She complains, spreading a small cloud of dust as she brushes her clothes off.

Larue shrugs, chuckling lightly while he closes the train door. The rushing roar of the winds finally subsides. “It’s hot as all hell outside, Manami. Why not be shirtless? Besides, it gives everyone something spectacular to gawk at.” He motions towards his chest where his new set of ink lies – two hearts, one where each of his nipples are.

“A drunken bet gone right, if you ask me,” Larue had said the night after. “They’re gonna love these at the whorehouse.”

“If you two’re finished…” Suguru begins. Both Larue and Manami straighten up. “I wanna get in ‘n outta here. No funny business. Larue, take the back of the train. Better for you to be there in case the conductor gets any ideas. Grab what ‘ya can get your hands on – jewels, shoes, money. Don’t matter.” Suguru taps his chin in thought, running through his mental list to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. “Oh! And don’t forget to check the bars for any spoons or forks. Y’know what that silver’s worth. Me ‘n Manami will take the front of the train.”

Larue nods, no further instruction needed and Manami smiles next to him excitedly. She quickly shuffles over to Suguru’s side, looping her arm through his and Suguru rolls his eyes before slipping his arm out of her hold. Manami shoots him a pouty look before she quickly recovers, folding her arms over her chest.

“Alright, Boss. I’m ready.” She says with a hushed tone. Larue gives one more nod before he turns around and heads the opposite way. He slides the door slightly ajar, peering inside and just after he enters and the door has been shut and locked, Suguru and Manami hear the muffled shrieks of the passengers in the car.

“Hands in the fucking air! This is a stick up!”

Suguru peers down at Manami who is already staring up at him with eager eyes. And it takes everything in Suguru to not roll his eyes in response. She really gets on his last nerve.

‘I gotta get rid of her after this one,’ he thinks as he moves past the woman and into the opposite end of the train.

He slips through the door, closing it quietly behind Manami once she’s in. No one bothers to look up when they come in and Suguru counts his lucky stars that this will be easier than he anticipated. They make their way along the aisle, offering soft smiles to the passengers that happen to look up as they pass. Suguru thinks there’s nothing but a bunch of carefree monkeys too relaxed and stupid as all hell on this train. They don’t even know what’s coming and if they know what’s good for them, they won’t bother to fight back when they find out.

He lets Manami do the work of maintaining a mental checklist of every item worth its salt in this train car. This is where he’ll leave Manami to do her part. Then Suguru will take the final car where the stragglers usually reside. Larue is already taking care of everything in the back. When he’s done, he’ll pile up all the goods in an empty car and then make his rounds to grab what Manami and Suguru collect.

When they reach the end of the current car, Suguru turns to Manami who is already reaching into her blouse. She beams, eyes locked on Suguru as she slowly pulls out a pretty little Colt’s revolver. Her lips pull up at the corners, a sly grin on her face. If it’s meant to be alluring to Suguru, it’s not working. In fact it’s having the opposite effect. It’s so annoying, the way her pupils dilate when she looks at him. It’s only been a few months since Manami joined their group, but it’s only getting worse for Suguru. She spends half her time trying to seduce him and failing. And it’s not that Manami is unattractive. She’s a very beautiful woman, but she’s not exactly Suguru’s type.

He’s looking for someone a bit more…inexperienced when it comes to this life of crime. Someone he can mold into his ideal woman, untouched by the roughness that west has to offer. Manami has been doing this for far too long, and already has habits that consistently get under Suguru’s skin. She’d never interest him that way.

The pink haired woman flashes Suguru her gun, pointing her chin towards the last car as a signal for him to go on. Suguru nods, spinning on his heel and heading towards his destination. And just in time too, because he hears the door on the other end of the train car close and he knows Larue has finished and has come to assist Manami.

The train car slides shut behind Suguru right as he hears the passengers scream in the car behind him. It’s louder than the first instance and catches the attention of the passengers in his car who now stare at him with wide eyes, mouths agape like a sea of fish.

Suguru rubs the nape of his neck, frowning. Then, offering a goofy grin, he mutters, “Ah well…” He reaches behind him, wrapping his nimble fingers around the cool, wooden handle tucked into his waistband. He whips out his revolver, the sun glaring off of the fancy gold weapon as Suguru aims it at the passengers who all shriek in terror. The women clutch their jewels. The men hold onto their women. And Suguru? He laughs raucously before he barks out, “Put ‘em up!”

- - - - - -

It’s a little surprising how easily the heist goes, but Suguru tries not to give it too much thought. You start thinking something’s gonna go wrong and it damn sure will. While Manami is guiding passengers into the back cars, Larue has the conductor held hostage, locked away with threats of a bullet to his skull unless he continues driving. He’d only shown his face and quickly hid away in his cabin when Suguru told him to use his fucking brain unless he wanted it splattered across the window.

Now, Suguru finds himself roaming the cabin to see if there are any stragglers. And there is one. A very beautiful woman, at that. There you sit, in the last seat of the train car. He slowly makes his way over to you. Suguru thinks you must be some type of saloon girl. Your pretty little dress and waist neatly cinched in a leather corset is the giveaway. He glances over his shoulder, just to be sure this cabin is empty, only to find that it truly is only himself and you left. He hates having to wrangle the stragglers. That’s Manami and Larue’s job. And Suguru hates it even more when they’re not doing it.

He tightens the grip on his gun, turning to give you an earful until his eyes meet yours. They’re so wide and glistening, like you’re on the verge of tears. Your lips are quivering, your bottom lip protruding in a pout. It reminds him of the look Manami gave him just before the heist started. Except when coming from you, for some reason, it’s bringing out a different reaction. 

His heart rate quickens, and Suguru’s hands suddenly feel clammy and not from the heat in this train car. He can feel sweat beginning to bead on his forehead and he has to swallow to quell the dryness that’s forming in his throat. Then he’s tucking his weapon away into his holster and moving towards you.

“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” Suguru speaks calmly as he takes the seat in front of you. You peer up at him, with apparent fear in your eyes and he wants nothing more than to see that look disappear. Usually, he’d use force to get you out and rounded up with the rest of the passengers. He’s not sure why, but there’s something about you that makes Suguru want to take care of you. “Why didn’t you leave with the rest of the crowd?” He questions.

You’re fidgeting with the fabric of your dress in your lap, visibly shaken even as Suguru removes his hat and sets it on the seat in front of you before he sits down.

“I–” you clear your throat and bite down on your lip, seemingly to calm your nerves. 

“I’m not gonna hurt ya, ma’am,” he tells you softly, reassuring you. “Just wonderin’.” Suguru takes this time to drink in your features – how soft you look, the way your body so beautifully fills that dress of yours, how you’ve got a face that will be burned into his memory long after this encounter.

And for some reason, it also feels as if it was burned into his memory long before this encounter. There’s a familiarity about you that Suguru can’t quite place. He’s certain he’s seen your face somewhere. He had been through many saloons and brothels in his time traveling the frontier. Perhaps he had run into you in one of the many establishments he frequented? 

No. No, Suguru would remember if he saw a woman who looked like you in any of those places. You would have easily stood out in the crowd. He would have called you up to his room on any of those nights. 

You bite down on your lip as you stare at Suguru. As afraid as you look, you don’t break eye contact. To see you so stricken with fear, and yet you steadily look him in the eye without blinking. You show courage even when faced with danger, and it does something to him. 

The look on your face has him picturing all sorts of things about you and he doesn’t even know your name.

“I was afraid,” you mutter quietly. 

Thankfully so, because Suguru was just about to begin imagining a life outside of crime with you. Which is shocking in and of itself. Three minutes of simply staring at you had him visualizing a future on the prairie hanging laundry on the line while you fed the cattle.

‘Keep it together.’

“Don’t be scared. I’m not gonna hurt nobody,” Suguru reassures you again. He tries to calm your nerves with a smile which seems to work because he sees you visibly exhale. You return his gesture with a small smile of your own, and his imagination runs wild once more.

“Promise?” You ask, Suguru’s smile widens. 

‘Cute,’ he thinks. He wants to see more of those. “I promise, sweetheart.”

He can hear the way you huff, something between a laugh and a sigh of relief. And Suguru finds himself becoming more and more infatuated with you as he keeps the conversation going.

“Gettin’ train tickets ain’t easy. Where ya headed?”

“Just a few towns over. Goin’ to visit family,” you explain, now more relaxed with him. Something about the way he was able to soothe your nerves makes Suguru feel proud.

It also is making him clearly insane, because some sick part of Suguru begins to think he could be your family. If you’ll let him.

“What about you?”

His brows shoot up in surprise. Why would you want to know about him? “Me?”

You nod quickly. “I know you’re…” You lean forward and Suguru mirrors the action as shivers race up his spine when you whisper scandalously, “...an outlaw.”

He leans back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully while he purses his lips together. His gaze is locked onto you because he wonders if you’re up to something. If you’re not as sweet and innocent as you look. But when you lean back and flutter your lashes at him, he begins to doubt it. That sweet face of yours is a rare one to see on this side of the wild west; beautiful and unscarred. You don’t look like you’ve been exposed to anything more dangerous than a thunderstorm. And it’s arousing. The air of innocence that you carry has Suguru shifting in his seat, his pants suddenly feeling tighter.

This is exactly what he’s been wanting. Someone opposite of Manami, someone who is interested in his life, but not involved with crime in the least. As far as he can tell, you’re clean as a whistle. And Suguru likes to think he’s good at reading people.

“Never seen a outlaw before?” He drawls. You shake your head, back to messing around nervously with your dress.

“Never,” you answer softly, batting those pretty, long lashes at him. “Only seen ‘em on signs. Wanted…dead, or alive.”

Oh, you really are sheltered.

“Well, now you’ve seen one in person.” Suguru combs his fingers through his dark tresses, grinning like his criminal status is one to be proud of. To him, he supposes it is. “What d’ya think?”

You do that lip biting thing that Suguru is beginning to realize he finds cute. Maybe it’s a nervous tick, but this time it seems it’s to be you holding back a smile. Everything you do is cute to him. Everything you do is sweet, innocent, arousing.

“I…” You lean forward in your seat again, and whether you realize it or not, it gives Suguru a perfect view of the swell of your breasts. It’s a struggle to keep his focus on your face when your skin looks so smooth, and unmarred, perfect. Those plush lips of yours whisper, “...I think it’s exciting.”

He can only think one thought in this moment.

He wants to ruin you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s excitin’ about it?” He asks, though he has an idea what it is. The travel, not being tied down to anyone or anything, the freedom this life provides. It’s what they all say when they try to make small talk. “Pretty girl like you can’t possibly know nothin’ about this life.”

You inhale deeply, leaning back in your seat and Suguru watches closely, the way your chest rises and falls with the breath. “Well, I never seen a outlaw in person. Surely never spoke to one. And…” You purse your lips together, like you’re contemplating if you should say the next thing. But you do anyway. “I just never thought a outlaw could be so pretty.”

His eyes widen, the corners of his lips rising with a goofy grin. “Pretty?” He chuckles, combing his fingers through his hair again. “You really think so?”

He’s been called a lot of things, but pretty is not one of them.

“Yep. Look at ya.” You stand, moving quickly to cross the small gap between you both and take a seat next to him. You reach for his arm, then hesitate, pulling back for a second. You peer up at Suguru, silently asking permission and he nods. Your fingers ghost along his forearm, over his bicep, along his neck where his Adam's apple bobs with a gulp, and then your hand is cupping his cheek. Your trail leaves behind a trail of goosebumps.

And Suguru’s pants grow tighter.

Suguru has had his fair share of women and men alike during his time as a felon. But you’re particularly tempting. He’s not sure he’s ever wanted someone as badly as he wants you right now and it’s been all of ten minutes in this train car together. But any minute now, his crew is going to come through those doors and tell him they’re ready to go. And then Suguru will have to leave and the chances of him seeing you ever again are slim to none. 

But on the bright side, the chances of him seeing you again are slim to none. It’s a little sudden, but you seem like you want him with the way you’re feeling him up right about now. Maybe you'd let him bury his cock as deep as he can go, fuck you until you’re screaming his name, begging and crying on his cock. Then he’ll fill you with his seed, maybe leave a baby in you to remember him by if you’re lucky and then he’ll grab his spoils with Larue and the rest and go. Then he'll never see you again. 

This desert is far and wide. He’d have you today, then never have to face you again for the rest of his life. A woman like you? You'll be just fine. A pretty face and an even prettier smile. Though he thinks you're a bit naive. Have to be to be sitting here chatting with him like he’s some gentleman you met on a leisurely trip to see your relatives. Regardless, there will be some poor fool out there that'll be happy to have you after he's had his way with you.

‘Weren’t you just daydreaming about settling down with this woman?’

“Pretty eyes,” you hum, pulling Suguru from his filthy fantasies. “Nice skin, pretty lips. Just…very pretty.” Your thumb caresses his skin and his eyes can't help but notice the way your gaze is locked to his lips. He pokes his tongue out, watching your eyes widen just slightly at the motion, as he runs the wet muscle along his lips. And he’s right back in his head, thinking of all the ways he could have you.

There’s no mistaking the thick tension filling the room at this moment. Like a lightning bolt hitting the same spot repeatedly. Each stroke of your fingers along his cheek only intensifies the mood. Suguru’s lips curl into a teasing smirk, and yours into one that matches. “Why do I feel like you're trouble?” He says.

Your smile widens, and like a magnet, Suguru finds himself slowly being drawn closer and closer to you. Even as a soft laugh falls from your lips, his mind is wiped clean of all thoughts that don't consist of you.

“Me? That’s funny comin’ from a outlaw like yourself,” you mutter just as you close the distance between you, pressing your lips teasingly to Suguru's. They barely touch, truly a ghost of a touch but Suguru still has to swallow down the moan that damn near bursts from his chest the second your mouth was close enough to his.

You pull away suddenly, covering your lips as you lean away, your eyes wide with worry. “‘m sorry.”

“What are you apologizin’ for?” Suguru asks, scooting closer.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me…I just…” You’re back to fidgeting with your dress again, and Suguru places a large hand over yours to stop the movement. “You’re a criminal, and I’m just me. I shouldn’t even be talkin’ to you.” You stare up at him with wide eyes, and fuck he wants you.

You look so sweet, so pure looking at him like that. And he feels a little like a piece of shit because while you’re looking at him with probably innocent thoughts floating around in your head, he’s thinking about how he’d love nothing more than to cover your face in his seed.

“I’m not a bad guy,” Suguru lies easily. “Have I done bad things?” He shrugs, because he’s done way too many terrible things to count. Better not to give a real answer to that one. “But I’m enjoyin’ our conversation. The kiss was just a perk. Wouldn’t mind it if it happened again. I’d gladly accept it.”

“But…I don’t even know you…”

‘All the better,’ is what he wants to say, but instead, he tells you, “And that’s fine. Listen–” he squeezes your hand gently. “Best part of bein’ a criminal is that I just do what I want. Don’t gotta ask permission for nothin’.”

Your eyes swim with curiosity. “It’s that easy?”

“Yep. Do what makes ya feel good, sweetheart.”

You still don’t look convinced, and if this next question doesn’t work, Suguru will have no choice but to tie you up and dump you in the other train car with the rest of the hostages. He doesn’t have much time to waste trying to get you just to kiss him.

“Lemme ask ya…did you like kissin’ me?”

He knows he should be worrying about the heist, not some pretty face distracting him from the job. But when you speak again, he tells himself the job can go to hell.

“Yes…but…I got scared. I– I’ve only done some things with a man…” you admit quietly. “And I’m not too good at it.”

Fuck. He has to have you.

“That’s not a problem, sweetheart,” he reassures you, and you beam.

Your hand grasps onto Suguru’s, squeezing tightly. “Really?”

He nods. “I don’t got much time before I gotta leave, but I can show ya some things real quick.”

“You’ll show me? How to do things?” Your voice is eager, so ready. Suguru is finding it hard to contain how much you’re turning him on right now. “Like kissin’ and…y’know other stuff?”

“What kinda stuff?” He asks, because he wants you to say it. Wants to know how far you’re willing to go if you’ve never done a damn thing before. You pinch your lips together, turning your head away shyly. But Suguru gently cups your chin, turning you to look at him again.

“What kinda stuff?” He repeats. “Tell me.”

“Stuff…that makes a man…y’know…”

He grins, tauntingly. “Enlighten me,” he whispers.

“Stuff to make a man…” you worry your lip between your teeth. “...feel good.”

Oh hell. 

What type of good deeds has Suguru done to find himself here? With someone as virtuous as you, who is asking him of all people to show you how to please him? He has half a mind to tell you no. He’s got shit to do and his partners are bound to come looking for him any minute. But his cock is screaming within the confines of his pants to get into those undergarments of yours. And there’s no argument to be had here. 

He’s listening to his dick.

Suguru crashes his lips to yours, swallowing up the yelp that escapes you from the sudden kiss. “I’ll teach ya whatever ya want, pretty girl.” He groans into your mouth. 

He kisses you hard, but slowly, giving you time to catch up. You’re a little slow to pick up, but you get there. Your lips slot against his, fingers slipping into his hair and holding on tight, making Suguru groan into the kiss once more.

“We don’t got a lotta time,” he breathes against you.

You nod, pulling away to look up at him. “What d’ya want?”

You.

He needs you – bent over the passenger seat and holding onto the bar sitting atop it while he fucks you from behind. He needs you sitting on his face, needs your hand around his length. But he’s looking at your face again, so desperate for instruction. Looks at your lips, swollen from the little bit of kissing you’ve been doing. And he knows exactly what he needs in this moment.

“Ever had a cock in your mouth?” He shifts, sitting back against the seat.

You shake your head.

“Ever touched one?”

Another shake of your head.

“What have you done?”

You hum, thinking only for a short time before you answer. “Kissed.”

What fucking luck.

Doesn’t matter what they score off the train today. This is the biggest reward of all.

“Good,” Suguru says, tugging your hand until you stand. With a grin, he guides you to the floor until you’re sitting up on your knees. “There won’t be another man who’s had ya then. I’ll show ya how to please me, make me feel good.” 

You nod, and Suguru can’t believe how easy this was as he fumbles with his belt, quickly undoing the buckle. He yanks his pants down, along with his underwear. Only to his knees. He wants to be able to get up quickly if needed. Suguru’s dick sits against his stomach, fat and long, with a harsh red tip that leaks with precum. He peers down at you, your eyes honed in on his length.

“Touch it,” he whispers encouragingly.

Your eyes meet as you move, your hands wrapping around Suguru tenderly, pulling a hiss from him. You hold his length like it’s a foreign object, and he supposes it is to you since it’s the first time you’ve done. Suguru grits his teeth, bringing a hand up to your fist. You’re simply touching him and his dick is throbbing in your grip.

“Move your hand…up ‘n down,” he tells you. “Like this.” He guides you, helping to move your hand in slow and light pumps until you’ve found a rhythm that works. His head falls back as the pleasure takes over. “Ahhh–shit, just like that, pretty girl.”

“It’s so big…” you sigh, licking your lips as you stroke his cock slowly.

From here, Suguru is certain he has a perfect view of you. Eyes wide and curious while you observe every ridge and vein running along his length. It turns him on beyond measure, his hips jerking upward in your grasp. 

“Damn,” he moans, fucking himself into your hands. For someone with no experience, you hold his dick just right. He never knew a woman’s touch could feel this good, but you’re a natural talent. You stroke him so good, his mouth falls slack as he lets himself enjoy the feeling of your hands around him. But you surprise him, just as you’ve been doing all this time, his eyes snapping open just in time to watch you lick from the base of his length all the way to the tip, teasing the slit with your tongue and lapping up the bead of precum that sits there.

“It’s salty,” you giggle before you kiss down his shaft, bringing your attention to his balls, kissing and licking the two orbs teasingly. Suguru inhales sharply, eyes rolling to the back of his head as the sensation makes his head swim with pleasure. Especially when your hand wraps around Suguru’s length again, pumping him up and down, slowly as you continue to lap at his balls.

“You’re already so good at this,” Suguru pants heavily.

“I am?” 

He can hear the excitement in your voice, so eager to please him. It turns him on knowing that you’re trying so hard to make him feel good. He wonders if you can feel his cock throb in your hands.

“So fucking good,” he praises you, loving the way you hum against him.

“Can I put it in my mouth?” You ask sweetly, squeezing your hands around his cock.

“God, please.”

When you take Suguru into the warmth of your mouth, you hum around him, and the vibrations make him shiver, back arching off of the seat. His palm finds the back of your head, his hips rolling up so he can shove his cock as far as possible without hurting you. He’s gentle at first. You’ve never done this before, after all. He wants to give you the time you need to adjust, though he can’t afford to give you too much. Which seems to be just fine, because just like before, you catch on quickly. You take his cock damn near to the base, and you take it so well, relaxing your throat for him so it’s easy. 

“Could fuck this pretty little mouth all day,” Suguru grunts, pumping into you. “So goddamn good.” The sound of his balls slapping against your chin as he fucks your face has his legs trembling, pleasure shooting straight up his spine. He wants to grab your head and push you down further, make you swallow all of him until he blows his load down your throat, then make you swallow that, too. But he doesn’t want to cum just yet.

He craves more from you. He needs more from you.

You hum again, sending another vibration through him as your fingers come up, caressing his balls. And Suguru squeezes his eyes shut, trying so hard not to cum. “Ah– shit, shit!” He pushes at your shoulders, forcing you off of him with a loud and wet pop. You look rather pleased with yourself, smiling when you see his red cheeks and the way he rapidly tries to catch his breath.

Like he noted before. You’re trouble.

“Fuck, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he gasps, staring at your chin dripping with saliva and his juices. Suguru watches through hooded eyes as you swipe it away. He could watch you on your knees all day, taking his cock down your throat time and time again. But unfortunately, time is not on his side today. He needs to hurry it up.

“C’mere, pretty,” he calls for you, taking your hand. You stand, waiting for your next instruction as Suguru leans forward in his seat. His hands find your waist, pulling you close enough that he can press a kiss to your stomach before he leans back again. “Pull up your skirt for me.”

“Okay…” you agree, shakily. You reach for the hem of your skirt, pulling the layers of fabric as high as it’ll go. Suguru always hated these damn dresses. It’s like digging for gold trying to get through every damn piece of clothing. But eventually, you get to the end, revealing your bare thighs to him. Soft, plush, beautiful. But what he’s truly interested in remains concealed by your underwear.

Suguru swallows hard before he drags his finger along your clothed pussy, grinning when your thighs tremble just barely. His gaze glides back up your form until they rest on your face, watching as your mouth falls open with a silent moan. 

Hard to believe you’ve never been touched here. Also, so very arousing to think you’ve never been touched here. He thanks his lucky stars that you’re allowing him to be the first.

He slips his finger into the fabric, his slender fingers quickly finding your slit and sliding along your folds. He sucks in a sharp breath when he feels how soaked you are. He briefly brushes a finger against your entrance, pausing when he feels you tense up.

“Might hurt a little,” he warns as softly as he can manage right now. But you whisper, “go ahead”, hands coming to rest on his shoulders as he dips his finger into your pussy, biting back a moan when he feels your soft walls clench down on his hand. It’s tight, as expected but he moves slowly, pulling back every so often to work his way further.

You whimper above him, squeezing his shoulders as your breaths come rapidly while Suguru pumps his finger in and out of your hole. Your bottom lip sits between your teeth, and your brows are knitted together.

You’re enjoying this. 

And he’s enjoying watching you.

Suguru presses his thumb to your clit, slowly circling the sensitive nub. Dark eyes lock with yours as his other hand finds the top of your dress where he hooks his fingers into the cups and pulls it down. Your breasts spill out of the fabric and your breath hitches when the air caresses your nipples. Suguru kneads the soft flesh, his thumb swiping across one of the hardened buds. 

“Ahhh, yes,” you moan, your voice barely above a whisper. Your head falls back with a loud gasp as Suguru slips another finger into you. 

“Bein’ real good for me,” he coos. His dick grows painfully harder as he slowly thrusts his fingers inside of you, while his thumb stimulates your clit. He’s panting trying to hold himself together while he preps you for what he wants next. Your hips move on their own, riding Suguru’s hand, chasing your high. 

“Feel good?” He grunts, fingers slipping into you over and over, curling inside, and hitting your sweet spot and you can’t help but to gasp quietly each time Suguru touches it. 

“Y-yes, feels incredible,” you whine.

Suguru’s eyes are locked on your center where he watches his fingers disappear into your cunt over and over, your slick coating his hand more with each thrust. It only adds to Suguru’s struggle to keep it together as he ignores the pulsing need of his cock. Your pleasured moans and the squelching sound of your dripping pussy fill the space of the train car.

“I’m–” you breathe harshly against him and he feels your walls squeeze down on his digits. You’re close already.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart?” Suguru’s fingers dip into you faster. His eyes linger on your face as his thumb rubs tight circles on the sensitive bud between your legs. Your eyes flutter closed, mouth hanging open as a delicious moan rushes past your lips, your grip on Suguru’s shoulders tightening so much it stings. But he loves it, loves feeling your pussy squeezing down on his fingers, sucking them deeper as your release crashes over you until he can feel your cum dripping down his fingers and into his palm as he keeps pumping into you.

Suguru sighs as he stares at his fingers, slowly pulling them from you. He licks his lips, admiring his slick covered hand.

He’s never taken the time to just enjoy the moment with anyone. Never cared much to please a woman. It’s easier for him to just get himself off and high tail it out of there. No attachment to these ladies, no reason to stick around. But what is it about you that makes him want to see all the ways your body is capable of falling apart? Because it’s a beautiful sight to behold. 

“Outlaw…” you murmur, slipping your undergarments down your legs until you’re able to kick them off. You push Suguru back by the shoulders, lifting your skirt so that you can easily maneuver into his lap. His hands find your hips beneath your dress as you straddle him, and his thumbs caress the soft skin gently.

“Yeah, beautiful?”

So beautiful. He can’t stop staring at you and your eyes, glazed over with desire. You lean forward, the heat from between your legs making Suguru’s length twitch. It lightly taps your core and you gasp. Your hands clutch onto the bar that runs along the top of the train seat, one on each side of his head. Suguru’s palms glide around to your backside, squeezing the flesh of your ass. You brush your nose against his, soft breaths mingling with his as you whisper, “make love to me, outlaw…” just before your lips touch.

And Suguru’s groaning into your mouth, because this kiss is different. It’s hungry, hot, full of want and need. It’s sloppy and rushed, because you’re both aware of the time crunch you’re in. It’s intoxicating, addicting, the way he never wants to stop kissing you. To hell with the heist.

“Ready for me, pretty girl?” Suguru pants, a hand gripping his cock. He can feel the heat of your pussy radiating off of you and it makes him all the more eager to have you.

Your eyes are wide, filled with something Suguru thinks may be excitement. He’s not sure he sees any hesitation or fear behind your eyes. You want him badly, it’s clear as day. He wants you just as badly, if not more. So he positions himself at your entrance, nudging your hole gently with his tip. 

A small whimper slips past your lips, and Suguru kisses you sweetly. “It’s only gonna hurt for a second,” he coos. “Promise…”

He kisses you again, muttering, “I’m pushin’ in…” against your lips.

You close your eyes, teeth digging into your bottom lip as Suguru rolls his hips forward, slowly sinking his tip into your pussy, only stopping when you let out a harsh breath.

“‘S a tight fit,” he murmurs through gritted teeth. An understatement. Your pussy is gripping him with so much force, he’s struggling to breathe. You’re holding him hostage within your walls and the feeling has him tightening his hold on your ass. “You alright?”

Because he wants to make sure it feels good for you, too. Your pleasure is his. Which is a whole new feeling for him in and of itself. He’s aware of how the tables have turned. What started as him wanting to show you ways to please him, turned into him desperate to please you. But he likes it that way.

You nod, moaning quietly when Suguru keeps moving forward. “Ohhh…” 

“God, this pussy is so fuckin’ –” he can’t even finish his sentence. He needs to focus all his attention on not cumming already.

You take him all the way to the base, moaning loudly when you fully sink onto him. Your grip tightens around the bar, steadying yourself as Suguru lifts you by your ass before pulling you back down on him, so slowly. “Fuuuck–” he groans. He thrusts into you at a leisurely pace, slow and controlled, giving you time to adjust to his size. 

But his kisses…they’re rough. Such a contrast to the way he’s fucking you right now. The pleasure is overwhelming to Suguru, and when your tongue slips into his mouth, it’s him that’s whimpering now, thrusting just a little faster, a little harder.

“Damn, you take my cock so good, pretty girl–” he growls into your mouth. “Love the way you ride me.” He smacks your ass hard, eyes falling to your breast, bouncing up and down with the rhythm of his thrusts. He takes one into his mouth, greedily lapping at your nipple, nipping and sucking and loving the way your cries get louder.

“Oh my god, fuck!”

“Ride my cock, pretty. You already do it so good. Wanna see you ride me.” Suguru groans. He releases his hold on you, hands coming up to play with your breasts while you bounce wildly on his dick. He lifts your dress, relishing the view of his length, glistening with your slick, vanishes into your tight cunt over and over. “Shiiiitttt…”

You slip a hand into his tresses, pulling hard and forcing him away from your nipples. You pull so hard Suguru has to close his eyes because the sensation sends goosebumps igniting across his body. That, combined with the way you keep taking him to the tip before slamming down on his cock repeatedly. Fuck, you’re a quick learner.

Your pussy is what it feels like every single time he pulls off a heist successfully. Like fucking heaven. And he never wants to leave it.

His eyes flutter open, just enough to see your breasts bouncing with every rise and fall of your hips. Your velvety walls hug him tight, so fucking good, Suguru thinks he'd like to be able to have you all the time. Hell, he has half a mind to take you with him once they’re off this damned train. Being able to have you like this any time he wants, watch your body come undone under him, on top of him, in any position you’ll let him have you. He’d even give up this outlaw life if you wanted him to. Settle down, start a family if that’s what you wanted. The thought of it makes Suguru more excited than he’ll ever admit.

Each time your pussy sucks him back in, begging for him to cum, he can suddenly picture a life outside of this. Each time those sexy little noises fall from your sweet lips, he can suddenly envision raising a family with you, building himself a life where he's able to hear those sounds any time he desires. 

He lets his mind drift to these fantasies while he can, enjoying the feeling of you and the sounds you gift him with. 

There's a fire pooling in his belly, growing hotter each time his balls meet your ass. He's gonna blow his load here any second. And he can't wait. He wants to cum inside your walls, wants to thrust himself so deep into you that there's no way you're not carrying his child when he's done. Least you'll have something to remember him by if you tell him you don’t want shit to do with him after this. A sweet woman like you with a wanted felon? Of course you’d prefer to get your rocks off while you can and move on. Which is fine.

Because Suguru is gonna remember you, anyway. He’ll remember the way you squeeze around him, the way you moan the little nickname you’ve given him, the way your cunt feels fucking unlike any other woman’s. You’ve got him mesmerized. 

So much so, that he doesn't even notice the cool press of steel against the center of his forehead. 

“Ohhh,” you moan, whimpering, “Please…please…will you put a baby inside me, outlaw?” 

It’s like you read his mind, and Suguru’s eyes snap open, balls tightening as his release threatens to come at any moment. But then his eyes see the stiffness in your arm, see the glimmer of metal as the sunlight reflects off it through the windows, and he finally realizes you've got his gun to his head, and maybe that’s actually why his balls are tightening. You’ve got this wicked grin on your flushed face as you keep riding him. Hard, fast, walls squeezing him in a vice grip. And he can't do shit but let his eyes roll to the back of his head, let his pleasure race straight down his spine and into his balls as his release shoots from his cock before he has a chance to get ahold of himself.

But you don’t let him get a drop inside, lifting yourself smoothly off his lap just as fat, hot streams of cum land messily in his lap and on his stomach. Suguru’s gasping for air, still struggling to figure out what the fuck is going on. And you don’t give him a second to catch his breath, to let his mind catch up before you’re wrapping your hand around his cock again, squeezing and stroking his length until he’s so overstimulated his jaw is cramping up from how hard he’s gritting his teeth to keep from crying out.

“What the fuck are you ahhh–” you run your thumb over his leaking tip, your eyes alight with joy when his hips buck up automatically, legs trembling as you keep pumping him, though his balls are beyond empty. 

You tsk, shaking your head as you press the barrel of the gun harder against his skin. “Where’s that sweet outlaw from before?” You drawl.

Your voice has changed. No longer soft spoken, shy and sweet. The hardness of your tone tells Suguru all he needs to know. The memories come flooding back. And now he realizes why you looked so familiar when he first laid eyes on you. 

Your face has been plastered on wanted posters in damn near every town he and his partners have stopped in. Murder, robbery, drunkenness, prison escape, cheating at cards. All the crimes that should have you in the town square hanging, you’re wanted for. Somehow, you’ve managed to never get caught.

How could he have let his guard down? How could he have fucked up this badly?

‘Thinking with your dick. That’s how.’

“Guess it takes an outlaw to know one,” He grits out, nostrils flared with fury. He can only hope his crew comes through those doors soon, though it’ll be fucking humiliating to be caught in this position.

A giggle spills from your lips and the sound makes Suguru sick to his stomach. You don’t even sound like the same person from before. “Y’all are pretty easy to spot. ‘Specially when all y’all think with your cocks–” You echo his thoughts, emphasizing the word by squeezing Suguru’s slowly softening length in your hand. You frown, releasing your hold on him. “Huh, thought you’d be able to gimme another one.”

He inhales deeply, shakily, narrowing his eyes at the woman – the stranger – that stands before him. “Everything you said was a lie, then.”

It’s not a question. He knows. Because you’re just like him. Maybe even worse.

Laughter bursts from deep within, like what he said was the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. “It really is easy to fool y’all men. Just gotta make our pussies feel reallllll tight and wet and y’all don’t question nothin’.”

You climb off of the seat, taking the gun off his head while you fix your undergarments, unbothered and careless. And Suguru decides to act fast, takes this moment to lunge for you. But he doesn’t make it far, because his head is yanked back roughly the moment he jumps forward. His scalp burns, and he reaches back, feeling a thick knot tied around the metal bar that sits atop the train seats. The same metal bar you were just holding onto moments ago.

“You fuckin’ tied my hair to the seat?!” He growls.

And you chuckle, shifting your dress around until you’re decent again. The gun is pointed back at Suguru’s face, and he puts his hands back down, not daring to try and free himself when you’ve got a revolver ready to blow his brains out.

“And your hands are next,” you promise in a sing-song voice. You keep your word, spinning around briefly to reach between the wall and your original seat, where you’d apparently hidden a small rope. You make quick work of tying Suguru’s hands behind his back, leaning a little too close to him as you finish the knot. 

He can feel your breaths against his neck, and right now, if he’s being honest with himself – which he may as well be since he could very well be dead soon – it’s confusing him. Because he feels like he fucking hates you, is repulsed by you, could spit in your face right now. Oh, he really fucking wants to. But something tells him you’d like that anyway. And the thought of your face, depraved and covered in his saliva is making his still exposed length hard again. Even when you tug harshly on the rope for good measure, chuckling low in Suguru’s ear when you hear him hiss in pain, his cock stiffens further.

And of course you notice, your eyes glancing down to his lap, where the sticky mess you left him with lies. “Sure you don’t wanna go again?” You tease, laughing when Suguru scowls. 

You like him upset, and probably a little pathetic, because you press your lips to his pout, kissing him hungrily. And apparently, Suguru is as pathetic as he looks, because – and it’s a surprise to him, too – he kisses you back! Your tongues tangle during this brief meeting of your lips, fighting for dominance, though it’s apparent who’s the one in control here. 

The filthy moans between you are interrupted when Suguru feels that damned gun under his chin now, applying enough pressure to push him back. Only a line of your mixed saliva connects you two as you stare down at him in amusement.

“Like I said…” you peer down quickly at Suguru’s lap before whispering. “Aaaalways thinkin’ with your cock.” You step back, pointing the gun at him once again.

“What do ya want?” He asks, pulling at his restraints to no avail. He’d love nothing more than to wipe that cocky smile off your face and flip the tables on you, but it’s not looking good for him.

“What I want…” You wiggle the gun in his face, tauntingly. “...is already mine, outlaw.” There’s humor in your tone, and your body language is relaxed. You couldn’t see Suguru as less of a threat if you tried.

You piss him off.

And make him so fucking hard.

He’s confused!

The noise of the doors to the train cabin opening can be heard and Suguru grins. You’re fucked now. Larue is going to put a bullet between your eyes and sure, Suguru’ll be sad about it. But better you than him. You were a great fuck, he’ll admit. And yes, he entertained the idea of giving you a kid or two, maybe getting a little cabin out in the prairie. But that fantasy’s as dead as you’re about to be. Sad that he won’t be–

“The guy with the nipples and the girl have been taken care of, boss!” A chipper voice sings. 

That…is not Larue.

Suguru couldn’t turn his head if he tried, courtesy of this goddamn knot, but he can see the smirk on your face as you nod. “Great work, Hime. And the goods?”

“Already on the move with the others. Just gotta get on the horses when you’re ready.”

You turn your head, staring out the window and nodding again. Out of his peripheral, Suguru can just barely make out the form of two horses, racing alongside the train and he knows he’s screwed.

You sigh, shrugging while feigning sadness as you pout. “Well, outlaw…looks like this is the end of the line.”

Suguru tugs at his ropes again, struggling against the holds. “You gonna leave me here like this?” He gestures with his chin at his…situation. You must be forgetting his entire dick is out for the world to see. And that you’ve tied his hands up. Not to mention his fucking hair! If he has to cut his hair because of this…

You hum, like you’re actually giving deep thought to his question. You’re not.

“Yeah, actually. Think I am.” You lift your dress, not even pretending to be as innocent as you presented yourself to be when Suguru first laid eyes on you. You tuck his gun into the waistband of your undergarments, patting it affectionately. “Thanks for a grand ol’ time, outlaw. If you manage to survive this, we can do it again.”

You shoot him a wink before you lean over him, leaving him with one final kiss on the lips. It’s gentle this time, soft, save for a light nip to his bottom lip that embarrassingly enough, manages to arouse Suguru yet again. 

“At least tell me your name,” Suguru grits out through heavy breaths. “So I can be sure to repay the favor.”

It’s a threat, but you don’t take it as one. You simply smile. It’s warm, almost reminiscent of the woman he met just earlier. The woman he thought you were. But that look is gone as soon as it appeared. You pat his face gently, reaching across the seat to grab his hat that he had set aside when he’d first sat down. You sit it atop your head, wearing it like some sort of crown, and without another word, you leave.

The train cars open, the roaring rush of the wind filling the space for just a moment before they’re shut again, and Suguru is left with nothing but his thoughts and his dick literally out. He leans his head back against the seat, closing his eyes to calm his racing heart and honestly to stifle the pain of his untouched erection.

This has been the wildest ride of his life. Definitely the worst heist he’s ever done. And if he does survive this, does manage to somehow talk his way out of charges and prison time, he’s going to find you. Fuck the robberies. Fuck the brothels. Fuck gambling and drinking all day. Yeah, if he manages to survive this, he will make it his life’s mission to find you again.

Because even after all is said and done, Suguru thinks he might fucking love you.

[wdcbox]

pancakes for dinner ⠀⠀⋆·˚ ༘ *⠀⠀lando norris.

pairing. lando norris x gn!reader.

word count. 4k.

summary. after siking yourself out on a long plane ride to london, you finally have the courage to confess your feelings to lando, even if it ruins your friendship. inspired by pancakes for dinner by lizzy mcalpine.

warnings. mentions of a possible plane crash, hurt + comfort.

ellis’ addition. i am sososo proud of this. since lizzy is my brand, i of course wanted to use one of her songs as inspiration for a fic, so here ya go. once again, inspired by pancakes for dinner by lizzy mcalpine. for the lovely @lechrts ♡

the hum of the airplane engines filled the cabin, steady and unchanging, but it felt louder than it should, pressing into your ears like static. you shifted in your seat, the vinyl sticking slightly to your bare legs as you glanced at the glowing seatbelt sign above you.

the plane was still climbing, the ground was long gone, and clouds had swallowed the view. all that was left was the pale blue light filtering in through the window and the uneasy flutter in your chest.

you weren’t afraid of flying. you told herself that again and again, even as your fingers tightened on the edge of the tray table. it wasn’t the height or the turbulence or the fact that the plane felt impossibly heavy for something that stayed in the air – it was something else.

no matter how hard you tried to claw the thought away, it stuck in the back of your mind, a looming idea that poisoned your brain. no, what scared you wasn’t the plane at all. it was the though of him.

you could see his face in your mind, as clear as if he were sitting beside you. the messy hair he never bothered to brush, the crooked smile that made you laugh at all the wrong times, and the teasing like it wasn’t a big deal that you had heard it in his voice and no one else’s.

you closed her eyes, trying to block it out, but it didn’t help. you could still see him leaning against the doorframe the last night you two had hung out, his hand in his pocket, his gaze holding yours for a little too long before he cracked a joke to break the tension.

lando was an enigma – sort of a fungus that clung onto you for dear life. through his teasing and his sarcasm, he was still your friend at the end of it all. yet barely at this point as you started to view him as more of a lover you pined for than a disease that would never leave.

your stomach twisted, and you opened your eyes again, fixing your focus on the napkin crumpled on your tray table. the airline’s logo was printed in cheap blue ink. you smoothed it out, your thumb tracing over the words, but your thoughts didn’t stop.

what if the plane went down? what if you never got to tell him? the question gripped you, sharp and sudden, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. your heart hammered in her chest as the idea rooted itself deeper, impossible to shake.

it wasn’t some grand declaration. you weren’t brave enough for that, not yet. but there were smaller things you wanted him to know. like how you had watched every single race no matter the timezone difference, how you had memorized the exact way he ordered coffee, or how you missed him when he wasn’t around, even when nothing in your life seemed to change.

you grabbed your phone, your fingers fumbling as you opened the notes app. the cursor blinked on the blank screen, waiting. you felt the need to type out your feelings if you could even somehow put them into words. you didn’t want to ruin your friendship with lando, ultimately resulting in him distancing himself if he didn’t feel the same way – you knew it’d happen. but you still couldn’t shake the looming thought as turbulence hit, causing you to quickly begin typing like you were shakespeare drafting his next play.

it was a dull confession compared to your grand feelings for him, and you knew you’d never even tell him these words as the pilot announced you’d be landing in london soon. the paragraph of word vomit information sat staring at you, and you let out a shaky sigh as you locked your phone and shoved it into your pocket.

the plane landed with a shudder that rattled your teeth. the sound of tires screeching against asphalt dragged you out of your spiral of thoughts, but it didn’t erase the tension sitting heavy in your chest.

you moved through the motions like an automaton, gathering your bag from under the seat, waiting for the line of passengers to shuffle toward the exit, stepping off the plane and into the chaos of the terminal. your head buzzed with exhaustion, but your thoughts refused to quiet. lando was there, waiting somewhere beyond the baggage claim, which only caused your head to spin even faster.

your heart thrummed as you approached the carousel, watching strangers reunite around you – families embraced, couples kissed, and friends called out in excitement. you scanned the crowd for lando, your palms clammy against the strap of your carry-on bag. and then you saw him.

lando was leaning against a column near the exit, his phone in one hand, his other shoved into his jacket pocket. his hair was messier than usual, like he hadn’t bothered to tame it before coming here, and his sneakers tapped against the floor in a distracted rhythm. when he looked up and saw you, his whole face lit up. his smile was lopsided, and he waved with his phone like an idiot. you wanted to laugh. you wanted to run. instead, you froze.

the car ride was quiet, quieter than usual. lando had turned the music on – some rap music with a fast rhythm – but you barely heard it over the thundering of your own heartbeat.

lando kept glancing at you. not obviously, just quick flicks of his eyes, like he could sense something, was off. normally, you’d make a joke, deflect, steer the conversation back into the usual rhythm. but now, you stayed quiet, staring out the window at the passing streetlights.

“you sure you’re okay?” lando asked finally, his voice gentle. the streetlights illuminated his face, showing every freckle and curve of his skin, causing you to grow sick all over again. he was perfect and it made your stomach reel, your heart doing backflips like some olympic gymnast.

you nodded quickly, too quickly, and tried to force a smile, “yeah, just tired. long flight – jet lag and all.” you forced out a laugh as if you were trying to pry back your friendly banter, but in the end, it was entirely useless.

lando didn’t press, but the furrow between his brows stayed. he knew something was wrong. lando could have his stupid moments, but he was far from dumb. you prided yourself on being a half opened booked, but lando had read the whole thing.

when you pulled into lando’s driveway, the motion of the car stopping felt like a jolt back to reality. the headlights illuminated the front of his flat, familiar and safe, but it felt different now, like the air had shifted.

“c’mon,” lando hummed softly, cutting the engine, “i’ll grab your bag.” you smiled softly at his kindess, but part of you knew he was doing it out of pity. lando knew something was up, and despite the fact he didn’t push for an answer, you knew he would as the night passed on.

you followed him up the steps to his flat door, your stomach twisting into knots. the closer you got, the more real it felt. you had been here a hundred times before, sprawled on lando’s couch or rummaging through his fridge, but this time was different. this time, you felt as if you were about to ruin everything.

lando unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside to let you in first. the smell of the flat was familiar, some stupid cashmere candle he had bought that was practically nearly out of wax, but it smelt like home.

“you want something to eat? i bet you’re hungry after snacking on plane peanuts. i told you i would have bought you first class, but noo, you’re too good for that,” lando teased, setting your bag by the door before advancing into the kitchen, “or maybe a drink? i think i’ve got—”

“can we talk?” you blurted out, leaning against the kitchen island for some sort of support as you felt dizzy. you didn’t mean to interrupt lando, burt your mind was swimming a mile a minute, your skin itching at the fact you needed to say something.

lando froze mid-step, his hand hovering over the light switch. the easy smile on his face faltered, replaced by something softer, more cautious, confused at the fact you didn’t rebuttal his words or even laugh. “yeah,” lando spoke slowly, “of course. what’s up?”

you glanced around the living room, at the throw blanket draped over the back of the couch, at the coffee table littered with takeout containers and a half-empty mug. everything about lando’s place screamed him. familiar. safe. but your chest felt anything but safe now.

“can we sit?” you questioned, your voice quieter now as you already started to make your way to the couch without even a nod from lando. your hands shook at your side, immediately resting on your lap and fiddling with one another as you took a seat, the plushness of the couch consuming you.

lando nodded and followed behind you, a nervous chuckle falling from his lips, “sure. you’re kind of freaking me out, though. is everything okay?” his body sat down on the couch next to you, his knee inches away from yours as his eyes began to search your face for any idea of what was going on inside your head.

you hesitated, your feet rooted to the floor for just a second too long before you let out a soft sigh. lando’s body sank down onto the couch, one arm draped over the back, as his gaze never faltered. 

you inhaled slightly. if you didn’t say it now, you’d never bring yourself to try to convey your emotions to lando’s face again. the idea of what would have occurred if the plane went down played over and over again in your head, snapping you back into reality.

lando shifted on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his gaze still locked on your nervous expresion. the concern in his eyes deepened, and you could see the wheels turning in his head.

“is something wrong?” lando questioned, his voice low and careful as his eyebrows furrowed, “are you okay? is it –” his jaw tightened softly, “is it your family?” his assumption shocked you at first, but it just came to remind you that lando cared despite what was about to happen.

you blinked, quickly collecting yourself, “what? no, it’s not –”  “work, then?” lando cut in, his words coming quicker now, “did something happen at your job?” he tried to dig for answers, to push as hard as he could as if he was on track, and it barely gave you time to cool your mind.

“no! no, nothing like that!” you said quickly, your hands waving in front of you like you could physically push the idea away. lando exhaled a sharp breath and leaned back, his shoulders  relaxing slightly, “okay, good. you were scaring me for a second there.” he let out a deep sigh, a chuckle interrupting his action.

you pressed your lips together, your stomach twisting. this wasn’t how you imagined this going – not that you had imagined it going smoothly, but still. “i’m fine,” you spoke softly, more to reassure yourself than anything else, “it’s not ... bad, exactly – it’s just hard to explain.”

lando tilted his head, studying you with that same careful expression he always wore when he was trying to figure something out, “alright, take your time, i guess. i’m listening.” the sincerity in his voice made your throat tighten. of course, he was listening, he always did. that was part of the problem.

you looked down at her hands, twisting your fingers together, your palms damp as if you were having a stroke. you felt lando’s eyes on you, steady and unrelenting, like he wouldn’t look away until he knew you were okay.

“you’re sure you’re okay?” lando asked again, softer this time – he was beginning to genuinely worry. you nodded, but the motion felt hollow. your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it.

“i just need a minute,” you murmured, and like he had in the car, he didn’t press on. instead, he leaned back into the couch, giving you space, but his gaze stayed fixed on your frame. the silence stretched between the two of you, the only sound the faint hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen.

finally, he let out a quiet laugh, breaking the tension just enough to make you glance up at him with a hint of confusion. “you know,” he spoke, his tone light but his smile nervous, “if this is you telling me you’re moving to antarctica or something, i might actually cry.”

your lips twitched into a smile despite yourself, “what?” “i’m serious,” lando spoke, raising a hand in mock solemnity, “you can’t just drop a we need to talk bomb on me and expect me not to assume the worst. if you’re planning to disappear or something, at least give me some notice.”

you shook your head, a small laugh escaping her before she could stop it, “i’m not moving to antarctica or running away or anything – at least not yet.” your second attempt to bring back the usual friendly banter had began to work as you let out another chuckle. “good,” lando hummed, his grin softening, “because i don’t think i’d survive that.”

your heart twisted at the words, even though you knew he didn’t mean them the way you wished he did. lando was feeding into your jokes, trying his hardest to pry the confession out of you slightly, and you found it working as you let out another nervous sigh.

your sigh faded, leaving the air thick again. lando was looking at you, the teasing edge in his expression softening into something warmer, more patient. he wasn’t going to let this go, and you knew it. he never did.

you took a deep breath, your fingers now curling into the fabric of your shirt. “it’s not about antarctica,” you spoke, your voice quieter now, “it’s about you.” lando’s brows furrowed slightly, the easy grin slipping from his face, “me?” confusion filled the air and you couldn’t tell if he was oblivious or plain stupid.

“yeah,” you spoke, your gaze nervously dropping to your lap. you couldn’t look at him, not yet. “i’ve been thinking a lot about us. about all the things i want to do. not just, like, big things, but .. little things too.” the room felt impossibly still, your words hanging between the two of you. you pressed on before your courage dissolved completely.

“like .. i want to watch dumb movies with you – the ones you always tell me about but i never get around to watching. and i want to sit on your couch and argue about whose turn it is to pick dinner, even though we both know we’re going to give in and order pizza anyway.”

your voice trembled, but you forced yourself to keep going, “i want to have pancakes for dinner, just because we can, even though you’ll probably put too much syrup on them and make a mess. i want to watch a tv show together and if we’re too exhausted, we can watch it in bed.”

you glanced up at lando, your breath catching at the way he was looking at you. his expression was unreadable, his lips slightly parted, his eyes wide like he didn’t dare blink as you began. “and i want ..” your voice wavered, but you didn’t stop, “i want all those things with you because they matter to me. you matter to me. more than i ever thought someone could.” the words felt like they had been wrenched out of you, leaving your chest hollow and aching. your hands gripped the couch cushion, waiting for lando to say something, anything.

for a long moment, he didn’t. lando just stared at you, his brows furrowed like he was trying to process what you had just said. “you want .. pancakes for dinner?” he asked finally, his voice so soft it made your heart ache.

you laughed, the sound weak and trembling, but it felt like a release. you couldn’t fathom that out of all of that, that’s what he was confused about. “yeah,” you spoke softly, “i want pancakes for dinner. with you, and everything else.”

lando’s lips twitched, and then, slowly, a smile broke across his face. a real one, not the teasing, lopsided grin you were so used to. this one was softer, warmer, like he was looking at you for the first time.

the smile on lando’s face lingered, but it quickly gave way to a softer, almost uncertain look. he took a breath, like he was trying to gather his thoughts, but he still didn’t break eye contact. “you have no idea how badly i want to say that sounds perfect,” lando spoke quietly, his voice carrying a weight of honesty you hadn’t expected. your heart skipped, but you swallowed the hope rising in your chest, unsure where this was going.

“but ..” lando hesitated, the hesitation enough to make your stomach drop, “but i’m not great at this kind of thing – saying my feelings and shit,” he continued, his gaze flickering away briefly, his hands fidgeting. “i’m a mess with timing, and i’m not always around, and, you know, i can’t be that guy who just shows up whenever, especially when we’re not always in the same place. it’s easier to say i want all those things, but actually ..” he trailed off, his words fading, and you saw the conflict in his eyes, the worry.

you bit your lip, your chest tightening. lando feels the same way, but he's scared. the realization hit you like a wave, pulling you under with the weight of it. you opened your mouth to respond, but lando beat you to it.

“i know it sounds like an excuse, and i don’t want to make it seem like i’m backing out of anything, but i’ve got this tendency to overthink everything,” lando spoke, his voice thick with vulnerability, “i don’t want to promise something i can’t follow through on, and i hate that i’m not better at being here – at being present. and i hate how much i want to say yes, but i’m scared.”

your heart clenched as lando looked at you, the rawness in his gaze making your heart ache for him. your heart was beating as fast as it possibly could as you tried to hide the overwhelming emotion on your face. you tangled your fingers together again, taking a deep breath.

“i just don’t want you to think that it’s you, or that i don’t care because i do – so much, too much,” lando reached out then, his hand hovering between the two of you for a moment before he placed it gently on yours. the contact felt like an anchor, grounding you in the storm of his words.

“i want all those things with you too,” lando whispered, his thumb brushing over your hand like he couldn’t help it,“pancakes for dinner. arguing over pizza. nights in – all of it, but i don’t want to let you down.”

you felt your breath catch in your throat, the mix of relief and uncertainty flooding you all at once. the long distance, the uncertainty, the timing – it all felt so complicated, yet here he was, laying it all out, just like you had.

you squeezed lando’s hand gently, your heart full of more than you had expected. “i don’t need you to be perfect,” you spoke softly, your voice steady now, as your confidence grew, “i don’t need every moment to be planned. i just need to know that you want it too – that you want me. even if it’s messy, even if we’re not always in the same place.”

for a moment, the two of you just sat there, the quiet between each other not awkward, but comfortable. your hand in lando’s, the soft weight of his fingers against yours grounding you, soothing the chaos you had been carrying.

“i want you,” lando spoke up, his voice so certain now it made your heart flutter, “more than anything. i just ..” he took a deep breath and squeezed your hand back, “i guess i was just scared you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

your breath caught, and you smiled, a soft, genuine smile that spread slowly across your face. “i do,” you hummed, your voice filled with the kind of certainty you hadn’t known you were capable of,  “i feel the same way.”

the silence between both of you deepened, but this time, it wasn’t filled with uncertainty or hesitation. it was filled with the space where everything unspoken lived – the things you both knew, but hadn’t dared to say out loud until now. lando was still holding your hand, but now there was something more in the way as his fingers curled around yours. it wasn’t just comfort anymore. it was a promise.

“i don’t know how easy this is going to be,” lando spoke softly, his voice more vulnerable than you had ever heard it. “i don’t know how many times i’ll mess it up or how far apart we’ll be soemtimes, but,” lando paused, gathering his thoughts as if the weight of them were settling in, “but i know i don’t want to keep walking away from something that feels this real.”

your heart skipped once again. you didn’t realize how much you needed to hear him say that until the words were out. the words seemed all too poetically beautiful for lando, but you knew he was speaking his mind, even though his thoughts were complex.

“me neither,” you murmured, squeezing his hand tighter, “i don’t care how messy it gets, i just don’t want to keep pretending it’s not there.” lando’s smile was small but genuine, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “yeah,” he agreed quietly, “pretending just doesn’t work anymore, does it?” “no,” you spoke softly, “it doesn’t.”

the both of you sat there for a moment longer, both lost in the gravity of the decision you had just made – realizing that, despite the complications, despite the distance and uncertainty, you were choosing each other. even if it was hard, even if it didn’t make sense.

“you know,” you spoke up again, your voice hesitant but growing steadier with every word, “i think i’m okay with things not being perfect. in the end, nothing is really perfect, and i like it that way.” lando nodded slowly, a small smile christening his face, his hand still holding yours, “me too.”

you looked at lando, and for the first time, you didn’t see the nervous, unsure guy who’d been so cautious before. you saw someone who was ready to take that leap, even if it scared him, even if there would be highs and lows.

“i don’t want to waste any more time,” lando spoke, his voice breathy, “so, if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. no more second-guessing. no more running away. no more hiding our feelings.” your heart swelled at his words, the promise behind the two of you feeling like everything you had ever wanted, but thought you couldn’t have. “yeah,” you whispered, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “no more running.”

lando leaned forward, gently brushing his lips against your forehead in a soft, slow kiss. it was simple, but it felt like everything. the weight of all your unspoken feelings was there, in that moment, and you knew it wasn’t just about what you had said, it was about the choice you were both making.

“i don’t know what comes next,” lando spoke after pulling back, his voice still soft, “but i know i don’t want to do it without you.” your chest tightened in that familiar way, the warmth spreading through you like sunshine, “me neither.”

[eldrith]

˗ˏˋ Dead Men Don't Sing ˎˊ˗ Jacaerys Velaryon

jacaerys velaryon x fem!stark!reader words: 9.5k requested: yes synopsis: “it is rather custom to marry within the bloodline,” jacaerys admits, hesitating, “but there are other duties,” he murmurs, “–ones that even the Gods cannot ignore.”  notes: thank you to the anon who requested this, it was months and months ago <3 i found this written and dusty in my drafts and realized how much i liked the concept of it so i finished it up, changed up a lot of plot (sry). peace & love (thinking abt when @softspiderling said that cregan & r had chemistry in this fic. fuck you) warnings: canon-typical marriage betrothals. something something heavy belief in the divine right of kings (cringe!), jace is so in love again guys, fluff and flirting, feelings of anxiety & worry, heavy on politics and the targaryen prophecy. doubts of magic and light religious tones. kissing. requests closed. masterlist.

THE CRYPTS BELOW WINTERFELL ECHO WITH FOOTFALL.

A dripping thing, echoing through low ceiling and sliding over stoned walls; your pace moves slow, measured. 

Aboveground yields a morning snow; it is no harvest season, yet you worry so of the rime which curls its way over the tender shoots of crop; kissing a delicate crust atop glacial lakes in the near distance, lining the roofs across Winter Town. 

Down below such crust of earth, the crypt holds no true warmth, instead boasting a rather eerie silence; though you’ve always felt drawn to such quietude in certain times – moments punctuated only by the rustle of fur cloaks, the steady drip of tallow wax candles that burn beneath the proud visages of ancient stone.

A gentle sigh escapes your lips. 

Your breath, barely visible in the cold, dissipates like a whisper of a cloak around a corner; The man beside you paces with deliberate slowness, though still his long strides force you to quicken your own. 

A familiar rhythm from childhood. 

He broods – or perhaps merely reflects; it is difficult to tell, though his introspection proves an unwelcome distraction and concern alike. 

“You think far too loudly, brother.”

Your voice, a stone dropped onto the serenity of a glassy pond; stirring, your brother beside you lets out a soft huff of amusement, turning to glance at your profile. "Aye, it seems I do,” he acquiesces, though he seems more than content to leave it as such.

And the ensuing quiet – his scrutiny of your features becoming almost unsettling. You purse your lips, folding your arms over the furs that ward off the chill, slowing to a halt – he, in turn, slowing beside you.

“Cregan,” you cast a guarded glance his way, “I appreciate your company, but…” You pause, clearing your throat, “Why did you ask me here?”

You cannot ignore the furrow of his brow, nor the weary sigh that escapes him. “I do not wish to burden you with troubles, sister,” he murmurs, his gaze drifting – mindful of spirits; watching, listening. “But there is something we must discuss.”

You, softly gesturing for him to continue under the flicker of torchlight. 

Yet, he does not speak at once; instead, guiding you further along the shadowed path. You allow him the moment of silence, a foreboding drop stirring unbidden in your chest. Has the time come to prepare for the Wall – will you set the Greybeards alone to fight in the Southern war? Dribbling wax slides over the edge of a wyck - a white tear falling to the frozen earth below. Winter is coming, you know; and so does war. 

You stop before a weathered stone – Cregan, his face so hardened even with young age; you recall in the earliest recess of your memories a more youthful visage – the brother who dangled you by the ankle in the Great Hall; who dragged you along to target practice in the yards, who met your gaze with mirth when you were scolded at the dinner table. Much has changed. 

“A raven came from Dragonstone this morning,” his voice is steady – the mention flares a mild concern in you; your brows furrow. 

“Different from the letter that arrived at my chambers just moments ago?” You wonder – the scroll was penned by Prince Jacaerys; though this is an occasion not extremely uncommon, as you’ve grown to write to him often in the past months of his departure. 

But your brother nods. “Aye.” He affirms, “It was signed by Queen Rhaenyra.” 

You blink up at him, breath bated – palms, growing moist though the cold nips gently at your nose: Never has the Queen herself sent letter by raven. Cregan utters your name, and you meet his gaze. 

“Prince Jacaerys has asked for your hand in marriage.”

Of the many possibilities you’d imagined, this was not one of them; shivers of flattery over your spine, quivering your breast in an icy shock.

And a scroll unread, perched upon your drawing table in your quarters – has Jace written to you to ask you himself? Your lip, plump under the pressure of your teeth. 

Though not wholly unpleasant, it is still a sudden shock to you, and your mouth opens – then closes with a soft click. You find yourself momentarily lost for words.

A breath, warm against the cold, escaping your mouth, fingers restless within your thick gloves. “Did–” You pause, clearing your throat, willing your heart to steady its foolish race. “Have you sent a response?”

A flicker in an otherwise stoic facade, gone in an instant: Some amusement laced into his visage that vexes you in a way only a sibling can.

 Quietly, your brother denies. “It was requested by the Prince for you to send a response yourself. The Queen wishes to be assured this is a marriage that will bring strength to the realm – one that will be strong from the beginning. She does not choose the future queen regent lightly, it seems.” 

A heat that grows twofold; and a sprouting dizziness as the proposal hits you. The future queen regent – Gods be good. 

The proposition is far from traditional. 

As the sister of the Warden of the North, you have always assumed your path would lead to a marriage with one of the High Lords of your own region – though with great war comes change, you understand well – and Cregan has mentioned it satisfactory to find a Targaryen princess among your House; perhaps you and Jacaerys will serve in such a steed. 

 A glance to the stone man before you; an ode, to Torrhen Stark. The King Who Knelt. 

A shiver of reality. Leave Winterfell, as a Targaryen bride – to go to the war brewing in the South – and there grows a flicker, beneath your concern. Hunger, pride. 

You’ve always known what’s expected of you; and Starks do not shy nor cower from responsibility. 

“This is no small task.” Your words, quite blunt as they often are – another nod from Cregan. 

“I remind you,” He assures, “It is no done deal.” 

A flicker of your lashes as your breath clouds before you; above your head, you wonder if the flakes which flutter from the sky have ceased in the wake of the day’s far sun. 

It is indeed a thought to consider; the North, your endless horizon of snow and stone – of moors and fields, of steep slopes and commanding eminences, carved by the hands of gods more ancient than the first of men. 

That cold kiss of wintered forests, of towering pines in snowed shadows; gnarled branches of the Wolfswood, icy rivers of threaded silver untouched by the frills of southern decadence; and the cold less endured than revered, a landscape of beauty drawn within the fierce devotion of its people. 

An unshakeable and profound sense of soul that tugs you towards the frozen earth, to the bodies brought back through turns of Winters, of endurance, of love, of life. 

“I would mislike to leave Winterfell,” You admit; a child once more, tucking toes beneath warmed covers as you hid from shadows upon walls. 

Perhaps he recalls those same nights; when you’d stayed awake against the syrupy droop of eyelids, listening to your Lord father’s tales of hunts and beasts beyond your comprehension. 

“As would I regret to let you leave,” His voice comes after a moment. “Your insight is not to be understated. Perhaps this is why the Queen wishes you to join her council in my stead.” 

Another shock to you – to marry the Prince, yes, but to join the Queen’s council? A flash of pride, conspicuous, licking up your spine – though you’re lost in the trappings of memory; of loss, of life. 

“What is it father said?” You muse quietly, watching shadows flicker over a contoured face of stone. “The South…Where men smile with daggers behind their backs.” 

Some huff from weary lips. “I hold no concern for how you might fare against a dagger, sister.” He reminds you; your fingers, calloused in the grooves of a longbow – you placate a wry huff, mind saturated with thoughts. “A serpent's lair, the Crownlands are.” He gruffs.

It is solemnly that you nod; a wistful memory of your Prince, curls entangled with the sharp wind, embedding pearled snowflakes into tresses. 

“I am not without my own doubts,” Cregan slowly admits, “Leaving the North – in wartime, as well – holds few assurances of safety, even at Dragonstone.” 

Your voice is considerably less steadfast than it’d been an hour past, when you’d directed the letter from the Prince to wait until your duties with Lord Stark were through – “I would not leave my home, my charge, merely for some Prince.” You mutter. 

Yet, the glance from your brother brings a small grin to your lips. 

He perhaps agrees with your stubborn resolve; you two, cut and sewn from the same sturdy cloth, borne with the same pelts upon your back. A tilt in his visage, looking at you. 

“Our father’s word was given. It is our duty to uphold it.” He murmurs; and then, a melting of such a look – as if Lord Stark has retreated, yielding Cregan in his wake: “You’d be queen one day, long after the war.” 

Still reeling, a warmth to your face as you consider the Prince – rosy cheeks, with that smile brighter than snow; he, with a fur cloak gifted to him in his visit to treat with your brother those months ago – a regal face, if you’ve the grace to know what such a thing is. 

The boy with kind words and genuine laughter; a fleeting brush of his hand on yours as he’d greeted you to his ancient beast; The square of his shoulders as he’d solidified Northmen for his Queen mother’s banners. A look, shattered and wet, as he mounted his beast in the wake of his brother’s death. Septa’s voice from the vestiges of adolescence: Heavy is the crown, my dear. 

“It is my duty,” you murmur more to yourself than to your brother, “To Winterfell, to the North. To our Queen… and the realm.” 

Cregan’s hand finds your shoulder in a grasp, “Sister.” Your eyes meet his own. “I would not have you do it if I did not believe it was the right choice. Jace is a good man. He will treat you right.” 

Indeed, a union of your house and the Prince’s would strengthen the North; you could ensure the maintenance of autonomy – and loyalty, a venerable duty long upheld by your house for hundreds of years. A marriage that serves not only your people, but such enduring legacy of kin. 

“Just as well,” He adds, “the prospect of marrying Jacaerys might prove rather agreeable to your sensibilities, would it not?”

He jests. The corner of your eyes narrow as you shoot him a sharp look; a smile emerging despite your efforts to conceal it. The warmth of anticipation creeps across your cheeks, a delicate flush across your face despite your valiant efforts to contain it. 

"You overreach, brother,” you speak, though both you and he can hear the fondness in your voice. 

A quiet moment, in which a memory surfaces – Jacaerys, bidding you farewell months past; a pain in his eyes, ragged with grief and urgency to return – his younger brother, killed by Aemond One-Eye.

A shaky kiss upon your knuckles, the cracking of a voice otherwise proud; the last glance of that massive beast swallowed up by the clouds. Your heart skips a beat at the knowledge of him, as your own. 

“I will marry Prince Jacaerys,” You agree, hoping to conceal the eagerness from your tone, “...for the good of the realm."

Cregan huffs, pulling you into a brief embrace, your eyes both stuck on the statue before you. "Aye, and perhaps a bit of warmth for your heart, too.” He jests; a rare occurrence, and certainly in these days of war and the eve of winter. 

“Is that not what you’d wish for your sister?” You jest in return, hiding the fluster of your cheeks. 

His expression sobers minutely. “You bring honor to our house.”

The long, stone face of Torrhen Stark watches your breath rise and fall from your lips. 

Hesitance melts away, leaving a giddiness, a sense of duty softened by an affection in your heart. “A wolf in the South,” you murmur. 

And a dragon at her side.

VERMAX IS RATHER DISPLEASED TO FLY NORTH AGAIN. 

Huffs and whining screeches; saged scales that melt tiny flakes of snow around the saddle - Jacaerys consoles his steed with a huff of amusement. “Se iōrves kessa daor umbagon syt mirre, Vermax.” He insists; The cold will not last forever. 

It is not until the sloping valleys and rolling mountains give way to dusting of snowcaps and frozen-earth that his stomach begins to burn with that odd feeling; excitement. 

Trees that reach up towards the heavens – ever green in their life, barely stirred by the beating of Vermax’s wings high above. 

Otherworldly, the North is; and Winterfell, with towering walls, sprawling courtyards, the frosted roofs that glint even through the thick of cloud – pure earth, that ancient knowledge within the ground, held for thousands of years past. Wisdom, sewn into rings upon rings within trees – depths of icy pools, glistening cold as glacier’s tears even in the dead of summer. 

Something, an aching feeling returns; not an ache for home, but for you. 

Eyes, amber and anticipatory, searching the grounds so far below – a wall, dark and thick in the sprawl of the low cirque. Vermax breaks through the clouds with a call, the whipping Northern wind blowing icy shards into Jacaerys’ inhale. Still, he looks with a fire, an intent – battlements, courtyards, all bustling and brimming.

The familiar banner of black and red, raised by the men sent weeks ahead in anticipation of the Prince’s arrival – and the Stark banner, hanging large enough to just see from the outskirts of Winter Town. 

The East Gate opens; a company awaits his arrival, bustling in the yard of the Great Keep – squinting against sharp air as Vermax circles in agitated descent. It is an odd thing, to see the expressions of men, women, and children become clearer in descent – to see the fear, the astonishment, the reverence in the ancient being in the sky. But he searches each visage turned up towards him; and then, there – with a grin and a flip in Jacaerys’ stomach, he finds you. 

Piled, swathed in thick furs that bring out your hair; standing straight beside your mass of a brother; a warmth that blossoms into heat as your head tilts, tracking Vermax in the sky.  

A heavy thud against the muddy ground encrusted with a fresh layer of crisp rime; the rich shades of green across the North have been kissed by some fae of frost that barely cowers under the heat of his ancient creature – and though it retreats in his molten wake, Vermax huffs at the feeling of frost and snow. 

Jace dismounts Vermax; pressing his forehead to the dragon’s thick neck, the warmth a final solace before he faces the unforgiving weather of the North – a mutter to his steed, running his palm over the scales, “Sȳz, vermax.  Ao ipradtis; ao gōntan sōvegon sȳrī.” 

Good, Vermax. You must eat; you flew well. 

He is accompanied, then; two dragonhandlers bowing to him, draped in borrowed furs as they tend to his weary beast. It is rather comfortable, to hand him off to them; a luxury, he supposes, when they are here to tend to the Valyrian rituals that will come in just over a week’s time. A skip in his heart as he thinks of the night to come: You and he, bound for life. 

His title is announced in the quiet of the Keepyard; he enters, feeling rather foolish as just one man faced with such a company – his eyes, unable to unstick themselves from you. The young Lady Stark; the Northern Star, some have called you; He finds himself agreeing. 

Head high, he walks as the prince he is, nodding to Lord Cregan; Formal proceedings that are blinked away in moments with a very present preoccupation of trying to keep his stare off your face. 

And then, after a lingering moment, ravens circling the sky, wind howling down the slopes of distant mountains, Cregan steps forward, arm extended – Jacaerys returns his grin, a camaraderie returning in his chest. 

In the grasp of his forearm, in the rough hug he shares with his friend, Lord Stark murmurs. “I see now why you were so reluctant to leave the first time, my Prince.” Cregan’s voice, rich with mirth; a sheepish grin that grows upon Jacaerys’ expression. Laughter between them, as easy as it ever was, the weariness that’d built in Jace’s flight northward dissipating. “I’ve been told a wise man knows when he’s found something worth returning to, Lord Stark,” Jace quips in response, the heat on his face deepening when his gaze darts in a glance towards you. Your brow, lifted at his words; full of grace but with a smattering of warmth across your cheeks, a small smile. 

The cold air seems to have brought a flush to you – dipping into a graceful curtsey, the wolf clasp of your cloak catches in the cloudy light of afternoon. His heart flips as you greet him: “My Prince,” and gods, your voice – “I hope you and Vermax found no undue hardship enduring such a journey.” 

It’s all Jacaerys can afford to bow deeply in return, eyes remaining on your own gaze; a gesture of respect and courteousness, but a strike of something far more personal lingering behind his stare. Your palm is bare, he’s shocked to see; and lifted within his own, his lips brush over your knuckles. 

Your cheeks darken, and he feels his heart race. “The purpose is far worth the journey, my Lady.” His voice, earnest, polite. 

Your smile widens just so. 

THE GREAT HALL IS DOUSED WITH LIT HEARTHS. 

The celebration is a swell feast – Jacaerys sits, having dined on a hearty meal and several goblets of wine: Roasted game, honeyed bread, mulled wine. At the high table he sits, and the din of the hall rumbles around him, drifting slowly into the high-beamed ceiling. 

A lingering storm has momentarily lifted in the warmth of familiar faces, of the unrelenting bite of cold that still yet lingers in bones weary from flight. There is a dread that has stayed within Jacaerys for many turns of moon now – a mourning thing, one that has left him with less and less smiles to divulge with each passing day. 

The horizon brews; a clouded thing, one dark and full of smoke and whispers – and yet here he sits, warmed by furs, by hearth, by ale – and by you, aside him. 

A girl no older than himself – a friendship kindled merely in the beginnings of formality, of happenstance; polite smiles and high chins, eyes lingering as he followed your brother into the study. 

A peculiar thing it is now, to sit beside you, to feel that string pull between you so inevitably; and though he is turned away from your warmth, well engrossed in a discussion with Lord Stark, he feels that tension – that tautness that soon will be severed with unseen shears, which will seal a dream conjured years before your birth. 

And throughout the evening, his gaze has more than often wandered to your own visage, carved in those same harsh winds of beauty – a smile warm and true, a depth sinking into his stomach; for as Jacaerys has dined heartily, his appetite for food has given way to an appetite for conversation. 

The hall boasts cheer, laughter; an odd thing, in the tide of coming war, in coming strife even this far North; the Lord returns to the Wall not even a fortnight after the wedding, and with him goes half the rations of crops saved through the Northern harvest. 

With Jacaerys will go his new wife – and with you, a secret untold to any but those who sit the throne. 

The fire in the hearth is great, and it swallows Jacaerys’ eyes as he sips from his cup; licks of flames, screams unheard through halls – the final breath of many, the staggering gasp of death. 

Outside, snow blows harsh and cold against the walls – a breath of winter, howling and iced. 

It is a song that lingers in Jacaerys’ mind, even as the music inside the hall crescendos and the ale flows; and finally, he is torn from his trance with the departure of a lord from White Harbor from before you, leaving you finally by your lonesome. 

Jacaerys turns to you – and at his stirring, you glance to his hoping gaze; your cheeks warmed in the same breath as his own, you glow in the firelight. 

He gestures gently before you, towards the hall brimming with people, “A celebration in our honor, yet it seems finding a moment alone has proven rather difficult.” His voice remains as warm as he’d hoped, though evergreen and mantled by duties, by composure. And you, a flower of grace and stoicism, nod kindly - he's always found the dance of formalities to be amusing.

“It seems the whole land has anticipated your arrival once more, Prince Jacaerys.” Your voice is tinged with that same warmth he remembers from those moons ago.

He ought to accept your kindness with compliment; or perhaps ask how the owl that’d nested in the rook outside your chambers during his last visit fares – but indeed he is met with that insistence of passing time, of his mother’s words fallen onto his shoulders; of a whispered dream of years to pass and years still to come.

When he looks at your visage, honeyed by the glow of firelight, some warmth mixes shockingly with an icy knowledge of what is to come. 

“It has been too long since we last met,” He says - and, perhaps in a moment of insecurity, his lip is bitten and pulled from pearled teeth. “I have missed your company.”

He does not miss the soft growth of affection that blossoms upon your countenance, nor the shift in your hips as you turn to face him more, your fingers absently tracing the rim of your goblet in a mirror of his own nervous habit. 

“And I have missed yours,” your voice is equally quiet to his own, in some conspiratorial hope to remain private while remaining in a room full of guests. Your lip is caught between your teeth just as his was – he wishes to unfurl it with the soft of his thumb. “Though, I confess, it is strange to know that soon we will no longer need ravens to speak to one another.”

A soft chuckle from his lips – a thought indeed that crossed his mind after sending his last raven Northward; and in the shadow of looming war, what a relief it may be to have you beside him. 

If he were any more a fool, Jacaerys might worry indeed for your safety in the coming times – and though that thought lingers still in the stoop of his mind, he is no more ignorant to your abilities than he is admiring them. 

A memory, one of fresh falling snow and the youthful innocence of only half-year ago; before the shift of tides, before the moonlit jaws of Death found his brother – before the death of the young one in the Red Keep, and the fall of Rhaenys and Meleys just days ago at Rooks Rest; before it all, when still the horizon brimmed with a more peaceful hope for settled war, there was time of laughter. Of a hunt drawn about for a Royal Guest in Winterfell, when he came with wishes of an alliance, of oaths sworn in blood and brotherhood. The hunt brought anticipation - and, in his foolish Southern ways, Jacaerys had wondered if you’d see he and your brother off in the courtyard of Winterfell – perhaps with a favour of yours to gift him, and a kiss upon his cheek for well-hunting. 

It was not such delicate smiles and whispers he was met with; no, instead he found another horse, saddled with your frame and a bright grin upon your face, your hair plaited away from your peripherals and a longbow strewn across your back. 

A fond memory, those days watching you traipse across snowstruck Wolfswood – and the snap of a string, the fall of a buck into the earth below. Your grin, your appearance; so unlike your kin, and yet so shared in hardiness with your brother – a warmth now so foreign in a world laced by such ominous ideas as fate. 

Jacaerys chuckles at the memory, and also at your words, sobering as they are light. “Strange,” He repeats, tilting his head to you. “-But welcome, I’d hope?” 

And though it is a tease sent with the efforts of putting the thick tension of betrothal at ease, there still lingers a fear of the answer; and a leak of hesitance in his words. 

When you hold his gaze for a moment, he nearly doubts the flicker of affection that still drips from your rosy cheeks. But your expression softens, and your earnesty is undeniable. “Of course,” You beam and it sends his heart into a flutter, “It will be quite welcome.” 

And it is in this moment, a quiet one, that Jacaerys nearly cracks; a split that would leak out the foreboding world of prophecies, of danger and fear and worry – if only in search of some comfort, of some assurance that the truths he lives are merely the whisperings of a bloodline destined to rule. 

Though he loses the moment when you turn to the revelry before you; and Cregan rises from his seat beside Jacaerys, drawing his attention away from blistering flames and flurries of chill that strike through his heart. 

YOU FIND A MOMENT TO CATCH YOUR BREATH IN THE MORNING.

The sun is high in the sky for such an early hour; perhaps a reflection through of the sheet of thin gray which stretches from one horizon to the other. A sweet light over the rather empty training grounds – and your skirts drag along snow as you brush hair from your cheek, nocking another arrow. 

The target, more than plenty paces away, is riddled with arrows from your work – the bow in your hands, warm and smelted to the form of your grip, carries that same woody scent from youth. You draw back with an inhale. 

Though you know very soon of a presence in the morning courtyard; You can feel the gaze upon you as soon as he enters. And with a small tremble, it occurs to you – no matter where the Prince goes, it seems you can always feel him near. 

You resist a small grin, exhaling as you release the arrow; it embeds itself into the center of the target, a light thud that presses your heart against your ribs. 

Jacaerys watches you; this, you know – and you nock yet another arrow. 

The prince leans rather casually against a post just a few paces to your right, though there is little casual about the heat of his stare upon you – your glance is merely through the side of your lashes, a short thing in effort to pretend you are less effected by his presence. 

Though, you cannot deny the burning in your cheeks, a determination in your throat as you draw the bowstring once more. 

A murder of ravens scatter across the sky to the South – you let the arrow fly; It notches just to the right of your previous shot. A smile, tugging the corner of your lips once more before you drop your arms, glancing to your audience. 

“Impressive as ever, my lady,” Jacaerys muses; his gaze is imbued by lashes and the sun, though there is some esteem within his stare that brings a flutter to your stomach. 

Impressive. 

A heat on your cheeks – as if you’re a blushing little maiden, complimented for the very first time. Though, you remind yourself, he’s spent his life in the highest courts of the land; he himself squired for many years, acquiring fair skill in such trades – and you hum, mind filled with visions of men from all stretches of the realm and beyond – jousts, tourneys, all to show at the King’s court. 

 “Well,” You brush the hair from your cheek once more against the faint wind, nocking and drawing a fresh arrow, much less focused this time, aware of his gaze burning through your frame. “I’m sure Southern men like you have seen feats far more impressive.” You tease, eyes locked down the line of the arrow.

Jacaerys huffs a small laugh at your jest, stepping further into the training yard. The wind blows, and you wonder if you should have taken another fur; but his voice is warm and you are put at ease.

“Perhaps,” He agrees, voice nearing your focus, “But some Southern men certainly know to appreciate what we cannot find back home.” 

You’re lucky you’ve released the arrow just as he finishes his sentence; your stomach flips, butterflies sprouting within your chest at his gentle flattery. He is quite the charmer - and though you find amusement in his attempt, still grows your warmth at the attention.

It is still in the courtyard, and Jacaerys nods toward the target, where your arrow has hit the mark. An approving hum, brows lifted to underscore some coming point: “Like a woman who can outshoot any knight in the realm.” 

A blatant praise – and you lower your bow, hoping to suppress the blush creeping up your cheeks. “Why don’t you try your hand?” you suggest, your tone teasing in attempt to flit such fluster upon the Prince instead. 

He grins in a way that brings to mind a time less full of strife – always one for a friendly back-and-forth; Hands upon the hilt of his sword, Jacaerys shakes his head. “I’m not foolish enough to challenge you, my lady. I’ve learned to respect northern steel – be it by sword or arrow.”

You tilt your head, unable to school such a playful glint in your eyes. “So you’ve come all this way just to be bested by a woman?”

A provocation; perhaps testing the waters. And it shows in his expression, the stark divergence between your brother’s personality and your own; you suspect he is pleased with the opportunity. 

His grin, as you’d hoped, only widens – cheeks reddened by the morning chill, eyes bright against the sun. “I’d consider it quite an honor.” A flick of his gaze to the target and back. 

A roll of your eyes – highly inappropriate for a lady, especially to the Prince - but he only seems to find it more amusing. The smile tugs at your lips; you tamper it with your teeth, “I don’t believe flattery helps your aim, Jace.”

At his nickname, his cheeks seem to glow – a name he’d insisted you’d call him in the dark solitude of the Godswood during his initial visit to Winterfell those many moons ago. 

He shakes his head, ever the charming Prince: “My aim is of no consequence. I am more than content to watch you hit the mark every time.”

The space between you has begun to narrow, and you can just make out the freckles which kiss the bridge of his nose. You hold the bow to him, “Come now, my prince.” You insist – and he acquiesces, stepping forward with a growing smirk. 

You, in effort to see the blush upon his cheeks again, send him a smile. “Aim for the center, and you might impress me.” 

The look he gives you is mildly amused; his shoulders, proud and brushing against yours as he handles your weapon. Deft fingers wrap around the bow as he tries to mimic your stance; and it is rather clear, as it’s been the handful of times you’ve seen him in the yard sparring, that he is far more comfortable with a sword in his hand than a bow. 

And your smile grows at this; the heir to the Iron Throne, trying to impress you with a weapon that is not his own. 

Your amusement is not so concealed; in a moment, he glances to you and huffs, arms still stretched to aim for the target. “I see your confidence growing, my lady,” he chides, and you lift a brow – he grins boyishly, eyes returning to the target, “Perhaps you mean to humble me.”

A feigned thoughtfulness as you tilt your head, tresses of silken hair glinting against your furs, “Humble you, Jace?” You feign surprise, blossoming at the growing smile upon his countenance, “That seems an impossible task.” 

There's a warmth lying low beneath your jest – and whatever sharpness delivers with your wit is softened by the candid affection you hold for your newly betrothed. He laughs, and it is a song you wish to remember for the rest of your years.  

His cheeks are that same very pink you’ve cherished for many moons - and he lets the arrow fly; though it strikes the target, it lands fingers shy of the center, and you conceal a laugh. 

Your prince sends you a look, and though his mouth opens with some likely sharp words of humility, he is interjected by another voice in the yard. 

“–Impressive,” Cregan’s voice cuts through the morning wind, startling you and Jacaerys alike. Jacaerys turns, hands lowering the bow as he nods almost sheepishly; Cregan steps closer – an expression only mildly imbued with amusement. 

He regards you first, then your betrothed. “I see our prince has found a new skill.” 

Flustered as though caught stealing wine from the feast table, you busy yourself adjusting the bowstring; and though Jacaerys chuckles, the sound is tight. 

“It seems I’ll need more practice,” He says easily, eyes flickering to your own warm gaze and leaping away when heat creeps onto your cheeks. Cregan merely claps him on the shoulder, a grin small and amused upon his visage, “Come with me, then. You’d best not distract my sister.”

A sheepish glance with hot cheeks between you and Jacaerys before you bow to him, sending a sharp glance to your brother.

The two leave you to your practice in search of a hearth in which to discuss before; and you nod to them, cheeks alight and eyes trailing over the silver dragon holding together the Prince’s furs. 

THE DAY JACAERYS TELLS YOU IS A DAY BROUGHT ON BY A SQUALL OF ICE AND SNOW.

Since his arrival, days have fallen in succession of clear skies and silent winds; and with the weather has brought a change in your betrothed. You have spent most days watching frost curl over begging pines from your chamber windows with growing unease - though your warmth is still shared well and kind between you, Jacaerys grows agitated in his time away from the war; a thing you understand too well, and wish to ease in the coming days. 

And, unlike the days of his arrival, there is too much to do now to any longer relish in the still-present small moments – the times which bring in the smell of holly and pine, of clove and spiced wine, of wide smiles and the steaming scales of your betrothed’s ancient accompaniment. 

The wedding has been planned – and in only a few more days, you and Jacaerys will become one; you will whisper words long thought and wondered, you will bind your palms, you will share your blood. 

Though in no way unsure of the union, still lingers the presence of something unspoken – in the growingly distant amber eyes, in the insecure stuttering of words, in the shaky palm which soothes over your own underneath leathered gloves. It seems Jacaerys furrows his brow in riddles more and more these days – and a darkness follows, some weight that brings his lips to drop and his voice to taper in the ends of sentences. 

You have begun to wonder once more why indeed a union between you and Jacaerys was so suddenly proposed by the Queen. 

Your breath shows against the casement; The day has brought with it more than a chill – and in search of an excuse, you wonder if the Prince has drawn a large enough hearth, if he has found furs thick enough to stave the chill. Yourself, a girl sewn and grown from Northern soils, still finds a strike of shiver from your veins when you rise from your own hearth; and so, with a small flash of worry and a gathering of pelts from your own bed, you set off to the guest quarters. 

JACAERYS SITS BEFORE HIS HEARTH. 

He welcomes you with a nod and a gesture to join him upon the settee; you deposit the armful of furs upon his bed with a gentle breath and murmured words – and though it is well into the morning by now, Jacaerys looks as though sleep evaded him in the night previous – teeth-bitten lips, mussed curls, a heavy gaze that lingers upon the melting flakes of snow in your hair. 

It is only moments of gentle conversation; a tale of the nesting owl above your chambers that brings a gleaming smile to Jace's eyes, a wonder of the turned crops coming from the Neck; mere half-hour passes before he, ever mindful, shifts towards your visage. 

“What troubles you?” he wonders – a stare that leaks with some unknown vulnerability, that stiffness that has still pervaded the pair of you despite your comfortability. 

And perhaps that very observation is it; you swallow down the rising resistance - a melting of icy hesitance, a heavy weight shared between shoulders so different yet destined.

Jacaerys watches unblinking – you notice for perhaps the first time the signet ring that perches upon his smallfinger, glinting black and ruby in the daylight. Your own ring – a wolf, dark and proud, sits upon your middle; and you wonder how indeed a wolf will fare in a den of dragons. 

You’ve spent enough time with Jacaerys – though this has been swaddled in the nest of the North; your own comfort of life, of family and that sweet soul-binding heritage. Perhaps what troubles you is this – of the impending binding of your life to his own by duty and blood: To know him and be known for the rest and beyond; of fighting a war not of your own making but of your own fate – and yet, with your love and devotion for him fostered and growing, leaking from your very core, it still feels foreign.

“I do not know,” you admit in a surge of emotion, glancing into the open pit of emotion within his gaze. “I cannot help but wonder…why,” you utter slowly, eyes shifting under the uncomfortable embrace of vulnerability. 

And his own vulnerability shows upon his sleeve as he turns to face you fully, drawn in silhouette from the glowing embers that warm the chill in your heart. “Why?” He repeats, eyes searching your own. 

You do not fear your betrothed; you know nothing but faith and conviction laced between your hand and his own. Jacaerys is of good blood; not in the sense perhaps that his ancestors might boast, but that of the same very blood your Northern people acclaim – honorable.

He, even in the unlikely instance of a lack of a lasting affection or love, will always hold you honorably as his wife, and in time his Queen – and this, indeed, you hold in common.

You will perhaps always hold flame for Jacaerys, even if time passes in your marriage and he does not hold such equal affections – and this is some comfort in itself, to know that he will protect you no matter where you lie within his heart. 

 Your words come easier in the passing moment, as Jacaerys awaits your gospel with the veneration of a knelt pilgrim – and you come to understand that somewhere within his breast is a flame alight; an affection returned, with your name burning there. 

Your lips part, and his eyes track the motion. 

“Our union. It is…” You swallow, “Unusual.” 

Your heart aches only in the flickered trace of sorrow that paints his gaze; he leans back to the settee, an expression clouded by unnamed emotions. It is not any absence of affection, then, from either of you – a coupling not lacking in love, then, but instead marked by a trace of fate that drags your heart into worry. 

After some time, your prince speaks. “It is rather custom to marry within the bloodline,” Jacaerys admits, hesitating. Amber eyes, flickering deep into the hearth, as if trying to light the embers that die down with just his stare; you wonder, faintly, if he could. His words are an echo of many nights swirling in doubt above your bedposts – and to hear them, a warmth of relief in your breast.

 “But there are other duties,” He murmurs, “–ones that even the Gods cannot ignore.” 

His tone has reduced to a rather trance-like state; your eyes, roaming the rich of his furs before focusing in the distance; a ring of clouds, circling the light of the sun just out of view. 

Beams of heavenly breath, breaking through the cold sky; a break in the squall, some gasp of mercy from the Old Gods – and a ring of light, sprouting from Jacaerys’s head. It is some ancient song, an echoing you’ve only truly felt in the silence of the crypts low below your feet – you blink twice at the sight of such a reverent sight, his grace outlined in the slope of his nose, the pout of his lips. 

His voice is lower than a whisper when it comes once more. 

“Aegon.” 

Rather struck by the light of heaven’s breath breaking around Jacaerys, your brows furrow; you tilt your head, rising to follow as your betrothed leaves the settee. His eyes are stuck on the flutter of snowflakes from the heavens, his back aflame with the fire of the hearth – and he stops before the window, blinking away frost. 

An odd, ancient feeling stirs in your mind – your shoulder brushes the fine tailoring of his cloak as you join him at the casement overlooking the Godswood; Your voice is clear against the blanket of quiet. 

“The Usurper?” 

His lips are pursed for a moment before a gentle shake of his head. “The Conqueror.” 

It is once again awakened – this seed of uncertainty, the knowledge of the trickling poison which drips from the old blood of Valyria and poisons the minds of those men upon their Stone – but you tilt your head to your Prince, considering his words. 

A breath that plumes against the crawling chill of snow, and Jacaerys’ voice is distant once more. 

 “I’ve heard his song.” 

Perhaps Jacaerys has been kept inside too long: In that way the cold can take a man’s mind – curl around it with frost, trickle ice into veins so sewn with fire; turn him mad. 

You take a small step closer; cold air upon your face, the warmth of his arm brushed against the peak of your shoulder.

It is an attempt, youthful and unsure, at comfort – though he accepts it as he turns to look at you. A gentle gaze, the kind he’s always saved for you, warming the side of your visage; you’re much too gone in thought, eyes stuck at the peek of red bleeding through the pines in the distance. 

The leaves are frosted, though they remain ever crimson, ever watching. You whisper to Jacaerys, eyes upon the godswood. 

“Dead men don’t sing, my prince.”

YOU FIND YOURSELF REFRESHED IN THE BREAK OF WINTERSNOW THAT AFTERNOON.

The Godswood; a sheltered overhang provided by the sprawling branches of the Weirwood – your knees floated within the chasmous snow pelted fresh-fallen and sweet onto the frozen earth.

Jacaerys rests near you – perched on what below lies a boulder, he watches the flakes fall gentle onto the surface of the pooled spring behind you, your quiet words deadened in the blanket of snow. 

The wind is forgiving today – and you can only hope, as you rise from your knelt position before the tree, that it will extend its mercy unto the ceremony in three day’s time. 

There is only the plume of your breath and the muffled compaction of your boots against the settled snow that accompany the short distance to your betrothed. 

Steam rises in tendrils from the warmth of the pond’s depths; a simmering fate from the icy flakes which flutter onto its surface, giving the last breath of their life in sacrifice for its own. 

“How fares Vermax?” 

Your voice carries with it that sullen evergreen repose – Jace looks up at you from where he sits, a small smile gracing his countenance. “He has found a cave to the West.” 

You nod with a knowing smile, lowering yourself to perch beside your betrothed upon the soft snowed earth, your furs dark against the bright kiss of the Gods. “I wondered if he might,” You murmur, recalling the natural springs not unlike the one you sit before; their warmth a relief to any who are graced by their presence within the caves of the slopes. “It would do him well to return home soon.” You murmur, eyes roving over the hands, ungloved and calloused with cold and fight, which rest in Jacaerys’ lap. 

Perhaps in resistance to the weather or from the heat of your attention, he flexes his lithe fingers; and with the breath he takes, he looks to you. “He’s never quite agreed with the North.” He admits with a soft smile. You nod thoughtfully, wondering indeed how such a being of fire could fare against the land of ice. 

“And his rider?” You wonder then, eyes hinged on a swaying pine in the distance, its needles shed of snow as a pile falls to the ground. 

Jacaerys looks at you with that expression once more – a warm one, but one hesitant by nature. “I’d say he is learning to weather it,” Jacaerys answers with a lingering smile, though his gaze shifts momentarily to the horizon, where the faintest sliver of dusk begins to creep through the flurry of snowflakes. “He's come to learn that it grows on a man, much like its people.”

Your lips curve in a bout of shy flattery, and you shake your head. 

A loss for words stretches on into more; the water is calm in its reflection, and you watch snowflakes flutter from the stretch of gray, kissing your hair and tangling in your lashes. The clearing is large, though still so very intimate – it is not long before your thoughts meander to the days ahead, to the many preparations still to be done despite your moment of respite. 

After a beat, you speak into the blanket of quiet. 

“Three days.” You muse, blinking away flurries of white and turning to your betrothed. “Does it not feel strange to you, that in so little time, we are to be bound?”

Jace exhales, his breath clouding the air which swirls before you, and you look up to him in wait. He tilts his head just so, blinking away flakes as they come to kiss his flushed skin. You watch them melt to his lips with some faint lick of envy. 

His voice is hardened by the deadened air of winter, though you know there is nothing but kindness laced within. “There is no hesitation in me, if that is what you ask.”

A warmth pools within you at his chosen words, at the thought of he and you, under the very tree which you now sit, joint in hands and bound by blood. 

Perhaps it is that small yearning that festers unsaid in your heart – or it is the residual worry of his words of songs and men long-dead this morning in his chambers; but you press on gently. “And why is that, my Prince?” 

He looks into your eyes, then – and you see some search for verity amidst the downfall of snow; your fingers are cold, and they itch to hold his own. “Do you hold your own reservations?” In his tone holds no such judgement; merely the curiosity of a boy no older than one and twenty – and you, in the same turn of years, shake your head. 

“No, I–” Your lip is bitten once more, and his eyes remain upon them despite the flush on your cheeks. “I suppose I just wish to know,” You whisper, swallowing thickly, “If it is all… for strategy.” 

Jacaerys takes a moment; you allow it, watching as the flakes fall into the curls, as his eyes skim over the Northern edge of Winterfell, falling somewhere far, far beyond. “It is not simply a duty for me,” He chooses, tracing your visage with the care befitting of one who’s known you for life. “I believe you know this.” 

And perhaps you do; you smile under his accusation, tilting your head. “I suppose so, though I should like to hear you say it,” You admit, looking towards the very horizon he’d worried over. A murder of ravens, cutting dark through the gray blur of afternoon. “You speak too much in riddles these days.” 

It seems as though your words penetrate whatever foggy worries swirl within his sharp mind; and he nods solemnly. 

“You’re right,” and his voice is quieter now, guarded; unsure whether to reveal what such odd whisperings might mean. “I must have you know,” he starts, glancing to you, “that my care for you goes beyond duty.” 

His words are a balm to the brunt of fate that now befalls you; his cheeks as pink as your own, and he whispers kindly. “I have long held an affection for you in my heart, and hoped you might feel the same.” 

Any words of agreement are halted upon your lips when Jacaerys takes another breath, one laced with the weight of a realm divided: “But after Lucerys…” He clears his throat once more and you are struck with his pain.

Your palm finds his knee in some hope of comfort provided; his own falls atop it. “Princess Rhaenys and Meleys fell at Rooks Rest while I travelled North; a war wages still - and yet I had to come. I know you wonder why, and you deserve to know.” 

And you wait with breath bated, as you have for many days in wonder of why indeed now seemed fit for the Prince to come to the North for you. 

“My mother… shared something,” he begins once more, his tone low, “Passed down through our blood, through King and King – from long before Viserys, to my mother, and now me... A prophecy.” 

Your stomach has grown a pit of anticipation, some dreadful cloud gathering above you. Your Prince blinks to you shortly, brows drawn in consternation - as though it is a far crime and violation, what he is to tell you. 

And then he begins: words strung with the cloudiness of destiny, of doubt lingering in a stream of worry – and you sway where you repose, in a blinking dread when mentions come of a common enemy, of a terrible winter long to come.

And you, then, are struck with thoughts – of the long nights at Castle Black; of the men who patrol the wild lands, who speak in hushed voices and train with hard hands – of the old memory of Death, which lingers in the dreams of Northern children and on the tongues of Septas sat before hearths. 

You turn your gaze from the Weirwood’s branches above to Jacaerys, who looks out over the horizon to the breath of twilight leaking through.

A song – a dead man’s dream; of the ice of the north, he explains, and the fire of Valyria. 

It is a cold many minutes in which you breathe, a dread lingering between you and your beloved prince, hands clasped together and hearts beating as one. It does not do well to play on a foolish man’s beliefs – though your prince is no foolish man, and the hands of fate are too tightly bound. 

“You speak of fire and blood,” you whisper finally, “Of dreams that burn through the night?” 

The eve that falls is quiet, and the wind forgives your trespassing. He nods solemnly, your prince; and his absence of further response lets your mind wander.

Swirls of snow dance along the footprints left in your previous wake; the wind blows strands of hair across your vision.

Jacaerys’ eyes are amber pools and you drown in them, in the heat that has grown in the knowledge of words dreamt by a long dead man, in the legacy which leaks through each new crowned Targaryen. You drown in the knowledge that perhaps, in some way, a truth rings within this so-believed prophecy; secret as the lands which lie far to the North.

Your lips are wetted gently, shaking your head as you continue your thought. “But magic does not only run hot,” you murmur, “It does not only belong to the South.” 

His expression turns – and a weight which indeed shrouds him finds you too, cocooning you and your betrothed, binding you with threads of fate long ago tied and drawn. The woods whistle with the breath of winter, and you hear their song. 

“It is in the roots of the tree, in the bones of this land,” You admit, “My ancestors prayed to the Old Gods, and in return they whispered in the wind, spoke in the silence. And they, too, endure.”

Jacaerys shifts beside you and your palm is taken into the cradle of both his own. “I do not wish to burden you with such things.” He murmurs - and a memory of your brother's same words the day this very betrothal became so; it is forever, then, that the men of your life will wish to protect you from harm.

In the moment’s breath, you speak quietly: “–But such things are ours now, are they not?” You wonder aloud; and in the relief of a smile, he nods smally.

“There are threats to face sooner; I know it is no small ask to bring you into the throes of conflict. But perhaps our blood,” He murmurs, cheeks tinged pink, “might one day save the Realm.” 

An odd thought – but still one that does not change the truth: You go into the heart of the fire in three days’ time; but you will go with Jacaerys, and you will not be alone. A wolf in the South – and a dragon by her side. 

In the lingering peace of companionship, Jacaerys huffs gently. “I wish I could have done more,” He murmurs, “Ensured a proper betrothal.” His cheeks remain stained in that crimson colour against the fading light of the sky, and you resist the longing feeling to feel his lips against your own. 

You laugh, a short thing in the muffled quiet, “It matters not, Jace,” You promise, a smile small and kind upon your visage. In his shift, you slide gently between his knees – and your palms squeeze his own. 

“I’d have courted you,” He insists in that boyish nature you remember from those moons ago – and the air that’d frozen your lungs in the moments fallen behind has thawed into a budding giddiness. You smile at his tone, tilting your head. “Is that right, my Prince?” You tease, lifting your brow, “Taken me for strolls in the gardens, picked me flowers?” 

His smile is so boyish and hopeful; your heart skips as he nods. “Of course.” His grin grows softer as you shift. 

It is when the space between you narrows in a moment that you purse your lips gently, eyes tracing the curve of his own cherried lips. “Though my duty is to the North, it is also to the Queen,” You begin. His eyes fall to your own lips. “And to you. I hold love for you in my heart, Jacaerys,” You admit, cheeks warm, “And I am quite pleased to be your wife.” 

His hand leaves your own – and in its ascent, you see a slight tremor; when your face is cradled by his palm, you let your eyes flutter shut. 

It is only a momentary shock when lips, cold and light, press to your eyelid; a brushing so gentle, you wonder if it will not melt into the snow itself. 

Jacaerys’ breath lingers, a quiet warmth as he moves to your other eye, kissing away the flakes of snow which cling to you in reverence. A stirring in your breast as your hands find his cloaked arms, strong beneath your grasp; a whisper into the earth around you as snow falls. 

He pulls away only in a plume of warm breath that you feel against your visage; your eyes open to find his own, warm and wanting. A fire burns in you, and it calls his name – somewhere in the distance, Vermax roars. The edges of the pond lap over a small crust of ice, and your touch warms against your betrothed. 

“I was made for you,” He murmurs, lips chilled against your warm cheek; and you believe it. He says your name, and it falls from bitten lips with a desperation that sets your nerves ablaze; "I will love you with everything I am," He promises; and fingers trace the curve of your jaw, a gentle thing – a lingering of breath with your own, a hitch to your lungs as desire claws at your throat. Your smile is small and melts under the weight of heat.

In a moment, you cannot bear the space which lingers, small and unforgiving, between you; Without hesitation, your palms slide over his furs, kissed with snow – and soon, you card your hands through the curls at the nape of your betrothed’s neck. 

It is a pull towards your awaiting lips, and soon Jacaerys kisses you soundly. 

Hands slide to your waist, dropping from your jaw to cradle you between his legs, flush in the heat of shared life; and you, a blossoming flutter of affection and anticipation for nights to come. Hands tremble – yours, around his neck, his, curved around your waist. 

The snow falls heavier still – and a howl of wind that blows you closer to Jace, a short share of giggles between you, giddy and alight with some small kernel of hope. The Godswood is quiet, and your lips slide together in a shy, lingering sweetness; he pulls away from you only to press small kisses upon each exposed breath of skin you offer, and you laugh into the quiet, heart beating as one. 

“I am yours.” 

And for some time, a soft exploration of affections beneath the sprawling limbs of the tree – and the words fall from lips taking and giving, smiling and sighing, pursuing and pressing. 

The woods sing with the bells when supper is called; and so with hair tangled, cheeks warm, you rise together. 

Arm in arm, your betrothed and you retrace footprints kissed with the gift of fresh-fallen snow; words quiet and half-burdened with the weight of the future – but still remains the lingering of hope, the promise of love even in the dreary eve of fate. 

The Godswood of Winterfell echo softly with footfall; The warmth of the Great Hall awaits you both. Jacaerys presses a kiss to your knuckles, and you push open the doors together.

taglist & mutuals <3 ; @dipperscavern @oldtowrs @systraes @lukehughes43 @rhea-ripley @jottositto @earth4angels @mattnott @divinesolas @hxtd @housetargaryenloyalist @bucksplum @v3lary0ns @princessvelaryon @princessbellecerise @vee-mage @bitchydragonparadisee @elaena-aerrin @kenna-the-cosmic @xxselenite @smurfelle @alyssa-dayne @uhnanix @still-jon-snow @astrxq @cregan-starks

[martinluvrr]

NUMBER ONE | KATE MARTIN

⋅˚₊‧ kate martin x actress!reader

⋅˚₊‧ summary: after 6 years, were still each others number ones.

⋅˚₊‧ part two!!! || nav

It’s been 6 years, 6 years since you last saw Kate. In real life. The stalker in you, stayed home and watched as she stood from the audience, drafted by the Las Vegas Aces.

Happy. Proud. Overjoyed. Excited for her.

but also Sad. Desperate. Disappointed that you weren’t there with her.

She was your first girlfriend, the first gay experience you’ve ever had. You always are a little ashamed about still thinking about her, since it’s literally been 6 years and she was your high school sweetheart.

She was 16, you were 15 when you both met. You had been a shy kid and she was a basketball player. You were still at a time that you were questioning your sexuality. Being 15 and gay when you were mostly straight you’re whole life, definitely left you a little scared and shocked.

For a year, you were both friends. In the same friend group and circle, but Kate had a liking to you and mostly was overprotective of you. She would always get your drinks at a party, and would never let you take them from someone else. She would always walk you home and would never walk away until she was sure you were home, safe. Whenever it was just the two of you she would always pay, and she opened the door for you or pull your chair back. In other words, she was basically your girlfriend, but you didn't know it yet. It was clear to everyone that you liked each other. but Kate was too afraid to ask you out in worries that she would ruin your friendship.

After a year, you both started dating. Halloween night you couldn't wait any longer and kissed her, and that started everything. Neither of you asked officially but you didn’t need to. Kate was basically yout girlfriend to everyone around you. And she nor you, didn't need to ask each other because you knew, Kate was yours and you were Kates. “Y/n’s my girlfriend” she introduced you.

She was your best friend, girlfriend, your biggest supporter.

So when she committed to Iowa, you were -of course- happy for her, but also very devastated. You were going to Cambridge, literally a whole continent away, and a wayy different time zone. And while you two didn't fight about anything, you could smell it brewing. So when it finally came, you weren't surprised. She said some things, and you said some things. But the thing that surprised the most, was the state you were in the end. Hysterically crying while Kate held you, and Kate was also close to crying, but she didn't want to make it worse. So you both dreaded the last day, graduation. You kissed each other one last time before parting ways. "You'll always be my number one" You said to her. She smiled before placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

But somehow you could feel the pit in your stomach telling you that this wasn't over, this was just 'see you later'.

✩

After a year in uni , you got your first gig. And a big one. Season 9 of Suits was not just any job, but the job. It was the one that got you the job after, To all the boys. After that they just kept on coming. Of course you were happy, excited but there was always a part of you that wondered if Kate was watching. When you won your first oscar, best actress, you even said a little joke in your speech. "And to anyone tempted to kiss the Tv tonight, please don't chip your tooth' You laughed, and so did the room filled with movies stars. Was Kate watching? Did she laugh?

When 2020 rolled around and everybody started watching women college basketball, they were too late. You had started 2 years earlier. A little stalker-ish since she was your ex, but hey, no one knew and there isn't anything wrong with a guilty pleasure.

And in 2022 when pictures of you and high school Kate rolled around, it was a media circus. Theories, speculations and very very personal questions were asked every time you had press for 4 months. And when you finally addressed it, you thought it was best for you to say.

"It's definitely crazy how they found those photos but yeah me and her were kinda friends"

"Were? Bad blood?"

"No absolutely none, wish her the best" You smiled and ushered the interviewer to move on from the topic.

It was for the best, you hadn't publicly came out and she didn't either, even though everybody seemed to know. While you addressed it like that, she didn't at all. Literally when she was asked, the media person of Iowa WCBB literally told everybody media time was over. Kate looked relieved and your heart broke a little.

Fast forward 2 years later, the Las Vegas Aces happened. Literally the country you've been in for a year. You saw the updates, you saw the games and you were so happy for her. This was the goal, this was what she was meant to be.

So when you and your co stars were invited to a game, you didn't have a choice. If you didn't show up, you looked suspicious, so you figured you would go, watch, take some photos and leave as fast you could, hoping you wouldn't run into her. As if she would ever wanna run into you, in the first place.

So here you were, courtside tickets, next to your 5 costars and your media manager. You saw her, she saw you. Eye contact with her still gave you butterflies, when you broke it. You could still feel her eyes at the side of your face.

"Y/n we need you in the locker room, players want some photo and we need media" Aria, your shows media manager, broke you out of daydreaming. Y/n nodded towards, giving her approval.

"You okay?" Emma -your costar- asked, you gave her a small smile before nodding. The sound of the final buzzer came, and while the Aces celebrated. You dreaded whatever would happen in the next hour.

When you and your costars were ushered in the locker room, you made sure to put up a smile and not look stressed. When you see Kate in the back, she gives a small mischievous smile, you give a wide grin at her.

While the room is distracted, you make her way towards her. When there's finally 7 feet distance, you find yourself stopping, not knowing what to do next. Then you finally hear her voice.

"Y/n"

"Martin"

a long pause, longing in both of your eyes.

"Well aren't you going to hug me?" She said, arms wide opened and eyes filled with smug. That was the push you needed, cause next thing you know, is her arms around you and your head in her chest.

To anyone watching this was intimate, but you didn't care.

"Missed me?" You heard her mumble against your heard.

"Hardly" You teased, and pulled away. You know are aware of the 3 players in the corner watching you two. Kate took a step back, and started admiring you. From the knee boots, to the skirt, to your ass.

"Look at you, big movie star"

"You're one to talk, money martin" you said using her now popular nickname. You heard her laugh, before turning around and introducing you to her new teammates. You 5 had a little conversation, it was clear that the both of you were making heart eyes to each other.

"Y/n we need you for media" Aria pulled you out of the conversation, Y/n nodded, a dread feeling coming over her. She turned to Kate and the next words Kate said were "I'll come pick you up tomorrow". She didn't ask, didn't need to. You nodded before saying goodbye to her teammates, the three had teasing eyes for Kate.

And when you started walking away, you heard Kate yell for you, turning to wait for her, you hear her say "You look good" , you knew the tone, it was said teasingly.

"I know" you laughed and turned away walking towards the door, but not before hearing her team hyping her up.

✩

[inuyashaluver]

Firstly wanted to say thank you for your fics, they NEVER disappoint 🫶

And I wanted to request something with Grace Clinton, maybe a soft/hard launch with a non-footballer gf?

girlfriend - grace clinton

grace clinton x reader

description: in which your girlfriend is tired of keeping the love of her life a secret, thus, you get a special invitation to her debut with her national team

warnings: nothing really!! not proofread because its me

a/n: STOPPP, thank you so much for the love and support you are so incredibly sweet, please enjoyyyyy, i'm rusty like don't mind me AHHAHAH, clearing out my drafts and requests as we speak!!

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, grace, long story short are soulmates. you have known grace pretty much your entire life and have never felt such a huge amount of love for anyone as much as you did with her. 

grace has always been in love with you, she doesn’t remember a time where she hasn’t been. and that just sums up your entire relationship, completely and utterly in love.

—

you and grace have known each other ever since you were 7. you were both placed in the same class at school, grace known for her class clown personality while you just smiled at her antics while working on your studies.

you two gravitated towards each other quicker than ever expected, being the best of friends until you were both 17 and grace finally asked you to be her girlfriend. an absolute surprise to not only the both of you, but everyone else around you. 

while grace was playing football, you were her biggest cheerleader on the side, her ‘lucky charm’ as she loved to call you. you did absolutely everything together, the best partner for life.

in your adult lives, you moved in together, grace playing football while you were in veterinarian school. it worked so well, it was so effortless, so easy and it was absolutely the best.

—

you had the privilege of being able to travel around the uk as grace joined different clubs, and grace was so incredibly grateful for you. 

something to know about your girlfriend, she was incredibly private. grace hated the thought of you being a secret but she was so protective.

she often had nightmares of you being found by crazy friends and getting harassed, and that was why she kept you private. her work and social life completely separate.

you didn’t mind it, you and grace were secure amongst yoursleves and within your relationship to not find it offensive. you both loved each other and that was all that really mattered.

all her teammates, your friends and family knew about your relationship and knew how much you meant to each other, and that was enough for both of you.

there were subtle hints here and there, people knew grace had a partner, she just didn’t want to give anyone details. both of your instagrams had soft hints towards your relationship, but nothing too obvious or completely out there.

you would come to every match without fail, always waiting for her at the end of the match.

—

she spots you sitting in the stands, clad in her jersey with a proud smile on your face as you watched her sign things and take photos with fans. she felt herself grow shy at the pure look of admiration on your face.

when people began to leave, she smiles over at you, you smile at the girl, nodding your head flirtily as she gave you a cheeky wave with a wink.

she gestures to the tunnel, meaning to follow her to the back later on. you nod, laughing at her cheeky antics, you pucker your lips up jokingly and she rolls her finger in a circle to hint for you to hurry up so she could say hello.

you wait for her in the carpark, perched up against your shared car, she rushes out excitedly, clearly out of breath but she smiles so brightly when she sees you, her most favourite person in the entire world.

you open your arms out to her expectantly and she walks into them with a relieved breath, hugging you around the middle tightly.

“hi, baby” she whispered in your ear, her lips giving you a subtle kiss on the shell of your ear. “hi, gracie girl”, you chuckle, rubbing your hands up and down her back before you pulled apart, puckering your lips up at her teasingly. she smirks, her hand cupping the underside of your jaw to pull you into a loving kiss. 

“i missed you” she breathes out against your lips, you smile, pecking them, “i missed you too, baby, two hours is way too long” you chuckle mockingly, kissing her a little longer this time.

she smiles in the kiss, drawing you in closer with her hands on your waist, “two hours felt like two days” she mocks, giving your hips a gentle squeeze as she walked you to the passenger side of the car, opening the door for you and closing it once you were seated.

“you played so well today, gracie baby” you smile at her when she puts her seatbelt on, she grins so sheepishly, cheeks pink no matter the time or place when it came to you.

“cause you were there” she shakes her head in your face, kissing your lips tenderly before she grabbed your hand to hold as she drove.

—

when grace got transferred to tottenham, things fast tracked. 

“baby, it’s only fair” grace groans, flopped on top of you as you were under the covers in the early hours of the morning. “gracie, i love you, but please, no” you beg, speaking up from under the blanket.

she sighs, smushing her face into your stomach over the blanket, “babe!” she yells, muffled by the blankets, you rip the blankets off your face, giving her your best scowl when she looked up at you from the movement.

“please, no, it’s too early” you exclaim, grace smiles at you, clearly amused by your attempt at anger on your features. “you got to pick dinner, and the movie last night” grace reminds, “i knew you let me pick because you wanted something,” you tutt, shaking your head.

she gasps, her hand clutching her chest, “i would do no such thing!” she moves up to straddle your waist as you hold yourself up by your elbows.

“my ass” you whisper, letting your girlfriend press a sweet kiss to your lips, “please” she pouts. her hands moving the blanket off you to hold your waist, kissing you again. you hum against her, clearly her little plan had worked.

“please come to training” she whispers, her words fluttering over your lips. you roll your eyes fondly, nodding and letting your girlfriend kiss your cheeks repeatedly, pulling you up from the bed excitedly.

the girl had already picked out your clothes, that’s how confident she was that she could get you to come to training with her. her separation anxiety was real.

you laugh when you see the ‘clinton’ hoodie on the top of the pile of clothes, shaking your head but putting it on anyway.

and when you both arrived at training, and you were seen in the training video wearing that hoodie, the questions and speculation were growing tenfold. who was this girl grace brought to training?

you and grace had been chatting after all the bombarding questions reached both of your phones. and you both decided, maybe it was time to put your relationship out in the open. although you both had your worries, you just didn’t want to hide anymore. 

and so after careful deliberation, you and grace would make your relationship official in her debut match for the senior lioness team.

—

grace was so jittery in her hotel room this morning, aggie had to message you that your girlfriend was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. you call her and she picks up a couple seconds after you press the call button.

“baby” she breathes out, clutching onto the phone as she talked to you, “hi, babe, you okay?” you ask her, phone on speaker as you get ready for the game. “i’m okay, just nervous” you hum at her words, “and that’s okay, baby” you remind her and she instantly calms down.

“yeah, i know” she sighs, “i miss you, i can’t wait to see you tonight” she grins, fiddling with the ends of her shorts. you giggle into the phone, “i miss you too baby, i’m very excited to see you” you both chatter back and forth before you hung up.

“i better see clinton on your back, babe, i love you!” she calls out into the phone before she hangs up, getting rushed onto the bus. you laugh, already wearing the england jersey with your girl’s name on the back. like you were a rooke, tsk.

—

you sat with her family in the stands, understanding why grace was so jittery. you watch her train and she looks pale, there’s so much riding on this. she wants to do well, she needs to do well. she needs to impress you.

she waves at you shyly when she spots you, you smile at her brightly, holding your hands up in a heart shape to make her giggle, and it thankfully works. she mimics your gesture, making you giggle as well. you both calmed down after that.

—

the match concludes and she does extremely well, the look of pride on both of your faces was infectious. you cheer loudly when they do a lap of appreciation. and like usual, when she completes her signatures and pictures and walks over to the friends and family section. 

she smiles up at you from the bottom of the pitch, ushering with her hand to come down to where she was.

you smile at her shyly, walking around others to reach her, and when you do, you don't think you’ve ever seen her smile so brightly. “hello, beautiful” she pulls you in by your waste to hug you tenderly, kissing your cheek before she rests her head on your shoulder to feel closer to you. 

“hi, superstar” you hug her tightly, the barrier making it a little difficult but you both didn’t care. she pulls back to look at you, to really look at you. she may have just debut and reached one of biggest goals of her life, but you’re really the best achievement in her life.

“you’re sure about this?” grace questions, eyes flickering between your own in concern, you smile softly, brushing a stray hair from her forehead and tucking it tenderly behind her ear.

“i’m sure, lovey” she smiles at your words, breathing out happily as she took in your appearance before she placed her hand onto your jaw.

she pulls you into a soft kiss, tame for the public but so incredibly meaningful. you hear the distant cheering of everyone, but it's drowned out with feeling grace’s lips move with yours. it lasts for a couple seconds before she pulls away, resting her forehead on yours.

both of you smile, holding each other tightly, slightly in shock that you were both now official to the public. “finally” she teases, pinching your hip, you laugh, hitting her arm softly before leaning in to peck her lips.

you both see people holding up phones, chattering and talking about the two of you but you both really didn’t care. you had each other and that is all that matters.

though, what you both didn’t expect was the overwhelming amount of support you both gained out of this. the worry was honestly for nothing.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you!! ily celin

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graceclinton_x: she's a big softy

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[whowrotethenote]

𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Summary: What starts off as a regular Spring Break attending Wrestlemania for Alana, takes an unexpected turn, landing her in a fantasy come to life. The Tribal Chief is in need of unwinding after his victory and he chose her.

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Black Fem OC

Warnings: NSFW // Smut // Age gap // Profanity // Adultery

Word count: 8.9k (sorry lol)

Inspo: Biggest Fan by Chris Brown

A/N: This took way longer than it should've, but I'm actually proud of myself for finishing. Y'all don't know how many times I've started writing something in the past and never finish. There's drafts of unfinished everything on my laptop.

This is my first time posting my writing on any platform. I hope y'all like it. I tried to proofread as much as I can, but I'm honestly tired of reading it lol. I feel like I'm going to realize its shit and delete it all.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any media posted. Credit to their respective owners.

I do not consent to any portion of my writing to be reproduced or used in any manner without expressed written permission of myself, with the exception for the use of brief quotations.

This story is completely fictional. With the exception of OCs, I do not own any characters in this story. The pictures posted are for the intention of face claims and imaginative purposes. The ideas, stories, scenarios, and characters you are about to read about are a mixture of my imagination, and inspiration from real life whether it be loosely based on people I know or public figures. By no means should you take anything a character thinks, says, or does, as my way of expressing my own interpersonal beliefs and thoughts. The characters are themselves and I am me. Two completely separate entities. I am not trying to promote any lifestyle, ideas, or agendas throughout the book. I am simply telling a story. If you cannot grasp that concept, do not read any further.

“I wonder if the Usos will come out.”

“Yeah, probably,” I respond to my roommate Demi, only half as concerned as she is. The Usos are the last thing on my mind. They’re her choice of poison. I’m here for one man and one man only.

I survey the crowd of strangers surrounding us. All in Bloodline gear waiting for the same thing. The Main Event. They all probably spent a fortune months ago just to be in the very same spot she and I stole tickets for.

It wasn’t on purpose. We originally had nosebleeds. We were lucky to even have those, seeing as we snagged them just days ago. The frail older man outside the doors waving a chunk of tickets in his hand, was an angel in disguise. He waved and waved until two tickets went flying into the thick crowd of people all pushing to just get into the main doors of the building. 

Demi and I searched on hands and feet for those tickets that no one else seemed to be looking for. Imagine our disbelief seeing them all dirtied and stepped on by the door and they read floor seats. Not just any floor seats. The ones located directly next to the entrance ramp with a clear shot of the ring. Fucking jackpot.

don’t be acting all fanned out when he walks by either

I smirk reading the text my brother sent. Yeah, right. Maybe three years ago, a young Alana would’ve woke up tomorrow morning with no voice from losing my shit, watching the Roman Reigns walk by me. But it's not five years ago. I’m not a teenager in my room waiting at the TV with my golden glove on, throwing my one’s up and giving an acknowledgment he couldn’t even see. 

Who am I fooling? That teenage girl, although buried deep, still lives within me. Otherwise I wouldn’t even be here. I wouldn’t have spent the two thousand my dad gave me to enjoy my spring break on a plane ticket to LA, a hotel and tickets to Wrestle-mania 39. I’d be like the rest of the Juniors at my university. Bar hopping in Mexico or in Miami half naked strutting down Collins Ave.

I go back and forth between scrolling on my phone, daydreaming, and loosely watching the matches that come. Before I know it, the moment I’ve been waiting for all night and damn near all my life rises to the forefront.

The lights dim and the first beats of the drums ring loud throughout the stadium, matching the acceleration of my heartbeat. This is really happening. He’s about to come out and walk right past me. Everyone around me pulls their phones out on the ready, accompanied by a roar of screams just as loud as the orchestra performing his music. 

Too concentred on the entry way anticipating his figure, I forget I even have a phone. No, I need to feel this thoroughly. No middle man between me and this unforgettable experience.

We all wait in collaborative angst until his tall figure emerges and my breath gets caught in my throat. The aura and the energy he carries is all consuming, demanding the attention of every person present, even his haters. Solo and Paul flank behind him following his slow and steady pace until he comes to a hard stop. 

The cameraman is dangerously close as he kneels to catch him from an angle down below. This is so surreal. On cue his pyro lights fire, upping the excitement from the crowd if even possible. Everyone is already losing their minds. Even Demi’s screams threatened to take out my right eardrum despite her main infatuation resting with the Usos.

His mesmerizing eyes scan the crowd with a slight nod of approval and then they land on…me? Time stills and I can’t hear the noise around me. Was he staring at me? 

As much as I want to look around for confirmation that his eyes are indeed locked on me, I’m hypnotized. The slight scrunch of his brows and his dark pupils paralyze me in place. Jesus, Lana. Move. Smile. Wave. Shit, do something.

He’s fucking beautiful. Carved from stone. Kissed by the sun. Hair wet and hanging. Ula Fala draping perfectly around his neck. Full beard with a hint of greying. And his chest. God, his chest. His abs rippled perfectly. I’m scared to even blink, at the risk that I’ll miss something.

A thick pink tongue slithers out over his lips and I heat up from the inside out. My god.

In a flash he looks onward to the ring on the move again and the world returns to its original state. 

I turn to face Demi whose eyes are wide like a saucer. “Biiiitch,” she drags out and we break into a fit of laughter.

“Okay, so I’m not bugging?” My brows dent. 

“No. No, I saw it too,” she assures me. “That man was definitely eye fucking you.” My face heats replaying the scene back in my head. “That was so surreal. He’s so much bigger in person…” Her voice trails off once I get lost in my thoughts watching him hold his titles up in the center of the ring. He moves like a king. Like everywhere he goes he expects everyone to bow gracefully and fall at his feet. It makes him even more attractive than just what the eyes can reach. Fuck me. This is going to be a long night.

Demi got her wish. The Usos came out but their stunt didn’t last too long due to an appearance from Sami and Kevin. Somehow, Roman still took home the win. Still the champion. Still on top. Still the man.

The whole match, I could only half way focus on him and his god-like figure moving about in the ring. The other half of me was still stuck in the moment we shared during his entrance. Was he really staring at me?

Call me delusional, but I swear he looked at me two more times. Once during the match, when he kicked out at the last second of Cody’s pin. He struggled to his knees and rested back on his heels to scan the crowd. He stumbled to his feet, but not before those eyes bore a hole into mine for a quick second. Then again, when he won. He held up his titles, chest heaving up and down, then he looked my way with a squint.

“I can’t believe he still won,” Demi practically has to yell as we ease our way through the crowd to leave. “I was sure it was game over when Sami gave him the boot.”

Simultaneously we push through the back entrance doors and let them slam behind us. The slightly chilly night air of April hitting. No more screams. No more crowds. But the rush and aura of the night still lingers on us.

“My man doesn’t take L’s,” I tell her matter-of-factly with my chin up.

“I see,” she laughs.

We were smart. We took an Uber and told him to let us out from almost three blocks away. We follow that same pattern now to avoid the rush and traffic of everybody trying to leave at once. Towards the opposite way of the parking lot, away from the crowds, we start our journey to a quiet block to call the Uber. 

“Wanna hit it?” Demi extends her hand that holds a lit blunt in between her fingers. I shake my head.

“How the hell did you even get that thing in?”

“Tampon,” she informs before pulling from it. Of course. She’s been sneaking weed into parties that way since we were freshmen.

“Excuse me! Ladies!” An authoritative calls from behind causing us both to stop in our tracks. I know that voice. “Excuse me!”

Demi and I lock eyes and at once we do a complete one-eighty to find him practically chasing us down.

“What the fuck?” I hear Demi murmur before he stops in front of us winded.

“Ladies,” he offers one firm nod. “My name is—’’

“Paul Heyman,” we finish for him in unison. 

A smug smile adorns his chubby face. “That’s right.” He holds a hand out and we both just stare at it for a while. After several seconds of an awkward and shocking silence, Demi abruptly shakes his hand and I follow her lead, still trying to make sense of this moment.

“I’ve been sent to relay a message. The Tribal Chief has requested your services for tonight.”

“Services?” The line between Demi’s thoughts and what comes out of her mouth has always been very blurred.

“Yes,” he confirms. In unison we turn just our heads to each other with equal expressions of confusion and disbelief. “You see, The Tribal Chief likes the comfort of company while he’s on the road from time to time.”

“Company, huh?” I catch Demi’s smirk.

“Especially on nights like tonight. You know?” I raise a brow. “All the adrenaline, excitement, and energy from tonight’s match. It's good for him to uh… blow off some steam and unwind.”

I lose count of how many times Demi and I have to exchange looks tonight. Since I’ve met her we’ve always spoke a nonverbal language only we understand. A subtle head nod in the direction of a cute boy in the room, an eye roll when somebody says something problematic, or wide eyes when someone spills tea that we know we’ll have to debrief about later. Tonight, our eyes dance in a mutual agreement that can’t be any clearer. “Hell yeah,” I speak for the first time. 

Demi tosses the lit blunt and we both advance to follow him. “Oh no, I’m sorry. Just you.”

“Me?” I ask with a finger to my chest. He grins slyly nodding.

“I— I don't know.”

“You don’t know?” Demi slaps my arm.

“I’ll need an answer now. Gotta get you to his bus before the real crowd emerges. There’s a few things you need to sign.” Sign? Oh god. This is getting serious.

“M—maybe this is a mix up. Are you sure he asked for me—”

“Bitch.” I’m interrupted by a firm push from Demi toward Paul. My eyes meet her wide ones that scream, “go.”

I look between the both of them. “You’ll be fine getting to the hotel?” I’m not all the way certain how tonight will go, but I have a feeling I won’t be seeing her until tomorrow.

“Girl, don’t worry about me. I’ll always get where I’m going. I should be the last thing on your mind.”

“We can wait until her Uber comes?” I eye Paul who eyes his watch briefly.

“Sure.”

So we wait in silence. The whole time, I bounce the idea of just saying never mind and pussying out, back and forth like tennis. Reading my mind, Demi would eye me and mouth “don’t you dare.” So many things can go wrong. I’m not even entirely sure I know what the hell Paul is talking about. Company? Services? It could mean so many things. Does he want to talk? A massage? Am I going to just sit there on his lap while he watches TV? What if he’s one of those foot guys? Is he going to touch himself while I sit there barefoot? Oh god, please don’t have a foot fetish.

With the exception of tonight, I’ve only ever seen him through a screen. Playing a character. I don’t know him. That’s the reality of it. Am I really about to follow a stranger, Paul Heyman, to accompany another strange man?

After checking that she has the right Uber and sensing she will be safe alone with him, I let her hand go. She gives me one final look before I let her shut the car door. “Make him remember you, bitch.”

Like a farmer leading its cattle to slaughter, I follow him as he leads me up the steep steps of the bus. A pit of something stirs in my stomach the deeper we walk. Equal parts angst and doom. Like the end of something and the beginning at the same time. We pass the driver’s seat. The floors are a shiny mahogany wood, matching the cabinets of the kitchen area we end up in. Although small, it feels grand. Definitely doesn’t seem like a space this chic belongs in a bus trailer. I guess only the best for the best.

In the midst of admiring the space, I look over to see Paul shuffling some papers around.

“Alright! So I’ll need you to sign this.” He separates one stack from the main one and slides a pen out for me. “Just something that says we’re not responsible for any items lost, damaged, or anything like that.” Everything in me screams to read the thick stack thoroughly before I dare sign my name on the dotted line. I do it anyway, because who even has time for that? Paul is already moving about like he has somewhere to be.

“And this here,” he pushes the signed paper out the way and slides another stack in its place. This one much thicker than the former. I raise a brow. “Don’t worry. It's just a non-disclosure. Nothing discussed, seen, or heard after you sign can be shared with any other persons.”

I look for the expiration date of the legal document and don’t find one. I search and my eyes land on the word indefinitely.

“Indefinitely, huh?” I think deeply about what I am about to agree to. I would only even want to tell Demi and a few other girls from our bookclub maybe that watch WWE. My eyes land on the seven figure lawsuit terms if the NDA is breached. I weigh my options. Spill tea and get fined or secretly get intimate with the man of my dreams…

The pen is smooth as it glides along the dotted line and I cap it before handing it back over to Paul. “Perfect.” He takes it and reorganizes the papers. I blow out a breath looking around again. There’s a grey curtain blocking off the rest of the bus, which I assume holds a bedroom of some sort and a bathroom.

“Is he already here?” I lean to try and get a peak of whats beyond the curtain.

“Nope. He’s doing a bit of press and wrapping some things up backstage. You’ll wait for him here. The driver is inside the building. Probably won’t be back until late tonight. Roman should be back soon.”

“I’m expected to stay here overnight?”

“Totally up to you. I’m sure you and him will figure it out. It’s not like him to spend the night alone though.”

In that moment it becomes clear what I am here to do. My heart lurches at the thought of just sharing a bed and possibly cuddling with him. His big muscular arms wrapped around me. The heat of his breath on the back of my neck and the hardness of his di—

“This wasn’t on the NDA you just signed, but,” he held his hand out between us. “I’m gonna need that phone before I leave.” Of course. I almost change my mind. “Don’t worry. You’ll get it back as soon as it's all over. Definitely before you leave.”

Fuck it. I retrieve my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and he gladly takes it. I don’t need it anyhow. I can’t imagine being in the presence of him anyway and my phone stealing the show. I would forget I even had one.

It's not long before he’s packing everything up, preparing to leave me. A small part doesn’t want him to go. He served as sort of a comfort. Truth be told, my heart is in my ass.

He pulls the curtain back to reveal a chic bedroom set up. If I didn't know any better, I would think we are in a five star hotel and not a bus trailer. 

Everything is a sleek grey with undertones of black. Glossy black wood dresser chest and a matching nightstand. Black wood bed frame and headboard. I run my hand along the dark grey duvet thats just as soft as it looks. 

“I’ll be on my way. You’ll probably see me tomorrow or later tonight. If not someone else will give the phone back.” He waves my phone and turns, but not before pulling the curtain back to close.

I’m all alone now. Theres a flat screen mounted opposite the bed, but the noise won’t do anything but make me more anxious. I want to be able to hear everything going on.

I have the weird urge to go through his suitcase I see sitting upright by the wall. I shake the thought away knowing it's an invasion of privacy. I opt to go through the dresser chest instead. Its empty. I guess he didn’t get a chance to  unpack.

I turn and rest my butt on it, crossing my arms. Minutes go by, and what seems like an hour passes before I hear movement outside the bus. Deep voices talking and then I hear heavy steps heading my way. I straighten up. No, too formal. I sit on the bed legs crossed. No, what am I? An escort?

I stand again and take my original place leaning on the edge of the dresser, just in time for the curtain to pull back. The sight of his large stature so much closer to me than he was in the arena takes my breath away.

He doesn’t say a word. Just looks at me and walks right by me to his suitcase. Then he’s in the bathroom. The sound of him peeing is loud followed by water running. 

Big, tan and burly, he emerges again. He moves with power just oozing off of him, with an authority that just screamed, “I’m in charge.” It's not just a ring persona. Thats just him.

My eyes never leave his tall frame maneuvering around the small space as if I’m not even standing here. He kicks the Jordans off his feet to slip into his slides. His Nike hoodie comes off next and he tosses it on the small loveseat in the corner. His big and cut arms now in full view.

He relieves himself of the contents in his pants pockets. Wallet, keys, some loose change, and a small folded paper all fall on the dresser. He stops for a moment holding out his left hand. He twists the black band off his ring finger and places it in the drawer instead of on top of the dresser with the rest of his things.

Our eyes snag and I immediately shift my attention to my fingers. Twisting and untwisting. Picking at the acrylic on my nails. Anything but looking him in the eye after witnessing that. It's not too late to change my mind. I can stop this. I should, but do I really want to?

The sound of his slides lets me know he’s on the move again. I find him by a minibar area I hadn’t noticed earlier. 

“Is it cold in here?” His deep voice cuts through the silence. It's then I notice I was holding and rubbing my arms as if I was cold. So, he is paying me some kind of attention. Truth is, I’m just trying to keep the goosebumps from a slight panic attack at bay.

“No, it's fine.”

“You feeling alright?” He twists slightly with a raised brow. Probably trying to figure out why I haven’t moved an inch since he walked in here. He’s so calm and cool. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the calmer he is, the more anxious I grow.

“Yeah. Y—yeah, no I’m fine.”

“You spoke to Paul already?”

“Yeah—yes,” I correct myself and clear my throat. I don’t know when it became so damn dry.

I was speaking to his back. The muscles still making themselves known even through the fabric of his black tee. Hair sleeked back into his signature bun. My eyes trail down to his ass. For a man, he has a nice one. I image how he’d look with nothing. The intimacy of him walking around with absolutely nothing on. The afterglow of sex on him. Rock hard abs and tribal tattoo as his only decoration. His manhood swinging freely, semi-hard even after just laying serious wood—

“Then I assume you know why you’re here,” his deep voice cuts my nasty daydream short. 

I can hear him maneuvering glass, but I couldn’t see exactly what he was doing over his big frame. I was too shell shocked to move too much, afraid I might wake up from this fever dream.

“I do,” I answer him. 

If my father knew when he gave his only daughter, his princess, money to enjoy her spring break, that she’d end up alone in the bus of a man who was over ten years her senior, the money would’ve never made it into my hand in the first place. I’m sure this isn’t what he had in mind, but truly this was the best way a young girl could enjoy spring break. An unexpected encounter with an older and wealthier man. My idol. I watched him on TV for years. Gawked at the screen. Liked thousands of edits on Tiktok and Instagram. Dreams of this very moment knowing it couldn’t possibly ever come true. And now here he was. Big in stature and energy right here in front of me. Talking to me. 

Hell yeah, I know what I’m here to do. Even if he didn’t utter a single word and just stripped and nodded to the bed, I’d still get the job done with no shame. What girl in her right mind wouldn’t?

I can hear them now. But he’s married. He has a family. He’s old enough to be your father. They just won’t understand. Demi would. Demi would get it. She always gets it and she always gets me. Having lost her father and sister in a car crash just weeks before moving into the dorms for college, taught her that life was indeed too short. Live freely and take risk, because you don’t know when you won’t be able to. Shit, we’re all gonna die anyway. That’s the mantra she lives by. She’s different and that’s why I attached myself to her. She’s not like everybody else who lives like they’ve already walked the steps to heaven.

This was a more than seldom, once in a lifetime opportunity. I’d think about this night when I’m grey and depleting on my deathbed. I won’t let my head play tricks on me with the opinions of anyone who would do the same thing put in my position. 

It's silent again. I hear liquid being poured for a second. I wonder if Demi made it back to the hotel okay. She’s probably blowing up my phone with a thousand texts trying to figure out whats going on.

So deep in my thoughts I don’t realize he’s making his way to me until he’s right here already. I have to look up to meet his gaze as he stares down at me over the bridge of his nose. He’s so big. He smells divine. It's a masculine type of musk with a cleanliness to it. My breath gets caught in my throat, realizing exactly how close we are. Our shoes were just shy of an inch from touching. My chest rises and falls in anticipation of his next move. 

Without any words, he holds a glass filled with brown liquid out closer to me. I look down at it with just my eyes. I’ve only been twenty-one for two weeks. Didn’t even get the opportunity to sit at a bar so a man could offer me a drink before trying to sleep with me. Who would’ve thought the first offering would come from him. Roman Reigns. Just at that thought, something in me ignited.

I took it, with the intention meaning more than just accepting the drink. I’m accepting the situation. Drawing a line in the sand and disposing of any doubt if there even was any left. I’m doing this. All complications pushed to the back. Tonight he’s not Joe Anoa’i, the married man with five kids. He’s Roman Reigns, undisputed WWE Universal Champion, The Tribal Chief, Main Eventer, Head of the Table…And I’m his biggest fan.

I throw the contents of the glass back, trying my hardest not to make a face from the burning sensation. He gets it down in one big gulp, putting me to shame, as I can’t help watching his Adam’s apple bob up and then down. He’s still just inches from me. I can see every hair on his beard. The slight greying ones are my favorite.

It's so weird seeing him in this state. So lax in his own space. No ring gear. No mean scowl. No Ula Fala around his neck. No championship belt around his waist. Just him. Black tee and sweats to match.

He takes the glass back and places them both behind me on the dresser top. Without warning, he’s on me. His tongue shoves past my lips saying to hell with formalities. No warm up. Straight to business.

“Mm,” I groan from shock. My natural instinct from being so caught off guard is to create some space, but a firm hand gripping the base of my neck keeps me in place.

He immediately asserts dominance, caressing every part of my body his hands can reach like he owns it. My neck, my shoulders, my back, and all the way down to my ass with a firm squeeze that separates my pussy lips. All the while still assaulting my mouth with his warm tongue. The tang of the alcohol still lingering. I fight for some control in the kiss but it's no use. He’s too much for me.

Everywhere his strong hands make contact, it leaves a spark until my whole body feels like it's on fire. Damn, that drink was strong. He pulls away from the kiss completely after one last soft, open mouthed peck. Like a magnet, my eyes find the thick bulge in his black sweats and I grow even more excited. 

He drops to his knees in front of me and my breath hitches when his cold fingertips find their way up my shirt. A trail of kisses with a slight tickle from his beard follow up and up until I raise my arms for him to take the shirt off completely.

He’s back on his feet, turning me so my back is facing him. My breathing grows erratic. This is really happening. 

“Lights,” his voice rumbles behind me. The bright lights turn off but there's little lamps set up in the small space allowing a cast bright enough to see still.

The black lace bra I wear is unhooked in a matter of seconds. Who knew when I put it on this morning, that Roman Reigns himself would be taking it off come night. With a firm grip on my hips he turns me back to face him. 

Being well endowed up top from such a young age, my natural instinct is to cover myself. I always thought they were a bit big for my body. Standing at five foot seven, I was only one hundred and fifty pounds. A lot of my weight being carried up top from these double D’s. When all the girls in middle school were just filling in, I was a full D cup. I noticed how boys would stare. Older men too. It would make me uncomfortable. Always thinking of ways to cover them or make them appear smaller.

Avoiding eye contact is useless. His eyes are like magnets. Like the sun. Just beaming down on me, making them impossible to evade. So I stare back at him. We stay like this for a while. Just watching one another in silence. The air is smoky with lust and pure ecstasy. 

His hands cover mine and slowly drag them down to reveal my breast. Round, surprisingly perky, with fully erect chocolate nipples, creating a contrast to my caramel complexion. They steal the show as his eyes shoot to them immediately while he breathes deep from his nose. 

I can feel his energy shift from passionate to pure animalistic. When his entire mouth covers one nipple, I lose all my sense. My head rolls back and instinctively I bring a hand to the back of his head. A rough hand cups and caresses my breast while he’s still latched on. I watch in awe as his thick tongue sticks out to flick and play with it before sucking again.

He’s expertly unbuttoning my jeans with his other hand as I feel the snag of him trying to pull them down. I step out of my shoes to help him and reveal the black thong I am not even accustomed to wearing. I’m more of a a boy shorts or Walmart pack panties kind of girl. I just so happen to have forgotten to pack them and had to borrow a pair from Demi. 

Bending down must be uncomfortable, since he grips the back of my knees to hike me up like I  weigh absolutely nothing. He gives more attention to my chest, sucking until my nipples are sore, before his tongue is in my mouth exploring again. We’re moving now, I assume towards the bed. With every step, his erection rubs against me leaving me clenching and needy.

My back meets the unbelievably soft bed. I practically sink into it, watching him rear back to remove his shirt and show off that god-like body. Mountains and valleys of muscle in his abdomen placed perfectly like someone sculpted him with their bare hands. His bun hangs a little looser now.

His long fingers loop the waistband of my panties and we lock eyes. His stare is intense saying what his lips didn’t. I nod once. I’m doing this.

Almost in slow motion he pulls them down my legs, his eyes not leaving mine until the very last second. His attention is stolen by the sight of me down there.

“You’re soaking.” He uses the butt of his thumb to circle my clit. I jump slightly at the sudden contact. “That’s all for me?” He locks eyes with me again, expecting an answer and all I can do is nod frantically while biting down hard on my bottom lip. I can’t keep still. My body is on fire under his touch and his gaze. Eyes dark with passion, he squints watching me squirm every time he speeds the rhythm of his thumb up or down.

“Fuck,” I move my hips to the rhythm of his hand and grab one of my breast.

His thick tongue snakes out to lick his pink lips like he did earlier in the arena and I almost cum on sight. I look on in shock watching how he licks his thumb clean like he just ate Doritos and he’s discarding the remnants of them. A small groan of pleasure leaves his throat. I must be dreaming.

Climbing off the bed hastily, he tugs his pants and red briefs down at once and his dick pops up on recoil. My pussy clenches around nothing in anticipation for her next guest. Long, thick and tanned just like the rest of him. Mouthwatering. I never had the urge to taste something so bad in my life.

I can tell there’s no time for that though. He’s anxious now. I can feel the heat and need radiating off his body as if his stiff, vein-filled dick didn’t already tell on him.

With a tight grip on my ankle, he flips me over abruptly. Of course. Missionary would’ve been way too intimate for the circumstances.

On instinct I get up on all fours, deepening the arch to an almost painful degree so the view is nice for him. A smack so hard I jerk forward a bit, lets me know he’s satisfied with what he sees.

“All this ass,” he mumbles rubbing my behind in circles and even giving it a little shake. 

He runs his long fingers up and down the slickness with ease. A groan leaves my throat as I grow impatient. I know I should want this to last as long as humanly possible, but I can’t fight this storm inside of me. I’ve wondered too long about it, daydreamed about it, and even touched myself in imagination before at the thought of this man I only knew through a TV screen.

I sway back and forth slightly waiting and listening to the sound of a wrapper and a slight pop. I have no time to prepare. The bed dips with the weight of him back on it. His thick head is at my opening, rubbing from my clit to almost my asshole. He only does this three good times before I’m practically ripped apart.

“Ouu!” A mix of a moan and something I’ve never heard from myself fills the room. He roughly takes the hand I thought I would use to push him and pins it behind me.

My throat goes dry. God damn. He’s fucking huge and unforgiving. Even with the slow pace he’s pushing into me combined with my wetness, it still feels like he’s breaking me apart from the inside out. 

“Breathe,” he coaches. If possible a gush of wetness rushes out from the sound of his voice, bringing me back to the situation at hand. I have to make it work for him. 

I bite down on the expensive grey covers as he pulls completely out and then back in. “Mm!” 

He finds his rhythm, as he’s able to glide in and out. I try to match him once the pain subsides. I glance back to catch his full bottom lip caught between his teeth. The muscles in his chest working as a sheen of sweat starts to form.

I work harder now. The sight of him turning me on more than ever, opening me up like a wildflower. 

“Let me hear you. I wanna hear you,” he grunts out almost desperately. The vulnerability in his rough voice drawing more heat and wetness from my core. I moan louder than I intended and shock myself. I’m not usually verbal in bed. Maybe a little cry or whimper here and there. This shit feels too good to be demure and delicate about. 

I obey his order and release the moan that I didn’t even know I’m suppressing. It's not forced or fabricated. I genuinely feel so good in this moment I can only moan in response. 

His strokes are primal. Animalistic like a lion in the wild taking whats his. And he’s so fucking big. In aura and size. The ways his body envelopes mine makes me feel smaller than I really am. His thickness stretching me in a way I didn’t think was possible.

“Oh, fuck!” I yell out. His hand tangles in my hair and stretches my gaze up, giving him full view of my desperate face.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he demands. 

“Oh my god,” I pant. “It's so fucking good,” I struggle to get out. Every thrust steals my breath. He aims for the perfect spot every time and doesn’t miss. The smack of our bodies colliding ring loud in the silent space.

“Louder, baby,” he grunts diving deeper.

“I can feel you everywhere. You feel so good! Unh!”

“Atta girl.” The rumble of his voice sends a vibration straight to my core. My pussy clenches down from his words. To add insult to injury, a large and slightly calloused hand finds its way up my stomach to cup my breast. He pinches, twists and rolls my nipple around like he’s playing with a toy. As if my pussy isn’t becoming dangerously wetter already.

He removes the hold in my hair, trailing to my hip. His thumb presses down hard while guiding me back and forth on him. He gives me his all and I return the favor, using the unstable grip I have on the duvet to leverage me as I throw my ass back on him to catch.

The friction of his balls slapping sloppily against my clit built up enough pressure for a pending orgasm. With one strong hand still on my hip, he uses his free one to shove my face down to the bed making me lose any power I had in this fight.

His front collides with my ass, causing a consistent slapping. Anyone walking on the bus could easily tell whats going on now. His grunts, my pants, the consistent slapping. These were sounds of fucking. 

“Fuck me! Yesss!” I don’t recognize myself. He’s awakening something in me. A familiar tinging stirs in the pit of my stomach. If he keeps on, it won’t be long until I explode all over his thick dick.

“Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah,” I whimper in response.

He goes harder than ever before, his strokes less uniform and more wild. My mouth falls wide open at the intensity and perfect mix of pain and pleasure.

His hips continue to snap against me and if possible I feel him grow harder inside me. His fingertips dig into me so hard I know there’ll be bruises tomorrow. 

“Urghh!” A guttural moan erupts from him, urging me to fuck him through his release even as his movements slow. I study his facial expressions and record them in my brain to take home with me as a souvenir. He stretches his neck with eyes shut tightly. That fucking tongue. Whisking out to flatten over his top lip before he bites down on his bottom one. Chest heaving up and down with the muscles in his abdomen flexing with every breath. 

“So fucking good,” he says more to himself. He delivers another hard spank to my ass before I feel him ease out of me, hissing slightly at the sudden disconnect and absence of him. The pit of my stomach heavy still with the lingering orgasm that was cut short. 

I’ve had sex with guys before and never got to finish. I’d leave unsatisfied and almost regretting the encounter completely. This is different. I’m here for him. I’d fulfill his needs and drain him even if it meant I left with nothing but a wet ass. 

The bed creaks a little, letting me know he got up completely. Just when I think the night is over, my mouth falls open at the sensation of his hot mouth covering my entire pussy. His tongue slithers out to graze my distended clit.

“Mm, shit,” I cry out, shaking. I’m so sensitive. Any little sensation sends my body into overdrive. Every lick draws a mini release. When I finally get to the edge I know I’ll fall completely apart. The hair from his beard tickles me, only heightening the sensations. I feel nothing but pure pleasure.

A strong hand comes down on my left ass cheek and I whimper on impact. He squeezes it in a firm gip to move me up and down in a steady rhythm on his flattened tongue.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” I cry. I let my head hang down unable to keep it up any longer. All I can do, feel, and think about in this moments is how good he feels to me. Guys my age always need a crash course on how to eat pussy. Always too much spit, they couldn’t find my clit, or the torturous shaking of the head like a rabid dog.

Roman is eating me like I’m his last meal. Touching spots I didn’t even know a tongue could reach. With the way he’s grabbing me and rocking me on his stiff tongue, he’s damn near fucking me with it. We’re two complete strangers. The power dynamic is completely off. He’s the billionaire WWE superstar and I’m the underpaid and overworked fan in college. Somehow he’s still taking the time to worship my body and give me his all as if he’s the one who has something to prove. 

The dick was mind-blowing. Oh, but the head will be the death of me. That same tongue he wags and flicks on live television, exploring me. Tonight is an absolute fairytale. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he could read my mind. He knows exactly what I want and how I want it.

In only a matter of seconds a tornado of heat swirls in my core. I rock back and forth on his mouth before he sucks relentlessly on my sensitive bud nonstop.

“Unnhh!” An uncontrollable shake erupts from me as I see stars. The world goes completely blank for a while as I relish in the ecstasy of my orgasm granted by the Tribal Chief himself. Tonight, I acknowledge him and his mouth.

“Oh my god,” I whisper in between pants coming to my senses. A small laugh leaves my throat at the way I just lost myself in front of him.

I turn to find him in the middle of snatching the cream covered condom off. His big dick bobs up and down from the snatch, fully erect again. 

We got one night only.

Like a lioness on the prowl in the jungle, I eye him, crawling to the edge of the king bed where he stands. I stop just in front where my mouth aligns to his thickness, still eyeing him, making sure it's okay. He nods giving me the green light and even holds the base in his strong hand to bring it closer to my lips.

I let a glob of spit form and fall freely on his thick mushroom tip. Before it can drip, I catch it on the underside and lick from tip to base, to the tip again. His hips push forward impatiently. 

“Open.” It's not a question so I don’t test him. His face is hard, but his eyes are desperate. As soon as my lips part he shoves himself all the way in like he owns my entire mouth. He draws out and I hallow my cheeks to keep it in as long as possible until I release him with a pop. 

“Stick your tongue out for me.” I oblige and he slides his heavy dick across it gathering spit before pushing back down my mouth. A pulse grows in my clit again. A revival from seeing the remains of the mess I made in his thick beard.

“It's so good,” I tell him while slapping it on my tongue for him, earning a groan. The skin of him is soft as he stretches my mouth. I can taste the salty precum and I cant wait for the rest of it. I never trusted a man to release his bodily fluids in me in any way. It kind of grossed me out. Oh, but not tonight. He can release wherever he chooses.

Using one hand to twist in tandem with sucking him, I study every change in his expression, every pattern of his breath to record what feels the best to him.

“Go ‘head,” he urges in a low guttural tone. “Just like that. Take it all the way down. Don’t stop, babygirl.” That’s all I need to hear. 

The eye contact is so deep it puts me in a trance. In a constant and fluid motion I take him in and out, making sure he reaches the back of my throat every time. In and out. In and out. In and out. The sounds of spit and his heavy breathing take charge of the room.

His body stiffens a bit and I can feel him get harder on my tongue. Deliberately I take him as far as possible and stay there until I make myself choke. The contracting of my throat around his thick head sends him completely off the rails. He breaks our bubble, throwing his head back to the ceiling.

“Mmm. Aw fuck!” A strong hand grabs a fistful of my hair, making it impossible for me to move.  Thick ropes of his warm cum shoot down my throat and all around my mouth. “Ahh,” he groans out with a hiss jerking his hips forward a few good times. “Oh my god,” he blows out a heavy breath and lets his hands rest on his hips. 

I’ve made dean’s list, honor roll all throughout high school, medals of all kind from track decorate the walls of my bedroom in my parents’ house. None of those accomplishments compare to the sight I just witnessed. The Roman Reign’s spent and sexually exhausted because of little ole me.

“Let me see,” he whispers while watching me suck the last of it out. I open wide and stick my tongue out so he can see his cum on it. His massive dick jumps at the sight. I feel the warmth of some of it seeping out and running down my chin.

“Don’t move,” he instructs. Like his obedient soldier I stay put, only looking around with one good eye. The other shut tight so none of his cum could invade it.

When he emerges again, he has a wet cloth in hand. Gently but still firm he wipes my face clean of him and my tears that slipped from the intensity of choking. Who knew the Tribal Chief is into aftercare?

A squeal escapes me from being lifted into the air and over his broad shoulder. I’m hanging as he moves us about. There’s no way that any of this is happening. 

The shower starts to run. Even upside down I can see the marble walls and waterfall shower head raining down.

“You care about your hair getting wet?”

“No,” I strain to get out with his shoulder digging into my stomach. He chuckles so softly, I would’ve missed it if I couldn’t feel it from being on him. 

He fucks me for hours in the shower. My back against the wall. In the air. Face against the tiles. On all fours again. I guess older men carry more stamina. The water cascaded from up top on us both while we locked tongues passionately, breathing in each other’s air. 

He was in control the whole time. He flipped me every way he wanted me to go. Told me what to do, never asking. I’m left a wet, quivering mess at the end of it all.

I don’t realize how exhausted I am until he asks if I want to stay the night. I think about getting dressed and leaving, but the bed is impossibly plush and the sight of him naked still is impossibly sexy. Even better than I imagined.

I threw cuddling out the window once I seen his stoic nature and how he moved about earlier like this was just a business deal. He lays in the bed, still naked on his back with muscular arms slightly stretched. I lay on my stomach beside him trying to get comfortable. My heart thumps out my chest knowing he’s still here with me and so accessible. We literally just violated each other in the nastiest way possible and now we lay in bed not even touching.

His heavy breaths and light snore fill the room in no time creating a sort of white noise for me descend to. 

Some time in the middle of the night, I don know how, but those light snores ended up right in my ear. His breath hot on top of my head, accompanied by a very heavy arm over my hip. 

My heart smiled and my face caught fire. It was so intimate. Undeniably my favorite part of the night. I shifted as quietly as I possibly could, inch by inch, until I was facing him. His bun fell completely apart, leaving his dried and fluffy curls cascading over his shoulders and the plush pillows. I make out what I can in the dark of his sharp features. I never seen him so relaxed. In the ring he’s always tense, always painted with tyranny and stress, but not right now. He almost looked like an angel.

I make a mental image of him. This is exactly how I want to remember him— how I want to remember this unpredictable night. This is the part that even if I could tell it, I don’t think anyone would even believe me. Burying my face into his chest, I breathe deep, trying to imprint his smell into my brain like ink on the skin. 

The loud voices of men I don’t recognize, serve as my alarm clock. Eyes still shut, flashes of the night before and the soreness of my body, warp me back to reality. Oh, shit.

I shoot up from the pillow to scan the room, keeping the covers close to my naked chest. His suitcase still stood in the corner, but there’s no trace of him. No water running. His slides are gone. The thick curtain shields me from the rest of the bus.

6:07 AM flashes on the digital clock of the now cleared nightstand. 

It's not like I was expecting this grand goodbye. The man didn’t even say hello to begin with. I thought I could at least see him one last good time before I leave LA for good.

I attempt to rise up, but something crinkling under my palm stops me. I grab the sheet of notepad paper and rub my eyes before reading the contents of it.

Thanks for last night. Joe. 

Short and simple. In the corner, two cursive R’s as a signature. I neatly fold the paper and drop it into the pocket of my jeans I find folded on the chest dresser. I want that paper with me everywhere I go. A small piece of the whole experience. A subtle reminder of the best night of my life.

Every part of me wants to feel bad. How could I let him just use me for his needs for a night and then discard me like it was nothing? I should feel low. Cheap. But thats not even the kind of girl I am. The glass is always half full to me. Last night was arguably the best night of my young life. I’ve never known such adventure. I never felt more free—more like a woman.

I flop down in my bed still in a daze from the events of last weekend. Demi had a million and one questions. The NDA kept me from spilling. Even if I could’ve given her a play by play of how the night went, I don’t think I would’ve. Demi and I have the kind of bond thats void of any secrets. But that night with him was so special to me, I want to keep it for myself. Something for just me and him. It makes it more magical when only we know what happened. I just want to soak and bathe in it all. 

Light as a feather I stare at my ceiling, letting the flashbacks corrupt me. The feel of his soft skin. The smell of him. His grunts and pants. His hands caressing and gripping my ass. The warmth of his tongue filling my mouth. I blow out a breath getting worked up again. I’ve touched myself countless times since that night to the memory of his voice and his energy. He was just so damn good. So much man and dominance, but still gentle and cautious. 

After we touched back down in New York, it was back to reality. But that didn’t stop me from walking on a cloud. You can’t tell me shit. I fucked the Roman Reigns. Drained him and swallowed the aftermath. How’s that for a spring break?

It's currently Thursday. Almost a week has passed since the greatest night of my young life. I just got back from the gym with Demi. She’s pressed me every single day since that night, but I won’t budge. The confines of the NDA keeping me stronger than I normally would be. 

Tomorrow is Smackdown at the Garden, but it's unclear if Roman will even be in attendance. He takes so many hiatuses it's really a hit or miss with him. Demi asked if we should go, but I declined not wanting to spend the money I didn’t have just for him not to even show.

A sudden dread came over me knowing that he couldn’t possibly be thinking of me even half as much as I’ve thought of him. He’s overridden my mind. I’ve obsessed over every little detail and played it back a thousand times, while he doesn’t even know my name. 

Paul said it himself. He likes the comfort of company while he’s on the road. All the times he has to travel for work, cameras in his face nonstop, and body aching from all the physical exhaustion, I’m sure he always has to release the tension somehow. I’m just one of many. 

I knew that going into it. I know I’m not special, but I tried my hardest to be. I did what I could to make him remember me. Constant eye contact, carrying out his every command, throwing this ass back as hard as I could and sucking the soul out of him.

A violent buzz of my phone snaps me out of my daze. I feel for it on the covers. My eyebrows dent at the message notification from a number I don’t recognize, causing me to unlock it.

Your Tribal Chief has requested your services again. 

Sorry for that long ass disclaimer lol. It’s a shame I even have to include that, but I literally watched a girl argue with an author on here about promoting adultery and cheating simply because a character was cheating. Like, it’s a story?? It’s a fictional character?? Don't read it??

If you read it or even just parts of it, I really am appreciative. Pls like or reblog. Feedback is greatly appreciated. Please remember I am an artist…and I’m sensitive about my shit lol 💋

banner credit:  @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[ddodol]

action — s.es

series ⭑.ᐟ [ kinktober masterlist ] content warning ⭑.ᐟ smut! minors dni!, rookie actor!eunseok, actress fem!reader, pet names, eunseok is shy?, oral (m.), eunseok head pusher agenda, dacryphilia, eunseok is also kinda mean. word count⭑.ᐟ 1.6k+

a/n; accidentally posted the draft earlier while i was on my phone </3 i thought it was gone for good adfdaks. anyway :3 merry christmas yall <3

eunseok was a fairly new actor, rising to fame for his unreal features and the innate ability to make a person’s heart go wild.

despite all of that, the proud song eunseok had but one weakness— intimate scenes.

you were casted as a lead actor alongside eunseok, a monumental achievement in your acting career that you don’t plan on taking for granted. you were slightly older than eunseok, more experienced. he was fully aware of that as well, ears turning bright red whenever he had to ask you for pointers whenever it came to scenes that required physical contact.

even after months of filming, eunseok couldn’t break out of his shy demeanor, whether it was with the staff or with you, his co-lead. though, he was professional enough to not let it affect the filming progress— until today, that is.

the director proposed for a break, having messed up one scene countless of times. feeling guilty, the rookie actor was bowing and apologizing to the staff for the delays he was starting to cause. he was lucky to be working with such an easygoing crew, otherwise he'd be getting reprimanded for his unprofessionalism.

nonetheless, eunseok tried his best in everything, and you knew that he'd come looking for you in a matter of minutes after looking over the scenes for tonight.

you met his eyes from afar, exchanging a knowing look. you had no idea how it happened, considering how you were only a few months his acting senior, but he always came to you for help. eunseok walked past the staff, long legs striding, approaching you with flushed cheeks.

how adorable, you thought.

”do you want to try it somewhere more private?” your simple question made him blush once more, making you giggle a little. he gave you a small nod, which you smiled at. “follow me.”

you led the way, the sound of his footsteps filling up the hallway as a reminder that he was just right behind you.

as soon as the door to your dressing room closed, eunseok grabbed your arm and pinned you against the door, taking you by surprise. he was even more breathtaking up close, taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanor.

you could hear him swallow audibly, lips parted open as he took a deep, shaky breath. “was that okay?” eunseok asked meekly, eyes turning glossy and his cheeks beginning to flush, a huge contrast to how he was acting seconds earlier. that was when it hit you— he was trying out a scene from the drama. you bit your bottom lip, fighting back a giggle.

you teasingly snaked your arms around him, testing his reaction. sure enough, he turned even redder, almost about to explode as his brain processed what was happening.

”is this okay, too?” you whispered, staring up at him. taking it a step further, you slowly ran your hands through his chest, feeling his breath hitch. you chuckled, amused by his reaction.

”you don’t seem to have any trouble with that,” you stared at him, trying to gauge his reaction. you noticed the way he was shifting around uncomfortably, now avoiding your gaze. you looked down instinctively, eyes going wide at the surprise he had for you.

”oh, wow.”

eunseok cleared his throat, shyly glancing at you. “fuck— i’m sorry, it’s been like that since earlier.”

you raised a brow, eyes flickering up and down. “you mean, you’ve been rock hard ever since our characters were talking about their break-up?” you asked, in disbelief.

”no, no, no!” he sighed, hanging his head out of embarrassment, bright red ears in full display. despite working together for a month, this was the first time you’ve seen him this vulnerable. “you’re a pretty crier,” eunseok mumbled.

oh, that explains a lot.

your couple scenes so far all included some dramatic dialogue, and that meant you were crying most of the time. eunseok always seemed so invested during those scenes, holding you more tenderly and speaking in a way that felt intimate— the exact vibe your director has been trying to fish out of him.

you held back a smile, hooking a finger under his chin to make him look at you. eunseok let out a shuddering breath, eyes fixated on the way your lips curved up. he didn’t care how stupid he looked right now, eunseok was sure that anyone would act the same way if you were doing the same thing to them.

he swallowed thickly, parted lips slowly closing in on yours. you pressed your palm on his mouth before he could kiss you, prompting him to look at you in confusion.

"never said you could have a taste," you mumbled, a small smirk forming on your lips. eunseok was feeling desperate— he did have a massive boner rubbing against your thigh after all.

"please." you chuckled at his desperation, watching him take your ring finger in between his teeth, nibbling on it gently. "i'll get my act together after this, i swear. i just want to see those pretty lips around my cock," eunseok groans, brows furrowing as his lips moved against your fingers, as if he was kissing them instead.

you sighed softly, eyes darting down at his erect length. you reached down to palm him through his pants, making eunseok moan sensitively. eunseok's cock throbbed against your hand, breath hitching in your throat as you felt a flood of warmth surging through your body.

you felt turned on from his soft sighs, intoxicated with the way his pretty face would twist whenever you focused on his tip. you bit your lip, "fuck it."

eunseok watched as you tied your hair up, freezing in surprise when you got on your knees without any hesitation. he swallowed thickly, eyes trained on every single movement you made. he murmured soft curses when you helped him free his erect length, cock standing tall and casting a shadow over your features.

it was your turn to swallow nervously, taking in every single curve and vein of his cock. eunseok's cock was pretty, the tip of his cock already red and leaking. you glanced at him, licking a small strip up his shaft to start.

eunseok shuddered in response, clenching his jaw as he tangled his hand through the messy hairdo you just did. he panted softly, almost willing you to take him in your mouth, desperate to know how you'd feel.

your face contorted, comfortably taking in his tip. eunseok's cock wasn't thick save for his tip, letting you relax your jaw as you took in more of his length. by the time you reached what you assumed was half of him, you could already feel his tip poking at the gummy part of the roof of your mouth, making you gag slightly.

his eyes visibly sparkled when he felt you gagging on his cock, tempted to act on his impulses. he let you bob your head shallowly, trying to get used to his length. eunseok discreetly flexed his hips forward whenever you'd move down on his cock, wanting to see you gagging on his cock, to see you crying as you take him in your warm mouth.

eunseok cupped your cheek with one hand, his other still tangled through your scalp. "i know you can take more," his deep voice rang in your ears, body tingling as you glanced up at him. eunseok's eyes were dark, panting softly as he stared down at you.

it was almost like you couldn't find the same bashful rookie actor you were just teasing a few moments ago— now you were at his mercy.

without warning, eunseok pushed your head down on his length, the tip of his cock reaching the back of your throat. you gagged, closing your eyes shut as tears began to sting your eyes.

eunseok licked his lips, jerking his hips forward as he moved your head for you. he could tell you were overwhelmed, your whines vibrating against his throbbing length.

"fuck," he whispered, watching as a tear rolled down your cheek. your eyes fluttered open, brows furrowed as you stared up at him. eunseok could feel shivers down his spine, adoring the way you looked helpless with his cock filling your mouth.

eunseok could tell that you've surrendered to him, letting him move you as he pleased. his soft moans began to fill the empty room, thighs starting to tense up. he was close.

you let out small, broken moans of your own, gripping on his legs as he pushed you down on his cock, thrusting deep. you could feel your throat bruising, tears spilling from your eyes at the slight pain.

"baby, hold my hand if you don't want me to cum inside your pretty mouth." you stared up at him through your bleary vision, finding his cheeks fully flushed. you had no intentions of stopping him from what he wants, mostly because you were craving for it as well.

eunseok's breath hitched in his throat when he met your eyes, "fuck, fuck— what a good fucking girl." you felt shivers down your spine at his gruff praises.

his hips began to stutter, bucking into your face, balls slapping your chin with each movement. he let out a deep groan, head thrown back as he pressed your head down to the base of his cock. you gagged, unable to contain your coughs when you felt him shooting his cum in your throat.

you pulled away as soon as his grip on your head loosened, coughing violently. you wiped away traces of his cum on the edge on your mouth, as well as the mix of liquids that found its way through your nose.

eunseok panted, placing his hand against the door to support himself up, legs trembling miserably from his orgasm. his eyes flickered, reaching down to help clean your face.

once you were decent, eunseok helped you get up. he chuckled softly, holding your cheek. "you know, every time we get on scene and you cry— this is all i'd ever think about now."

you laughed weakly, voice still a bit hoarse. "guess that means i need to keep helping you out, then."

[gottaluvharry]

family

carlos sainz jr x pregnant!reader

summary: your son has a few questions about why his little sister is in your belly, and carlos is happy to explain

———————————

Lazy mornings with your little family were your favorite. You smiled to yourself as you woke to the hushed whispers of your husband and your son. As you turn to face the other side of the bed, you’re met with 2 pairs of brown puppy dog eyes and 2 identical smiles.

“Buenos dias, mama!” good morning mom your son screeched, proud of himself for using Spanish. “Buenos dias baby” you say through a smile. He latches on to your neck and you feel Carlos’ hand rubbing patterns on your stomach. “Morning hermosa” beautiful he says going in for a kiss. “How is little girl?” he asks. “Sleeping I think. She must be tired after all the kicking she did last night” you groan, recalling the many hours you were woken due to the relentless kicking in your stomach. “lo lamento, se amable con mami” i’m sorry, be nice to mommy he says leaning to talk to his unborn daughter. You just laugh and shake your head at the pout he has on his face, guiding him up by his chin to give him another kiss.

“Papa,” your little boy starts, breaking you and Carlos apart. “How did baby get in mommy’s belly?” he asks as he puts his hand over Carlos’ on your stomach. “Well hijo” son Carlos starts. “Me and mommy love each other, and we made your sister together because we love each other” he says, hoping it’s enough to settle your sons curiosity. “Like when you and mommy make pancakes together?” he asks, now moving to sit in his fathers lap. “No, not like when we make pancakes” he laughs. “He is just made out of love, baby. When 2 people love each other so much and want a little baby like you, they will make one. That’s all I can tell you” he says, avoiding a heavier subject. “But mommy, did it hurt when baby went in your tummy?” he now turns to you with fear in his eyes over the thought of you hurting. “No buddy it didn’t hurt” you assure him, ruffling his hair; but you don’t miss the smirk Carlos sends your way remembering the night in question. “So why does baby stay in mommy’s belly for so long?” he asks, now turning to look at Carlos for the answer. “That’s just where they grow buddy. Babies need lots of space to grow and the only place there is enough room is in a mommy’s tummy” he responds. “Oh” he hums, taking in all the information he’s learning. “But how does baby come out?” he goes on, his eyes lighting up when he gets another question. “When he is ready to come out me and Mommy will go to the hospital and the doctors will help her come out” Carlos answers. “But does it hurt?” your son asks, once again scared of you being hurt. “Only a little bit” you say, “but it is worth it because then we get to hold your little sister”.

As your son continues asking questions and Carlos continues tracing patterns across your stomach, you can’t help but smile at the little life you’ve created. Who knew one bed could hold so much love on a random morning.

—————————————

hope you guys enjoyed this short little blurb:) sorry it’s been so long since i’ve posted, there was a lot going on and then i started school but in honor of Carlos’ birthday AND pole today i figured i’d post something!! might clear my drafts out and post some more in the next week or so<3

also my inbox is open, so request anything if you have any ideas! or if you just want to talk to someone, feel free!

okay last thing, thank you all for the support, it’s so special to me to have people with the same interests reading and liking my work, i want to give you all hugs<333

[milkbobatyun]

save your tears

pairing: jiaoqiu x gn!reader

genre: angstober, events

summary: you were bitter enemies, from the start and for eternity. nothing could repair your relationship

word count: 770

a/n: proud jiaoqiu haver since he first came out, i have started to build him now (finally, ik) this is lwk similar to a jiaoqiu piece i'm working on in my drafts rn...

it was no secret that you and jiaoqiu were bitter enemies. when it all started, you forgot. maybe it was when you had butted heads during a lesson during your younger years. maybe it was the time he had put dirt and leaves in your sachet during break. maybe it was when you had purposefully tugged on his hair.

the fights were too many to count on one hand, so eventually, you stopped.

when you had heard about jiaoqiu again, it was after the both of you had graduated, you setting up your own pharmacy and him becoming the famous doctor of the merlin’s claw.

despite your rivalry, jiaoqiu still came to your shop the most often, to collect herb supplies. perhaps he hadn’t yet shaken off the habit of vexing you, for the herd of fangirls who swooned and fainted in front of your shop doorway every time he entered was enough to give you a pounding headache.

however, after the brutal war, you took notice of the absence of an annoying fox, with his sly smile and fluttering fan.

it was only when feixiao paid you a visit on behalf of her doctor that you learnt the news.

the bundle of herbs fell from your grasp, the paper crinkling as it hit the floor. without a glance back, you ran to jiaoqiu’s house.

jiaoqiu’s head turned towards the direction of the door as he heard it open with a creak.

the soft footsteps padded into the room, before the person froze.

“feixiao?” jiaoqiu’s voice wavered, uncertainty tainting it. “is that you?”

you saw how his eyes were covered with bandages, his ears twitching, trying to catch a sound. behind him, his tail swung restlessly.

“jiaoqiu,” you breathed, your voice caught in your throat.

“you,” jiaoqiu’s voice changed immediately, ears flattening against his head. “get out.”

you were startled by the tone of his voice, but instead, you stepped closer. tentatively, you reached out your hands, fingers gently brushing his face, tilting it in all kinds of directions as you muttered under your breath.

jiaoqiu’s hands swatted at yours, as though you were a fly or a bug.

“get away from me.” he snarled, unwelcome evident in his voice.

hurt, you withdrew your hands.

“what happened?” you whispered, sorrow saturating your tone.

“hoolay.” jiaoqiu’s curt voice broke the silence. “used myself as bait. can’t see now.”

jiaoqiu waited for you to respond, arrogance in your tone. the prolonged silence unnerved him. he was used to your sharp cutting remarks, not this heavy, suffocating silence.

the sight of his bandages tore at your heartstrings. where was that confident and sly foxian you had known in your youth? in front of you sat a broken healer, one who knew his future in the field of healing was bleak.

a sniffle and rustle broke the silence.

anger flared up within jiaoqiu, coursing through his veins, his fists clenching at his sides.

“if you’re going to cry those crocodile tears,” jiaoqiu growled, baring his fangs in your direction with anger, “then get out.”

when he didn’t hear your footsteps departing from the room, jiaoqiu’s hand wandered blindly across the tabletop before it came into contact with the teacup that sat atop its saucer, drained of the tea it held.

jiaoqiu aimed the teacup in your direction, throwing it in a fit of rage.

with a clear tinkle, the cup shattered against the floor, at your feet. the porecelain pieces scattered, scuttling across the floor, hiding in the nooks and crannies.

wiping your tears with your sleeves, you bent to pick up the pieces. it was just your luck that one of the shards sliced into your palm. a pained hiss escaped from your lips.

jiaoqiu’s ears stood up in alertness as he spun his head towards the source. reaching out his hands, he searched blindly for where you were.

“are you hurt?” he questioned, voice laced with concern, hands outstretched helplessly. guilt hit him like a wave. you were only trying to be caring and a decent person, but his actions were too hostile this time.

swallowing down the pain and tears, you weakly mumbled an answer that jiaoqiu didn’t quite catch. you cupped the shards in your hands, discarding them into the nearby bin before fumbling out some apology.

“...i’ll leave.” you excused yourself before scuttled out of the manor, the sound of your footsteps fading in the distance.

silence settled like a thick, heavy blanket, jiaoqiu’s sole companion.

in the quiet which was only disturbed by the quiet ticking of the clock, jiaoqiu sat, wrapped in his thoughts. had he pushed too far?

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[webslingingslasher]

https://www.tumblr.com/webslingingslasher/721605644038389760/pregnancy-scare-with-fratpeter-what-would-he-do?source=share

Is there ever a pregnancy scare after they're in the girlfriend phase?

*cleaning out my drafts. mentions of pregnancy and a slight suggestion of abortion.*

you groan at the gentle shake you're receiving and you shrug it off while half awake. you're unbelievably tired and the small window of rest you got wasn't enough.

'trouble? c'mon, get up.' peter's hand comes down rough on your backside, you whine and roll over. 'but i'm sleepy-eepy.' the warmth of peter's bed is ripped away from you, he's holding the blanket in his hands.

'now i'm cold.' and while it's not peter's fault and he's only doing what you asked, you feel a little frustrated at the knowledge of not being able to go back to sleep.

'if you get up now, i'll shower with you. ten, nine, eight, seven... that's my girl, super proud of you.'

you might've woken up grouchy, but peter set your mood right in the shower and now you keep giving his arm little kisses. 'my handsome man.' peter speaks into your hairline, 'it's just a white shirt, you heathen.'

you softly dig your teeth into the thick of his bicep while his aunt has her back turned mixing up a side salad. you pull back without a trace and talk into his skin. 'and my man looks so yummy in it.'

'see? that nap energized you more than you thought.'

'that or your precious mouth and nice way you use it on me.' peter gives you a charming smile. 'you're on a roll tonight, trouble.' you wrap your arms around his and give a final mark, it's time to be a smidge respectful in his childhood home.

peter breaks away to refill your wine glass and top may's off. you thank him with a small kiss, may thanks him by asking him to grab rolls from the oven.

---

there's a positive pregnancy test in your shaking hands. each time you blink it becomes more and more clear, you clutch your stomach as if you already had a month nine belly.

'fuck.'

what are you supposed to do?

tears fall fast, they hit your palms and positive test before you look around the bathroom. why are you alone? where's peter? you think of your boyfriend, you think of how royally fucked this makes things.

call it selfish but you wanted peter all to yourself for a few years and now you're jumping forward a hundred steps. 'fuck.' this isn't fair to either of you, you don't have it figured out yet.

you stare at the test one more time, you need to be sure. you close your eyes and count to ten, no matter how many times you try, the answer doesn't change.

'holy fucking shit, i'm-'

about to piss your pants. you fly up from the bed lightning fast, hightailing it to peter's bathroom before holding your head in your hands. you're drowsy and reminding yourself it was just a dream, but it felt so real.

but, no, just a dream. it's a dream because you're not pregnant. you just had your period... you just had it... it's only been... your stomach drops, why can't you remember? in four seconds you are wide, wide awake and you're going for your phone on peter's nightstand.

it's three in the morning and you haven't had a period in at least five weeks.

'peter, get up.' you're not soft spoken or gentle, you're full of terror and he's about to be too. you push at his arm roughly, it stirs him just enough you could break through the sleep.

'peter, get up right now.' a slow whine, you're not playing and his stubbornness is about to have you wake up the entire apartment complex. 'get the fuck up, peter.'

you're mean but it's the only thing stopping you from going full blown psycho and curling into a screaming, crying ball on his floor.

'peter,' you rush out his name one more time, this time he responds.

'what’s go-‘

'i think i'm pregnant and i'm about to freak the fuck out and i really, really need you to keep me from doing that right now.' it hits all at once, you try to breathe but you can't. it's peter's turn to fly up from the bed, he only goes as far as he needs to wrap you in a tight hug.

'trouble,' the name makes you sob, you really are trouble. 'shh, you're okay, we're okay.' it's not fair of peter to hold you calmly as if he's not scared shitless himself. 'we're so fucked, peter. i ruined everything.'

your mind is spinning and your boyfriend is keeping you grounded. 'nothing is ruined, nothing is fucked. we're okay, i promise we're okay.' no, peter's not thinking how you are. he doesn't understand what you just did to you both.

'i did, i really, really did. we just graduated, we don't live together, you're still waiting for that research position to open and my boyfriend slash baby daddy is going to die because he's also spider-man.'

it's all ruined. you don't even know what you ruined and that's the worse part, you ended it before it started.

'hey, trouble. one thing at a time, okay? we have time to figure it out if we need to. do we need to go get a test?' you nod, the idea of your dream turning into reality makes you want to sob.

'speaking of dying, i killed the last three plants ethan gave me. so, how nice is that? a dead dad and a mom who kills.' peter hugs you tighter, he wants to push all your suffering into him right now. you go one further, this is the final nail in the coffin.

'what if i'm not ready to be a mom?'

'we have time to figure-' he doesn't understand. 'no, what if i'm not ready to be a mom?' a soft kiss on your forehead tells you he read between the lines, it also tells you he doesn't resent you for the idea.

'i'm here for you, okay? i'm here for whatever decision you make and we'll figure it out together. we're a team. and i promise you, trouble, i'm not dying. kid or no kid, i won't let spider-man be the thing that does me in.'

you want this with peter, you really do. just... not now. a baby this young was never in the cards, you feel like you shouldn't be in this position but you played stupid games and won an unexpected prize.

'fuck. peter, i really think i might be pregnant.'

peter's being a strong front because you need it but he's just as unprepared as you are. 'have you been feeling sick?' you shake your head, you've felt normal until this very moment.

'i had i dream i was staring at a positive test and it felt so real that it woke me up and then i couldn't remember the last time i had my period so i looked at my phone and we're charting into week five.'

peter almost lets a curse slip, he contains it for you. 'okay, we're okay. i promise we're okay, we just need to make sure if you're pregnant or not. can you wait until morning or do we need to go now?'

peter using 'you' and 'pregnant' in the same sentence makes you want to throw up and you can't blame it on potential morning sickness. you're disgusted in yourself. this wasn't the timeline.

you couldn't last another few hours in this state, you'd go mad in record timing. 'now. right now.' in under a minute peter is stuffing a hoodie over your head and a shirt over his. you feel yourself on the verge of a breakdown but peter's outstretched hand tells you he's here for it.

---

'what if you resent me in like...' peter's already shaking his head, you can't put a date on it, what if it's now? 'wait, is it already happening? do you hate me?'

peter stops with you outside of the bodega right up the road from his apartment, he had been listening to your spiral the entire time with a calm demeanor.

'stop. i know this wasn't the plan and i know this isn't what we wanted right now but i don't want you thinking i could ever hate you or blame you for this. i wish i could make you feel better about this, trouble. i love you, i love you more than i have ever loved anything. i love you more than i thought was possible. i love you more than any song or book or movie could ever describe. and guess what? i'd love our kid just the same. shit, maybe even more cause you gave me one.'

is it hormones or is it because that's the best thing he could've ever told you at this moment? you crush him in a hug, he's a little surprised but holds you just the same. 'thank you.' for the first time since you woke up, you're able to breathe.

peter doesn't say you're welcome because you don't have anything to thank him for. he's doing what he'd do if this was however many years in the future and when it was a bit more planned. 'i didn't bring my wallet.'

peter scoffs, 'you think i'd make you pay for this?'

'i already feel like a burden.'

'trouble.' you bite your tongue, if peter can be nice enough to hold a poker face, you can stop telling yourself he secretly hates you. you need an answer and it lies inside the shop in a little box.

peter's holding the test, you couldn't bring yourself to touch it. you're standing in front of the refrigerator section staring at the drink selection, more than half focused on your reflection instead. peter catches on and taps your hand, you blink awake and look at three different cans before your brain hurts.

'what should i get?'

'whatever you want, trouble.'

'i can't think.' you can't. it's either total silence and dissociation or racing thoughts, you don't know peace anymore. if you're carrying his child, peter can pick a drink for you.

'hm. are you in the mood for something flavored?'

sweet. sugary. something to coat your mouth with a lasting aftertaste even if the news you were about to receive was on the bitter side.

'yeah.' peter nixes the three shelfs of water. 'carbonated or not?' too much of a choice, you shrug half-heartedly. 'i don't know.' peter looks behind him, a different choice entirely.

when's the last time you had an icee?

you don't notice peter walk off, you slipped back into staring at yourself in a baggy hoodie. if you jumped forward six months, how tight would it be?

peter grabs a small cup, looks at the clear-blue box in his hand and grabs a large one instead. a mixture of cherry and coke, it's nearly freezing his hand. it's going to be enough to keep your mind in the land of the living.

you find peter, lean against his back and close your eyes, he makes small movements and allows you to rest your weight on him. you're tired. mentally and emotionally. 'trouble?' you perk up again, peter halfway turns to hand over a frozen drink big enough for four.

'a slushie?' you give it a taste, you sip it down until your throat burns. 'heck yeah. and look at that, you love it.' he's not wrong. you can't remember the last time you had one and this somehow just made things a little better.

'it's making me feel better.'

'see? everyone needs some sugar now and then.'

---

for someone who made peter get out of bed at three in the morning and force him down to the corner store for a pregnancy test, you sure can't stomach the idea of taking it.

if it's a no, it'll be the biggest breath of fresh air you've ever had. if it's a yes, you and peter's life is about to forever change and you don't think you're ready for that yet.

you might not get peter to yourself for a few years, but you have him tonight and that's comfort enough. 'ready?' you intertwine your fingers with peter as he asks and pulls you out the front door. it's a quiet walk back sharing your cup of sugar before you silently creep back inside his aunt's apartment.

'ready to pee?'

you shake your head, peter offers his laptop up. ten minutes into a show, you have to go. fifteen minutes, it's pressing. twenty and you're about to burst.

you're not ready for the answer.

you'd be a bad mom.

'i drank wine tonight, peter. that's so bad, i'm such a bad person.'

'you're not a bad person, trouble. guess what? no one knows they're pregnant until they know. it's not your fault you kept living life how you normally do.'

you might've fucked things up but you chose the best person to do it with.

'i have to pee.' for just a teeny, tiny second- peter's guard faults. he's just as scared of the results, it fills you with solace. you're not the only one here who doesn't want this, even if he won't tell you so.

'want me to come with?'

you shake your head and don't even look at the box when you swipe it from his desk. your hand shakes as you tear the blue plastic, it's dawned on you that this is the first time you've ever taken one. you never thought you’d be here.

you hold your eyes closed while you do it as if the results would show immediately. you snap the cap back into place and hide it behind you. starting a five minute timer, you wait on the answer to the future.

poking your head out from his bathroom you clear your throat. 'counting down.'

'how are you feeling? still doing okay?' you nod, you're really thankful he has your back tonight. it's nice to know that when you're truly falling apart, he's your backbone.

'i love you.'

'i love you too, sweetheart.'

you've been so good and so brave this whole time, you haven't cried once. but that just broke you and you can't place why. you try to will away the sting in your eyes, it doesn't work.

a broken whimper and you can't hold it in anymore.

you fall apart and before you could collapse to the floor, peter's tucking you into his chest and kissing your head. 'shh, you're okay. i promise you're okay, you have me. you'll always have me.'

'promise?'

'i promise, trouble. don't you remember? i couldn't let you go if i tried.'

'i know you said to stop but i'm really sorry and i need you to know that.' peter feels his heart break, he must've done something wrong at some point to make you think he could ever be upset at you for this.

but peter thinks you need him to accept it. 'it's okay. i know you're sorry and it's okay.' you relax and exhale into him, you stop your tears because crying is useless and it's only making you feel worse.

'i'm being so annoying, aren't i?'

'not in the slightest, do you see how long it took you to cry?'

you sniff and wipe away any stray tears before giving peter a pathetic pucker. 'kiss, please.' you're granted the slow and soft kind, the one that is just pure care and adoration.

'will you promise to keep having sex with me if i'm pregnant?'

peter can't hold in his laugh, you hear yourself and giggle with him. 'i promise, trouble. you can get it anytime. i mean, you already do, but with my baby in you- you'll get absolutely anything you want, whenever you want.'

'even if i want cheetos at two in the morning?' peter thinks that's light work, he graces your cheek with a kiss of the same kind. 'especially then.' it's not always rainbows and butterflies. 'what about when my belly pops, my hormones hit the ceiling, my feet are swollen, i'm hot all the time, and i just constantly scream at you?'

'you wouldn't do that.' well, you're not planning on it but you have no idea what effects this will have on you. 'but if you did, i'd take it in stride. if i was carrying around twenty pounds that made me constantly want to piss my pants, i'd be grumpy too.'

'we're gonna be so tired.'

'we already are.'

you chew on your bottom lip for a moment. 'what if i get stretch marks?'

'from growing my kid? couldn't think of anything sexier, trouble.'

it's not what was planned, but if this is how it'll be, you'll be okay. peter was right, you would figure it out. together.

'you have an answer for everything.'

'that's why you love me so much. you needed to find someone who could keep up with you.'

'and oh boy can you keep up and catch me.'

you match his smile, you feel good. you feel like things aren't so ruined now. 'it's my favorite thing to do.' you scrunch your nose up at him before giving a small jump to your alarm tone.

you end the timer. 'oh god.' that.

'don't undo what we just did. no more panic, we're okay with this, right? if it's a yes, we're doing this?'

it's terrifying to think you could be a parent in under a year but something tells you that you'll be just fine with peter by your side. 'yeah, we're doing this.'

peter nods towards his bathroom door, 'ready?'

for the first time tonight, you feel confident. 'yes.' you back up for the results, wrapping your palm around the middle until you're next to peter again.

you both take a deep breath and you finally get to see the answer.

peter exhales out, 'holy shit.'

your shoulders slump when you mutter out, 'thank god.'

'holy fuck, i thought my stomach was about to come out of my ass for a second. don't get me wrong if it was-'

'i was right there with you, petey. we could've figured it out but thank god we don't have to.' you hold a hand over your heart and feel calm wash over you. 'are we bad people for being happy about this?'

peter shakes his head. 'no, not at all. we're not ready for that yet, but now we know we could be.'

you think you're speaking for the both of you and you think it needs to be said. 'to be clear, we do want kids, just later down the road. and this was just a little scare but now that we know we don't want any right now, we should be a little more careful about how we do things, right?'

'a hundred percent, trouble. you said it before i could.'

'good.' you take another peek at the test, double confirmation. 'now can you please feed me? i'm famished.'

even if you weren't pregnant, peter would do anything for you.

'anything my baby wants, she gets.'

[igotlovestruck]

right where you left lover girl [ charles leclerc , ben chilwell ]

[ 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦 ] — charles leclerc x singer!ex!reader ; ben chilwell x singer!reader . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ 🫂 °.   *

[ 𝗗𝗘��𝗔𝗜𝗟𝗦 & 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 ] — mostly angst, some romance . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ ℹ️ °.   *

࣪˖ 💭 .. 𝗘𝗬𝗔’𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 ⌕ clearing my drafts again 😵‍💫 if you ask me, i’m obsessed with singer!reader fics lol

this work is purely fictional. names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. © httpsuniverse, 2023. do not steal, repost in other platforms, translate and/or claim this work as your own.

cleclercsource

26,929 likes

cleclercsource double date in wimbledon 🎾 charles, alex, kika and pierre spotted in today’s game!

view all 2,719 comments

user alex looks so pretty and i know she’s nice because i met her once, but i miss y/n ☹️

user :(( i do too, but it’s just not meant to be. they both want different things and are in different places in the relationship

user damn why did THAT hurt

user no offense/hate towards alex but the fact that y/n and charles have been together since they were thirteen just...pains me and i’m not even part of their relationship

user me too!! 😭 they literally went through ups and downs together and saw their careers go big :(

user yeah but i hate to break it to you guys but it’s been two years since they broke up and charles being in a new relationship is okay, they’re both adults! i mean, you guys know that eventually they’ll meet somebody, no?

user what pains me the most is that y/n hasn’t released anything since she and charles broke hp 😣💔 i miss my girl

user they look like mean girls

user i would be scared to walk past them

user love how alex is just happy to be there hahaha she’s so cute

yourusername

liked by yourlabel, sabrinacarpenter, selenagomez and 3,286,048 others

yourusername oh hi hello 👋🏻 i know it’s been a while since i’ve last released music and contributed to the industry, and i see everyone’s tweets saying how much they miss me and guess what? i missed you guys too, so here’s a little something for being so patient with me🤎 this song is very personal and important to me and i hope you’ll love it just how i loved writing it. right where you left me is now available to all streaming platforms 🎶

view all 150,837 comments

sabrinacarpenter 🫶 masterpiece

selenagomez proud of you✨😍

user omg y/n!!!

user the queen is back :( welcome back y/n!!

user streaming right NOW

user you cant do this to me y/n y/l/n!!!!!!!

user just got out of a 4-year relationship today, thanks for the masterpiece maam <3

yourusername 🤎 wish you all the best with healing

user OMG

user thanks y/n, now i do have a reason to cry today 😍

yourusername stopp bahahaha enjoyyy

prodbymika

250,297 likes

prodbymika glad to have produced another song and film a music video with my bestie 🫶 here’s some behind the scenes of y/n during recording and filming the music video of right where you left me <3

view all 17,926 comments

yourusername mika my love!!! ☹️🤎 thank youu couldn’t have done it without youuuu 🫶

user wait that place on the 3rd photo is familiar

user it’s charles and y/n’s place from their 24 hour with vogue video 😭

user omfg that’s probably why it’s titled right where you left me 😭

user the 😭 restaurant 😭 she 😭 and 😭 charles 😭 loved 😭

user fuck me im trying to move on 😭

user y/n wearing the same clothes she would wear during date nights with charles 💔☹️

yourprivate

yourprivate i know eventually it will lead to one of us meeting someone new. i hope she’ll love you the way that i did, more than how i loved you, charles. and i can’t believe that it’s been two years since we broke up. in my mind i’m still 23, living in my own delusion that one day you’ll come back to me. i loved you, charles_leclerc. and i still do. i really meant it when i said i wish you both the best. now, it’s time for me to move on and leave the place where you left me.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─────────────────

yourusername

1,926,472 likes

yourusername me doing big girl things 😄 bye bye monaco 🇲🇨, hello london 🇬🇧 ready to make new memories, new songs and of course, new apartment tour video soon :p

view all 1,827 comments

user omggggggg the chances of me running to you are HIGHHHHH

yourusername see you aroundddd <3

user AAAAAAA

user omg omg omg she’s finally out of her delusions, we’re officially over right were you left me era !!!!!!

user she finally let go of the house she and charles shared 😭

user no bc imagine the adjustment!! she lived there even when she and charles broke up :(

user my girl can finally FINALLY breathe

benchilwell

liked by masonmount, reecejames, judebellingham and others

benchilwell you’re my, my, my, my lover 🩷

view all 23,816 comments

jackgrealish mate, that’s so cheesy 😂

reecejames i know something you don’t 🤧

masonmount i know something you will never know 😂

user NAHHHH QUIT PLAYING WITH US

user NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

user cong😭ratu😭lations😭

user now who is the lucky woman 🤔

user wait is that y/n

user what the hell

user i think soo!!!!

user STOP IM GONNA FUCKING CRY RN

yourusername

liked by cmpulisic, reecejames, masonmount, benchilwell and others

yourusername guys meet my london boy 🩷

view all 28,493 comments

benchilwell i told you not to post that picture of me

yourusername 😵‍💫 but you looked so cute and you helped me compose a song

masonmount he did? 😨

yourusername took us a while, but yep 🫡

user im so happy for you y/n!!!!

— ❤️ by yourusername

user why is y/n, a person who loves chinese food, dating a man who hasn’t eaten chinese food

yourusername don’t worry, i bought chinese the other day. he’s no longer chinese food virgin. i took his virginity.

benchilwell y/n y/l/n.

yourusername 😚 you liked it though

benchilwell okay fine yeah

user why do i feel like a new album will come out ...

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, benchilwell, prodbymika and 4,836,917 others

yourusername suprise (well... not so surprise haha) !! been working on this album the past year and it’s finally here and i can’t wait to share it with you guys so HERE YA GO 🩷😚 the whole album is dedicated to, of course, my lover, my benji, benchilwell i love youuuu and this album is my love letter to you (you spoiled the lyrics on your previous post 🙄 but its ok i forgive u now pls come back faster bc i miss u) enjoy everyone ! lover girl, y/n 🩷✨

view all 56,826 comments

benchilwell i love you angel 🩷

yourusername stopp im shy i miss you

benchilwell 😂 im coming over

user y/n in her lover era 🥹 happy for her, she deserves this!

user she really does 🥹

user STOPPP THIS WJOLE ALBUM IS JUST Y/N AND BEN BEING IN LOVENWITH EACH OTHER

user “all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing” BENJAMIN JAMES CHILWELL YOU ONE LUCKY MF

user y/n is SO in love i’m here for it

charles_leclerc congratulations on another amazing album, y/n!

yourusername thank you charles! 🫶

user HEY WHAT IS MR. RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME DOING HERE

user ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

yourusername we’re still friends guys, chill 😂

sabrinacarpenter YOU ARE AMAZING, Y/N

yourusername SAAAABBBB i love you ,, you are amazing

user from right where you left me to paper rings 🥺 THE GLOW UP

[yan-lorkai]

Y!Leona x tiger!reader. [gn]

oh boy. the hatred that fuels them. a tiger and a lion in one room? fatal combat.

[y] can be described as a “hot-headed” person.

anger issues.

always carries a weapon. [usually a sword.]

somewhat a nerd, straight 100% and 90%.

Bad at hiding their emotions.

..actually very blunt about their feelings. why bother hiding them?

Easily provoked.

Extroverted.

Gets carries away easily.

impatient.

Bite first then bark.

knowing how they are; they were assigned the Savanclaw dorm. ohh, how amusing things will be!

Hcs.. scenarios.. do whatever u want :) thank you.

sorry, is this too much? too specific? not much information? my apologies, if so, you may delete this if you don’t feel like doing it due to it.

ty !!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: This have been sitting on my drafts for awhile now, it was super detailed and I sort of blue screemed the first time I read it but I kind like the result. So hopefully you like as well, darling hehe. I did some hcs btw.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Leona, being the proud and territorial lion he is, initially views you, a tiger, as a threat to his dominance. He has the entire Savanaclaw following his very order and he doesn't like the thought of you messing things up. The very first time you cross paths, there’s an intense standoff where both of you silently try to assert your power over each other, as you are very blunt and doesn't think much about what you're talking. He finds later, when alone in his room, that he kind of likes your honesty, it's a bit endearing, even if it gives him a headache.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ His gaze is sharp, filled with a mix of feelings, overall, curiosity about you. Sometimes he send Ruggie to watch over you so he can learn about your routine, likes and dislikes, and what kind of person you are. And sometimes he come find you himself to annoy you, since you are so reckless and easily provoked, and he think you're funny when you act without thinking about the consequences. Truly, he is fascinated by your strength and beauty, seeing you as a perfect mate, and he’s determined to make you his by any means necessary.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Unexpectedly but he likes how intelligent you are. The two of you, after overcoming your differences, can be found having long conversations that no one else seems to follow - just further proof of how perfect you can be, of how you were made to be his.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Leona’s possessive tendencies manifest in his overly protective behavior. Despite your own strength and independence, being capable of fighting with a sword and with your own powers, he’s constantly shadowing you, ensuring no one else comes near his “territory”. If anyone, friend or foe, tiger or not, dares to approach you, Leona’s wrath is immediate and fierce.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He justifies his actions by telling you that it’s for your safety, though it’s clear that his possessiveness knows no bounds. He’ll keep you close, often initiating fights just to remind you who the dominant one is - not liking how sociable you can be with other beastmen, yet his gaze softens only for you and his touch is just as soft, his possessive obsession a twisted form of love, since he doesn't know any better, growing up being hated by everyone he knew.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ While Leona’s initial approach is aggressive and domineering, he eventually realizes that to truly claim you, he must respect you, for you too are too similar, too hot headed and stubborn. He allows you some space in his humble abode but always makes it clear that it’s still his domain. However, this submission is a calculated move; he knows that by giving you a semblance of freedom, you’ll let your guard down, making it easier for him to manipulate you into staying by his side permanently.

[4ever-in-night]

YOU SOUND LIKE LOUIS BURDETTE, BIRTHDAY BOY!

(or, an excuse to draw my #2 favorite song as a birthday gift!!!)

AAAAUUGGHH this piece took. forever. to make because I lost like 60% of my progress like 2 days ago thanks to a horrible fuck up on my part. It really bummed me a lot, but! Fortunately! I managed to salvage it!! And since I had a more clear vision of what I wanted to do, it turned into this wonderful result that I am super proud of!!! (For those curious, this took a total of 20 HOURS to make. The first draft that I lost 60% of has 10.47 hours registered and this finished version has 10.12 hours!!! Truly, I am a madman!!!!)

But. The point of this post is to say: Happy birthday Mr. Jash!!!! Me and your entire fan base is so glad to have you hanging around making the best bangers imaginable. I hope that you get to spend a beautiful day with those you love and I can’t wait for Chaos Week to start later today!!!

Also, have the time lapse! Excuse the quality drop, procreate is weird like that xp And a silly doodle ^^